am seriously derranged I guess

have copy of harry potter next to my bed. don't want to read it. would rather read random stuff online. anything that doesn't require, y'know, talking to humans. or opening a book that everyone on the planet LOVES.

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!

stomach flu here

can I just say how much i HATE stomach flu? blech. literally.

myspace sux

tried myspace for a week and totally hated it! random ugly strangers were always hitting on me with their full-body-tattooed naked pictures. and then they'd try to get me to chat all the time. CREEEEEPY. seriously.

My New Favorite Movie

Cause that's the real heresy

Upon seeing me at the computer this morning, Steve said, "Oh, great! The internet is working again!"

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 not the stigmata's fault

You may have noticed that I haven't been posting tons the last two days. I know that the Virgin Mary post said I probably wouldn't be able to type much because of my smashed finger. But, actually, the finger hasn't been hurting too bad. After that first throbbing day, the next day it was just numb and now it's just a little bit tender. Not enough to stop typing.

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!

reaching the final stretch

this morning's weigh in: 170.

that means I have exactly 7 more pounds until I weigh what I weighed before I got pregnant with Lily.

Let the countdown begin!!

Fallin' off the wagon

had a weak moment. ate two big fat bowls of golden grahms. sigh.

Remember that Betty the Fish Story?

This is the original version. Apparently, Kristin wrote it when she was, like, 9 years old. I was fascinated by it because it didn't fit the traditional story cycle, but it did follow a pattern that half of my girls in my class followed when I made them do that wrong-handed writing exercise. Kristin, who's in my class now, totally ripped herself off and just retold a story she made up when she was little. But it's pretty cute, anyway. So here it is.


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!

and now the virgin mary smashed my @#$%^ fingers!!!!

i was in the backyard, headed to my shed when my attention got caught on a virgin mary candle. well, i was looking at the candle and not at the shed door which slammed onto my fingers! they are throbbing and i'm sobbing like a total freak job and the nails are bright blue and also probably going to fall off. just like my toenail that she smashed a few days ago!

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?!!!

(probably not going to post for awhile because it is too hard to type one handed.)

Oh, the grossness

As I type this, Lily has her face inside the bottom end of a toilet plunger. And not a brand new one.

And I don't even have the energy to get up and stop her.

BLECH!!!!

Harry Potter Party!

We went to the rockin' blast at the SLC public library last night. We didn't stay up until midnight because that's crazy. At least when you have a one year old. (We'll be buying our books at the grocery store this morning.)

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.

Look at my butt!

"It's disgusting!"

Sam has been saying this all day. It's hilarious.

Understatement of the Day

I walked in to teach class just now and I overhead my student say, "I was reading about Jack the Ripper and, like, that guy was freaky."

Trying to tell me something, honey?

This made Steve laugh really hard.

God is a Girl!

If you don't believe me, see Mosiah 8:20!


I guess good old J.S. really WAS inspired! :-)

It's a miracle!

In an annonymous evaluation, a student *didn't* say they hated me! Woo hoo!

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.

Why sitemeter is just so weeeiirrrd

Because it tells you things like that someone from Amman, Jordan, who accessed your site from feministmormonhousewives.org, spent 8 minutes perusing through 6 pages and was particularly interested in the comments about former vampire ex-boyfriends.

?!

Sam's reaction to my church dress today

"Wow, Mom." [pause] "You're, like, *cute.*"

The Virgin Mary Smashed my *&^%$ Toe!

Lily accidentally just dropped this crystal Virgin Mary figure that we have right on my toe!

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...

Good thing you're moving back soon, Cat!

We were talking about people in our family today and Sam started naming them.

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.

When Sam grows up

He says, "I want to cuddle with mommy," [pause] "and be FAMOUS."

love the priorities, kid

What we did

Thanks so much for all your date suggestions!

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!

Thoughts on humor

got some hate mail from my blog today. like, you're obviously a terrible mother and a horrible friend and you enjoy mocking other people's suffering.

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?

What's your idea of a (cheapish) dream date?

Steve wants to go on a really nice date tomorrow and he wants my ideas. I have none. Like, at all. I don't sit very well anymore (cuz of that one bad car accident and my now-awful back), so movies and concerts where long sitting is required are kind of out. Other than that....

What do you guys think?

It turns out I once dated a vampire!

Been (finally) reading Twilight. Am weirded out on soooooo many levels.

Morning Redemption

You know how when you wake up in the morning, there's that fuzzy place that kind of hovers in between sleep and awakeness? And how sometimes you'll dream something there, or sometimes you'll actually talk to someone, but you won't remember either the dream or the conversation until later in the day?

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?

Windmill Watching's First Ever Book Club!

Just got a copy of Motherself from the library. I'm going to give myself one month to read it, and then we'll have a discussion! So, go to your library (I doubt it's for sale anymore) and meet me back here on August 11!

What makes your life worth living?

When I was at physical therapy today (more than a friggin YEAR after the accident and I still go to this, yes), the tech doing the untrasound on my back was telling me ALLLL sorts of stuff. Stuff like his elaborate fantasy about being the only skinny guy in the WWF and what his costume would look like and how everyone would cheer for the skinny-buff-awesome kid who was definitely NOT wearing a speedo. He also told me about how he's got a big fishing trip scheduled for this weekend. He said, "I have to have *something* to look forward to, or else I can't make it through the week."

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?

Awww Yeah Baby!

Remember my laundry room yesterday? This is my laundry room today:

whooppeeee!

Woo hoo!

You'll notice that I haven't posted my weight since June 4. That's because I was in the third most annoying plateau EVER.

It's over, though! I lost six (?!) pounds in one week!

174, friends!

Watch this video from my cousin Audra's blog

It's friggin hilarious!

Find it here.

Have I mentioned that my three year old has an internet addiction?

He learned how to surf the internet before he learned how talk. One of his first phrases, for example, was "disney dot com." I think if we let him, he'd be online all day. (With maybe a break to watch Sponge Bob Square Pants.)

What is friend?

This song was just on TV. It made me get all weepy!

In case you needed any more evidence that Lily is disgusting

Here's some more!

I couldn't find her a little bit ago, so I was going from room to room to room, yelling her name.

Then I got to the laundry room and heard this little cackle every time I said, "Lily?"

She was hiding from me. *Underneath* that huge, disgusting pile of dirty laundry. (Remember that body fluids list from yesterday? Yeah. All of that ended up in the laundry pile.)

I tried to pry her away, but she just kept running back and diving into the pile like it was one of those ball pits at McDonalds.

This is the face she made when I wouldn't let her be vile:

One more body fluid to add to the day's tally

Blood.

Sam had an unfortunate encounter with a roll of wrapping paper.

I'm kind of impressed that he actually managed to hurt himself with that thing!

Look what we made!

This is Sam's big boy bed. It started out ten or so years ago as Aunt Kristin's bed. (My dad designed and built it cause he rocks.) But there wasn't any big guard rail on top. And when I was Sam's age, I pushed this girl off the bunk bed (she was bugging me) and she broke her arm. All quite traumatic. (The very first thing I ever published was an essay about that very experience!)

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!

Sent down by God, herself

This is the best invention, like, ever. I am so in love with this thing, that I am going to write it a haiku.

_____________

Roomba

_____________

My robot vacuum

you clean my floors without help

you rock my whole world

Good news, bad news

Good: when getting ready for church this morning, I discovered that I fit into a size 10 skirt. (?!) I'm totally aware that this is only because it's a skirt and I can hike it up way higher on my waist then it's meant to go. But this is, nevertheless, a happy moment because my clothes come in two sizes: 16/18 and 10/12. (The first, post baby, the second, pre.) Now I might actually get to wear a different outfit sometimes! Whoopee!

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!

Just woke up to two vomitting babies

Best way to get you to not feel sleepy ever!

An annoying/embarrassing problem that was kinda cool

Steve and I went to a wedding tonight. (One of his co-workers.) I wore a dress. The problem was, my underwear kept falling down (and almost totally off).

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!

Stuff I found while cleaning my house

1) a rotten banana (at least not in the closet like the last two times)
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!

This is two days worth.

It turns out, the factor by which the amount of laundry increases per person you add to your family is an exponential one.

Ha! You believed me, didn't you!

gullible, gullible friends.

I'm gonna get up and clean now

Really. I really am.

Speaking of the state coming...

Okay, this is really sad but it is also kind of funny. We used to have these totally white trash neighbors. There were somewhere between 5 and 9 kids there (it was hard to tell, and, frankly, the guy had so many kids from so many different women that it would vary) and the kids were always coming to use my bathroom because their mom locked them out and stuff.

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!

If it seems like I'm posting a lot today

It's because I *am.* I am frantically trying to come up with ANY excuse not to deal with the state of my house. (which, frankly, is probably hovering just above the level of mess where they come take your kids away...)(just kidding. it's not *that* bad. please, utah! don't send someone from the state over!)

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.

Body Fluids Update!

Cause I know y'all LOVE when I talk about body fluids . . .

It's still long before noon and Steve and I have already dealt with:

vomit (in Lily's hair and on her sheets)
poop
pee
more poop
more pee
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?

I'm in the mood pt. 7

I was going to try and end with something funny, but I think I'll just go for something beautiful. This is my mom. Isn't she lovely? (That fat baby is me.)

I'm in the mood pt. 6

And while I'm on the subject of adorable, this is Auntie Barb with brand new Lily!

I'm in the mood pt. 5

This one isn't really funny, but it *is* adorable. Papa Mark and Lily at the Bees game.

I'm in the mood pt. 4

Speaking of Kristin, here she is showing us her luscious bottom!

I'm in the mood pt. 3

Okay, so it's only fair that I post a funny picture of myself, too. This is me, getting a facial from my adorable sister, Kristin.

I'm in the mood pt. 2

This is a funny one of Catherine. Though, I'm also in the picture and so is Barb and, really, we should all be embarassed about the fact that we were tap dancing in the kitchen.

Okay, so I'm totally in the mood to post pictures of EVERYONE now

I looked for funny pictures of you, Karie, but I don't have many pictures at all, let alone funny looking ones. (Just the ones from my wedding when you were my maid of honor and stuff. )


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!

More Videos!

This time, go to my facebook page for the cuteness in all its glory!

Who IS that masked woman?

Zina is in England and I miss her, so I'm going to post a funny looking picture of her.









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.

Steve's response to reading my blog tonight

Steve: "I dunno. Maybe it was a mistake."

Me: "What was a mistake? Posting that stuff?"

Steve: "No." [pause] "Letting women learn to read and write."


(Feel free to flay him in the comments section.)

She who is like unto Aphrodite

That's what I make my students call me. It's actually on the syllabus. Right underneath my office hours and email address.

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!

Oh, CRAP!

They didn't tell me that this computer automatically PROJECTS WHAT I'M DOING ONTO THE SCREEN!!!!!

I am bloggin *while* I am teaching

There is a brand new computer *inside* the podium!

I feel so naughty . . .

I have personally witnessed the PDA

When I dropped Sam off at preschool this morning, Kassie bounded over like a happy deer. She said, "SAM! You're HERE!"

And then she took him by the hand and led him around the room like a totally whupped puppy.

Holy Hepstheba! Praise Zeus for Professionals!

I had a total realization in therapy this week. And before I tell you what it was, let me just say: Mom, it doesn't matter that I tell the whole world that I'm in therapy because even if Steve *does* run for office, ALL OF AMERICA will sleep a WHOLE lot better knowing that his crazy a$# wife at least tried to get *help.* Trust me on this.

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?

Totally expendable.

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?

Pray for Papa Mark!

He's having surgery today.

I tried to get this video to upload

but I'm not smart enough. Go to Steve's Facebook Page and watch it there!

(my mom is the one laughing the loudest, but we were all laughing pretty hard.)

Thanks for all your thoughts on soul mates!

I've done some revising and I don't hate myself quite as much anymore! Yeah!

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.

Sometimes my own cheesy capacity makes me want to shoot myself in the kneecaps

So, um, let's say that you're reading a YA novel. And let's say that there's some snogging going on. And let's say that the author inserts this interchange about soul mates . . .

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?

Song of the Day!

I am slowly going crazy
1-2-3-4-5-6 SWITCH!
Crazy going slowly am I
6-5-4-3-2-1 switch.

I dunno how to upload music, so you'll just have to make up your own melody for it. Could be fun.

Shrinkage

when you lose weight . . . does your HEAD shrink? I'm not talking about the ego kind of head. I mean the actual, physical head.

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?

Not-so-happy 4th

When I was growing up, the fourth of July was always my least favorite holiday. Not because I didn't like America (Yeah America and stuff!), but because it was SOOO hot. And when it got hot, mama got cranky. And when mama got cranky, everyone would start yelling a lot.

Well, not much has changed. Only, I'm the:

1) mama
2) one getting cranky AND
3) the one doing ALL the yelling!

Ack. Someone please tell me Christmas is coming.

Can you tell which one is Sam and which one is Lily?

Seeking Advice

That's right. I'm asking for it, people!

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?!

Look! We're glowing!

Sam LOVES amusement park rides

Lily, however. Does NOT. It turns out that the ONE THING on the planet that she is afraid of is the Carosel. All those horses? Spinning lights? She tried to jump off the thing. (Almost succeeded.) (True story.)

Baby Deepness

We own a house in downtown SLC that is more than 100 years old and has been in the family for SIX generations, now. Steve had his first "deep thought" in the front yard there. He was standing next to the rosebushes, which were on one side of an iron fence. Apparently, the deep thought consisted of, "There's a rose . . . and a fence. Soft . . . not soft . . . whoa . . ." (he was like three)

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.

Why did the chicken cross the road . . .

No, really. WHY?

Revelation and the Writing Process

So, sometimes when you write, creepy things happen.

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.

Yeah.

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.

You are what you eat

Just a few seconds ago, Sam said to me, "You ate Lily, huh."

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.)