Sunday, November 05, 2006

We've got 25 more days so I see no rush to speed along to part two. But just let you know it's entitled Stockholm to My Home: How two Swedish blondes can ruin everything.

Right now let me tell you a cautionary tale. I remember there was a moment a long time ago when I realized the tingly sensation some girls gave my stomach wasn't the first sign of a deadly case of cooties. Of course these were the same days I lived in a tiny house with my parents and my sister, my father worked the night shift and my mother still dressed me. I was no ladies man. But after a few girls had come and gone I started to think maybe I kind of had an idea what this girl thing was about. Just then a tall pretty blonde showed up in class, showing off her white smile and kicking my ass at four square. She wasn't one of those kids who made up ridiculous rules like atomic bombs either. She would just beat us all fair and square.

I was young and smart and understood multiplication so life back then was good. Best of all I could tell she was digging me. I think she even let me win a few times. But just when things were about to get fun something happened. She cold-shouldered me. I didn't get it but I had to know why. So what better thing to do then to ask her best friends. "Um, she's Mormon. They have rules about dating and touching and everything. She can't even drink pop!"

I remember thinking to myself, no problem, my parents barely ever keep pop at our house. I could totally stop drinking it. But sadly that was not enough. Her parents were not the strictest Mormons but she would not be getting close to any boys before she was 16 and certainly not ones that weren't Mormon.

So when this shy, stunning dark-haired, blue-eyed girl from work told me she didn't drink I was cautious but not worried. And when she showed up at the club where the band was playing last night I tried not to make a big deal. And when I noticed she wore a long sleeve shirt I got nervous. And when she sat down next to me I started to think about four square. And since I don't plan to convert or marry I had to know so I smiled at her and asked her either to have a drink or give me a kiss. She smiled and ordered a sprite. She ordered a pop! Ah the relief. Then I asked her if she had to work this morning. "No,' she said, "It's sunday. I have to go church with my parents."
Oh, so you are catholic or something, I said, in my pure Jewish ignorance of the Jesus peoples.

"No. Didn't I tell you? I'm mormon"
It's hard swimming in a sea of goyim and try not to drown.


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