My Life Herding Cats

Thanks For The Mansplainin'

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 30 Oct 2016 00:46:00 +0000

Dear Sir,

I happened upon this comment you posted on a Facebook thread: "if you consider yourself as a 'college educated white woman' and are not going to vote for Donald Trump only because of his offensive words 11 years ago then you are not considering things from an 'educated' view, you are considering things from emotional view."*

Really? Gosh, thanks for mansplainin' that to this college-educated white woman and all the other women who may not have realized their crazy lady hormones could be affecting the way they vote. What would we do without single white guys like you pointing out when we're not being so smart?

Let's pretend for a minute that there's a college-educated white woman who's not aware of Drumpf's racist comments that consistently imply people of color all live in slums and ghettos, his refusal to pay people money earned for work he hired them to do, his threat to not only create a national database of Muslims, but also to deport them. Let's pretend she doesn't know about charges of fraud brought against Trump University, his claims of being a philanthropist despite any credible proof to back up his boast, and his refusal to release his tax returns. Let's pretend this woman also doesn't know about his many appearances on the Howard Stern show making lewd comments about women and sex, the rape charges his first wife brought against him that were only dropped as part of her divorce settlement, or the civil case making its way through the courts by a woman claiming Drumpf raped her when she was thirteen. Let's even pretend she has no idea about the women who keep coming forward with further allegations of groping and assault that you so blithely brush off as suspect.**

In fact, let's pretend none of those things exist at all (a lot of Drumpf supporters are already doing this, so it shouldn't be too hard), and your college-educated white woman decides not to vote for Drumpf based solely on the words he used eleven years ago. I'll tell you why that's still okay.

As a college-educated white woman who has a loving husband, lives in one of the safest cities in the entire United States, and is fortunate enough not to be one among every four women who's been sexually assaulted, let me give you some insight to the thoughts that go through my head every day.

If I plan to go for a run alone, will I be okay if it's not light out? Is it safe to wear my headphones on while I run today, or is this trail so secluded that someone could attack me from behind, and I wouldn't hear him coming? Did I nod and make eye contact with that guy who just passed me, so he knows I could identify him if I had to?

If I walk to my car alone in the dark, here's what I have to do: Make sure I'm not on my phone, carry my keys in a defensive position and keep my car locked until I'm next to it, and then only unlock the driver's side. When I'm alone, I have to always be aware of my surroundings, who's in them, and what kind of vibe I'm getting from any man who's nearby. I'm 5'3". The chances of my being able to ward off an attacker are pretty slim, so I have to trust my instincts and take preemptive actions to stay safe.

These are things I do as a college-educated white woman who's been catcalled, touched inappropriately, and had lewd things said to her, but never been sexually assaulted. These are things every woman--no matter her race or education level--does in some way or another. I can't imagine what other thoughts about protecting myself would go through my head every day if I had been the victim of a sexual assault.

As the mother of three daughters, I have to walk a fine line between keeping them safe and not teaching them to be afraid. I never want them to fear men or think people are inherently evil. They have a father who shows nothing but respect for women, so they don't always realize there are men who think nothing of talking of women as objects, rating their worth on a scale of one to ten based on what they look like and/or the size of their breasts. Men who feel their sex gives them the right to "explain" why a woman is wrong if she doesn't support the same candidate as them. Men who feel entitled to interrupt and speak over women, and worst of all, men who feel entitled to put their hands on women whenever they want.

I have to teach my daughters all the same things I've had to learn to protect myself. I have to ask myself if they will be okay walking a block to a friend's house after dark, and whether they will be safe once they get there if I don't know the friend's father or brothers. I have to ask myself that question even if I do know them. I have to ask myself that question if that father or brother is related to me. I have to ask myself that question because one out of every four girls is sexually assaulted before she's eighteen.

So you want to tell me and my fellow college-educated white sisters that a vote based on words Drumpf used eleven years ago is based on emotion rather than actual understanding of the issue? Let me give you a little education.

Saying "I want to grab (fill in the blank with any body part belonging to a woman a man might be tempted to touch)" is locker room talk. It's crude and beneath any man, especially one running for President, but not criminal.

Saying "I grabbed (fill in the blank with any body part belonging to a woman a man might be tempted to touch)"*** is admission of a crime. It's assault.

You still want to label a decision to not vote for a man because of his words as an emotional one? Fine. You know what emotion is driving that vote?

Love.

Love for myself. Love for my daughters. Love for my friends and family members who have been assaulted by strangers, relatives, friends, boyfriends, acquaintances, and husbands. Love for those I don't know who have been victimized. Love for the thousands who will be.

And as long as we're making conjectures about what's driving the opposite sex to vote the way they're voting in the face of what we think is irrefutable evidence they shouldn't, I'll posit this. If you're voting for Drumpf because you've listened to right-winged radio talk show hosts yell about and name call Hillary Clinton for the past thirty years, then I'd say your vote is emotionally driven also. The difference is, the emotion driving your decision is fear.

In a choice between love and fear, I think I'll go ahead and let love be the emotion that guides me.

Sincerely,
A White, College and Issue-Educated Woman Who Had No Intention of Voting For HRC Until Drumpf Became the Republican Candidate

* Spelling and grammatical errors in this quote are all original to the quote. Any others you find throughout this post are all my fault.

** Talk to a female you know who's been groped or sexually assaulted (it won't take you long to find one), and ask her if she told anyone right away and why not. Then try to imagine being sexually assaulted yourself, and be honest about how willing you would be to relive that experience by telling someone else about it or trying to bring charges against the person who did it.

***We know the words he used. They don't need to be repeated here

Yay For Fans!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 01 Jun 2016 00:10:00 +0000

I'm dusting off the old blog for some exciting news!

I'm a published author! Look! Here it is:

Isn't it cute? (No, those aren't my feet or Shawn's feet. Our feet are not fit for book covers).

I've had a lot of people send me pictures of Pride and Politics as they're reading it on beaches or airplanes or lounging around on their couches. I've also had people send me pictures of it in when they've seen it in bookstores and catalogs. I love it! Every text or email I get makes me so happy.

It also makes me want to spread the joy and give something back.
Soooo....
June 1 - June 8, post a picture of Pride and Politics on Facebook, Instagram, and/or Twitter, and you'll be entered in a contest to win a signed copy of Pride and Politics, in addition to

A signed copy of Love at First Note, by Jenny Proctor. Why? Because I loved it, and Emma Hill in Love is a musician like Summer Knight, except she's a professional violinist. So, really, she's like a more refined, fancy version of Summer. I think you'll love it too.

But there's also this prize:

Summer loves The Man in Black (who doesn't??), and a lot of the songs she plays or uses for ringtones are on this c.d. It's like your own personal soundtrack to listen to while you're reading Pride and Politics.

You'll get a whole heap of points for posting your pictures of Pride and Politics on social media, but THAT'S NOT ALL!

Jenny Proctor is having a give-away too where not only will you have another chance to win both of our books, BUT ALSO, you'll get more points for entering her contest! You can't lose!

So know that I love and appreciate you, and GO ENTER HERE! And right HERE FOR JENNY'S!

Death Be Not Dignified, and Maybe That's Okay

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 10 Oct 2014 21:46:00 +0000

My Facebook feed is filling up with likes for a CNN story about a woman with terminal brain cancer who has chosen to "die with dignity." She has set a date to take a prescription that will end her life before the cancer can.

Her story is touching. She is newly married, she loves to travel, she wants a family. All of these have been cut short by cancer, along with every other dream she had for her life. It's the cruelest of blows.

But she is fighting back. Not only is she getting the upper hand on death by choosing her own date to die, she's also fighting for every American to have this right. Right now only five states have Death with Dignity laws allowing doctors to prescribe life-ending meds for the terminally ill. She wants every state to have similar laws.

I have to admire her for using the little time she has left to spread a message she believes will help others.

But I don't agree with her.

I spent ten months watching my aunt die of ovarian cancer. Here's what I know about that kind of death: there is no dignity in it. None.

The hair and appetite loss were nothing compared to the pain no meds could soothe. I spent days with her where she spoke broken words through gritted teeth, fighting to sit upright. Her once round body morphed into a skeleton with loose flesh and dry, scaly chemo hands. Thoughts escaped her like wind-blown dandelion fluff. Always within reach, but never close enough to grasp.

Toward the end, she spent as many days in the hospital as out of it, until finally, she came home to die. I went to visit her on one of those last days before hospice came; a day when she writhed in pain and clenched my hand and her sister's hand, waiting for the searing in her nerves to stop. To hold her hand or rub her arm only caused more pain. Even to touch her hurt. Three of us had to help her to the bathroom, a ten second walk that stretched to ten minutes.

That was the worst day. But even then, she managed to smile when I said something funny.

I went back a few days later. Hospice had come, morphine was being administered, and a hospital bed occupied a corner of the family room. After the pain she'd been in the last time I'd seen her, I expected to see her in bed. Instead, she was sitting on the couch looking more alive than she'd been in weeks. Looking almost alive enough to cut through the air of waiting that hung heavy in the room. Waiting for someone to die is as painful as watching it.

She couldn't talk. The level of morphine it took to keep her comfortable also kept her too high to communicate rationally. She waved me over and held out her small, frail hands. I don't remember the color--orange or pink--but her fingernails were painted. Her fingernails were always painted.

I took her hands and she pulled herself up. I thought she wanted help somewhere, but instead she pulled me into her arms. I could feel every vertebrae in her back and there was no cushion left on her shoulders, but there was strength in that embrace.

And love.

And gratitude.

And every word her heart held that her mouth couldn't say.

Let's be honest, suffering and pain suck. No one wants it. Not for ourselves, and especially not for our loved ones. But what would life be without it? What happens when we, as a people, decide life is only worthwhile if we can avoid suffering rather than learn from it.

I'm a firm believer in the value of paradoxes. Without pain, how do we know pleasure? Without evil, how can there be good? Without doubt, is there any need for faith?

And without suffering, how do we learn compassion?

How did Mother Theresa become Mother Theresa? How did she develop the kind of compassion it took for her to spend her life ministering to others? She surrounded herself with suffering. She didn't sit in a church talking about what to do for the sick, the poor, the destitute, the dying. She surrounded herself with them.

We don't have to be Mother Theresa to learn compassion, and I'm not advocating for unnecessary suffering. But I worry about the implications of making dignity the most important part of death. I worry about what lessons we miss learning if we're not willing to see the journey to death all the way through--when we cut it short before it gets too hard. Determining a date to die is a lot easier than determining whether we're finished doing all the good we may do.

If my aunt had cut her journey short--cut it off before she needed hospice or before she became a "burden" to her loved ones, I would have missed the greatest lessons she had to teach me. I can feel greater sympathy for this young woman and her family because I know what lies ahead for her and them. I haven't suffered the physical pain, but I know the heartache. I've felt that. I still feel it. And I'm a better person because of it. But it took the hardest part of her journey to teach me those things.

My aunt's death was long. It was painful. It broke my heart. But, oh, how grateful I am that I got to take that walk with her.

Dear New York Times

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 14 Mar 2014 04:42:00 +0000

Guess who made headlines in the New York Times...

Me!

I mean, not me specifically, but Mormon women did. I happen to be one of those, so of course I had to read these articles published back to back last week. Missions signal a Growing Role for Mormon Women and this one Mormon Women Flood of Requests.

The problem with writing about a religion is that if you are a practitioner of a particular faith it's hard to report without bias or to be seen as credible even at your most unbiased. On the other hand, if you're an outsider to a religion you're reporting on a culture you're not a part of, using a language you don't speak. Every religion has it's own language, but Mormonism's is particularly hard to understand because we use a lot of familiar terms but define them differently than other Christian faiths. (Hence the cry of "you're not Christian" you just heard from some Christians who may stumble upon this little blog).

For the most part the co-writers of both these articles did a fairly good job of speaking our language, they got some things wrong. Usually that doesn't bug me, but since their articles devolved from an interesting discussion about how the rise in women missionaries is changing the face of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, into a story about a small contingent among millions of Mormons who would like to see women ordained to the priesthood, I feel like a little interpretation is in order. (To be clear, my interpretation = my interpretation and understanding of Church doctrine through years of study and prayer on this topic. It is in no way official).

Please don't get me wrong. I am not being critical of the woman who are calling for ordination. I'm frustrated by the way their fight for what they see as greater power and authority diminishes the power and authority women already have. But while I don't support their cause, I fully support them in their right to ask, even demand, what they see as a necessary step toward equality within the Church. My understanding of the priesthood doesn't make me think they will be successful in their fight for ordination, but I empathize with their need to fight for it nonetheless. They are bringing to light changes that can, and should, be made so that men and women more fully realize the power in the priesthood as they use it together.

But back to the articles themselves and some problems with them. Let's start with this quote:
To revise female roles in the church threatens what many see as the very foundations of the faith, which dictate that men are ordained as priests at the tender age of 18, taking the title “Elder,” while women, who can never progress beyond “Sister,” are considered holiest and most fulfilled as wives and mothers.

The "foundations of the faith" they're referring to, I suppose, are our beliefs and practices regarding the Priesthood. To be clear, however, our faith and church has one foundation: Jesus Christ. That's it. Everything we do goes back to our belief in His atonement and resurrection.

Of course, since Christ not only holds the Priesthood, but is the priesthood, it is an essential part of our foundation. Here's where things get tricky, though. Our definition of priesthood may closely match that of Catholics and Protestants, but our inferred meaning does not, and neither does our application of the Priesthood. The Priesthood can never be a career path for either a Mormon woman or man. No eighteen year old boy ordained an elder can choose to serve in certain positions that may move him up the ranks to President some day. The purpose of the priesthood is simply to bless the lives of others. While only men within the Mormon church are ordained to administer the priesthood, it is through the priesthood that both men and women do as Christ did: bless the lives of others.

Boys are ordained priests at the age of 16, not 18, while they still hold only the Aaronic, or lower, priesthood. Their responsibilities are pretty limited but do include the authority to bless the sacrament each Sunday and perform baptisms if asked to do so. They must be ordained as Elders before participating in the highest temple rituals (we call them ordinances), but are only called Elder while serving missions or if they are called (askED to serve--this is different from askING to serve) in the Quorum of Seventy or as an Apostle.

Do there seem to be some inequities here? On the surface, yes. But you know who can enter the temple and officiate in the same ordinances as men without being ordained to the priesthood? Women. So are there inequities in that also? Not when you stop defining equality as sameness (2 + 2 and 3 +1 both equal the same thing even though they look different, right?).

In a church whose doctrines include those of eternal progression--meaning we continue to learn and grow forever--and agency--meaning we choose how much we learn and grow-- the idea that women "can never progress beyond 'Sister'" doesn't really work. Our progress is neither dependent upon another person, nor upon any titles given. Our progress is only dependent upon ourselves and the choices we make. To progress in the Church does not mean moving up the ladder like it does in the business world. Since our clergy is a lay clergy and callings (positions we're ASKED to fill) are often based more on inspiration than ability, a secular view of progress doesn't fit the Mormon definition, whether it's applied to women or men. There's no ladder to climb in Christ's church, nor should there be.

But for those who place importance in titles, there is another one women can be known by. I am currently serving as the Young Women President in my congregation. This means I am called to be the women's leader over girls age 12-18 and, as such, I am referred to as President by my bishop (pastor of our congregation) and his two counselors, as are my female counterparts in the women's and children's organizations and my male counterpart in the young men's organization. The young women themselves, however, call me Sister, just as the young men call my counterpart, Brother. The title of president is only important to me in that it sends the message to my young women that my responsibility to them is equal to that of the Young Men President over the boys (this is a rare instance where sameness does translate to equality).

As for the charge that women are "considered holiest and most fulfilled as wives and mothers," consider this statement by President Harold B. Lee given in 1974 and quoted by President Howard W. Hunter twenty years later in General Priesthood Meeting which only men attend: “The most important of the Lord’s work you and I will ever do will be within the walls of our own homes.” Did they mean Mormon men should have home-based businesses? That they should find careers they advance in within their homes? No.

Our theology teaches that families are eternal, God is, literally, our Heavenly Father, and we lived with him before coming to earth. Since God is giving mothers and fathers responsibility for His children and we will have to report back to Him about how we fulfilled this responsibility, is there anything more holy or more fulfilling (or frustrating) for a man or woman than marriage and children? I have never heard any Church leader ever say that a man will be more fulfilled by remaining single and pursuing worldly success rather than getting married and becoming a father.

See how reporters can miss all the context behind the syntax when they report on a culture they're not part of in a language that sounds like their own but isn't? I try to remember this every time I read about another religion.

Here's another example, and it's a biggie:

But when asked how they felt about women joining the priesthood, which would allow them to assume religious decision-making authority, Ms. Ensign and Ms. Scott shook their heads and let out nervous giggles. “I already have way too much responsibility,” Ms. Ensign said.

First of all, it's Sister Ensign and Sister Scott. If you're going to make a big deal about women only being able to hold one title in my church, you probably ought to use that one title. While I rarely call my fellow sisters, Sister, the female missionaries are always referred to as Sister. It is a title of respect that is the equivalent of Elder when referring to male missionaries. To give them a secular title like Ms. is to diminish the importance of the work they are doing for our church, which is what you're article started out about.

Secondly, let me put some context behind this often misunderstood statement, "I already have too much responsibility." And this one "I don't want to go to any more meetings." And all the other ways Mormon women say "I don't want the Priesthood" that make me crazy because they are so easily misinterpreted as statements of submissiveness.

Do you know what women can do? Everything. Do you know what Mormon women actually do? EVERYTHING. Seriously. Look around. The Mormon woman you know is the one running the PTA, or the classroom, or the book fair or whatever else at your kid's school. She's the one you work with who also puts in a lot of unpaid time at her church. She's the one who just signed the sheet that went around asking for volunteers for whatever it is. She's the one bringing you dinner tonight. She's the one you can count on to follow through when she says she'll do something.

And do you know why?

Because she knows that what she does matters, even if it's something small and unworthy of recognition. She knows that her power comes, not from someone ordaining her, but from her innate ability to influence the world for good.

Let me give you some examples of how we use that influence and how it works in conjunction with an ordained male's responsibility to administer the Priesthood.

It starts with our belief in Adam and Eve and our understanding of who Eve was; an understanding that is increased as men and women officiate in temple ordinances. In our theology, Eve is not the weaker sex who gave into temptation and thus is to blame for the world of sin every person is born into. Rather, Eve is the women who thoughtfully partook of the fruit that allows all of mankind the blessing of mortal life. She made the decision to leave the Garden of Eden in order to have children, knowing she and they would face hardships, trials, and temptations, but also knowing we need these things to progress and live with God our Heavenly Father again. She used her influence to help Adam see that eating the fruit was not only necessary, but also part of God's plan.

Original sin? We don't have that in our doctrine (check out our Article of Faith #2). Which means we also don't share a basic belief of other Christian faiths. A belief that scores of religious men have used for centuries to justify the mistreatment or subjugation of women.

Here's a more personal example of how a woman's power to influence is as important as an ordained man's responsibility to administer. When I was fourteen I attended a special youth meeting that centered around the standards of morality the Church teaches. I sat next to a friend of my mom's, Christine Funk, as the priesthood leader assigned the topic of chastity gave the infamous "a white rose touched turns brown" talk. He ended by recounting how when he got married he sent his wife's former young women leader a dozen white roses to thank her for teaching his wife this very important lesson.

I sat through that talk convinced I was that brown wilted rose because I had kissed a boy when I was twelve. I had denied my future husband the privilege of sending any of my young women leaders a dozen white roses. Even worse, I had committed a grievous sin from which there was no return because I had kissed a boy on the lips on a dare. And since it was too late, what was the point of even living the standards being taught? What kind of man would want to marry me anyway?

I can't tell you the hopelessness I felt before Chris leaned over and said to me, "I can't believe he just said that. That does not take into account the Atonement or repentance."

With those two sentences a woman who had no official "authority" over me changed the course of my life. She taught me correct doctrine by following a feeling to say something she had no idea how much I needed to hear. Her influence had more power than the priesthood authority of Brother So and So who was fulfilling an administrative assignment in an earnest, though woefully misguided, way.

My husband has administered priesthood blessings to a number of my friends whose own husbands were either out of town when the need arose or were unworthy to do so because they'd chosen not to live up to the standards required to administer. (Meaning, just because they were ordained doesn't mean they had the authority to use their priesthood office). On one occasion he went to my friend's house to help our bishop give her and her children blessings of comfort during a very difficult time caused by the choices of her husband and their father. Within minutes he called me to come over and help. They were so distraught he had no idea what to do.

After my husband and our bishop gave the blessings, I held my friend and her children. I shared my feelings about Christ's atonement and forgiveness while they, my husband, and my bishop listened. My words and my husband's blessings couldn't fix the problems caused by another husband and father's poor choices, but they did bring comfort. Together we used the power of the priesthood to administer, to influence, to love and to bless the lives of others.

We've had other experiences like this where he has used his power to administer in conjunction with my power to influence and nurture to bless the lives of others. These opportunities have taught us the importance of not only fulfilling our separate responsibilities, but also working together to do so in order to more fully realize the power in the priesthood. If I were ordained to administer priesthood blessings, my friends would have asked me to lay my hands on their heads instead of my husband. But then how would he have served them? When would he have learned how indispensable husbands and fathers are without the opportunity to step in when other men couldn't or wouldn't live up to their responsibilities?

I could give you a hundred other examples of women using their influence to bless the lives of others without being ordained to do so. Like the first counselor in my Young Women presidency who is a vice president at an international company. She has used her power to influence for good both in the workplace and the church by changing people's perceptions of childbirth from something to fear to something to embrace. She has used her pregnancy to teach our young women to see the connection between the agony and suffering women go through to give mortal life to God's children and the agony and suffering Christ endured to provide eternal life to God's children.

Or my young women who had the courage to report the disparaging and inappropriate remarks about women a popular teacher at their high school was making, leading to his dismissal. I can give you the examples of my mother, my grandmother, my aunts, my friends, and my sisters who have had as great an influence in my life as any man ordained to the priesthood.

Women can do everything. That doesn't mean they should.

So, Ms. Reporters, when you quote a Mormon woman saying she doesn't "want the responsibility" of the Priesthood, this is the context behind it. It's not that we don't want it, it's that we already have it. It just looks different from what you, or even Mormon women themselves, think it should.

If women want to use their influence to stand in a line for a meeting, no harm can come from that. They need to be heard. Women need to be heard. More importantly, they need to embrace their power and use it.

So while I won't be standing in any lines, here's how I will embrace my power and use my influence. I will fight to change outdated conversations about chastity so that no young women who doesn't have a Chris Funk sitting next to her will feel worthless. I'll fight to change conversations about modesty so the words "modest is hottest" are never used and reverence, love and respect for our bodies is emphasized. I'll teach girls the need for education and careers along with the divinity of marriage and motherhood. I'll do whatever it takes for women to recognize and be recognized for the miracles we perform every single day just by being women.

And if some day our living prophet receives a revelation that women should be ordained, I'll step up and do what's asked of me. Just please don't call me to be the financial clerk. I watched my husband muddle his way through that calling for three and half years and. . .

I really don't want that responsibility.

Fear for Free

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 28 Dec 2013 17:13:00 +0000

Take that elf down from the shelf, friends, Christmas is over. I don't have one of the little guys so I have to mark the end of the Season of Using a Naughty Overpriced Plastic Doll to Scare Kids into Behaving in a different way. Mainly by daily threatenings to return all gifts to Santa. (But since 2/3 of my children are no longer believers and 1/3 has a bad case of selective hearing, my threats are nothing more than idle if even heard).

Here's a question for you Elfers out there though:

How does a naughty elf encourage good behavior?

I mean, I get that it's fun to have him/her do silly things every night (actually this a lie because the thought of having to remember to do one more thing EVERY NIGHT in the month of December and then to have to make that one more thing a creative one, STRESSES. ME. OUT.), but how does that translate into outright fear of misbehavior?

Take for instance, this picture:

really, Pinterest?

Every morning this is the conversation I have with my children, "WILL YOU PLEASE PUT THE CAP BACK ON THE TOOTHPASTE SO IT DOESN'T GET ALL OVER THE COUNTER?? AND SQUEEZE FROM THE BOTTOM. SQUEEZE. FROM. THE. BOTTOM!!" How could this possibly help lower the toothpaste covered counter incidents in my home? My heart is pounding just looking at this picture because, really, I don't have enough kid-created messes to clean up, I'm going to make some of my own? Do you know when this would be cleaned up at my house? June. Maybe. If my ultimate goal is to scare my kids into never misusing toothpaste again, how could this possibly help?

Or here's another Pinterest suggestion:

Have your elf steal from you. Because it's not enough you paid $30 (if you got a deal) for this creep, now he's going to take your cash, charge up your credit card, AND teach your kids it's okay. This is the guy Santa's sent to keep an eye on them, right? So either Santa's been snookered just like everyone else who's bought into Elfie/Mr. Jingles/Harvey (or whatever pseudonym he's using at your house) or Santa's standard have seriously slipped.

Or how about this:

You want to know what my kids' reaction to this would be? Not, "Mommy, mommy look how funny Elfie is!" or "Can I drink syrup through a straw too?" No, their reaction would be "Straws as a syrup delivery device? Why did I never think of this before? Who needs pancakes or waffles? Let's cut out the middle man! Girl 2, you get the straws. Girl 3, you watch for Mom while Girl 2 and I drink our breakfast. If there's any left, you can have some too."

Call me dense or clueless or the meanest mom ever, but I just don't get it. I mean, I'm not against fear. I'm pro-fear. Kids should be scared into being good. But how does a mirror defacing, purse invading, syrup sucking doll accomplish this? Especially when he's kept in a box for eleven months out of the year.

Here's how it's always worked at my house (and the house I grew up in). The kids have a week after Christmas to get all their fighting and naughtiness out without too much retribution. Hopefully they're distracted enough by all their new crap that things don't get too out of control. But starting January 1st, Santa's elves start watching again. But only Mom can see them. They're always peeking in windows somewhere. And they're are windows everywhere. Go ahead, think of somewhere without windows (okay, outside, but the elves are already out there). Dungeons, right? And let's see a kid misbehave in one of those.

The elves are always watching. ALWAYS. And there's more than one of them.

Fear can be free, my friends. Free. All you have to do when naughtiness is about to erupt is calmly say, "Oh, I think I just saw an elf peeking in the window." Stops them in their tracks. Now the focus has gone from being bad to being outright scared of something they can't see but can see them. Fear of the unknown, people, is the greatest fear of all.

Follow your statement by quietly signing a few of the creepier lines from Santa Claus is Coming to Town. "He knows when you are sleeping. He knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good. SO BE GOOD FOR GOODNESS SAKE!"

Boom. Elves go from rosy cheeked pranksters to a cross between Edward Cullen and Chucky.

Happy New Year and You're Welcome.

WARNING! This method may not actually induce good behavior. Side effects include nightmares, fear of dark hallways, fear of being alone, fear of windows, desire for window coverings, and fear.

Mormonism for Drunks

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 17 Aug 2013 16:27:00 +0000

Last weekend I went to Vegas to see my friend Kelly from Cleveland.

We went cooler places than the airport,
but we forgot to take pictures at those places.

It was one of the few bright spots at the end of a hard year. And, let me tell you, Kelly from Cleveland knows how to do Vegas. There's no hanging out in her mother-in-law's basement like yours truly. Nope. There's shopping, and eating good food, and winning money, and staying at nice hotels.

This is not how I do Vegas.

But Kelly from Cleveland let me live vicariously through her, asking me be her personal shopper and buying me a delicious steak at a restaurant with singing frogs and waterfalls that was not Rainforest Café.* I did, however, miss out on the club with the ladies taking waterless baths and the man wearing the bear head who may or may not have worked there.

Again, this was not my typical Vegas visit to the in-laws.

Kelly's husband Chris and her friend Kathleen also ate delicious steak with us and later her friend--I'll call him Drunk Larry (mostly because his name is Larry and because he was, in fact, drunk)--showed up to drink some wine and eat our delicious leftovers. We had a very fine time and Larry--as he himself pointed out--was hiLARRYous.

During our lively conversation there were some questions asked/statements made about Mormons. I did an okay job of answering them, but now that I've had a few days to think them over and Larry's had a few days to sober up, I think I'd like to give it another go. I'll leave it to anyone who wasn't at that dinner who may read this blog to guess which questions asked/statements made were from the one among us who was not entirely sober.

You're a Mormon? Where did you park your horse and buggy?
At Brigham Young's house...back in 1858.

The typical form of transportation used by Mormons now looks like this:**

Based on this picture, 2 out of 9 Mormon children will have broken arms at any given time.

Is there such a thing as a Mormon high school?
Yes, in some parts of Utah and Idaho. Except it's called public school and isn't actually owned by the Church.
In many parts of the world though, high school age kids attend what we call seminary which is usually held in our church buildings. This is religious instruction that generally happens before school where there isn't a high concentration of Mormons. In Utah, Southern Idaho and parts of Arizona this instruction takes place during the school day in seminary buildings located near high schools and is officially known as released time. It's part of a student's class schedule, but no credit is given for the course. Except in Heaven.

Are there black Mormons?
Yes. Here's one right here:

There are more, but I'm not gonna lie. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints--just like most other predominately white Christian churches--has a difficult history when it comes to Black Americans and because of that we don't have nearly the number of black members I would like to see us have. I found this cool site though, if you want to know more about black Latter Day Saints.

Are there gay Mormons?
Yes there are members of the Church who struggle with same-sex attraction. This one is hard because of our belief that gender is eternal and that marriage is between a man and a woman (as a side-note, not all faithful members agree with this). Sex outside of marriage is also considered a sin, thereby resigning someone attracted to another of the same sex to a life of celibacy if he/she wants to remain a fully practicing Mormon.
It's a difficult subject and one that the Church has not always been sensitive to or open about. I think this website is a huge step in the right direction toward a more compassionate approach to same-sex attraction.

Do Mormons get Botox?
At least one of us does:

Have you seen Book of Mormon, the musical? Is the history in it right?

I haven't seen it so I don't know for sure. But if it's about a fourteen year old boy named Joseph Smith who, in 1820, read in James 1:5 If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him, decided to put that scripture to the test by asking God which church to join and was answered over a number of years with visions of God, Jesus, and angels and actual gold plates from which we get our Book of Mormon that does not include any dancing, singing, or stages; then yes, the history is correct.

Even telling you about it makes me think, this must sound crazy to someone who hasn't heard it before.

But no crazier than a virgin giving birth to the son of God and that same son coming back to life after three days and a lot more people (including me) believe those stories.

You can read Joseph Smith's experience in his own words here. It's kind of long and doesn't have the same humor as Matt Stone and Trey Parker's version, but I'd venture to say it's better.

Does your Mormon God (fill in the blank):

My Mormon God does the same thing as your Jewish/Catholic/Muslim/Christian/whatever God. They're all the same guy, we just recognize and worship Him in different ways. Mormons are different than other Christians in that we don't believe in the doctrine of the trinity. We believe God the Father, Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit are three separate beings and that God and Jesus have bodies of flesh and bone.

There's a lot of people who don't like that about us, but I'm okay with that.

If I were a Mormon I wouldn't have lost my phone.

It's true if you were Mormon you probably wouldn't have been drunk, making it easier for you to not lose your phone. But Mormons lose things too.

We even lose things bigger than cells phones. Like jobs or homes or spouses. Sometimes we even lose children. Bad things happen to Mormons just like they happen to other good people. And life can be hard and sometimes we're sad.

But we have this scripture from the Book of Mormon (not the musical) that helps: 2 Nephi 2:25 ^aAdam ^bfell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.

And we have our belief that there has to be opposition in all things. In order to know joy, we have to know misery, in order to feel pleasure we have to feel pain, in order to love we have to grieve.

It doesn't necessarily make things easier when we have hard times, but it brings some peace knowing God isn't mean and basically just wants us to be as happy as He is.

There were more questions, but I can't remember all of them and some of them weren't entirely appropriate. Basically it comes down to this: Mormons look a lot like you. Except without the alcohol or coffee. Or the cursing (at least not as much). And maybe a few other things--like more kids--but not always. (For the record, Drunk Larry has one more of those than me).

So there you go. A little slice of Mormonism in a nutshell.

A very small slice in a very small nutshell.

There's really a lot more and you could probably find a lot better answers in some other places, like Mormon.org. But feel free to ask me any questions you may have. I will be happy to answer them if they're asked in a way that doesn't hurt my feelings.*** (Hard questions I'm okay with. Mean questions I'm not--I'm funny that way).

* Also there was fry sauce to go with our magically delicious French fries which gives me hope that the fry sauce phenomenon has crossed the Utah border and is finally making it's way West toward me.

** Most Mormons do not actually drive red Econo-vans. That was a joke... they're usually white.

*** To be clear, my Cleveland friends' questions did not hurt my feelings. Drunk Larry's surprise at finding himself dining with a Mormon was an entertainment highlight of the summer. And my summers are pretty entertaining.

One Last Good-bye

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 14 May 2013 22:17:00 +0000

I got this puzzle for Christmas:

If I knew how to do that magic with pictures where you circle something important and draw an arrow to it, I would circle the place in the right hand corner that says 1000 Pieces. 1000 is a lot when it comes to puzzle pieces. Especially if you don't like puzzles.

But if someone you love has cancer and she gives you a puzzle, you do that puzzle. Because there's nothing else you can do. (In case you haven't heard, there's still no cure for cancer). And I figured if my aunt could survive a surgery wherein most of her insides were removed and then chemo on top of that, I could probably do a 1000 piece puzzle.

So I spent a few weeks (we'll call them January) sitting at my dining room table trying piece after piece until I fit two, then three, then four and the image of Christ came together. I thought a lot about Him as I built that puzzle, knowing He answers prayers, hoping He'd answer yes to mine, fearing He couldn't.

I got about 900 pieces in when my cousin's kids came over and this happened:

See those pieces on the outside? Those are the pieces I had left. See that pile in the middle? Those were all put together. See that half-finished border? That's what remained in tact when the three year old decided to play "waterfall." Can you believe I still love that kid? You would if you knew him.

I looked at that pile of pieces for a few days, not ready to put them back in the box, but also certain I couldn't start over.

It was about that time my aunt got the news her cancer was back. Not that it had ever really gone away, but we'd been fooled for a few weeks into thinking it had. I was with her that day. We hugged and we cried and then, we planned. "Let's make photo books for your grandbabies," I said. "It will give you something to do." Something to leave behind was left unsaid, but understood.

Then I went home and started sorting those pieces, ready to start over.

I finished the puzzle in February, working overtime to get it done before the cousins came over--just in case the little one wanted to play waterfall again.

If I could do that magic circle thing I'd point out the two empty spots. The two missing pieces never found. I suppose there's an analogy there--something about Christ being able to fill our missing pieces. I don't know. I do know you can't ever really finish a puzzle without all the pieces.

That didn't keep me from leaving it on my dining room table for months. Every time we had company my husband would ask if we could put it away, but I'd say no and so we fed our guests around it. I kept hoping to find the last two pieces, just like I kept hoping for a miracle, even though I could see the cancer winning.

I took the puzzle apart and put it back in its box two weeks ago after my aunt hugged me goodbye. The pieces weren't found and I didn't get the miracle I wanted.

But I'm grateful for all the unexpected blessings along the way.

In the end, the missing pieces weren't important. I could still see who's in the picture.

Careful What You Wish For...

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 22 Mar 2013 02:40:00 +0000

Dear Me and Every Teacher Who Ever Said, "Put the Book Down, Girl 1,"

We did it! Hooray for us! My voracious reader has informed me that reading is boring, there's nothing to read anyway, and she doesn't want to do it anymore.

Hallelujah, right? It's not like reading could help her get into college or get a good job or expand her world view or anything. Glad we broke that terrible habit.

Know what she does want to do?

Sit in front of the computer googling and emailing. Her "grab and go" skills have also greatly improved when it comes to taking advantage of my unattended phone to text her friends or play Fruit Ninja.

That's when she's not begging me for her own phone and listing the endless reasons why I am the worst mother in the world for not letting her have one whilst reminding me that she is, literally, the only girl on the planet without some kind of device that starts with i.

So, you know, well done us...

With Sighs of Exasperation,

Me

Remember Me?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 06 Mar 2013 04:21:00 +0000

Dear Blog,

Remember how I used to write you? I'd sit down and tap, tap, tappity-tap away at least once a week and produce something for the masses (all 100 of them) to read. Most of my posts were okay, some were really good, and one or two were pretty awesome. Collectively they all gave me a sense of being connected to a worldwide community and they made me a better writer.

That was before Home School. Before my aunt's cancer. Before the call to be Young Women's President*.

That was back in the heady days of triathlons and novel writing, Tuesday breakfasts and people watching for blog material.

Back in the days before people got tired of writing more than 140 words at a time and having to wait hours--or even days--for comments. The Pretwitteristic Age.

I miss those days.

I think we should make an effort to get together more often.

Love,

Brittany

* Young Women's President, for those uninitiated in the ways of Mormon lay clergy, means that I was asked by my bishop (pastor) to be the president of our ward's (aka: congregation) organization for girls between the ages of twelve and eighteen. For me, this means planning weekly activities and Sunday lessons for roughly thirty girls and lots of other time consuming things that I don't get paid for. It is also the best church job ever, despite the fact I can't curse in this blog anymore because, you know, I'm an example now.

Top Ten Worst Christmas Songs Ever

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 22 Dec 2012 18:56:00 +0000

I know. It's been a while. But I'm back with the definitive answer to the question that has been plaguing both of us since the day after Thanksgiving (perhaps longer for those of you who don't live with people who have very strict rules about when the playing of Christmas music can officially begin)...

What is the worst Christmas song ever?

Well, we'll get to number one, but first let's start with the nine preceding it in order of least worst to so terrifyingly bad plugging my ears with rusty nails would be less painful worst.

10. Christmastime in Hollis Queens. Sadly this song would have made the Best Of list until it was used to sell mini-vans to moms. I've only seen the Honda commercial once and I can't find it anywhere on the internets, but what's done is done. The image of moms who look like me rapping this song inside an Odyssey is burned in my brain. It's lost all of its cool cache. I do,however, have a hankering for a new Odyssey.

9. We Need a Little Christmas. I feel like I should like this song, but it's so pushy. There's so much pressure to get Christmas done IMMEDIATELY! I can't take a month or more to put the decorations up and get my shopping done because this guy's going to do something drastic if he doesn't get his Christmas fix NOW!

8. Little Drummer Boy by Bob Seger. It's Bob Seger singing. Enough said. Anything sung by Bob Seger could make a Worst Of list.

7. Do They Know It's Christmas by Band Aid. Anyone who knows my feelings about Band-aids should not question the position of this song on this list. You should only question why it's only at number seven and not closer to number one.

6. Jingle Bells by Barbara Streisand. The moment Babs sings "and then we got upsot. Upsot??" this version of Jingle Bells officially becomes a Hanukkah carol and no longer qualifies as a Christmas song.

5. Christmas Through Your Eyes by Gloria Estefan. I find Gloria Estefan one of the most annoying people in the entire world. I don't know why. She just is. And she should leave Christmas and its songs alone. Step away from the microphone, Gloria. Step. Away.

4 & 3. O Holy Night by Mariah Carey. Mariah Carey takes one of the most beautiful hymns EVER and adds synthesizers--synthesizers for Gosh sakes!--and then she does another version and adds Michel Bolton. For this reason she gets two spots. You will not be forgiven for your crimes against this song, Mariah.

2. What if Jesus Comes Back Like That by Colin Raye. Colin Raye should be punched in the face for ruining Christmas every time I hear this song.

And, finally, the very worst in what Christmas music has to offer. So bad I want to make myself barf every time I hear it just to get the treacle taste out of my mouth. You already know what it is, right? How could it be anything besides...

1. Christmas Shoes by Newsong. And Rob Lowe, how can you be so good in Parks & Rec and then be in this video? You disappoint me, sir.

I can't in good conscience share only terrible Christmas music with you, so I'll leave you with the best Christmas song ever. It was going to be Happy Christmas (I can't do Xmas, even though I think officially that's what it is) by John Lennon, but I'm feeling very grateful that I get to spend Christmas with my children and my heart aches for those who don't. So here it is, my favorite Christmas hymn and a truly beautiful version of it...

Merry Christmas!

An Impassioned Plea of "Can't We All Just Get Along?"

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 08 Nov 2012 04:35:00 +0000

A few days ago I posted this article, Ending the Uncivil War, from BYU Magazine on my Facebook page that I begged my friends to read. Judging by all the apocalyptic posts using words like "stupid" "idiot" and "Hell" that have been filling up my feed, I'm guessing not very many people did. So let me do a little paraphrasing if you will. The words of the three authors who wrote the article; an Evangelical, the vice chair of the Utah Democratic Party, and a Democratic Senator,* can be summed up with a quote from President Dieter F. Uchtdorf from last conference:

When our hearts are filled with the love of God, we become “kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving [each other], even as God for Christ’s sake [forgave us].”¹¹

The pure love of Christ can remove the scales of resentment and wrath from our eyes, allowing us to see others the way our Heavenly Father sees us: as flawed and imperfect mortals who have potential and worth far beyond our capacity to imagine. Because God loves us so much, we too must love and forgive each other.

I know people feel passionately about politics; I get it. I understand being frustrated that things aren't going the way they'd like them to.

What I can't fathom is why people take one man who gives to charity, prays daily, attends church, and calls himself a Christian, put all of their faith in him to save America and keep the apocalypse at bay; then take another man who does the same things and make him the personification of evil.

You may not like Obama's vision for America and you may be right that the cost is too high, but I don't see how wanting people to have equal access to health care, education, and the American Dream is evil. You have every right not to like his ideas and methods, but let's be careful how we throw around a word like "evil," okay?

Hitler; evil. Bin Laden; evil. Dictators who execute whole swaths of people who disagree with them; evil.

Obama?

Well, he's our president, whether we like it or not. So how about we start showing him the respect he deserves--even if we don't agree with him--and usher in a return to civility? One man can't destroy our country just like one man can't save it. It will take all of us to do one or the other. My preference would be for saving.

To that end, I'm taking the pledge that Mark Demoss, the Evangelical author of this article, asked members of Congress and people everywhere to take as part of his civility project:

1. I will be civil in my public discourse and behavior

2. I will be respectful of others, whether or not I agree with them.

3. I will stand against incivility where and when I see it.

I haven't always been respectful of every president (sorry #43), but I'm going to do better now. Not just with presidents, but with people in general. I'm even going to try really hard not to yell at people when I drive. I may have to stop driving for a while. I'll do it though, if that's what it takes to make my corner of the world a little bit nicer (no cracks about my driving ability please).

I know there are many people out there who believe God is affiliated with one political party, but no matter how many scriptures are quoted (or more often paraphrased), I haven't heard any compelling evidence that God cares more about political parties than people. So can I ask that we stop accusing Obama of ushering in the end times? Faith and fear can not reside in the same place, so how about we let go of the fear.

Maybe this quote from another apostle at another of our general conferences will help:

There are some who feel that venting their personal anger or deeply held opinions is more important than conducting themselves as Jesus Christ lived and taught. I invite each one of us individually to recognize that how we disagree is a real measure of who we are and whether we truly follow the Savior. It is appropriate to disagree, but it is not appropriate to be disagreeable...If we show love and respect even in adverse circumstances, we become more like Christ (Quentin L. Cook, "We Follow Jesus Christ," Ensign, May 2010),

Oh, and by the way, I voted for the guy who lost too.

* That's right, the university that doesn't allow men to have hair below their collars, women to wear bikinis, or anyone to wear shorts above their knees--but does encourage people to report others' infractions--invited not one, but two Democrats to speak to its students. Their Conservative merit badge just may be revoked.

Heroic Deeds Performed by Me and Other Exciting Things...

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 31 Oct 2012 23:38:00 +0000

Heroic Act #1

Last night I went to Target--again (third time this week and it was only Tuesday for crying out loud). I was in a hurry (because when am I not?) and some kind of population explosion had gone off and people were everywhere. I parked in Egypt, loaded up on provisions, and began my journey to the entrance.

By the time I reached the vast desert of the handicapped parking zone I had barely fifteen minutes to get all the things I'd forgotten on my two previous trips, before I had to retrieve Girl 2 early from gymnastics so she could spend the rest of the night doing a project she should have started four weeks ago.

It was then I saw a boy trying to pick up a flailing one year old off the street. Their mother was a few feet ahead, pushing a cart with another little boy in it who was trying his darnedest to escape while she made her way around an idling SUV/monster truck blocking her car. "Just pick him up," she said, obviously in a hurry and trying to keep her frustration at bay. I got it. It was dinnertime and she was at Target with a kajillion kids (though, in retrospect, I only counted three).

Something told me to go pick that baby up. So I did, ignoring my fear that I might be mistaken for one of those crazy, childless, baby-kidnapping ladies. Harried mom left her cart and rushed back to me.

"I'll help you to your car." I assured her. She still looked worried, but went back to her cart to wrangle her other potential escapee.The baby cried for his mom, but quit his flailing as I followed her the short distance to her car. She said thanks as I passed him off to her.

"No problem," I said, giving her a reassuring pat on the back. "It's so stressful taking kids shopping!"

Then I hurried on my way back around the still idling SUV ready to speed shop. Except when I came around the SUV a Mustang turned in front of it, the driver going fast enough as it passed little ol' me and the SUV that I had to jump out of the way to avoid being run over. He sped past me. right over the spot where thirty seconds before a little boy had been wrestling his baby brother. And I knew if I hadn't picked that baby up, those boys would have been hit. That speeding Mustang driver couldn't have seen them on the other side of that jacked up truck before he decided to turn and speed down that parking lot lane.

So I kind of saved three lives last night: those boys and that I-think-I'm-pretty-cool driver. Because imagine being that guy who was dumb enough to think speeding through a busy parking lot at dusk was a good idea.

Heroic Act #2

Remember Homeschooling Girl? Well, the other day I had to teach her how to solve this problem:
x + 2 = - 4.

And maybe you don't think that's such an act of heroism. But if a hero is defined as someone who shows courage in the face of adversity, then folks, I am a hero. Er, heroine.

Because if you could have seen me my senior year of college when I looked at my graduation requirements and read the part that said if I had scored below a certain number on the Math portion of the ACT then I would have to take, not only College Algebra, but also the no credit prerequisite Pre-Algebra for Math Dummies class--whether or not I had taken two years of Italian in order to avoid ever taking a math class again--and seen newlywed me, who now had to pay her own college tuition and therefore needed to graduate--and soon-- think back to that fateful ACT and remember how I had totally rocked the English and Science portion of it but the Math portion had significantly lowered my overall score, and then seen me cry. Every day. For the entire summer semester I took College Algebra, bravely/stupidly skipping Math for Dummies in order to graduate on time...you wouldn't argue whether or not I am a superheroine for solving a simple algebraic equation. I am.

I passed that class with flying colors. (If, you know, a C+ counts as flying and not just sputtering). Not only that, but my semester of Algebra has turned out to be far more useful than my four semesters of Italian. Though the Italian will come in handy as I prepare a nice marinara to eat with the words, "why do I need to know Algebra? I will never use it again after this semester."

Exciting Thing #1

Remember my book that got rejected for marketing reasons? My very good friend, writing partner, and talented author, Melanie Jacobson self-published my very own copy for me. Here's a picture:

cute, huh...

Then she told me to order more copies and come do a book signing with her (Smart Move give away soon, until then order here) and our other critique partner, Kristy Tate (Stealing Mercy free on Kindle here). So I did and it was fun. But I didn't order enough books because people keep asking me for one and I'm out. I'm going to order more, so if you want one let me know and if you don't, that's okay, I still like you. But please don't let me know if you don't want one.

It is $10 plus s&h and I'm only doing a small order. No Amazon or Kindle release. Also, it went through one really great, really fast, edit. That was not enough. You will find mistakes.

Exciting Thing #2

For the first time I am doing NaNoWriMo. It starts tomorrow and I am very excited. I am also doing Book Fair, Room Mom stuff, Regular Mom stuff, Home School Mom stuff, Thanksgiving, and lots of other stuff, so wish me luck. (I've already informed hubby I won't be doing cleaning stuff. Cleaned the bathrooms yesterday in preparation for NoCleanSoICanWriMo).

The best part though, is that Home School Girl is doing it with me because I found a whole middle school NaNoWriMo packet she can do. I did not, however, order it in time to start tomorrow. Which means I have to skim through over a hundred pages of said packet and decide how many of those pages I want to print out for her. That is not the best part.

Still... things are good.

Busy, but good.

Things I Miss For My Children...

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 25 Oct 2012 20:59:00 +0000

1. Waking up to this...

my parents sent me this picture of their backyard on Tuesday

Even when it happens in October, the first snow is magical. To wake up to the first snow of the season is to wake up to the wonder of Mother Nature and her ever changing moods. It's a reminder that nothing stays the same. It's a day filled with the possibility of future "snow days."

2. Snow days. Few things are more exciting than an early morning call saying school has been cancelled. It's even better when Mother Nature thwarts the grown-ups and lets the sun shine. It's like a surprise Christmas.

3. Saturday morning cartoons. When the world isn't centered around you, anything that caters to your wants becomes special, no matter how crappy it is.

4. Opening the cover to a textbook on the first day of class to see who had it before you... and knowing that person.

5. Grandparents who live next door.

6. Long recesses and homework free week nights.

7. Being able to bike to the store to buyAtomic Fireballs and candy cigarettes. Okay, maybe not the candy cigarette part.

General Observations on a Variety of Topics...

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 26 Sep 2012 14:26:00 +0000

1. Acoustic Songs: A song that can be used to sell fast food will not suck any less if "unplugged" (I'm looking at you, I'll Melt With You).

2. Short Shorts: These are the rules for wearing them... Don't. Odds are you look more like this:

Than this:

Because guess what...you're not airbrushed.

3. Little Boys: After three days of hands-on research that included an entire box of angel hair pasta strewn throughout my kitchen, family room, and dining room, I have come to the conclusion that two little boys between the ages of two and three are easier than one preteen girl.

4. Home School: Home schooling requires a lot of schooling at home. (Warning: If you're tempted to comment here about all the fun "field trips" home schoolers can go on, please review the rules for wearing short shorts. They apply here also).

5. Bra Etiquette: Missed my post on it? Read it, learn it, live it, and avoid becoming this woman:

Or, worse, this woman, who I'm pretty sure is an anorexic hooker even though I saw her eat pizza and did not see her engage in any illegal activity, although this bra infraction bordered on indecent exposure:

Let this be a warning that it's but a short descent from tacky bra strap exposure

to internet accusations by strangers concerning your.eating habits and chosen line of profession.

Because I'm THAT Mom Now...

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 12 Sep 2012 05:06:00 +0000

I am not a home schooling mom.

I mean, aside from the fact I have a child currently attending school at home, I am not a home school mom.

Because you know who they are, right?

Those moms who are too afraid of what their children will/won't learn if they send them to public school. Those moms who think their children are so special no one could possibly know how to teach them better than their own mothers. Those moms who are always, ALWAYS with their kids because that's who they are. They're moms.

You know who their kids are too, right?

Those kids who try to horn in on adult conversations. Those kids who don't know how to raise their hands when they're in a regular educational setting. Those kids who are just a little off because they live in a bubble where they don't get teased or pushed or ignored by anyone other than their own siblings. Those kids who are always, ALWAYS called weird because that's what they are. They're weird.

We all have those stereotypes, right?

But guess what. If you're a mom with a kid, each of you has a little of that home school thing in you. So be careful how harshly you judge because it just might be you some day. And I know what you're thinking. I used to think "never" too.

Maybe this will help change your mind though. Here's what we did for Girl 1's first day of home school:

Because, you know, we've got to get those P.E. hours in.

Plus, after crying for three days straight* because every step I took left me on unsteady, unfamiliar ground, I got a rejection letter from my perspective publisher,** followed by some other bad news.*** At that point I couldn't even cry anymore. There was only one thing left to do:

I needed some time with my village.

So there was no way I was missing Bethany's Boogie Boarding Birthday Bash. Did it matter if it fell on the first official day of The Great Home Schooling Experiment? No, because I'm a problem solver. Home school books haven't arrived yet? P.E. hours and therapy needed? Take G1 along and Boom! Problem solved.

You know what other problem's been solved?

I found the smile that's been missing from G1's face for a while.

* Cross not a crier off my Who Am I? list, along with not a home school mom.
** That's right, I'm just going to slip that in there like it's no biggie. Because, at this point, it's not, but in lieu of flowers feel free to donate to Brittany's Retail Therapy Fund. Nordstrom gift cards will be accepted.
** Too personal to share, but nothing to worry about. Unless you're me of course.

Happy (sort of) New School Year...

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 05 Sep 2012 16:05:00 +0000

So, my kids start school tomorrow.

Two-thirds of them, anyway.

Last year at the this time began The Year of Brittany and it was awesome. Maybe not so much for some (one) of my kids, but it was for me. My youngest started first grade which meant six hours a day (mostly) of me time. Six hours a day to heed the voice in my head whispering write, write, write! And swim, bike, run!

Sure that voice got annoying because sometimes I just wanted to sleep in or sit on the couch and watch a lot of bad TV. But it wouldn't shut up. It had been drowned out for a long time by kids and a husband and dirty floors and endless laundry. Then, suddenly, the three loudest voices were gone for much of the day and I could hear that little voice again.

And it sounded a lot like...

me.

I'd kind of forgotten who that person was. Or maybe I was really getting to know her for the first time. And, you know what? I liked her. A lot.

Don't get me wrong. The Year of Brittany wasn't all typing/swimming/biking/ running and smiles. There were no unicorns and rainbows. Just a lot of hard work.

And maybe some neglect of important things (i.e. not floors and laundry). But still a good year. For me.

Here's the thing though. When I turned in my finished manuscript to the publisher, I forgot about it. When I crossed the finish line of my triathlon, I felt only relief, not elation.

I'm proud of those two accomplishments, I really am. I don't regret the time and energy I put into writing and training, but the question I had to ask myself after I finished both was whether it was worth it. Did the cheers and congratulations make up for the time I'd taken away from my family?

I honestly don't know. But the voice is gone now. It's not driving me to finish that second manuscript I've started or to start training for another race.

And I don't miss it like I thought I would.

This school year is going to be a much different year. Girl 2 & 3 will return to their public school tomorrow while Girl 1 stays home.

On Monday Husband and I both step into the dark abyss of The Unknown (a place neither of us is super comfortable entering) as he opens his own law firm (hooray! in a scary way) and I start home schooling Girl 1 (I just heard a collective gasp from all those who know me and my lovely, headstrong daughter personally).

Add to that a favorite aunt, sick with cancer, who--fortunately for me--lives nearby, and this year is looking more like a Year of Others instead of another Year of Me.

And that's okay. My Year of Brittany taught me that I can do hard things, which is more important than a fleeting sense of accomplishment.

I'm going to need that education this year... but I think it's going to be a better year.

Bra Etiquette

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 17 Aug 2012 17:20:00 +0000

Can we talk bras for a minute? And by talk I mean, will you listen (with your eyes, of course) while I rant?

Also, feel free to imagine my voice as old and judgmental because there's really no other way to hear it while you read this.

I'm old enough to remember when a peaking bra strap was akin to living in a van by the side of a river. My mother was always tucking straps back in for me or even pinning them when necessary and my friends and I did the same for each other when our mothers weren't around because none of us wanted to be known as "that" kind of girl. Because if a girl let the strap of her bra show in public, she was probably willing to let a lot more show in private.

Reputations were ruined by a disregard for proper bra etiquette.

Well, the times they have a-changed.

Famous people (and I use the term loosely here) feel comfortable not only going out in public, but also being photographed and viewed by millions of people like this:

You look like maybe you have something serious to say, but all I can think is:
"I know those are fake, so why do they look so saggy?"
You could be announcing that you've just found the cure for cancer and still, this is all I am going to think.

Really? Have we sunk so low that it's okay to match shoes and accessories to our underwear?
Isn't it bad enough that neon is back in that we shouldn't have to see your wrist, feet AND boobs encased in it?

I know this isn't a new trend. It's been fashionable for years to let a little sexy strap show. And if people would stop there I could get over it. I mean, the word "trashy" still flashes through my mind every time I see it, but that's my own issue, not the girls/women who follow the trend.

But yesterday things came to a head when I watched the lady parked next to me IN A BUSY PUBLIC PARKING LOT stand outside of her car, put her 3 hook, double D, nude bra on over her bikini top, take the bikini top off, THEN WALK AROUND IN HER BRA. FOR A LONG TIME.

And here's my problem with that:
1. We were at a lake with dressing rooms where she could have changed.
2. She was not on the catwalk at the Victoria's Secret fashion show where it's acceptable to wear a bra as apparel as opposed to underwear.
3. Sure her bra covered more than her bikini top, but does this make it a suitable substitute for a shirt?
4. SHE WAS WALKING AROUND IN HER BRA LIKE IT WAS TOTALLY NORMAL.

Clearly our society is in need of a little refresher course on UNDERwear and how to wear it. So, Crazy Bra Bearing Lake Lady, this is for you and all your cohorts (and also for my girlfriends who don't really need it but the bra lady told me to share it with you and I am nothing if not obedient when it comes to strangers in YouTube videos who want to make the world a little more classy).

Kids, Cows, and California Drivin'

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 15 Aug 2012 01:08:00 +0000

I'm back (sigh) and I know you're dying to hear how the cattle round-up and calf showing went, so I'll tell you. In pictures. Because, you know, a picture's worth a thousand words and I'm really too tired to type that many.

Cattle Round-Up With Very Few Pics of Cows Because It's Hard to Be Both Herder and Photographer at the Same Time. Also, I Thought It Would be Impolite to Let Cows Get Away Since Our Hosts Depend on Them for Their Livelihood and Not Just Their Summer Entertainment...

Cache County Fair Calf Showing Wherein Girl 2 Wins the Show Stick. Cali Girls Represent!

See her scratching the heifer's belly?
That's what you do with a show stick

The stick is also used to get the cow to move
her feet to the right position.

There she is with her ribbon and her prize stick which she will have little use for in California.
I, however, will be using it as a Get-Out-of-Bed-Now/Keep-Your-Hands-Off-Your-Sister Stick.
Which you'll have to imagine because my attempt to Google a picture of such a thing failed.
As did this joke without the picture.

Girl 1 is more a cowgirl than a Cali girl.
Calves make her smile more than waves do.

You can only hear so much about how feminine and maternal

a cow's features are before you get a little bored.

On our drive home I seriously considered packing up and moving to Utah. Mostly so I would never have to do that drive again--because I would already be there.

I also saw a sign just outside of Barstow that said:

End

Lane

Control

And I felt kind of bad because I didn't even know that lanes were fighting for their autonomy. Then I wondered why-- as long as we're trying to end things--we don't put an end to Reckless California Driving. We could make public service announcements that say things like:

"Driving a BMW does not make you impervious to death. Not that I'd care if you died, but it also does not make you impervious to killing other people who are choosing not to weave in and out of lanes while driving 120 mph."

or:

"Do you really want to play chicken with Death right now? Because you're a pretty short distance from Hell when you're in Baker, California."

Ahhh, it's good to be home.

Refrigerator Jenga

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 21:20:00 +0000

Have I mentioned I've been hanging out in Utah with my parents for a while? Like about three weeks. And maybe you're wondering what I've been doing during all those weeks. Or maybe not. But either way, I'm going to tell you.

There have been some visits to some water parks. Like this one we went to after watching my nephew play baseball in Malad, Idaho (population: enough to have a dollar store and that's about it):

Downata Hot Springs in Downey, Idaho (population: seriously, does anyone even live here?) has a couple of water slides and a pool, but this is the only thing I took a picture of because Girl 3 asked me to and it was close to my lounge chair. All the water comes from a natural hot springs which means swimming in the pool felt like floating around in a giant bathtub and riding down the hydrotube felt like a claustrophobic trip through some one's intestines before being shot out into a toilet. So basically it was a little like being in a giant bathroom, but definitely worth $7.

We've eaten at Chuck-a-Rama, been on some picnics, done some fishing, gone on a monster hike

during which my nephew cried for most of the way up that he wanted to go home and then when we got to the top he said, "Wow! Look at the view! It's beautiful up here!" and Girl 3 said, "I feel like the most awesome mountain hiker ever!" Actually all the kids were pretty impressed with themselves for making it to the top and I was too.

We're going on a cattle round up tomorrow and Girls 1 and 2 will be showing calves at the Cache County Fair again this year while I head to Bear Lake for a writer's retreat before we head back to the Golden State (population: So, so many people. And they all seem to be tan and blond).

But a vacation at my parents' wouldn't be a vacation at my parents' without multiple rounds of Refrigerator Jenga every day.

This is their fridge, aka Where Condiment Hoarders Hide Their Shame:

And this is how you play Refrigerator Jenga:

1. Think to yourself, "I would like something to eat."

2. Open fridge slowly and be prepared to catch at least one jar of some condiment that will try to escape.

3. Move a giant tub of cottage cheese stacked on a small tub of sour cream, various sized containers with leftovers that nobody will ever eat, and a giant brick of cheese resting on a jar of mayonnaise, to find what it is you're looking for only to not find it.
4. Try one of the other condiment shelves. There are four of them.
5. Move 53 bottles of different flavored fruit salsa. Most of them are stacked precariously on small containers of yogurt, so they should be easy to find. Remove 75 half empty bottles of salad dressing, another giant tub of cottage cheese, and at least one bottle of some sort of ice cream topping. Wipe up whatever dressing has spilled because the lid wasn't on tight. Decide to try the next shelf.
6. Warning! Be careful not to move too quickly or you will knock over one of the open soda cans Mom keeps in the fridge waiting for it to go flat because it's the carbonation that's bad for you, not the high fructose corn syrup, food coloring or artificial flavoring.
7. Move the industrial sized Miracle Whip. You could throw it away, but there are two more just like it in the pantry, so what's the point? If you passed on the first container of mayo you found, there's another one here. You only have to rearrange the rest of ice cream toppings to get to it.
8. Clean up the soda you just spilled. I hate to say I told you so but, I told you so.
9. You wanted jelly? Sorry. I was sure there was some in there somewhere.
10. Try the garage fridge only to find that it is used solely to store twelve packs of soda, leftovers, and sour cream.

Seriously, the excitement never ends!

So Now What?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 03 Aug 2012 16:00:00 +0000

~~Survive Triathlon~~

Now that I've crossed that off my bucket list I need something to fill its spot. Especially since that was pretty much the only thing on my nonexistant bucket list. Plus, I've got a few extra hours to kill a day since I'm not running, biking and/or swimming.

So now what?

I thought about taking up crafting, but how can I top this:

So maybe I'll give parenting another go.

No Spudman is an Island

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:29:00 +0000

I did a triathlon and all I got was this mildly inappropriate t-shirt:

That's a potato or "spud."
It's resemblance to male genitalia--I assume--is unintentional.

And an ugly black eye:

The bruising will get better.
Sadly, the wrinkles can only get worse.

Oh, and a sense of accomplishment. I guess there's that too. Because swimming 1.5k, then biking 24 miles, then running 6 miles in 2 hours and 57 minutes is hard. Unless you're the 45 women in my division who did it faster than that. Then it's even harder.

But my sense of accomplishment doesn't come from finishing the race. It comes from all the training I did over the last nine months. That's right. Nine months. And most of that training was basically me trying to learn how to swim.

I think we've already established that it takes a village for me to not only raise my kids, but also find my stupid dog. Well, guess what? When I decide to do something hard, it also takes a village.

In this case it took my swim-instructor-extraordinaire friend Bethany to teach me how to blow bubbles out my nose so I could make it across a 25 meter pool and then back again. But I needed to be able to do that 32 times--at least--in order to do the Spudman. Which meant calling in someone much meaner than Bethany who would MAKE me do the impossible.

Enter Ironman extraordinaire Coach Belnap who for five months stood in the pool and shook his head with disappointment every time I attempted to swim. There were many motivational speeches with phrases like, "stop fighting the water!" and "you're not going to drown!" and "RELAX!" and "do another fifty!" (There may or may not have been much cursing on my part).

Until finally one day I heard the words I'd been working so hard to hear. "Now you look like a swimmer!" Coach Belnap smiled, nodded his head, then swam away into the sunset. His work was done; his only reward the satisfaction in having done the impossible. He had taught me how to swim.

Unfortunately, there was still the matter of my wetsuit anxiety. Not to mention my fear of touching squishy river bottoms. Because this was no swim-in-the-pool tri I was training for. This was an open water swim where, by all accounts, I would be getting kicked in the head and whacked all over as hundreds of swimmers tried to get ahead of me.

And sure it was a current assisted swim in a river I grew up on, so if nothing else I could float to the finish in somewhat familiar water. But this is also the same river that once made the whites of my eyes swell up. Not my eyes, THE WHITES OF MY EYES. Can you picture how gross that is? So you can understand that this is not a river I wanted to just hang out in.

Also, I live 1,000 miles away from that river now, so it's not like I could practice in it beforehand. Instead I took my wetsuit, goggles, swim cap and cheerleaders to the man-made lake four miles from my house where I mortified my eleven year old by wearing a swim cap in public and my cheerleader friends Paula and Heather swam beside me yelling at me to keep my head down and go just a little further. And I almost didn't freak out. For that we ate ice cream and french fries.

It took me a few more times of swimming in the wetsuit to get past the thought I was being swallowed by a boa constrictor, but I did it. And on the day of the race I did like Dory and told myself "just keep swimming." Over and over and over. Even when I got kicked in the eye. And sure I did a lot of side stroke and a pretty awesome backstroke that put me horizontal to the finish line, but I didn't stop and I didn't freak out. Mission accomplished.

Or part of my mission anyway. I still had to bike a pretty long distance. Which I couldn't have done without my friends Cheri and Tania who took me up and down giant hills in California so that a flat, twenty-four mile course in Idaho didn't seem so tough. The bike my awesome cousin Dixie loaned me also came in pretty handy for that part of the race.

I wish someone could have loaned me some legs for the run, because mine were pretty shot after the first three miles. I did more walking than I would have liked during mile 4, but I ran the last mile. My friend, Scott, who I hadn't seen in twenty years cheered me across the finish line where my husband waited for me cheering louder than anyone. And really I couldn't have done it without him either, since he's the one who signed me up.

I haven't even mentioned my younger brother Barrett who made me go on my longest bike ride EVER after I'd had only four hours of sleep and an eight hour drive. It may have been his slowest bike ride ever, but he kept telling me I was going pretty fast. Also, he let me stop at McDonald's to pee about ten minutes into the ride without too much ridicule.

Anyway, I'm feeling pretty good about doing the Spudman.

I'm feeling even better about my village.

Here's the thing with villages: they step up. I chose to do something hard and I couldn't have done it without help. But I am more impressed with people who have hard things thrust upon them than I am with myself. And I love hearing about their villages.

Like my aunt who just found out she has cancer and is in surgery right now. Her Mormon friends have her name on their temple prayer rolls. Her Baptist friends have her name on their prayer rolls. Her Sikh friends are praying to Allah for her and her atheist friends are sending good thoughts out to the Universe on her behalf.

Or my friends from high school whose son died a month ago from a rare disease. People across the country released balloons in his memory and have donated money in hopes of finding a cure for JM so other kids don't have to face the same hard thing.

Or the twelve year old girl in my city who rallied an entire community to donate items to go in Joy Jars that she gave away to kids suffering from cancer before she died of it herself. She's gone but her village is still giving away Joy Jars.

I think John Donne said it best. "No man is an island."

And why would we want to be?

Shawn, me and Barrett with our Spudman Cheer Squad

My Life in the Lab

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 23 Jul 2012 20:14:00 +0000

I know I promised a Philosophy Phriday post and now it's Monday, but let me tell you one of my many philosophies: There's no shame in putting things off in favor of a nap. This is maybe why I don't get very much done.

Anyhow, instead of Philosophy Phriday how about a Meditation Monday? And then a nap. Because I'm feeling productive today and will put off nap time until after I blog.

So here's what I'm meditating about. I love my bedroom and I love my bathroom and I don't really like my kids to be in either of those places. Because kids make messes and sometimes I just want to get away from the messes. And maybe the kids.

So imagine my reaction one morning when I looked up from my shower to see this in my tub:

That's a Littlest Pet Shop floating in a jar that used to contain my soothing bath salts. And it kind of reminded me of this:

Which brought on the epiphany that I'm living in a lab. A big old science lab. And I'm the scientist. The mad scientist. (And I mean that in every sense of the word. Just ask my kids how often I yell).

I'm always trying some new experiment to get them to clean rooms/practice piano/do homework/stop fighting/make beds/go to bed/sit still/move faster. And as soon as I find some formula that works, they go and add some new variable that totally screws it up. That's where the mad scientist part comes in.

The latest experiment involves the following hypothesis:

How does a mother spend hours a day swimming, biking, and/or running in order to train for a triathlon and then spend more hours a day writing because she likes that too and convince her kids to do all the housework and enjoy the parental neglect they are suffering from, all without feeling guilty?

If you have the formula for that, please pass it along. In the meantime, I think I'll take a nap while the kids are entertaining themselves.

We Have A Winner!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 17 Jul 2012 17:29:00 +0000

The winner of the Summer Lovin' give away is....

Joana Arteaga! Thank you to everyone who participated and became followers of my blog. Look for some more give aways this fall. I know of a few more great, clean books coming out!!

In the meantime, look for the second installment of Philosophy Phridays this Friday!

Summer Lovin'

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 11 Jul 2012 04:59:00 +0000

So you know how I've been ranting about porn for women?

No?

Well, I did it here AND here, just in case you missed it. But lest you think all I do is rant, I'm going to put my money where my mouth is and give away some non-porn for women.

That's right, non-porn. And by that I mean a book that, for what it lacks in graphic sex, makes up for it with good writing, romance, and actual story-telling. Pretty novel (get it? Novel. It's a play on words) idea, right?

So here's the book and the blurb:

An eastern wind carries more than dust and ashes; it uproots secrets and everyone knows that once one secret is told, no secret is safe. Laine’s haunting secrets--the estrangement from her husband—the unknown body laying in her grandfather’s coffin—the sudden and strange appearance of a difficult ghost—take her to the tiny town of Rose Arbor, her grandfather’s hometown and the place of her grandmother’s death.

As Laine unravels the mystery of her grandparents’ marriage she is forced to face one more question of the heart—Can love live even after it has died?

Sounds pretty good, right? I can verify that it is since I've already read it. And it's only the first in a series written by Kristy Tate set in the little town of Rose Arbor, Washington which is chock full of all kinds of interesting characters.

So, you want to read it? Well all you have to do is comment below to be entered into the drawing I'm having as part of the Summer Lovin' Giveaway Hop I'm part of starting July 11 and ending on July 17. If your name is chosen I will send you a signed copy of Kristy's book.

But if you don't win, you can go here to order Kristy's book on Kindle for only $3.99.

As an added bonus I've included a list of all the other blogs participating in the blog hop where you can go to find--and maybe win--more non-porn. It's a win-win for everyone! So get to commenting and hopping and ignore all the porn for women hype!

1. ~I Am A Reader, Not A Writer (Int)
2. Tifferz Book Review (Int)
3. ~Some Like It Paranormal (Int)
4. A Book Obsession. . (Int)
5. ~Christian Bookshelf Reviews (US)
6. Hardcover Feedback (US)
7. Bibliophilia, Please (INT)
8. Bibliosaurus Text (Int)
9. Nicki J Markus (Int)
10. The Solitary Bookworm (US)
11. ~Pandora Poikilos - Peace from Pieces (US)
12. ~Orangeberry Book Tours (US)
13. Mommy Adventures With Ravina (US)
14. The Teen Book Guru (int)
15. Lauries Thoughts and Reviews (Int)
16. Jennifer Lane Books (Int)
17. ~Krazy Book Lady (Int)
18. Heres the Story (US)
19. Live To Read ~Krystal (USA/CAN)
20. ~Bookittyblog (INTL)
21. ~Brinda Berry Blogs (Int)
22. JDP NEWS (US)
23. Books Beside My Bed (US)
24. Sparkles and Lightning (Int)
25. Mortality Bites (US)
26. ~Always YA at Heart (US/CAN)
27. Books4Learning (US)
28. Mug of Moxie(US)
29. Mary @ Sweeping Me (Int)
30. ~Why Not? Because I Said So! (US/Int)
31. Living, Learning, and Loving Life (US)
32. The Cozy Reading Corner (Int)
33. My Life Heding Cats (US)
34. Reading Lark (US & CA)
35. In The Name of Books (Intl)
36. Books, Books The Magical Fruit (US)
37. The reader lines (INT)
38. Bella Street Writes (US)
39. Book Cover Justice (INT)
40. Moon Shine Art Spot / reviews, cover art, illustration, (USA)
41. ~Walking on Bookshelves (US)
42. Sweeping The USA
43. BookStacksOnDeck (Int)
44. DanaSquare (US)
45. Scribbles on the Back of January (US)
46. Beckys Barmy Book Blog (Int)
47. Nikki Jefford (US)
48. The Starry-Eyed Revue (US)
49. ~Raechel @ Backwood Reviews (US)
50. My Inner Muse (Intl)
51. The Book Belles (US)
52. Bombarded With Books (US)
53. ~BookHounds (Int)
54. ~BookHounds YA (Int)
55. ~My Little Pocketbooks (INT)
56. Paranormal Urban Fantasy Reviews (INT)
57. ~Julia Crane YA Author (US)
58. A Sense of Fiction (Int)
59. Flying on Silver Wings (INT)
60. Read to My Hearts Content (US)
61. LOVE. WITHOUT YOU (INT)
62. ~Nereyda @ Mostly YA Book Obsessed (Int)
63. Peppermint PhD (INT)
64. Manga Maniac Cafe (US)
65. Book Sake (US)
66. Libby Blog (US) - Win a book of your choice!
67. Laurie Here - Contemporary Fiction and MORE - Book Reviews (INTL)
68. ~Popcorn Reads (US)
69. ~Nawanda Files (INT)
70. Jennifer Comeaux~Author (Int)
71. ~Read for your future (US)
72. Mystifying Paranormal Reviews (US)
73. Kaleidoscopic Reveries (Int)
74. Passion for Novels (INT)
75. ~Pen to Paper (INT)
76. The Book Monsters (INT)
77. ~The Secret Writer (Int)
78. Love of Books (Int)
79. Gobs and Gobs of Books (US)
80. Its A Hardcover Life (US)
81. A. D. Dulings Diddley Doodle Dandy Writings Giveaway (US)
82. Forbidden Passions Reviews (US)
83. Making the Grade: YA Lit Reviews (US)
84. Kimbers Life (US)
85. Sarah Ballance (INT)
86. Fantasy Book Addict (INT)
87. Gin @ Addicted to Words (Int)
88. Deco My Heart (US)
89. Give Me Today (US)
90. Clover Autrey~romance writer (US)
91. ~Ezmirelda @ PARAFANTASY (INTL)
92. Collettas Kitchen Sink (US)
93. Froze8s Blog (US)
94. Get Vinspired
95. Realm of Fiction (Int)
96. Much Ado About Books (US)
97. ~Citrus Reads (US)
98. Kayla @ Bengal Reads (US)
99. Books for Company (INT)
100. Book Flame (INT)
101. Into The Morning Reads (US)
102. Practical Frugality (US)
103. ~Chronicles of an Enamored Soul~ (US)
104. Lena Sledges Blog (INT)
105. BookSpark (INT)
106. Up in the Bibliosphere (US)

~I Am A Reader, Not A Writer (Int)

Tifferz Book Review (Int)

~Some Like It Paranormal (Int)

A Book Obsession. . (Int)

~Christian Bookshelf Reviews (US)

Hardcover Feedback (US)

Bibliophilia, Please (INT)

Bibliosaurus Text (Int)

Nicki J Markus (Int)

10.

The Solitary Bookworm (US)

11.

~Pandora Poikilos - Peace from Pieces (US)

12.

~Orangeberry Book Tours (US)

13.

Mommy Adventures With Ravina (US)

14.

The Teen Book Guru (int)

15.

Lauries Thoughts and Reviews (Int)

16.

Jennifer Lane Books (Int)

17.

~Krazy Book Lady (Int)

18.

Heres the Story (US)

19.

Live To Read ~Krystal (USA/CAN)

20.

~Bookittyblog (INTL)

21.

~Brinda Berry Blogs (Int)

22.

JDP NEWS (US)

23.

Books Beside My Bed (US)

24.

Sparkles and Lightning (Int)

25.

Mortality Bites (US)

26.

~Always YA at Heart (US/CAN)

27.

Books4Learning (US)

28.

Mug of Moxie(US)

29.

Mary @ Sweeping Me (Int)

30.

~Why Not? Because I Said So! (US/Int)

31.

Living, Learning, and Loving Life (US)

32.

The Cozy Reading Corner (Int)

33.

My Life Heding Cats (US)

34.

Reading Lark (US & CA)

35.

In The Name of Books (Intl)

36.

Books, Books The Magical Fruit (US)

37.

The reader lines (INT)

38.

Bella Street Writes (US)

39.

Book Cover Justice (INT)

40.

Moon Shine Art Spot / reviews, cover art, illustration, (USA)

41.

~Walking on Bookshelves (US)

42.

Sweeping The USA

43.

BookStacksOnDeck (Int)

44.

DanaSquare (US)

45.

Scribbles on the Back of January (US)

46.

Beckys Barmy Book Blog (Int)

47.

Nikki Jefford (US)

48.

The Starry-Eyed Revue (US)

49.

~Raechel @ Backwood Reviews (US)

50.

My Inner Muse (Intl)

51.

The Book Belles (US)

52.

Bombarded With Books (US)

53.

~BookHounds (Int)

54.

~BookHounds YA (Int)

55.

~My Little Pocketbooks (INT)

56.

Paranormal Urban Fantasy Reviews (INT)

57.

~Julia Crane YA Author (US)

58.

A Sense of Fiction (Int)

59.

Flying on Silver Wings (INT)

60.

Read to My Hearts Content (US)

61.

LOVE. WITHOUT YOU (INT)

62.

~Nereyda @ Mostly YA Book Obsessed (Int)

63.

Peppermint PhD (INT)

64.

Manga Maniac Cafe (US)

65.

Book Sake (US)

66.

Libby Blog (US) - Win a book of your choice!

67.

Laurie Here - Contemporary Fiction and MORE - Book Reviews (INTL)

68.

~Popcorn Reads (US)

69.

~Nawanda Files (INT)

70.

Jennifer Comeaux~Author (Int)

71.

~Read for your future (US)

72.

Mystifying Paranormal Reviews (US)

73.

Kaleidoscopic Reveries (Int)

74.

Passion for Novels (INT)

75.

~Pen to Paper (INT)

76.

The Book Monsters (INT)

77.

~The Secret Writer (Int)

78.

Love of Books (Int)

79.

Gobs and Gobs of Books (US)

80.

Its A Hardcover Life (US)

81.

A. D. Dulings Diddley Doodle Dandy Writings Giveaway (US)

82.

Forbidden Passions Reviews (US)

83.

Making the Grade: YA Lit Reviews (US)

84.

Kimbers Life (US)

85.

Sarah Ballance (INT)

86.

Fantasy Book Addict (INT)

87.

Gin @ Addicted to Words (Int)

88.

Deco My Heart (US)

89.

Give Me Today (US)

90.

Clover Autrey~romance writer (US)

91.

~Ezmirelda @ PARAFANTASY (INTL)

92.

Collettas Kitchen Sink (US)

93.

Froze8s Blog (US)

94.

Get Vinspired

95.

Realm of Fiction (Int)

96.

Much Ado About Books (US)

97.

~Citrus Reads (US)

98.

Kayla @ Bengal Reads (US)

99.

Books for Company (INT)

100.

Book Flame (INT)

101.

Into The Morning Reads (US)

102.

Practical Frugality (US)

103.

~Chronicles of an Enamored Soul~ (US)

104.

Lena Sledges Blog (INT)

105.

BookSpark (INT)

106.

Up in the Bibliosphere (US)

I App, Therefore I Am

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 07 Jul 2012 01:00:00 +0000

Here's a new segment for you:

Philosophy Phriday

If a person goes on a 32 mile bike ride but forgets to start the app that tells everyone on Facebook how far she's gone, did the ride actually happen?

My legs tell me it did, but the fact people can't "like" my ride kinda lessens the thrill of accomplishment.

And if part of that ride included a really long, steep hill, but my Facebook peeps can't see how long or steep, was it really that long or that steep?

You'll just have to believe me that it was, even without the elevation posted.

And if I can't see how many calories I burned, did I actually burn any calories?

I'm going to assume yes and go ahead and eat half a jar of nacho cheese.

View from the top of the hill I biked.
No stats, but it's the only proof I've got.