i couldn't help but notice flocks of cheerful, energetic looking women migrating toward the convention center downtown. unsual for a friday morning at 7:45. very unusual. as i certainly was neither perky nor destined for the salt palace, i blearily resigned myself to never knowing from whence or for what this strange species had descended upon us.
i had forgotten all over the course of a non-busy, busy day involving further entrenchment in the local bookbinding and conservation world and making pretense of hinging on a few loose fly leaves. that was until i was comfortably seated on the express bus headed home. very near the scene of the morning's mystery, a man talking on a cell phone embarked. i couldn't help overhearing him say with an unmistakable smile in his voice, ". . . bunch of ladies stamping up stuff."
of course. utah is the perfect place for a scrapbooking convention. how could i be so blind?
near the end of my ride home, as commuters were whipping out cell phones, calling for rides, i overheard another man in conversation: ". . .Do you mind if we stop and give someone a blessing on the way home? [pause] Do you have oil? [pause] Well, we'll get things taken care of and consecrate some if we need to. . . . "
ah utah. i love thee.