Night at Home, or Mormons at the Door.

Picture if you will a scene of domestic bliss involving yours truly - GeeBee in the kitchen preparing a simple meal of spicy Italian pasta; Bob Dylan on the stereo, a glass of Spanish red wine in hand. Knock, knock upon the front door - a quick glance reveals some boys in suits. Instantly suspicious, I remark to the sage mathematician Elizabeth: "I'm not answering... they're Mormons" Well, guess what? My jest turned out to be the truth. I quickly busied myself with chopping a Jalapeno while the unsuspecting missionaries were led into the living room. From a safe distance I hear Elizabeth happily announce, "You have 20 minutes to convert me - starting now. GO!" Genie came into the kitchen and gleefully remarked that Elizabeth had the situation well in hand... I agreed that it seemed the perfect cat playing with the mice scenario. A bit of sport before dinner. Respectful but animated banter ensued - well not so much banter as feeble attempts to respond to challenges involving equations and carbon dating. Loopholes were unraveled, history exposed like torn undergarments, horrible blows dealt with nary a drop of blood spilled - no clean-up required. Then, as the spicy sauce reached a high-simmer, Genie went in to finish off the softened targets. Next thing I knew they were on the porch trying to make their getaway while Genie offered kind reminders that they will one day have to answer for their opposition to gay rights - just as racists did to opposing civil rights. All in time for dinner and the debate, thank God.