Date Night

So I let my Holbsamigo take me to a ward party for our date night the other night. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and I do like to be a cheap date every now and again. The theme was Fall Fiesta and there was Mexican food to be sampled from various crock pots and the little kids got to duke it out over free candy with a baseball bat.

We chatted with Sue who was giving a talk that Sunday (as was The Holbserino). That Sunday was Bring Your Non Mormon Friends To Church To See We're Not Weird and so the topics were all investigator-friendly. Nothing about Kolob, okay? Keep the polygamy on the supah D-L! Shhh on that food storage mumbo jumbo!

The Bishop asked my husband to speak but not me. Don't think I didn't notice that. Then he asked Sue Clark to speak but not Paul Clark. I looked Paul squarely in the face over our tacos and asked him if he felt a little . . . what's the word? . . . dangerous.

The grin that spread across his face read my mind. You can't trust the words that come out of Paul Clark's mouth you know. He is liable to say really out-there things in Sunday School when the lesson is on the Law of Consecration and he happens to be the most liberal person I have ever seen take the sacrament. Who knows what kind of loose cannon garbage he could spew all over those innocent Gentiles!

(Look at the trouble I am getting myself into here.)

It is most likely that the reason I was not asked to speak in church along with my righteous stud of a husband is that the B-Ric doesn't want for investigators to fall head-over-heels in love with an already married woman, and not that when you give me a pulpit I tend to get a little carried away. I'm no Bish but I'm sure that's it.

But Paul Clark had more pressing matters to attend to that night and those matters were my hair color. Paul Clark noticed my bathroom-sink dye job right away.

"Have you chemically altered your hair?" He asked. I like the way he words things, what a nerd.

I answered in the affirmative. Then I readied myself for the inevitable compliments to follow. Get my humble eyelash batting motors revving and whatnot.

"I'm just curious, what drives a woman to change her hair color?" Paul asked. "I'm trying to understand the feminine mind here."

My feminine mind tried to wrap itself around the change in direction we were taking while my mouth hung open. I mean, not to be difficult or anything but this is not sounding like a compliment to me! I elected to use brutal honesty.

"I think my eyes are pretty when my hair is darker?" I said?

Then I felt really stupid.

He leaned across the table all eager like and said in hushed tones, "Look, I've told my kids they aren't allowed to smoke pot, but they can do whatever they want with their hair. So far nobody's taken me up on it."

I didn't quite know what to make of that.

Once we got to the all important stage of date night where the sweatpants come on, my Holbso mysteriously disappeared in his gym clothes to collect items for fixing the bathroom fan with our friend Lindo. Bless him.

He came home and installed it and then asked for his beautiful assistant (me) to flip the switcher and test it out.

I swallowed hard. "What if we explode?"

"Then we all go down together," he said with, what was that? bravado in his voice?

I said a little prayer and flipped the flipper. The fan vroomed on and I clapped with delight! What a Hero Mr. Fixit I snagged me!

Then my Holbsdate poured me some Crystal Lite into my plastic cup.

Oh I just love date night!