No, not that one.

The other one: the Mormon Mom Club.

Summer in Utah, for me, is a funny thing. I’m an East Coast girl; I spent my summers at my grandparent’s beach house and spent my teenage years living at a house on a Tennessee lake. In Utah, there isn’t as much as a thunderstorm to be had in the way of water. And, I like a big old loud storm where it feels like the roof could get carried off at any moment. Not here. It’s as dry as a bone, and its just not natural to have chapped lips and rough hands in July, people.

Out here in the land of suburbia, where summer is marked by trips to the pool, the library, and Costco, the differences between me and the local culture just seem that more apparent.

I, for one, do not take my kids to their swimming lessons wearing jeans and a three quarter length sleeved shirt. Your apt to see me (HORRORS!) in my bathing suit sitting under the pavilion waiting on my turn to swim. If you run into me at Target, I could be wearing shorts that fall way above my knee…cause for scandal, I know. In the wintertime, when everyone blends together in their ski jackets and boots, doors are held open and smiles at my children are a little more forthcoming.

I saw a middle aged lady yesterday wearing an Aerosmith tank top and I gave her a huge smile because I know she knows what its like.

Its fairly easy to laugh off the women at the pool. They’re busy chasing around their six kids at the pool while wearing long pants in 100 degree heat.

We have a neighbor two doors up that I refer to as the Mean Mormon Man as he will not wave nor otherwise acknowledge our presence if he happens by our house. At first, I used to wave at him as he rolled by in his BMW. Nothing, not a turn of the head, not an accidental wave of the hand. From what I heard from our fellow Catholic heathen next door neighbors shortly after moving in, he will not talk to you especially if you’re female unless you are LDS. And that has proven to be true.

Being a firm believer that kids should be outside, we are often out in the afternoons playing sidewalk chalk or some other equally messy thing. While the nice Mormon Moms are probably reading scripture aloud to their children while they snack on some home baked product, I’m letting my kids throw water balloons at each other and eat goldfish. Sometimes with an Adult Beverage in hand. Me, not them. I haven’t let my kids start drinking yet- although in their minds, letting my three year old sip beer is probably just around the corner.

And, that guy will just walk past the house side stepping any kid toys that may be in the way and stare straight ahead. So as not to catch any drunken Catholic cooties. That really pisses me off. I’m thinking of having some nice Catholic literature sent to his house.

So, while winter is pretty tolerable here in the city that Brigham Young built, I’d stay away in the summer unless you have a thick skin and plenty of Chap-Stick.