Phillip, Oh Phillip, Wherefore art thou Phillip?

Sunday, 3 pm. Church is over, lessons have been taught, spirits nourished and all is well. I linger in the hall near the YW room, my usual domain, waiting for Phil so we can hurry home to a nice meal. 10 after 3, no Phil. I start meandering around the halls, peeking into classrooms here and there. Fruitless results, still I persist and make another round. Check out by the car, maybe we missed each other. Nothing. The halls are emptying now as families scurry about herding Primary children and saying farewell. And yet, I am alone. No Phil.

I check again, questioning the few people left in the building, no one has seen him. It is now 3:35pm. Gosh, I am getting worried. Maybe he went somewhere with the missionaries, how could he have forgotten me? Doesn't he realize what time it is? By now I am getting a bit peeved. One more round in the church turns up empty. I hastily scrawl a note and leave it on the dash of the burning black car. "couldn't find you, looked everywhere, everyone left, started walking" Now don't judge me too harshly here; even as I write this I realize it was a rash, and if I may say, stupid decision.

Yes, I started walking the 3 mile trek home in my new silver ballet flats, with my 25 pound behemoth of a church bag over my shoulder. By the way, it was 114 degrees at 3:30pm. But this did not deter me. I truly did not know what had become of Phillip. At the time it was the best option (obviously not, but please indulge me). As I trudged along Crismon Road I would cast hopeful glances over my shoulder longing for Phil to speed up and save me. No one came. Well, maybe a straggling ward member who would recognize me and take pity. No one came.

By now the fiery orb was beating me down, sweat drenching my new Sunday attire. My feet were protesting every step I took, crying rebellion, "New shoes, you fool!" Certainly not walking attire. Completely suitable for the cushy, comfy 3 hour block in an air conditioned building where my primary mode of movement is not moving. Just sitting looking pretty as I attend to Young Womanly matters and other Church business.

I think I am making pretty good time actually. Only another mile to go! My throat is parched and even my own saliva is lacking the ability to thoroughly moisten my oral cavity. Dang! I did have the foresight to take along my camera, and when you are blogging for some reason even the worst situations turn into possible blogging opportunities.

Just around the bend, the looonng bend is my humble abode and salvation from the blasted heat. And water, I desperately need water. Heart and head pounding I finally make it to Baseline Road, my house is close. At this time my salvation cometh. Phil honking all the way pulls over to pick me up just a mere block from our house. How do I feel at this point? Am I mad or joyous at his arrival? Before I can figure it out myself Phil helps me locate my feelings. After his yelling and hollering at me for being stupid to leave when clearly the car is still at the church and that means he is. If only I had looked properly I would have found him, etc, etc, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah! Now reduced to tears I plead my case. Surely I wouldn't have left if I didn't think he wasn't there. I am overheated, exhausted and flabbergasted at his reaction. I do the only thing any levelheaded girl would do, and clearly from the above actions I have demonstrated that I am levelheaded...I cry.

Now don't leave comments telling me how stupid I was. I have heard it all and even have souvenirs to remind me of my folly. But really what would you have done? (I can take it)

By the way, he was in the cultural hall being a good member missionary where he got stuck in an freakin' hour long conversation. Hello! "Hey let me go let my wife know we are here..." or maybe "well, it's been great talking to you, I really need to get going" or how about "Wow, look at the time!"

P.S. We are still married.