Yea, verily, the astroturf is white, already to harvest.

Last Sunday after church I chatted with the supervisor of the Missionary Committee, of which I am a member:

"Hi! When's our next meeting?" I ask.

"A week from Monday," he replies. "We need to choose a theme for our miniature golf hole."

"Huh?"

"The Activities Committee wants us to be in charge of one hole of the miniature golf course they're building. That's why we need to meet next week."

"Ooookay. Kinda gimmicky. So what're they after? 'The Windmill of Faith' or something like that?"

[Uncomfortable silence, entirely devoid of bemusement.]

"Well all righty, then. Count me in!"

[Exit Marie, stage right.]

I want to be loyal. And I love that my church is staffed entirely by ordinary folk. And I know it's not easy being in charge. And I'd rather take orders any day than have to run the game and get mocked on other people's blogs. But someone really should raise the This-Is-a-Big-Fat-Waste-of-Time alarm. Or else the Enough-With-All-the-Elaborate-Activities-Already-and-Let's- Have-a-Good-Old-Fashioned-Service-Project alarm. Will you please do it for me? I'm too yella.

However, granted all the time and papier mache in the world, I would sculpt a lifesized Mormon missionary to stand astride our assigned golf hole. He would look a wee bit grumpy and his name tag would say Elder Ihavebetterthingstodoandsodoyou.




A post-post post: Okay, I get it. No comments = I'm a big jerk. As it turns out, this golf activity was concieved by the Family Home Evening Committee (not the Activities Committee) and their requested contribution from our committee was not as big as I'd imagined -- a few empty tuna cans ("fishers of men," lest you wonder) and we're off the hook. I still do worry a bit about the culture that develops in these LDS singles' wards, though. There are so many ablebodied helpers in proportion to the number of Official Tasks that we just start adding details and embellishments in order to keep everyone occupied and soon we're living in Neverland. Maybe they should invent a special singles' ward calling: "all-purpose on-call do-gooder," and send them forth to find damsels in distress and old ladies that need help across the road.