Dorcas Wong

D is for Domingo. Which is El Dia before the El Dia we get ready for Sunday.

I love the Sabbath.

Today, being high on Ovulation, I had a weird day. I have been vacillating between 100+ degree fevers and white-hot rage. W had to remove me from church after I told him, in a stage whisper, that I hated the smarmy little bastard doing sign language on the Sunday School DVD. I wanted to throw a book at the TV. It was weird. Sorry Porter and CJane because I am sure that the guy is some sort of a Clark, since y'all have the syndicate on all things broadcasted. Still, he had better stay on the other side of the street. This was after I marched out of Sacrament Meeting and drove to my favorite Laurel's home to get her out of bed and at church. ("But I am too tired." "Well, I want to call everyone I see a hooker and a biz-natch. Get up." "But I am sleeping." "I don't care. Get up.") Not feeling the spirit, mostly rage. Still, I got her to church. Again, weird.

Normally, though, Domingo is a great day of the week. I occasionally feel the spirit during the first block of meetings (Depending on the whims of Jooj) and then I drop her off at nursery for two hours. I get spiritually recharged and a free babysitter. How can you not love the gospel, I ask? Plus, I renew the covenants that I made when I was baptized, and I get saturated by reminders that I am on the right path for La Yen. As I sit in the peace I remember why I do the things I do, and I review my week--am I going in the right direction? (yes.) Do I need to repent? (yes.) Am I working my hardest to live every week like it is Shark Week? (Not this week. Will try harder.)

After almost three years in El Paso, I am still amazed by the differences between here and Utah. Like Utah County, El Paso has more churches than bars, which I think is a pretty good indicator of a city's temperament. Still, I am always noticing the Sabbath differences between me and my neighbors. (One of my neighbors was recently baptized to the church. But she is certifiably crazy and wanders the streets all day carrying different bags and backpacks and things, and darts in front of cars without looking. I am not talking about her, though. But we do have differences. Although maybe not this week.) I have always felt that there were two ways to live a religion: be devout, or don't be religious at all. Anything in the middle is just a waste of your time. Not talking about personal feelings about God, or whatever, just in the way that religion is manifested. The majority of religions are pretty specific about rules to follow and whatnot, and if you don't follow the rules there are pretty specific prescribed consequences. In my mind, if you are not following all of the rules, then you should not bother to follow any of them--it doesn't do you any good. Like a twelve-year old who reminds you that, even though she snuck out of the house to go on a date, she WAS home by curfew. No good done.

Since the day I was born, I have absolutely known that living my religion was how I wanted to live. There have been times that I have tried to go half-way about it; I have made exceptions for skipping church or not keeping the Sabbath day holy to accommodate others, I have called people smarmy bastards during Sunday School, I have coveted. All the little basics. But I just don't feel good when I live that way. So I try my very best to live my religion every day, and especially on Domingo. And that is why I get so confused at people driving out of their church parking lot and into the liquor store across the street. Or stopping before Mass at the place down the road that sells big pots of hangover Menudo. Or stealing cars from the Stake Center parking lot while our prophet is speaking via satellite. Or cornering my favorite Laurel in the foyer and telling her she is a bad person, and that she would thank them later for yelling at her in public and berating her up and down (one guess as to who in the congregation is at it again!). Or (this one I saw today) playing really really really loud music that talked, in graphic detail, about the female anatomy, while in the parking lot of an Evangelical chapel. I don't know--it just confuses me. I know that many people go to church because they feel obligated, or they feel guilted, or it is simply a habit. Isn't that a waste of time? Wouldn't your body feel better if you were being honest with yourself? Mine does. It rebels against me when I rebel against what I know to be truth. Maybe that is why there is so much acne. People not being honest with their bodies. Just a thought.
Does this make any sense? I am high on hormones. And in mourning for Romber.

And these neighbors of mine, for the most part, are great, amazing people. They love their families, they support their community, they are all-around-good people. Except for that guy down the street who had a drum solo until 3 in the morning last night. He is also the guy who piles seven kids on his quad and drives on the sidewalk and gets mad when I don't get my baby stroller out of the way quick enough. I just wonder if they are happy. I hope that they are happy. Because people deserve to feel as happy as I feel (except for when I feel the rage and the nausea) on Domingo.

And now that I think about it, there is no difference, really, between the two counties. Because I think that a lot of my neighbors back in the UC only did what they felt obligated to do. And I know that the Sizz was crowded after Stake Conference. And the liquor stores were not open, so no one could be spotted that way. Does that make the EP more honest? Does that make our acne better? On City Confidential and shows like that, they are always quick to point out the contrast between that beautiful stock photo of the Salt Lake Temple and the grizzly body of whoever got murdered. As a people, the citizens of Utah are generally more known for the confabs of Mormons than for anything else, and so they are held to a higher standard by the rest of the world. I guess I am doing the same thing when I look at other people and wonder why they don't live the way I think that they should. Who am I to wonder? Who am I to think that they are not happy?

GTG--My Husband's Three Wives is on the Discovery Health channel. God bless America and my CRAZY CRAZY ovaries. Don't judge me.