I got a call tonight from this Mormon woman who sounded about my age, trying to recruit me to the church of latter-day saints, and she was really really nice, enough to make me cry, which everything is making me do today. She 100% reminded me of this friend I had in high school named Mindy, the eldest daughter of a minister, and about the most earnest person ever. She opened her mouth so wide when she sang, and when I had a solo at Pizza Pops looked at me so earnestly as if it was only her and me. I miss her! Last time I saw her, when she was dropping me off at home, she held my hands and prayed for me. As far as I’m concerned, anyone who wants to can pray for me as long as they hold my hands in the driveway. I’m a real sucker for that sort of thing and don’t mind if father god watches.
I assured her that sending some people over to give me the book of Mormon would be fruitless though she so warmly told me how the word of god changed her life. Mindy moved back to Michigan with her family after god told them to go back! She had a boyfriend Mark. And I liked her sister too, the middle one Christa, rebellious and pregnant at a young age. And I liked the youngest Erika, who was in ribbons too long, and when I said, “Fancy that!” she said, “Casual that!” She was a smart girl. You know these people who take their husband’s last name when they get married are very hard to google. That should be illegal!
Also in the news, we went to Sher-E-Punjab for the fantasy meal of veggie samosas and pistachio milkshake, but they were all out of pistachio ice cream, so I had mango lassi instead, which I’m sure would be better anyway.
I’m so depressed yet when everything makes me cry, it seems beautiful also, like the Mountain Goats this morning. I feel very loving, loved, and vulnerable to the point of push me over with a feather.