I give. I'm a giver. And a brownie eater. It's all part of the magic that is me.
So much to talk about, so little attention span. But I know you are all asking the same burning question, namely, how long did DeNae last at the LDS Storymakers conference before the flames of the netherworld lept up and melted the bottoms of her sexy white sneakers?
Well, that is certainly not a very nice thing to ask yourself. How would you like it if I asked that about you?
The answer is "What was the question again? I have a terribly short attention... wait, what were we even talking about?"
Oh, yes. Flames. Netherworld. Smokin' sneakers. I did just fine, thankyouverymuch. It helped that I kept my manuscript in my thumb drive, which I wrapped in duct tape and dipped in asbestos and holy water.
For those of you who are new, as well as the something like 9 1/2 of you who are still reading this blog (Seriously, have you all gone back to having real lives? Because if you have, so help me...) I had a little difficulty with my critique group last year on accounta Mormons "never, ever swear" and I had two of my characters say 'beaver dwelling' twice in the first paragraph of my story. My Crazy Catholic Neighbor Slash Avon Lady suggests I make my characters Catholic, in which case they can swear, drink alcohol, and skip church with impunity.
Hey, she said it, not me. If you read most LDS fiction, you'll also learn that we never have sex, either. That's right. We order all those kids from the Sears catalogue.
I'm beta testing Catholicism this week, by the way. I sort of got started by drinking gallons of Diet Coke and saying multiple 'beaver dwellings' and 'place of eternal burnings' at the Storymakers conference. (But only in private conversations. Oh, and on one panel. And while pitching my novel to Deseret Book. And, um, during the benediction. But that was IT.)
Ha. I kid. They don't do benedictions at the Storymakers conference. We just trip all the non-Mo's on their way past the hotel jacuzzi, toss up a quick prayer to make it official, and collect our Baptism Buddies Green Stamps, which we can trade in for bonus salvation or toaster ovens. So you get a lot of bang for your writers' conference buck at the LDS Storymakers event.
I also attended (a Mormon) church with my mom in Utah on Mother's Day, which meant I didn't go to my own church on Mother's Day, which meant I still had friends in my church the week after Mother's Day. So, technically I wasn't being a wicked Catholic like my Crazy Catholic Neighbor Slash Avon Lady, but I wasn't inspiring wholesale anarchy in my Sunday School class as in years past either.
So we'll call that a Happy Mother's Day for DeNae.
(I blogged about the two, back-to-back Mother's Day Sunday School Smackdowns, but I put them in my 'drafts' folder because they give my very nice bishop acid reflux.)
Last weekend, then, I
- saw my big kids
- hung out with writing and blogging pals
- ate dessert for dinner because that's the way I roll
- totally injured my left foot in a thoroughly mysterious way requiring that for the duration of the conference I had to wear my sexy white sneakers which didn't make me look like a 60-year old lunch lady at all
- celebrated my FIL's 80th birthday by giving him - I'm not even kidding - a manure spreader and two gigantic bags of enriched manure to, you know, spread (he asked for it and was completely ecstatic)
- spent some quality time with my husband who had been gone for two weeks and was thus very generous with my mother's day gift, meaning he didn't have a stroke when I pulled out the camera and portable DVD player he unwittingly gave me ("You'll have to buy your own gift this year, dear." "I'll try to be stoic. Tee. Hee.")
- had a moment of parental pride when my 18-year old daughter decided at the last minute she'd rather be with the family in Utah than go to her prom in Las Vegas, so she loaded the car with tunes and junk food and trekked north all by her grown-up self (she didn't have a date, so she wasn't leaving anyone in the lurch, btw)
- had a delightful conversation with an editor from Covenant wherein I explained that I would love to publish with them except for the fact that I'm leaving my 'beaver dwellings' in my book and that's final...
- to which he replied that he would have no problem with publishing a book like that, but they would get static from that tiny segment of the LDS population I've heard referred to as "evangelical Mormons," a term I find to be uncomfortably accurate - the uber righteous few who, with any luck at all, will be scarfed up in the Rapture this Saturday, May 21, 2011, leaving the rest of us to get on with the business of merely doing the best we can...
- leading us both to conclude that it's a funny old world when you think about it.
So, yeah, busy week for someone who, a couple of years ago, spent most mid-days eating QP's with cheese and watching Law & Order reruns when they stopped showing Perry Mason, something I haven't fully forgiven channel 12 for doing because for most of my childhood I believed my dad was secretly the star of the show.
My dad, who regularly said 'beaver dwelling,' 'place of eternal burnings,' 'extreme poo,'
and even the occasional 'offspring of canine house pets,'
and who was still a great example of what a real live Mormon should be.
Anyway, I'm glad to be back, goofing with all you sinners and not promoting anything but a stop to the entirely unjust campaign against Diet Coke which continues to be carried out by the anti-beaver dwelling extremists.
So bring on the chipmunks. We only have 'til Saturday, you know.
Wanna borrow my holy water duct tape?