My mom told me this story over the phone a few weeks ago and I sat with a HUGE grin on my face while I listened. It’s terrible to poke fun at, but I absolutely can’t help myself…
My mom has been working on a few quilts lately, and she was very excited to have her visiting teaching companion over one afternoon to help her with a particularly tricky one. My mom has so many amazing Mormon talents, like making quilts, being constantly pregnant, eating her feelings and hiding her clinical depression. I have inherited many of these traits from her, minus the quilting and the baby making.
That’s a big lie. I wasn’t nominated for an Oscar. Actually, I was nominated for a Brodie!! In two different categories- Funniest Humor Piece for Plygga Please and Most Amusing Vignette or Personal Anecdote for Shark Week Spirit Tears!!! How awesome is that! I seriously didn’t think anyone was even reading this!
I find it amazing how I dreaded going home for Thanksgiving. I agonized, whined and posted about how I didn’t want to go and how I wouldn’t be able to do anything blah blah blah….
I’m back in NYC now. I made it through Thanksgiving safe and sound. I was perfectly polite to everyone, there were no arguments and my mom was wonderful. There weren’t even that many prayers… Bottom line? I’m suffering some pretty heavy guilt right now.
It’s a familiar guilt. The same guilt I always feel after a visit home. I feel guilty for leaving my mom behind. I feel guilty for having a good life when my mom is still stuck in the Morg universe with a shitty priesthood holder for a husband and none of her brood of children nearby. Isn’t that the Mormon promise? Get married in the temple, have a bunch of kids and you’ll be happy for ETERNITY? In my mom’s case this is entirely untrue. And yet, she still believes.
My guilt isn’t about not being in the church or not believing anymore. It’s more about the fact that in SPITE of those things I have a great life. It’s as if my very existence proves my mom wrong in every choice she has ever made.
And I know the guilt goes both ways. My mom is crippled with guilt over the choices she made, the man she married, the life she chose in relation to how it affected me as a child. I’d like to think our guilt cancels each others out, but I think it may not be possible.
I read the best piece of graffiti a few months back and I thought of it on the plane home and how it so perfectly applies to my state of mind as the holidays come and go this year:
“Gird your loins Jive Turkey”
I’m going home for Thanksgiving and I am SO.NOT.HAPPY.ABOUT.IT.
It’s not that I don’t love my family, because I do. But going home means that for the next week I will be adhering to a long list of NO’s and it drives me crazy.
Let me share. Here’s what my Thanksgiving week looks like:
1. NO Drinking of my beloved coffee as I putter around in the morning
2. NO Swearing
3. NO Turning into the Incredible Hulk at the mere mention of Sarah Palin’s name, her TV show or her Presidential future.
4. NO Reading Eliza Snitch or Koda or any of my other exmo fav’s online while I drink coffee
5. NO Vomiting at the plethora of Joseph Smith paintings, framed Proclamation of the Family posters or other “CHURCH” collectibles.
6. NO drinking wine with dinner if the mood strikes
7. NO bedroom fun with my beloved
8. NO Rolling of the eyes, laughing or vomiting during prayers before eating, prayers before sleeping, prayers before traveling or during prayers that whomever just left the room will return safely.
9. NO viewing of any rated R movies that come out at Thanksgiving, or any good ones that have just come out on DVD
10. NO exercising my free agency not to be Mormon anymore.
Alright friends, yesterdays post was a little too “Sad Clown” for my taste, so today, we’re going old school… I gots jokes!
Do you guys remember that Seinfeld episode with Bizarro Jerry and the gang? Basically, they come across a group of friends in NYC that are exactly like Jerry, George and Kramer, but in a completely opposite way. I think I found my bizarro Sister Secret!
So, it turns out that General Conference weekend coincides with the New York Burlesque Festival. Guess which one I’m going to? Not like there was really any question…
I’m going to go ahead and say it: boobies are better than general conference. I can’t think of one single thing those old guys could say that would be as entertaining as an evening of burlesque. Well, that’s not entirely true. Pretty much everything that comes out of their mouths is hilarious or hilariously offensive, but you know what I mean…
Tonight I watched Sister Wives on TLC, and friends, ya’ll need to set your dvr’s to record this insanity. I feel like I’m going to need a few days to process everything I saw and heard tonight, but here are a few things I found interesting:
I have every intention of being your good time girl. I want to be your special exmo friend that drinks coffee with you, teaches you new swear words and holds your hair when you barf and doesn’t judge you for it later. This blog is meant to be funny, even when I’m talking about things that might be sad. Whether I actually accomplish that is unknown, but I’m trying friends. I’m trying…
When I wrote my last post about my little girl obsession with Olivia Newton John I deleted an entire paragraph that I didn’t even realize I had started writing. I deleted it because it was heartfelt and serious and I am here only to talk about silly things, like baptisms for the dead and Fast and Testimony meetings. But with all the the hubub over Elder Marlen Jensen’s apology to a group of gay Mormons regarding Prop 8 I’m finding it hard not to add my two cents.
I just discovered this neato thing called Formspring. You can ask folks questions (anonymously if you want) and they have to answer. I put the little widget thang at the bottom right of my blog here, so ask away! I got the ball rolling by asking our buddy Koda a question and then baiting him into asking me a question. And by baiting, I mean that I basically told him what to ask me and the good man complied. So here we go:
Is there anyone you really
wanted to be when you grew up?