You guys know
that I do a bit of public speaking, right?
And I think I mentioned that in October I went to Nauvoo, Illinois with
St. Bob, to speak to a big Singles’ Mega-Conference, right? (My topic: How to
find humor in adversity—I have been preparing for this speech MY ENTIRE LIFE.)
And I love
Nauvoo. It literally glows with the Spirit of its history—an early Latter-day
Saint settlement that became the jewel of the Midwest. Today it’s much like
Williamsburg, a great place for families to visit where they can see yesteryear’s
artisans at work. And you get little
freebies at every shop—the bakery, the printing press, the blacksmith, the
brick maker, etc. Plus we have a gorgeous temple there. If you look closely,
you can see us standing beside it.
But of course this wonderful experience
cannot go without a snag or two, since I take Joniopolis with me wherever I go.
And during my second talk I suddenly got a hot flash. A major downpour hot flash. An I-think-I-could-take-my-pulse-in-my-eyeballs
hot flash. I’m instantly drenched and I’m sure my face is the color of a stoplight.
(I might add
that these hot flashes are because I’ve been in a six-month clinical trial to
reduce my breast cancer tumor, and though the injections have worked magnificently, the
side effect is hot flashes.)
Luckily I was
wearing a jacket. So in the middle of my talk I said, “Okay, I’m having a
killer hot flash. Sorry, but the jacket goes.” Thank goodness I wasn’t wearing just
one thick sweater or something. Good grief—the things we do for the cause of
science, right?
I continued
my speech, and then afterwards a wonderful thing happened: One of the women in
attendance gave me her fan! Her own,
personal fan!
