Dr. Mormon meets God.

I went to the dentist. He's a Mormon. He's never told me that, but he doesn't need to. All of the tells are there. I don't care as long as he's a good dentist. He has zero idea that I was ever a mormon. He doesn't know much about me.

What I do care about is when he starts telling me all the details of the Sunday school lesson he taught last Sunday. Apparently it was a lesson on being perfect/flawed.

He then asked me what my interests are. I told him I'm a fine Art watercolor painter. He asked me how often I painted over mistakes. The answer is ....never. It's transparent, and there's no covering over your mistakes. I have to be perfect! He asks me what I do when I make mistakes. Well, I swear a lot, then I gesso over the entire painting and put the paper in a pile to be used for acrylic paintings, a whole other thing.

Oh, so you do fix them! he says. Nooooo, I change them into another animal. I am the God of my work and I get to decide what stays and what goes. I get to make or break rules as I see fit.

Then, OMG! Then he asks me what religion I am. I told him I'm my own God.

End of conversation. I'm still laughing. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I, a mere heathen woman would be telling a Dr. priesthood holder that I'm my own God.