One Sunday, many, many years ago,

I got home from church before my mom did.  My mom used to make fun of me because I didn't take shirts off the "normal" way--which led to a lot of shirts with ripped seams--rather, I'd take them off in probably the hardest way, which is how I tend to do MOST things.

So, that Sunday, I decided I was going to change out of my church dress myself.  By doing a handstand.  And somehow it would come off.

The light was bright through the sliding doors as I decided to execute my brilliant idea; I did a handstand.
 I can't remember if it ripped, but I can still hear that sickening sound of seams ripping and stretching.


I thought of this today as we went to a new ward, which was kind of weird.  That's all I'm going to say about that for now.