Only in Utah

Last week I went to the post office to pick up a package. The line was longer than Fast Sunday, mostly because one lady was mailing truckloads of "Stampin' Up" packages.

"Only in Utah!" the guy in front of me said.

It struck me that I haven't used that phrase yet since I moved to Utah. I mean, when I lived on Long Island I said "Only in New York" all the time, like every time I paid $4.99 PER POUND for an all-you-can-eat-buffet, or every time a public toilet flushed before I was done with my bizness, or every time I got flipped off for obeying the traffic laws.

(In Utah they would throw me a parade if I obeyed the traffic laws.)

When I lived in Hawaii I said, "Only in Hawaii," all the time too, like every time I woke up with a cockroach in my ear, or every time my screen door was installed backwards, or every time a car waved at me to turn in front of him.

(I would throw Utah a parade if anyone ever waved at me to turn in front of him.)

So why haven't I said "Only in Utah" yet?

I have no idea. But it's about time I did.

I should have said it last night at the Relief Society birthday party when they served kalua pig with mashed potatoes and gravy.

Call me crazy, but I get a sense that people here suffer from rice-ophobia.

Last week my Stake YW Prez asked me to cook some rice for the YW recognition dinner. I honestly didn't know what to say when she dropped off the dainty little bag of long grain rice--all 32 oz of it.

Even my newspaper could kick that long grain's trash.

Not to be snobby, but I buy Calrose.

In bulk.

When my prez handed me a set of instructions on how to cook rice on the stove top I took her gently by the hand and led her to my kitchen where I showed her my shiny stainless steel rice cooker. I pushed the start button and said, "this is how I cook rice, girlfriend."

After the recognition dinner I went into the kitchen to pick up my rice pot and wouldn't you know it, not a single grain of that 32 oz. had been eaten.

Only in Utah!

There are other things that happen only in Utah. Like good sportsmanship. Everyone is afeared of contention around these parts. My twins basketball league doesn't even keep score. They don't call fouls either. They just want everyone to have a positive experience and feel like winners.

Ward basketball takes sportsmanship to a whole nother level. The boys can get away with being a little mouthy now and again, but the girls have to gather in a circle and read this poster out loud which outlines the purpose of Utah area sports.

And then they repeat the Young Women theme.

Parents and siblings have obligations to help keep the peace as well.

But by no means is the church the only entity concerned about the conflicts that can and will arise from athletic competition.

A few days ago my daughter came home with a contract I had to read and sign and swear on the Holy Bible to abide by in order for her to play club soccer.

1. Parents must not coach from the side line.

2. Parents should not criticize their child on any part of their child's game since it may cause confusion and erode the player's confidence.

3. Be your child's best fan and support her unconditionally. Don't withdraw your love when she performs below her standard.

4. On transporting your daughter home, please be supportive and always focus on the positive aspects of her game.

5. Monitor your child's stress level at home. Keep an eye on your player and make sure they are handling stress effectively from the various activities of life.

6. Be sure that your child is eating the correct foods and is in bed by 9:30 p.m.

7. Help your child keep priorities correct. she needs to maintain a focus on schoolwork, relationships and other things in life besides soccer.

8. Do not criticize the coach or other players on the team or on the opposing team, or other player's parents or parents of the opposing team.

9. View the game 4-5 feet back from the sidelines.


Of course I signed my name in blood on the dotted line:

R. U. Serious

-------------------------

But I left out my middle name, "Freaking," because it sounded too formal.

Ironically, this post is circular in nature, so let's end at the very beginning, with me at the post office receiving a package and wondering why I never use the phrase "only in Utah."

The package was a gift from my Hub's old Health Center staff at BYU-Hawaii--some kind of specially carved Maori shark tooth studded swords--aka, fierce instruments of war meant for impaling one's enemy in the heat of battle.

Only in Utah would I pretend they are ancient Chinese dust busters when the neighbors drop by to chat.