In my other life, when I’m not saving the world from well-meaning but misguidedly-motivated Mormons, I’m a suburban dance mom. I chauffeur one young daughter to dance a lot. She dances all the time. Pretty much, she’s a dancing fool. Don’t tell her I said that. She doesn’t take kindly to being called a fool, kind of like her mother. Speaking of fools, when someone says to you, “What kind of a fool do you think I am?” do they REALLY expect you to answer?

Back to the dance mom thing. I help our dance teacher out with some things because she thinks the computer is a foreign tool of the devil and I pretty much walk around with one strapped to my hip. One of those things I do, related to the computer, is send out emails updating other dance parents when things change. And in our dance world, things change a lot, all the time.

Most of the parents find this very useful, and are mostly grateful. Others can’t see past my sig line, which announces my book rather proudly. I did, after all, write a book and get it published. Wouldn’t you be proud? Apparently, I should not be so. I should be ashamed, embarrassed, and beaten with whips.

Yesterday, I got this email (again, all the typos and misspellings belong to the person who sent the email):

I was wondering why there is a link on your emails advertising a book
that has nothing to do with dance. What is the connection between
sending information about a dance class and a book about girl that
was raised with “oppressive family values” (a book that would probley
be offensive to most of the people that you are collecting money from
each month)?

Of course, I immediately begin foaming at the mouth, and muttering profanely. But this is a dance mom. I think. I don’t know her, but I have to be nice. I have to not RAPID-FIRE TYPE OUT ALL THE WICKEDLY CUTTING THINGS I want to spew, because I will probably have to see this woman again. And, of course, this is not MY dance studio, or MY reputation we are talking about.

So I called the dance teacher, but she had lost her phone again or something, and didn’t answer. (Did I mention she’s not good with OTHER electronic gadgets, either?)

So, I composed a nice, very mild reply.

When I wanted to say, “You are lower than festering, jello-filled, Prozac eating, scum of the earth worm eaters,” I said this instead:

[Dance Team]belongs to [DANCE TEACHER.] I don’t collect anything from you. I simply send emails with updates, trying to make YOUR life easier.

I’d be happy to remove your name from the update list if my email sigline, which is automatic, is offensive to you.

Then I fumed and sputtered some more.

I got THIS reply back.

My life has already been made easier since my daughter decided to
quit dance. Maybe your life would be easier if you moved out of Utah
and saw that the rest of the world doesn’t care if you were raised by
horrible mormon parents who tried to teach you “family values”. So,
please do take me off your list.

That, of course, made everything easier. I didn’t have to be nice to above-mentioned moron, since she SURE as hell wasn’t being nice to me. She wasn’t even DANCING with us anymore. Why didn’t she ask for her name to just be removed when her daughter quit? WE ARE NOT THE MORMON CHURCH. We do not require eighteen signed and notarized letters, forty-two phone calls and naked dancing on the bishop’s lawn before we will RELEASE people from our bonds. For the most part, if you don’t want to dance at our studio, our studio director is happy to see your backside.

But I still chose the high road. Here was my reply to her latest nasty missive, which by the way was not even CLOSE to being original. I’ve heard the “move out of Utah” comment so many times it’s burned on my brain. She thinks the outside world doesn’t care?

Oh but they do. Book sales and Web site visitors prove that daily. And I’ve lived here all my life. Why should I move? I have just as much right to live here as you.

And you need to look up FICTION in the dictionary. The book isn’t MY story.

I’ll gladly remove you. And put your nice comments in my blog, too, so that the ‘rest of the world’ who doesn’t care can see just how loving Mormons are.

Then the phone rang, and Dance Teacher, who has figured out what Caller ID is, told me she had NO IDEA who this women even WAS. She was one of those people who join up, figure out they don’t like the intensity, or their daughter should dance with a bag over her head to save embarrassment to the family, and bail before anyone even knows their name. I have NO idea how long my sig line was festering in her little brain, but I hope it was a long, long time.

And there you go. She’s blogged, as promised, and I feel better.

I’ve received another request for advice regarding whether or not a Non-Mormon should move to Utah. I feel spectacularly UNQUALIFIED to answer this question, because I have never been a Non-Mormon. Rather, I have tried to be an ex-Mormon, rather unsuccessfully, a tale with which I have regaled you before. But feel free to go back and read how I became Trapped by the Mormons.

However, because I do live here as a former Mormon, among the Mormons, I shall do my best to answer this question. As always, I am including the comments verbatim. Remember, please, that although you might think I understand this society well, most of it has always puzzled me. Of course, so does Donald Trump’s hairdo, so let’s carry on.

I may be transferred to Salt Lake City for my job in federal law enforcement. I have a 6 year old daughter and wife who will be moving with me. Is my life going to suck there or what being non mormon. I was looking at realestate and figured I could buy a home on some acerage about 20 to 30 miles out of salt lake and not be bothered. In salt lake are the public schools bad for non mormons and are there a variety of good prvate schools I could put my daughter in for second grade. Help I don’t want to make a huge mistake

Your life here will not suck, but it will definitely swallow. Oh wait. I have that totally backwards, and it’s the wrong discussion. Moving on. You need to be able to make some adjustments. Or at least, see how easily you can control the following things.

1. Ability to control yourself and NOT scream and throw things at the television when the news reports yet again that “after legislators consulted Church authorities, the bill did not pass.” This can get expensive.

2. Ability not to wince when someone offers you “funeral potatoes.” (Despite their ominous name, they are very good. Damn good. REALLY REALLY addictive-like good. One taste of ooey, gooey, cheesy funeral potatoes and you will instantly convert and proclaim, “iknowthischurchistruenameofjesuschristamen.” Next thing you know you’re wearing Magic Underoos and talking about THE CHURCH without identifying WHICH Church of which you speak. Unless you hate potatoes, you may want to decline when offered this tasty, oddly-named, delicacy.)

3. A passing knowledge of the history of Jello. Or at the least, an ability to play, “Guess what Sister BigButt put in her jello dessert THIS month?” This requires the ability to guess what the square shape is in the dark green jello. (Hint: think Bugs Bunny. NO, not rabbit, you heathen. That’s just gross. Think Bugs Bunny’s favorite food. You know, that MIGHT be worse….)

4. You must like zucchini. Zucchini is another religion around here. You must know how to pronounce, spell, and enunciate zucchini. It is state law. In the summer, people stand on street corners and toss it into passing vehicles. Many a well-meaning Saint has caused traffic accidents indirectly due to the prophets’ declaration that faithful LDS members sow gardens. This is the only time of year Mormons will lock their cars while at Church. If they DO not lock their doors, the other ward members will fill the car with zucchini.

5. The Clorox Bottle Santa Claus is a cultural icon around here. Mormons are very crafty. They make things out of old phone books, too. I promise. You MUST be able to paste a smile on your face and say, “Well, isn’t that spesh-ul,” when given a craft made out of, say, old toilet paper rolls.

6. You must have a higher authority to consult on matters of great importance, such as WHICH movie to go see, especially if said movie is controversial. Even grown women turn to their priesthood holder for this type of direction. You must regularly expect questions such as “Well, what did the prophet have to say about it?” Thinking for oneself is not big here. Better you have someone else to blame it on when things go FUBAR. I worry, of course, what will happen when LDS members actually listen when their prophet speaks. How the hell did they all miss that whole divine “impression” thing he said on Larry King Live? Huh? Somebody tell that.

Oh, don’t get me started. I know I mentioned before that there are certain areas to which you can move that are not quite as “Mormon.” Salt Lake City, while the centerpiece of Mormonism–where you can find the Mormon Temple and the Mormon-owned Main Street and two malls, and countless Church-owned brains–is actually not terribly Mormon. It has a pretty high non-Mormon and ex-Mormon rate, quite a few bars, and a decent homeless population.

Park City is like leaving the state, temporarily, until you hit, say, Heber City. But the costs, phew! Parts of Central Utah are known for high populations of Catholics and Greek Orthodox citizens, mostly because of the mines that used to be prevalent around there. (Tip: Mining country is not TERRIBLY scenic, and that’s all I’ll say without getting myself into trouble with the Utah Tourism Industry. The Strawberry Reservoir area, including DUCHESNE (prounced DU-SHAYNE, unless you are my husband who fancies himself a standup comic and calls it Du-ches-ne. I know. Not funny. YOU tell him. I’ve tried, the children have tried, and he AIN’T listening.)has the smallest LDS Church I have EVER seen in my life. My friend who lives down there assures me it is small because very few people ever go. The area is pretty and scenic, but there’s legal statutes down there requiring you to have at least TWO old cars, nonoperable, on your front lawn. Think rural. Think REMOTE. Think four hours to the grocery store.

So, while you can live in areas not as densely populated by Mormons, being a law enforcement person, I’m guessing that is NOT where you are headed.

Private schools are plentiful in Utah. They are filled with non-Mormons and a few Mormons. If you are SERIOUSLY considering coming here, feel free to write me privately for recommendations.