There is nothing like walking into the Wilk only to be overcome by a Cougareat teeming with middle-aged mormon moms.
It's a heart-warming sight. Where else can you find hordes of name-tag wearing ladies armed with subway sandwiches, ice cream, and halfway-crocheted periwinkle booties?
Every spring, approximately 15,000 women flock to Provo for a weekend of friends, service projects, and "sharpening the saw" (as Stephen Covey would call it). Groups of women wander around campus trying to find the "swicket" or the conference center. It's cute that they are so clueless.
Sometimes they gaggle around a headstrong leader and follow her, oblivious to where they are headed, like a flock of newly hatched chicks. (Speaking of newly hatched chicks, everyone should stop by the duck pond in the next few weeks--DOZENS of little puff balls are cheeping and following around their mom. It's adorable.)
Basically, Women's Conference is EFY for moms. But, as a veteran of many spring/summer semesters, I can testify that it's much more enjoyable to have thousands of wide-eyed mormon moms than hormonally crazed teenagers palling around campus. Plus, EFY histrionics just don't make me smile like a huddle of Relief Society sisters examining the hem on a pioneer-style bonnet in the bookstore.
Ice cream in hand, of course.
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