Tonight I will take my journey to that remote, dry desert place where no man treadeth without warning: Girl’s Camp. Should I not survive, go on without me in peace and posterity and please keep watching “So You Think You Can Dance” . . . for me.
People have been so kind. E-mails, phone calls, stop-bys “Is there anything we can do to help you get through your sojourn?” they ask. “Can we smuggle you in a Diet Coke?”
“No.” I answer firmly because I do not drink Diet Coke.
I drink Coke.
With lemon from a can, in a bottle, straight from the dispenser into my mouth. Not every day, but on occasion when I feel anxious, moody or in despair. And I wonder, what kind of Mormon does this make me? Not a super healthy Mormon, but still a righteous one?
I do obey the Word of Wisdom. I mean, I eat meat only in times of winter or famine (two things I don’t experience very often.) I seek out whole grains, I eat of the fruit of the vine and the vegetable of the earth. So what if I drink Coke to wash down my brussels sprouts every so often?
This morning as we put all the Young Women on the buses towards the land of barely-returns, my neighbor and bishopric member Brother B. was asking me what special thing he could bring up for me on Bishopric night.
“Nothing.” I said three times.
Then Sister B joined in.
“Diet Coke?” she asked, mentioning the year she went to camp and drank DC in the food tent when nobody was watching.
“Well”¦I like a nice Bourbon”¦if it’s from Kentucky.” I said after some slyly-held hesitation.
“Hmmm” said Brother B. thinking about the last time he gave me a temple recommend interview, “How about a Coke?”
My point exactly, I mean there are worse things I could be drinking.
I just love that kind of logic, don’t you?
But anyway, I am off. Coke-less. It does clearly state on the camp list that there is to be no caffeinated beverages. I think if I obey rules now-and-then I feel less guilty for having a cold one on a long and toiling day in the valley (something I experience all the time, I mean, in moderation.)