Tuesday, July 31, 2007
maybe it's the stomach flu. or maybe something else. who knows.
read this blog, though: http://drexolympus.blogspot.com/
gay mormon boy. straight mormon girl. getting married in a week. oh my GOSH the drama!
Monday, July 30, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Thursday, July 26, 2007
To which I replied, "Yes it is."
Then, Steve asked, "What did you *do* yesterday without the internet?"
I said, "I read the Bible." [true story.]
Steve, who actually *saw* me reading the bible and knew this was true, looked a little confused/horrified for a moment. He said, "you mean, you could have chosen between Harry Potter and the Bible and you chose the *bible*?!"
yeah, kid. I did.
let the witch trials begin.
It's my *internet* that hasn't been working. I was going to go to the public library today to post something and to check my email, but for some reason the internet seems to be working at the moment. Who knows when it will stop again!
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
In case it's too hard to read, here's the text: "Betty the Fish. Once there was a fish his name was Betty. the fish his owner was kristin. He loved her. the worst day of his life is when we had to clean out tank. I love my fish. and he love me two. the end."
yay for cute kids and the stories they tell!
Sunday, July 22, 2007
mary?!!! wth did i do to make u so pissed at me?
HOLY MOTHER!!!!! do you think i'd get struck by lightning if i called her a bee-yatch?
someone tell me... WHAT is the symbolism of THIS?!!!
Saturday, July 21, 2007
This is Sam and Lily riding in grandma's car on the way to the library.
This is Sam and Mommy coming through the spinny doors.This is Sam ditching Runes Class in the basement of the library.
We did, however, make it to "Care of Magical Creatures" class, put on by Hogle Zoo. There was a screech owl, a salamander, cockroaches (HUGE ones!), a ferret, and some other animals. That's Hagrid.
We also saw a lot of people in costumes. Including some funny looking puppet people. I don't think they were real. I can't say for sure.
I guess Voldemort wasn't busy anymore after book 7, cause he was totally available to guard the copies from Sam. Who was underwhelmed.
We took the train home. Sam took this picture of me at the station when we were waiting.
Sam thought the whole evening was pretty cool, man.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Here, in fact, is what they said:
"I never had an AP test score because I was never in an English APclass, but with the instruction we got from Prof. Spencer, I can'timagine that any AP course from any High School could have come closeto her expertise"
I know. I'm as shocked as you are.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Saturday, July 14, 2007
It's throbbing and blood is pooling behind the toenail and IT HURTS LIKE A HOLY MOTHER!!!
It's one of those toe-injuries that makes the toe nail fall off in a few days/weeks.
Something about all of this feels so symbolic...
When he got to the end he finished off . . . "And Barbara and Johnny!"
Steve said, "What about Catherine and Richard?"
Sam said, "huh?"
Steve said, "Where are they?" [they've been living in Philadelphia for the last year or so]
Sam said, "Oh, yeah." [shrug] "They're dead."
Steve and I looked at each other in a disturbed silence.
Then we laughed.
Friday, July 13, 2007
This is what Steve and I just did:
1) hired a babysitter
2) ate a delightful dinner at Carino's
3) went to Barnes and Noble where we set the clock for five minutes and set out to find the perfect book for the other person. Then we exchanged books and just hung out and read.
It was a lot like our honeymoon. Lots of good food. Lots of books. No babies.
We're kind of geeks at heart, really. And so it was perfect for us!
it pissed me off, for a lot of reasons.
but the biggest one...I think the biggest one isn't the obvious one.
When something sux, like sux really, really bad...I don't know how most people deal with it. But I know that *I* try to laugh about it. I try to make jokes. The fact that I make them doesn't mean that I don't understand the seriousness of the thing I'm trying to make fun of (therapists, post-partum depression, feelings of worthlessness, other stuff like that). It means that I'm trying to *laugh.*
I believe in laughter. I believe that people *need* to laugh.
But here's the rub...Every funny person at some point is going to accidentally offend someone. Maybe hurt the feelings of a dear friend without meaning to. Even when they're actively *trying* to be unoffensive. I know that I try to only make fun of myself, or my kids who can't read and thus won't get hurt by it. And yet...I offend people. At least I did today.
So I want to hear your thoughts.
Is it better to try and make people laugh and offend some people?
Or is it better to keep your jokes to yourself? Especially in somewhere like a blog that's visible to the entire world?
We need to laugh. But at what cost?
Thursday, July 12, 2007
What do you guys think?
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Late this afternoon I remembered that this morning, right as the bright-a$% sun was starting to glare through the window, Sam came and stoood next to me.
Normally when your toddler comes to wake you up it means you have to *do* something. Like they'll say, "Mommy, why is all that poop on the wall?" Or, "Mommy, I'm going to throw uuu[wretching ensues]."
This morning, Sam the three year old had found a cup.
Sam has this annoying habit of coming up to me and shaking my arm as hard as he can. Well, two days ago I was holding this cup. It was full of boiling water. And he ran up to me and started shaking my arm. Well, the boiling water went all over my arms, all over my legs and stomach. Because my husband was *really* quick with the cold water, no real harm was done. But, obviously, it caused much loud screaming, then swearing, then yelling at Sam because there was a *reason* I always tell him NOT to shake my arm like that. Sam ran out of the room, crying.
So, this morning, two whole days later, he sees the cup.
I was sleeping, and he came up to my bed and said, "I didn't mean to do it, Mommy."
I don't know what, exactly, I said back. (Like I said before, I didn't even really remember this conversation until late this afternoon.)
He said, "I know I hurt you, and I didn't mean to do it. And I'm really sorry. I'll try not to hurt you anymore."
I think I might have kissed him in my sleep and then maybe his dad shuffled him away into the bathroom.
It wasn't until later that I realized how sweet the whole thing was. He wasn't coming looking for anything except forgiveness.
Amazing how *human* little guys can be sometimes, isn't it?
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
This reminded me of a conversation I was having with a friend of mine about how the only way I got through chemistry class was the fact that I had a crush on a boy in chemistry (not Guy-Smiley, steve. I'm talking about a different chemistry class!). So I *wanted* to go to chemistry. I wanted to *study* chemistry. (my mind is making up all these lame jokes about boys and chemistry right now!) Chemistry class was something I looked forward to every, single day. It was soooo exciting! So dramatic! So awesome!
So, this leads to the question...Once you're all old and married with kids and stuff, how do you get this excitement back? How do you look forward to a day/class/activity with as much excitement as I had about that chemistry class?
What works for you guys?
Monday, July 09, 2007
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Since I wanted it to be really, really, hard to jump off the top of the bunk bed, I designed the above castle thing. Then, my dad (because he rocks) actually built it. And then I painted it with the faux granite spray paint that's really gross. And then Grandma Bevie made the cute little curtains so that Sam first wouldn't have the sun shine on his face in the morning, second would be a little warmer in the winter, and third could hide from ALL of us.
It was a totally awesome group effort and I totally love this thing!
Bad: My chest has also been shrinking. A lot. Like, two cup sizes. And I only have one bra in the smaller cup size. So, since I can't at the moment afford to buy more bras, if the one is dirty, I have to stuff with socks. And it is really hard to stuff with socks and get it to not look all lumpy and stuff! Seriously!
Saturday, July 07, 2007
I've lost more weight than I can keep up with the underwear purchasing!
So, yeah. Totally embarrassing. And totally cool. ALL AT THE SAME TIME!
2) approximately 5 dirty diapers, though only one of these was poopy. They were found under beds, on top of beds, under dressers and in the bathroom
3) one pair of poopy superman underpants
4) one sheet with vomit on it
5) one puddle of pee in the kitchen
6) one nickel-sized hunk of mold coming out of a bottle
7) four bottles with rotten milk inside
8) seven bags full of trash
9) a bottle of A-1 steak sauce (in my bedroom)(I can't explain this)
And did I mention that just *two* days ago my house was SPOTLESS?!
The purpose of this post is to make my mom uncomfortable by literally showing my dirty laundry to the world!
It turns out, the factor by which the amount of laundry increases per person you add to your family is an exponential one.
This one time, one of the kids was talking to me about who his brothers were. He looked up at me with his dirty cute little white trash face and said, "I used to have another brother...but the state took him away!"
Whenever police cars drove by, they'd all dive in the bushes so the state wouldn't take them away, too.
Okay, it was funny until that last sentence. Then it was just sad!
You know that it's sad when you procrastinate cleaning until you HAVE to clean to figure out what that putrid, rotting smell is. (Usually, it's a hidden rotten bottle somewhere, or equally as often, a dirty diaper that got stashed under the bed instead of making it to the trash can.)
Oh, the grossness.
It's still long before noon and Steve and I have already dealt with:
vomit (in Lily's hair and on her sheets)
saliva (all over my computer and arms and face when Sam sneezed all over me)
and, even though it's not actually a body fluid, three bottles of rotted milk-turned-cheese.
Isn't parenthood great?
In this picture, you are standing behind me the night before my wedding having come up with the brilliant solution to the problem about WTH do we do with my *hair*?! (I still can't believe I waited until the night before my wedding to figure this out!) Props for you, Karie for being the hero! Also, standing next to you is my sister in law Catherine. Catherine! Look how young you look! You're like twelve!
And here's a picture with ALL my bridesmaids! From left to right: Kristin, Sarah, Very-pregnant-Robyn, Karie, Me, Kathy, Barb, and Catherine!
This is what she looked like when we were building the Goddess Palace. I forget where the dust came from. I think from sanding the mud on the drywall.
Friday, July 06, 2007
This has been a good week for the whole Aphrodite thing, too. Earlier in the week, I told my students that I'd been teaching at BYU for almost 8 years. This kid looked at me and said, "What? Have you been teaching since you were like, twelve?"
And I said, "um . . . no."
He said, "So, why do you look like you're *my* age?"
I just said, "Like unto Aphrodite, honey. Like. Unto. Aphrodite."
Well, today there was another blessed Aphrodite moment. I was at the records office, getting a grade change form. When I got to the counter and asked for the form, the chica there gave me this nastly look and was like, "You have to actually be from a *department* to pick up a form."
I said, "I'm a professor."
She just grimaced and was like, "Yeah. Right."
I gave her my evil professor glare and said, "Um . . . *yeah.* *right.*" Voice all stern and stuff.
She was like, "Seriously?"
I kept that evil professor glare on and I nodded.
And then she said, "Oh my gosh. I am so sorry."
Like unto Aphrodite, my friends!
And then she took him by the hand and led him around the room like a totally whupped puppy.
Okay, moving forward.
Motherhood is psycho hard. It requires the total sacrifice of mind, body, talent, spirit, soul, etc. And even though I knew what I was doing was *important,* I was still pretty ticked about this whole sacrifice thing.
But I realized that it actually wasn't the sacrifice itself that was bugging me.
It was that, of the two of us, *my* soul was the one worth sacrificing. All of the talents I spent my whole life developing? Every aspect of my personality that didn't have something to do with childrearing (aka: ALL of them)? Every bit of self that I had thought was important somehow?
Underneath all my angst, despair, rage, resentment, etc. was the sneaking suspicion that I, as a human being, was worthless.
So, there is is. The next question is, WTH do you *do* with this kind of realization?
I still talk about soul mates, but I at least tried to make it *funny.* We'll see. I'll probably still be totally open to cutting it later.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Would you *hate* her? For being such a sappy psycho cliche piece of cheese?
Or is the idea not as distressing as I think it is?
And if it *is* as distressing as I think it is . . . Could one of you offer a brilliant substitution that would keep the pace of the plot going? Preferably before tomorrow morning when I . . . I mean, this theoretical author has decided to send it off?
This morning I put on a headband that I made specifically to fit *my* head. It's made out of some beads and metal wire/string--the kind of string that just doesn't stretch. But the headband keeps falling off! Into my eyes, down my head. There's all this space between it and my head. And it used to fit *perfectly.*
So, I know that your *face* shrinks when you lose weight . . . and I have (freakishly slowly) been losing that dang baby fat . . .
But does your HEAD shrink? Seriously?
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Well, not much has changed. Only, I'm the:
2) one getting cranky AND
3) the one doing ALL the yelling!
Ack. Someone please tell me Christmas is coming.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Let's say you have found the most amazing massage therapist on the planet. You had a headache for 6 months straight and he made it go away in one hour. You fractured your &^%$ spine and couldn't move for like a year until he got his hands on you and now you're almost thinking you might be able to run a step or two. Any knot EVER he can get out. He's like a seriously gifted not-just-relaxing-but-truly-MEDICAL massage therapist.
And let's say that he TOTALLY creeps you out. You're not sure if he's on crack, is a whore, some combination of the two, or (even though you suspect he prefers men) he totally likes touching naked bodies.
WHAT do you DO?!
Monday, July 02, 2007
The first deep thought I remember having is actually my vert first memory. (Fitting, eh?) I was standing on the balcony of our crappy third-story student apartment at BYU (where my parents went). I was looking over the vast expanse that was Provo and I thought to myself . . . "Man. I am so *old.*" (I was 15 months old. Just a month older than Lily is. That's a scary thought. Especially because my next thought was that my particular parents were going to require a lot of patience for my entire life. And it turns out that compared to them, I suck as a mom. What goes around comes around . . . EEK.)
Anyway, here is a picture of Sam having a "whoa" moment. He's holding "Scoop." In the background is a real life "Scoop." He thought it was kinda cool.
There's this place you can get in your mind . . . where you're really tapped into *something.* It doesn't happen all of the time, but it *does* happen.
Two examples: When working on my current WIP, I had this day where I felt really connected to what was going on. Well, for the plot to go forward, I needed to know the Yoruba/Igbo (Nigerian) word for "grandmother." But I didn't want to stop writing to go to the library for a dictionary. (I couldn't find anything online.) So I guessed. I guessed and I figured I would look it up later. What did I guess that it was? I guessed: Nne-Nne.
Imagine my shock a week or two later when I finally *did* get the dictionary and the word for grandmother was: Nnenne. I got one hyphen wrong, but frankly the fact that I got the rest right was seriously creepy.
A few years ago, I was working on another book. Isaac Newton was going to be in it. I knew that he had a beautiful niece named Catherine, who, at some point, lived with him. But I didn't know much beyond that. I knew that the plot as I had seen it unfold in my mind needed to have a summer romance that turned into a wedding. I also knew that I needed there to be an alchemical secret society that would decide to join up with another secret society and become Masons. I also knew that the climax had to happen on the summer soltice. I chose a date at complete random. 1717. The only thing I was thinking was that it was post-Principia enough that some of the theological questions I was going to raise would make sense.
Turns out, the Masons were founded just a few blocks away from where I had set my story. A few separate lodges (including one with alchemical ties!) merged together to create the Masons. **On the summer soltice of 1717.** Oh, it got better. Newton's niece, Catherine, was living with her uncle in 1717 and late that spring, she met the man she was going to marry. She married him at the end of summer, 1717.
The thing is, stuff like this happens *all* the time when you're (I'm? You other writers out there will have to weigh in) writing.
It happens so often that it's almost stopped feeling creepy.
It's made me think about the scriptures, actually. A few years ago, I came to the realization that if I found out that every scripture ever written was complete fiction . . . Well, it wouldn't bug me at *all.* Because I write fiction. I know that revelation happens that way. I know that *truth* happens that way.
Creepy or not, I believe in that.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
To which I said, "Huuuh?"
"Because she was in your tummy. But it was a baby and not food!"
I realized he was referring to my formerly pregnant stomach.
Then he said, "And you ate me, too! I was a baby, not food, too. And now I'm a big boy!"
Um . . . yeah. That's sort of it. (I did, after all, make them out of cheerios and bluberries flitered through placenta.)