This past weekend I ran off to Utah (via Orange County for the longest possible way to go, but also for free childcare) to attend the Salt Lake City Weekly party for the recipients of the 2011 Best of Utah award. Mine was as a board member of WAVE, the advocacy group I helped found, and the staff of the newspaper liked us so much they invented a category for us. Best Mormon Feminist.
I didn’t know what to expect, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t need an acceptance speech or anything, but it turned out to be a party at a club with free food and booze. I got no food, and was interested in no booze, so I missed out on that, but I brought my cousin friend Karen and we had a blast living it up like two single girls on the town. I even got hit on at the party, and since I’ve been developing a bit of a complex about my momma frump, that did the old girl some good.
We left the party and had a beautiful meal like you’d see on Top Chef, slept in late the next morning, went shopping, had another long lunch, and then Karen left and I got another day to sleep in, lay about the room, meet with some other friends, and get away from worrying about anybody else’s needs for a while. It was pretty dang luxurious.
I was so honored to represent the rest of us mouthy broads that make up the WAVE board, and I will now have a plaque on my wall declaring me the Best Mormon Feminist, if that ever comes up for debate. But I’m not really sure that my troublemaking needs to be encouraged.