My Mormon Starter Pack (and Why I’ll Never Outgrow It)

The Unexpected Essentials of My Everyday Life

I’ve always been fascinated by the things people keep close—their emotional support water bottles, their “lucky” socks, or the playlists that serve as soundtracks to their existence. As for me? My list of personal essentials is eclectic, a mix of practicality, nostalgia, and quirks shaped by a childhood in suburban Utah, where faith, family hikes, and deep introspection set the tone for life. So, here’s a roundup of the things I can’t live without—and why some of them just might surprise you.

1. A Hardcover Journal (Because Even My Thoughts Love a Retro Vibe)

You know how some people have a dozen Moleskines lying around, perpetually half-filled and scribbled in like they’re starring in their own indie coming-of-age movie? Yeah, that’s me. My journal is my lifeline: a catch-all for bad first-date recaps, random thoughts on faith, and deep musings inspired by a particularly good sunset in Zion National Park.

There’s something grounding about putting pen to paper in a world that constantly wants you to swipe—but not that kind of swiping (though shoutout to the dating apps, where I once matched with someone by bonding over Mormon Tabernacle Choir trivia—true story). Journaling is where I figure out what I’m actually feeling—whether it’s excitement, heartbreak, or something deliciously messy in between.

Sure, you could argue there are apps for this kind of thing, but typing into a screen isn’t the same. A hardcover journal forces me to slow down, collect my thoughts, and, yes, doodle terrible stick-figure renditions of my hiking trail selfies. Plus, it’s far easier to look mysterious in a coffee shop with a notebook than with your Notes app open—trust me.

2. Hiking Boots That Have Seen It All (Including My Questionable Decisions)

Speaking of hiking trail selfies, my boots belong in their own category of sacred objects. These bad boys have been with me through everything: Sunday family treks up Salt Lake City’s Ensign Peak, solo trips to Bryce Canyon after breakup #3 of 2017 (it was a rough year), and even that one ill-advised “hike first, talk later” date that ended with both of us sunburned and arguing over whether rocks can truly be spiritual. Spoiler: they can.

Utah’s landscapes have this uncanny ability to pour salt in your wounds and then heal them all in one go. It’s impossible to hold onto anger while standing in the stillness of Arches National Park or the vast expanse of the Bonneville Salt Flats. My boots are a literal and metaphorical reminder to keep moving forward, even when the trail isn’t well-marked (or when someone cancels on me last minute).

Bonus tip: If your dating life is in a slump, take someone on a hike. You’ll either learn a lot about them—like how they react to getting lost—or at least end up with killer Instagram content.

3. Spotify Playlists That Could Double as My Dating Résumé

Take one part Mormon Tabernacle Choir, mix in some Taylor Swift heartbreak anthems, and sprinkle on a layer of Bon Iver for good measure, and you essentially have my ideal playlist. Call it Moody Mormon Core, if you will.

Here’s the thing: I truly believe music reveals everything you need to know about someone. When I’m curating playlists, I’m crafting soundtracks not just for my moments but for potential shared memories. Yes, Adele’s classics make regular appearances when I’m wallowing in my single-dom, but so does the joyful chaos of Maggie Rogers when I need to pep myself up for a fourth date.

And let’s not forget that music can be a relationship litmus test. For example, once I dated someone who refused to listen to “Skinny Love” because everyone puts it on first-date playlists. If I’m being honest, we didn’t last long—it was never really about the song and always about the fact they refused to let themselves care about something cliché.

Moral of the story: Bring on the clichés. They’re the sonic version of comfort food.

4. Fry Sauce (A Saucy Love Story)

This may sound dramatic, but if you’ve tasted Utah fry sauce, you’ll understand why it deserves a spot on this list. This pinkish mixture of ketchup and mayonnaise is simple but life-changing, like a meet-cute in a rom-com where the protagonists think they’ll despise each other but end up soulmates.

If you’re not from Utah, you may not fully grasp the cultural significance of fry sauce. It’s the unofficial condiment of my childhood, the one thing that made forcing down soggy drive-thru fries on long family road trips bearable. Now, as an adult, it shows up in the unlikeliest of moments, like when I’m thrifting and find a bottle lurking in the back of a mom-and-pop diner.

Fry sauce isn’t just a condiment—it’s a reminder that life’s simplest pleasures often hold the most meaning. Also, bonus dating tip: If someone turns up their nose at fry sauce, proceed with caution. That’s not the adventurous spirit you deserve in a partner.

5. Prayer Beads (But Make It Modern)

Here’s where my religious upbringing comes full circle. Before you roll your eyes, let me explain: growing up in a devout but open-minded LDS household left me with a unique relationship to spirituality. While I no longer participate in formal church life, I’ve found ways to keep faith close—prayer beads being one of them.

For me, prayer beads are less about organized religion and more about grounding myself in the chaos of everyday life. Sure, I still pull them out in moments of spiritual exploration, but they’ve also become my go-to anxiety tool—like a fidget spinner for adults, but with cooler vibes.

And here’s the kicker: on occasion, they’ve started conversations on dates. Someone once asked, “Are those . . . kombucha beads?” (They were not. Also, what does that even mean?) Another thought I wore them as a statement necklace, which, I think, says something about Utah’s lack of high-fashion influencers. Either way, they tend to spark curiosity—which is fitting, because that’s all I’ve ever tried to nurture in myself and others.

6. A Sense of Humor (Because Dating is Basically a Rom-Com Anyway)

Okay, so this isn’t an object in the traditional sense, but humor might be the single most important thing I can’t live without. From navigating Utah’s... let’s call them quirky cultural dating norms (“So, how soon after meeting should we talk about eternal marriage?”) to laughing at my own missteps—like confusing “flirty banter” with “accidentally insulting their favorite TV show”—humor pulls me through.

Here’s the thing about dating, relationships, and even life: it’s all inherently absurd. Whether you’re bonding with someone over shared childhood quirks (ever participated in a Pioneer Day pie-eating contest?) or realizing the only spark between you is static electricity, you can either laugh or cry. I choose laughter—preferably over a plate of fries slathered in fry sauce.

The Takeaway (And Why It Matters)

The things we hold onto—whether they’re hiking boots, prayer beads, or bottles of fry sauce—say more about us than we probably realize. They’re the threads that stitch meaning into the everyday, quietly weaving memories and lessons we carry with us.

So, whether your essentials include a lucky keychain, your dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice, or something as small as a ChapStick, know that it all matters. Your story—and how you choose to live it—is uniquely yours.

As for me? I’ll be in the mountains, fry sauce in one hand and a journal in the other, trying to embrace the sacred mess of it all.