Failing To Keep My Composure

Last week as I was driving Ally to karate, I yawned while I was driving. A really big yawn, the kind you end with kind of an Elvis sneer. You wouldn't think this would be a big deal except I kept both hands on the wheel, as a good driver should, so I didn't cover my mouth. (I was actually being lazy, not worrying about my driving habits. I realize now that I should have covered my mouth. I was just too tired.)

None of this would really be noteworthy except for the fact that I passed another car when it happened. I remember seeing the guy's face in the other car. I think he thought I was making a really ugly face at him. How embarrassing!

This actually reminded me of something that happened in Relief Society a few years ago.

I was the Relief Society secretary. Carol Searle was the president then. She is a WONDERFUL person and I enjoyed spending time with her and also Melissa Houser and Sue Giles, the counselors. They all brought such good, different qualities to the table. I learned a lot from each one of them. Not sure if I contributed much, except in the way of a little comic relief every now and then.

Here was one of those times:

Norene Brown is our Relief Society chorister. She is a very formidable woman and I don't think I would be exaggerating if I said most people are a little afraid of her. (I actually really like her a lot. She has a good sense of humor and tells it like it is. I may actually grow up to be like her someday, except I don't think anyone is afraid of me, not even my own kids.) Sometimes when we sing in Relief Society she stops us and makes us start over if she thinks we aren't doing a song justice. She's very particular about her music and lets us know if we aren't doing our part.

One Sunday we were singing a new song. Sister Brown started getting after us because it didn't sound as good as she thought it should. She stopped the pianist and said "I want all you good singers to help us out." She then singled out Melissa Wootton and chastised her for not singing.

"I'm sorry," said Melissa, "but I have a sour mint in my mouth. I'll sing in a minute."

Well, for some reason that struck me as funny. I started to giggle. Unfortunately since I was the R.S. secretary, I had to sit up front, facing most of the other women. (We all sat in a row. First Carol (who may or may not have been there that day, I can't quite remember) then Melissa H. (who I know was there, I can still see the looks she was giving us), then poor Sue and then me. The reason I say "poor Sue" is because I soon dragged her down with me.)

What Melissa W. had said reminded me of the Sour Starburst commercial where a girl comes down the stairs and her prom date is waiting. She looks all nice and dressed up, but right at the moment her date sees her, he pops a sour Starburst in his mouth so he makes a really ugly face. The girl's dad sees the boy's expression and gets really mad. The final line is "Sour Starburst, eat responsibly."

When I started giggling, Sue asked me what was so funny. I tried quietly to explain the sour Starburst commercial as quickly as possible. Soon Sue was giggling too. Sister Brown stopped the music and asked us if there was anything we wanted to share with everybody else. We swiftly assured her there was not.

Well, that was the end of my composure. As the women started singing again, I started giggling, which set Sue off again. I was laughing so hard that I had tears streaming down my cheeks. I had to hold the Hymn book up right in front of my face so Sister Brown wouldn't see and get after me again. I was really afraid that I was going to burst out laughing really loud. I think that was the longest song we have ever sung in Relief Society.

I almost lost it again when Melissa H. turned to Sue and asked, "What was so funny." All through the lesson I had to keep biting my lip to control myself from giggling again. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.

I do miss working with those women, but I don't really miss sitting up front.