So the bishop wanted to meet with me last Sunday, and man, I really thought I was in trouble.
Turned out he just had a new assignment for me.
I was worried that my past had finally caught up with me and I was being excommunicated for my chronic inability to grow zucchini.
You see, there is a history here. I grew up in a convert family, my parents striving daily to be good Later-day Saints. Thus, they grew zucchini. And I had two important chores to contribute to the success of this endeavor: kill squash bugs, and sell the zukes. Sell the zukes? How hard can that be? Zukes are great! Everyone over the age of 18 loves zukes!
What you don't know is that my insane parents (I come by it honestly, people) would let them grow and grow and grow.......until we had 9-12 lb. zucchini. Yuk. Giant watery no-flavor zukes. And they would load them into the wagon and send us out. "Children: go forth into the wilderness and obtain riches from the fruits (or vegetables) or our labors" they would cry! And we couldn't come home until the wagon was empty.
Our non-member neighbors must have had the wisdom of saints, as they were able to ascertain our predicament (the LDS ones had no sympathy - they had their own zukes). They would buy the horrid zukes, maybe to make wallpaper paste out of, and allow us to go home. We sold them faster when we took toddler David with us for the cuteness factor. "Just give the girl a quarter, Hal, so they'll stop ringing the doorbell!"
What I learned after moving to Utah makes me think the missionaries were holding out on us converts in the wilderness: You're supposed to take the giant zukes to church with you and leave them in unlocked cars.