Day 3

Curse of the Ageless Pariahs
We learned today that we are not only outcasts because of our pariahdom, but also due to our age. We are stuck flip-flopping roles in the show. First we're Relief Society sisters who march/dance down the stage. Then we're young women who dance and twirl our skirts. Then members of the original Relief Society, sewing shirts for the men. Also youth helping to lay out city streets. In short, we are very confuse about where we belong. Someone should write a blues song about this.

Why Gigglers Can't Dance
Being the dedicated duo we are, we decided it would be smart to practice our Irish dance -- refresh our memories. So we bagan: leap-2-3ing, clicking, and cutting 7s in theh limited space we have in our room. We got to the last segment where we turn and skip-2-3 toward each other and made our first fatal mistake by making eye contact. There's just something slightly humorous about watching your friend as they bob up and down, arms gled to their sides, making random kicking motions (that closely resemble twitches). It goes without saying that neither of us could contain our laughter to be able to finish our dance. We're just hoping the same won't happen the day of the talent show.

An Adopted Baby Brother
During our dance rehearsal today, there was a single woman who was having a hard time dancing while trying to hold her 9 mo. old baby. Natalie noticed and suggested that we offer to hold her baby for her during that dance. She gratefully accepted, and the baby came to us without a fuss. We took turns holding him, playing with him, and teaching him how to hi-5. Natalie and I both commented on how hard it was to play with him without knowing his name. The whole time, I was tempted to call him Isaac since that's my baby brother's name. Natalie returned him and found out from his mom that his name is Isaac, which I took as a tender mercy to have a daily reminder of my family.

A Costumer's Freudian Slip?
Natalie and I had our costume fitting today. First, you need to understand the mental/emotional state the costumers were in: We were the last of a couple hundred people for three women to costume and accessorize; it was past time for them to be done; and they had been couped up in a costume room 24/7 for the past week. With that in mind, I can almost forgive the offensive remark that was made during my fitting. I stepped onto the platform while Susie measured my skirt for hemming. The lady writing down what alterations needed to be made asked "Is Hannah getting a tuck?" Immediately, my mind raced, thinking about the implications and connotations of this remark. Now, I took personal offense to this. I told her that while I trusted her with my costumes, I did not trust her with my plastic surgery needs. I warned her that I would hold her solely liable for all future self-esteem problems I suffered from in my life. I must add, however, that I felt a sudden bond with those costumers as I watched them--in their sleep-deprived state-- laugh so hard that tears streamed down their faces. One of my kind.