Going to my bishop's house is always a treat. It never quite seems like a real place until I'm standing on the terrace again, and my eyes are showing my brain that I didn't misremember or exaggerate a single detail. In fact, they assess critically, in remembering, I may have toned it down.
Saturday night, the bishop and his wife hosted a steak dinner for the choir members. You know, because they own miniature hilltop palaces and Bentleys, and they can afford to do that sort of thing. The steak wasn't even the best part of the meal, though it was undeniably delicious. No, the best part was the rolls. The rolls and the raspberry butter.
It was a pleasant evening of floating back and forth between rooms, talking to people I always talk to and to people I rarely see or to people I've barely met.
Because it was a choir gathering, and because the bishop just happens to have a room in his house with perfect acoustics, the evening ended quite naturally around the piano. As each person finished their performance, the bishop's wife would stare down her next victim until they became uncomfortable enough to walk willingly to the altar and play or sing. I'm thoroughly convinced that that woman could talk me into just about anything.
As the party broke up, she coerced every person polite enough to find her and say goodbye to take a plate of desserts with them.
I carpooled with Matt, so when we got back to his house and my truck, I decided to pop in and say hello to Drew and pawn my obligatory plate of desserts off on him. Three enjoyable hours later, I left knowing way more musical theory than I'll ever conceivably need and feeling like I wouldn't mind spending many more such evenings there with those gentlemen and scholars.
Sunday was stake conference, which means sitting really close to people if you want to sit on a padded pew instead of a hard plastic chair. Matt likened it to the improv game Sit, Stand, Kneel. One person would lean forward; someone else would sit back. One person would sit back; someone else would put their arm across the backrest. It was even funnier during the adult session because we'd all talked about it at that point, so every shift was an occasion for smiling at each other and trying not to laugh.
In between the general and adult sessions, Shantel and I hung out with Matt while he made brownies. Then, we all went over to Nate and Ryan's for pasta and Bang!. The outlaws won. I...came in second? I was the renegade, but after the deputy blew herself up with dynamite, I decided I couldn't win it hands down, so I just threw my lot in with the outlaws. Better to live not a winner than die a loser, or something like that.
My free time yesterday was devoted to stuffing wedding invitations into envelopes at Kylie's, running snacks to Drew out of sheer boredom (and the desire to avoid doing homework), and discussing things like quantum physics and Channing Tatum at the Friendship Dinner.
Today can kind of be summed up by the fact that I lugged my laptop to school only to realize that I left my charger at home on my bed. But, I get by with a little help from my friends.
Listening to: "I Eat People"
Reading: The Subtle Knife by Philip Pullman