Is the Pope Catholic?

Every year, my mother-in-law takes me to this great library fundraiser called "Murder on the Menu." It's a luncheon where every table has a published mystery author and you get to visit with them and ask questions. They take turns participating in a panel discussion in between eating and drawing for door prizes. It's a really fun event.

The headliner this year was Joanne Fluke. She writes cozy mysteries where there's a murder, several recipes, and an amateur sleuth (the same one every time) that always solves it. I've read and enjoyed several of her books.

The first year I went, I was at the table with Stephen Cannell. You don't know him by name but you know him: the guy invented the A-Team t.v. show. How cool is that?

This year...

Well, I didn't sit with either of them. I sat with an author I hadn't heard of but her book seemed interesting. When she made her way to our table, my proud mother-in-law introduced me as a fellow published author (my books don't come out until next year but I thought that was cute). The author, named April, was suitably encouraging. "Oh, what do you write?" she asked.

The answer always earns me a fun reaction. "I write Mormon chick lit."

Now, in a roomful of Mormons, usually you get, "Oh, cool." In a room full of non-Mormons, it's either confusion, amusement, or blankness. I understand all of these reactions. I'm quite used to them. My favorite is when I get a laugh, because it's never mean-spirited. It's usually startled because the answer is so unexpected. It's fine. It's all fine.

But I got a new reaction yesterday. This April said, "What do you write?"

I said, "Mormon chick lit."

She said, "Oh." Then, "Well, it's great that there's a t.v. show out there to support that."

Uh . . . ?

This time I stared at her blankly.

"You know," she said. "Big Love."

Cue groaning and a mental head slap.

I thought about the eight thousand things I should have said. I thought of them all right at the moment. But we also had an entire table of people that made me think, "This may not be the time or place."

But if I'd been more on my game, I'd have said, "Big Love isn't about Mormons."

There are no such thing as Fundamentalist Mormons. They're just some people who do crazy stuff and then call themselves Mormon but the crazy stuff they do isn't anything like what Mormons do. It'd be like if I put on a glittery, conical hat and decided to call myself Catholic. Nay, the Pope.

You don't get to say it and have it be true.

So some time today I need to look up her website and send her an email making that gentle distinction. But for all of my non-LDS friends that come by here for visits: FLDS is just a name. It's got nothing to do with being Mormon. Big Love has even less to do with being Mormon. You can get a basic outline of our beliefs here.

But you know what really offends me? This lady clearly had no idea what chick lit is. I've seen the commercials for Big Love and there's no WAY that's chick lit.

No, think a chick flick, only in book form. And it has to be the kind of chick flick with a young, hot guy and a girl who either starts with great fashion sense or ends up with great fashion sense. There are lots of fantastic shoes and sassy girls and smooching of aforementioned hot guys. Not so much creepy polygamists.

Anyway, my psychic wounds were healed somewhat later that night when I got to go to the Monster Truck Jam. Because I asked my husband to get me tickets. And he did. Because he doesn't find it odd that one weekend I ask to go to the ballet and the next the truck show. And he takes me. Because he's the best. When I saw his online dating profile (that's how we met), it said he wanted: Someone who's kind, vivacious, and loves to learn about new things; who'd enjoy Shakespeare one evening and bluegrass at a downtown speakeasy the next.

And that's why we're married. So who is someone chirping about Big Love in the face of My Man and my kids at Monster Truck Jam? No one to worry about, that's who.