the science of realization

I think I should qualify this whole collection. I write as though no one else is reading.
Dangerous, I realize. But this is for me (and my mom, who calls about things later). And I don't write frequently anyway.
Amused readers... it's usually an accident. It's how my life goes, and I write it down. Period.

Laura and I have been going to our ward the past few weeks trying to be active and willing participants. Our Bishop has already labeled us the project of the ward and made home and visiting teaching assignments accordingly (Laura's companion is the Relief Society President, mine is her older sister, and the Elder's Quorum President is our home teacher). Somehow, we've already managed to meet the funnest people in the ward. Maybe they feel sorry for us, but they're a little too surprised by our reactions to things they say to not be genuinely interested in being our friends. The sad part is, we ususally meet them at the worst times possible. Usually during Sunday school.
This past Sunday, we went to "break the fast" and sat at a table by ourselves, eating the candy corn out of the center of the table. I don't know who's brilliant idea it was to make those center pieces and not expect them to be eaten, but several people weren't happy about it. (Not the fun people we've met, don't worry). We were soon joined by 4 or 5 other people who wanted to eat candy corn too. We started eating, we made lots of friends when we made a big deal about not letting anyone steal a piece of cake we were sharing that people proceeded to steal from us, and ended up leaving with plans to play scum... at a later date.
An hour or so later, the Elder's Quorum President and one of the kids we'd met with the candy corn showed up at our house, and Laura and I oh-so-cordially invited ourselves over to their apartment to play scum. Who knew scum could be a death match? Daniel and I watched Laura and other Daniel duke it out, not for who would be in the King's spot, but for who would be scum and vice scum.
The next night at FHE (both Daniels are in our FHE group) we carved pumpkins. Laura didn't come because she was at work, and I had to leave early to be back on campus. When I got home, my pumpkin was on the porch. Stabbed with a good 20 or 30 knives. "YOU SCUM" was written in large black letters on the side.

I think it was for Laura.

Needless to say, we're a little more enthusiastic about our ward. So far.