
Sunday was a great big church meeting. I went with my roommates, and we found a parking spot on the top level of the small parking structure near where we were meeting. Everyone else found a parking spot in the small parking structure, too, and the top level is, of course, the last to get down to the bottom level.
We sat in the car, engine running. Sat and waited. It had snowed the night before, and I noticed hands coming out of another car, reaching up to get the snow off the top of the car, and…soon, there was a full-blown snowball fight in the parking garage.
Tonight was Family Home Evening, which, when we’re all single and somewhat family-less, means we meet together and do things we probably wouldn’t do otherwise. Tonight was FHE FearFactor, and the “weaksauce” event was swallowing a spoonful of cinnamon.
Four people volunteered—big smiles, scooped their spoonful of cinnamon. Someone counted down and the full spoonful went into each mouth. Next, soft puffs of cinnamon clouds started coming out of them, giving the room a pleasant holiday smell as each of them rushed to the sink or garbage to spit it out and drink large amounts of water to cleanse their throats. One of them, coughing and sputtering between gulping milk and blowing her nose said simply, “That wasn’t a very good idea.”
The cinnamon smell went away later when three people raced in transporting frozen peas, sardines, and sauerkraut in their mouth from one plate to another.