I'm in the process of relocating to a new city in a new state. Which is exciting, like the lyrics to Zoobilee Zoo's intro song. "Magic and wonder are waiting for [me]."

God, I hated those scary facial prosthetics.

Anyway, I found a gym because that's how you know it's getting real with a move, and the sign up peeps were like, "You get a free consultation with a trainer and four free sessions."

And I was like, "Ok. Let's do this." Because it would be nice to quantify just how squishy I have become in the past few months with cray cray life changes - but magical and wonderful changes.

Sign up peeps were trying to get a good fit for my consultation, and were asking incredibly personal and invasive questions like "How do you like to work out?"

Which I responded with, "I like to kick people in the face."

And the sign up guy talked about how he used to be a boxer, and so he understood how I felt, and we bonded enough for me to give him my Driver's License and start a recurring payment.

However, he suggested one particular trainer because this guy had competed a lot in Taekwondo nationally, and maybe we would also bond enough for me to give him and the gym more money.

I was happy with the place and the people who were all nice, everything was very reasonable, although I was concerned that I didn't have time to call the local Temple and request a time for an endowment session, attend, sit in the celestial room for a quick prayer before being ushered out, and then hope I got an answer as to whether or not I should join a particular gym.

But, denying the Holy Ghost and His cracker jack advice has become a personal hobby of mine over the last few years - so I decided to just wing it this time and keep Him in the dark. And maybe that will end up screwing Him over the next time He has to present to Santa about my life and which list I should be on.

This morning, though, I had my consultation. The trainer was really nice, we were just talking about whatever as he was asking questions about workout routines and whatnot. We talked about martial arts and being nerds for that. He loved competing so much, he moved to Korea for several years which is hard core but very cool.

He knew I was going to be a transplant, but he asked me what I did for a living. I told him right now I am focusing on my writing. This answer always leads people to ask about what I write - sometimes I can answer honestly - sometimes I can't.

But here, I just said, "I usually write about abusive religions." He instantly asked, "Wait. Where are you from again?"

And I said, "Utah." And he gave me the look that people give when Utah and religion comes up. That 2+2=4 look.

I laughed, and said, "Yes. I was raised Mormon, and I left the church officially a few years ago."

He was just meant to be a trainer, and I could tell he didn't want to overstep boundaries. We had barely met, but he still said, "I would love to hear more about that."

I laughed again and said, "The short end is that I did the Mormon missionary thing." He knew what that was because he met missionaries in Korea. "I got sick, was treated with abuse for getting sick by my own church. I came home, my brother came out as gay, meanwhile I found all this information about the Church's history that I just couldn't make work anymore. I stopped going, but when the Mormon church wouldn't let the gay thing go - I resigned."

He sat there for a minute. I knew he had more questions, and he wanted more - but we also had to see just how weak I had recently become - and try to fix that.

He was nice, I'll be working with him for a few weeks, and we'll see if he's got more he wants to ask.

Very cool that you are writing more.

So does that mean you've left Zion?

Boy is he going to get an education!!!! Glad things are going well RJ. Don't over do!

That's a special look. Beware of the killjoys who covertly hope to bash TFC (an easy target, granted) mainly because their house gods are better, more powerful, etc. Like those damned ex-catholics who think their ex-religion is still better-worse than your ex-religion. The first time that happened I blurted out my quavering comeback: 'Jesus, at least you could drink wine and choose your own underwear!'

RJ, I wish you happiness in your new location. Enjoy getting to know your new home.

What prehistoric gene did you get that gives you that odd slant to everything and make it so entertaining? OR were you dropped on your head as baby?

Either way, can't wait for the sequel to this.

Give him the sure sign of the nail handshake and see the what the fuck look in his eyes! The Boner.

Make sure you really dig into the sensitive spot on the wrist to make it hurt a little. Every fucking time I went through.

Outside of the little corner Mormonism claimed - no one really knows. And it's an oddity. Something that is outside the influence of Joseph Smith and the Masonic Rites he stole from.

Adventure is afoot.

It's always fun when folks are curious about the underbelly of the Mormon beast and give you the opportunity to regale them with tales of the absurdities of Mormonism.

By the way, your "squishiness" makes me happy; thank the sacrelicious ceiling waffle you can eat again. You've come along so much in the last couple of years.