And tomorrow the mystery will be solved. See, several weeks ago, the ward music director came to me while I was playing the prelude music for Relief Society and put some sheet music next to the hymn book I was playing out of. I was playing, and I'm horrible at dividing my attention, so all I heard of her explanation was something like, "Blah blah-blah blah blah so here's a copy to look over." And then she left, leaving the music. I wasn't sure if it was for me, or some choir thing they were doing, and I meant to ask her about it, except that she disappeared before Relief Society was over.
Just in case it was for me, I made sure to play through it a few times during the week. The next Sunday, it was revealed that the ward music director had decided (I'm assuming in conjunction with the RS presidency) that the Relief Society was going to sing the song (Simple Gifts) in Sacrament meeting at some point in the future. Logically, as the Relief Society pianist, I figured I would be playing. I wasn't sure if the music director was going to want to sing the middle of the song (the part with the three-part harmony) a capella or with accompaniment, since the music said accompaniment is optional.
And as I was typing that last sentence, I got a phone call and took a survey, thus disrupting my train of thought and causing me to lose interest in this story right now. So more on that later. The guy giving the survey (which for some reason I always type as survery) was really cute. It's fun when they break character. He kept calling me ma'am though. I really wish these people would grasp the concept of "miss."
It kind of reminds me of the time when Sarah had a little five-year-old friend, about in 1999, when we were around seventeen. The little friend and her friend knocked on the door, trick-or-treating or something, and Athena answered the door and one of the little girls said, "It's Sarah's mother!" And that's why we're not always as tickled as Mom is when someone sees the three of us together and says we must be sisters. I don't think we look that old! We'll take comfort in the fact that people have to keep asking, "Now, you're both over eighteen, right?"