Victimhood

My family has joined a new association:

The Society of the Victims of the Relief Society.

Officially chartered in the mid-1990's by the husband of a RS President, it has existed informally since the mid-1800's.

Crimes committed against my family this week include, but are not limited to:

1. Two experimental dinners cooked in a Wonder Box.  Neither turning out as well as when the recipe is made the normal way.
2. Cereal for dinner last night even though mom spent the whole day on food preparation.
3. General neglect by mom.

Apparently it has been pretty bad because this morning Chloe told me she wished I was still in Young Womens.  I may have almost wished that myself a time or two this week.  Though I wonder if my real problem is learning how to be an Indian and giving up being a Chief?  I have just enough responsibility to demand lots of work, but not enough authority to make decisions.

I was feeling exasperated at Costco on Tuesday where I was buying food for the revamped dinner menu for *Spring into Spring* (doubts in higher places arose around my original food plan) when I ran into my friend Melissa who is battling Stage 5 Ovarian Cancer.  She asked so sincerely how I was doing, and as I looked back at her in her chemotherapy wig I managed to choke out an "Okay" because really, what is feeling micromanaged compared to the fight she's up against?  But she detected the lie in my answer and called me at home to ask me how I was really doing.  Sheesh.  Talk about putting me in my place.  There are worse things to be a victim of than the Relief Society.