Cute Pictures of the Kids

I Don't Want To Sell You Anything

Like so many of you, I am a sucker for a face-to-face salesperson. You knock on my door, I will be hard pressed not to write you a check I for overpriced crap I can't afford/don't need/don't really want.

I don't know if Multi-Level-Marketing programs are a Utah thing, probably not, but the ward lists must come in handy. First, they invite you to a little party: yummy food, banal chit chat; it gets you out of the house for a night - everyone's a winner. But then, they ask you to host a party; you'd do anything for a friend (I sold nothing, of course, because I suck). Next, they want you to become an independent consultant, "You could do what I do, it's fun and easy! Plus you get the discounts (nudge-nudge, wink-wink)."

I know me and independent consultant is not me. But THEY don't know that.

My Independent Mary Kay Beauty Consultant kept calling me. I ignored her. She'd leave a message. I didn't call back - if I want make-up, I've got her website. Then, I Like To Read ... with her pet peeve ... you know, I blame you for all of this, for not responding to my comment fast enough, for drudging up guilt about my undiagnosed phonophbia. I should always wait 24 hours before making decisions. ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS. But I never learn. I returned the call. (then you tell me ... so but what about friends who are trying to sell you something?)

Today I found myself at a "luncheon." I went thinking it would be low key, a few interested persons there to see what Mary Kay is all about. I think I'm helping a "friend" to meet the schmuck-quota which goes along with the MLM aspect of these opportunities. I like food, what the hay (trying to swear less for Grandma Roth).

No, it is not a low-key, dispersed attention information thingy. It's 7 well dressed women with great hair working under one queen bee and her husband, all there to get me to join their Secret club.

So I can achieve my goals and build self-esteem.

Because self esteem is built on looking good, feeling good, and doing good.

And self esteem is the most important thing a mother can give her children.

And you can't give it if you don't have it to give.

(hit 'em where they're weak, baby - they teach you that in training?).

But I'm not quite as weak there as I used to be. Not quite so concerned with what I have or don't; how I look compared to every other girl. I don't need to impress the rich lady with the big diamond ring, the pink car, who just finished building her big house on the hill. I don't need her approval. She can look at me, the dirty cuffs of my white shirt, my bum still storing reserves in case famine should strike. She knows she's better than me. But I disagree. She makes like she can help me ... but what she wants is me to leverage my relationship with all my friends, family, neighbors, acquaintances, and strangers to get them to buy the product, sell the product, too, so she can accumulate more stuff. When you have a big house on the hill, you need a lot of stuff with which to fill it.

I have this thing about big fancy houses - not saying that she and her husband didn't work hard and earn their home, but why? Why a huge house, when you don't have a huge family to fill it? At 50, a big house on a hill is your priority?

One lady asked her if she had any grandchildren. She does, 3, but they can't call her grandma. She's Nana and her husband is Papa. Grandma feels too old. Hmm. Is that how I want to be, when my children have children, do I want to be ashamed of the title that goes along with reproductive success?

I suppose when your business, your life is based upon the concept that a flawless appearance is the fundamental element of success, yeah, you probably do need to be able to look around you and see perfection. If you look, sound, or feel old, tired, or shlumpy, you have clearly failed.

What do I want? I'd like to be able to talk to people better, face to face. They go around the table, each immaculate woman, looks me in the eye and gives me their 2 minute spiel. I think, hmm, maybe selling lipsticks could be the vehicle to overcoming my fear of phones, my inability to articulate myself in person. Maybe this could work for me, help me be more confident.

But listening to their goals, I realized my philosophies on life just don't jive with selling make-up. I have no desire to drive a pink car, even if it is free. I don't really need or want free/discount products that perpetuate the myth that I am not good enough the way I am, that buying something will make me better (though I do adore the $13 lip gloss - free when you sell out your friends - sorry friends).

And wouldn't I love to be one of those pretty, put together, confident woman ... you have no idea ... but really, deep deep down ... I just can't imagine myself putting so much effort into appearances and trying to convince other women that happiness can be found in mineral foundation power.

I was honest. Frank. I'm not interested or motivated by the money, the car, or the soft silky hands. I am looking to overcome my shyness, my insecurity. I want to improve my public speaking.

I held my own; I didn't give them my money; I didn't sign papers. (so, no free Satin Hands)

She told me, "Important decisions should be made within the first 24-48 hours." At least I think that's what she said. She said a lot of things that I disagreed with, but it was not discussion time, she was the queen, these women were her's. Would I be her's, too?

"I'm on the fence," I tell her, "I need to discuss with my husband."

I had to leave. No, I HAD to leave. Thank God, I had to leave.

They invited me to attend some training thing tomorrow morning. As I left, a young mother, expecting her 4th, let me know they would all be wearing black skirts and white shirts to tomorrow's training session, indicating that I should do likewise. "Hope to see you there, tomorrow, Brandy."

After everything was said and done, I think maybe I don't need a vehicle, pink or otherwise. I think I can talk to people, just fine. People are just people. Not better. All perfect.

So, unless I write a book for you, I will not venture into sales again. I mean it. And door-to-door salesmen ... I'm getting a No Soliciting sign tomorrow.

*picture borrowed from www.sundancedesigns.net

Hate Mail to Get the Blood Pumping

Nothing like waking up, checking your inbox to find an anonymous comment full of buttercups, rainbows, and misrepresentations:

so, because you believe that someone is a prophet and you accept his call for bigotry, marriage has to become a purely religious institution? States would need to ratify laws in order to accept marriages from other states, some churches would be okay with gay marriage, others not, civil unions would have to replace marriage for all of us who aren't interested in a religion sanctioned commitment? All for what you call a 'rusty old word'? Let's make it simpler - your beliefs are yours, leave me to mine.

You want separation of church and state? I do too, and I am not going to have a religion define what I do in my life. It seems to me that no church should be injecting millions into a governmental, political campaign - not without losing tax exemption.{that's separation of church and state}
What if your prophet receives the word of your god {not mine and many others} that what the rest of us are doing is not for you to legislate, campaign against or judge? When did one of your prophets change the church's doctrine on African Americans in the church/priesthood or change the church's stance on polygamy? These words from on high came at the hour of being politically necessary. But I suppose until that happens, it is just fine to discriminate.

shame.

(today, the above comment was anonymously left in response to this post)


It's about time someone said something. Thank you anonymous - I thought everyone concurred with me, that I had found the best solution and had won unanimous agreement. Thanks for standing up and letting me know I'm still a shameful bigoted sheep who doesn't believe in God God, just a god my prophet claims to hear.

Why would you be afraid to use your real name to express those thoughts? I never understand anonymous comments like this? You are entitled to your opinion about gay marriage and about me. I don't attack people with names, real people (except maybe Glenn Beck) - I don't attack people I disagree with. I try to understand their point of view and explain my beliefs so that you might understand mine (because I certainly don't think I am a stupid bigot - and recognize that I could be wrong).

(If you or anyone else ever doubt the power of your words to impact me, I am literally shaking here ... such a strong physiological response).

However, I think you may have gotten several point wrong. I'm not sure if you were interested in contributing to an actual discussion, but you commented on my blog ...

FIRST - separation of church and state is to protect the churches from from the state, not the other way around. First amendment states: "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof." Passing a law to revoke tax exempt status for churches who make financial contributions to political causes would violate the NO LAW bit of the first amendment. No?

When you get right down to it, people are free to do whatever they want with consenting adults. No enforceable laws can really keep homosexual relationships from existing, so poof, LGBTs can love whomever they wish. There are multiple documents they can have an attorney draw up granting their beloved all the same benefits that a traditional marriage offers. They may or may not be eligible for joint insurance benefits offered by an employer; they may be discriminated against by an employer for their sexual orientation. Each individual or couple facing discrimination could sue, I guess. I think it would be more prudent for America to provide all couples (gay and straight) who want to join their lives and assets with a federally issued civil union entitling them to receive equal benefit and protection under law, regardless of state or plumbing.

California and 30+ other states have voted concerning the definition of marriage. The majority, religious or not, wants to uphold a traditional definition of marriage. I'm sure you are aware, it is not just Mormons, the Mormon church JOINED a multi-faith coalition to pass Prop 8. My church has become something of a scapegoat for the negative media, a safe place to focus blame and hate. Fine. It's painful to hear, but it is normal for a minority to feel animosity when they don't win. If you want to be "fair," you'll acknowledge it's not just us bigoted, prophet-following Mormons who have passed these laws, though.

You commented about changes in LDS policy concerning polygamy (ended in 1890) and opening the priesthood to all worthy males (1978, my birth year), wondering about a possible change in policy about homosexual marriage.

Let me tell you, after all the mental gymnastics I have had to put my mind through to understand why the church would stand so hard on this issue, despite the negative exposure ... such a declaration would rock the foundations of my faith in the church. (ever feel like you are setting yourself up to be knocked over??)

And yet, it would be so much easier ... I'm a live and let live kind of girl. If you knew me, if you had read my blog more than that one post, that one day, I hope you'd get that. I have ever-evolving opinions and a blog with which to express myself, but I respect that people disagree with me. I enjoy discussing the unprovable, but you anonymously come to my table saying your God is righter than my god and I have no right to support a view that is contrary to yours, especially not financially - how can you and I have a discussion with that mindset.

Anonymous. Indeed.

Shame on you. Shame on you for not having the courage to put your name to your convictions. Shame on you for jumping to conclusions about a person and getting it wrong. You took the time to leave a comment, but you got it all wrong. And didn't even have enough respect for yourself, for your ideas to put a name to it. I could talk to you like a person if you were something besides an ambiguous pile of inaccuracies ... but as it is ... pshaw.

And I wanted to put up cute pictures of my kids ... gah...

Are You An Ice Queen??

Husband says I'm not allowed to blog about ... certain things. And I do have a couple of brilliant tips I would looOOVE to share, but it is forbidden, you see. Sorry. Really it's just this one thing ... um ... but I can't tell you ... (selfish, greedy husband).

HOWEVER, I could direct you a nice little blog called Everything Must Go and let him share his wisdom (mmm, adult content, ADULT - not profane or nekkid, just grown-up, k? You've been warned).

Anyway, if you recall, the first point in my perfect marriage guidelines ... I'm gonna try a few of Ken's suggestions and I recommend you might try some as well - he hasn't steered me wrong, yet.

All in the name of perfection, baby.

NOW He Says He'll Keep Me

My husband refused to give me permission to put the following picture, from the 94-95 Burley High School Yearbook, here on my blog. I asked a dozen times, always, "no." I said, "Fine. But you have to bring some candy home for me. If you don't bring candy, I will take that as your tacit permission to use this picture.

No candy.

*****

I met the guy who would be my husband in choir in 1994.
There he is. Big glasses. Smarmy smirk. He's wearing a necklace, for crying out loud. After I got to know him, he turned out to be a big, filthy minded jerk. He played Magic the Gathering. He sang in choir and acted like an idiot in plays. (Husband Note: It's true. Look at that necklace! What was I thinking??? Disgusting...)

Then there was me.
I made that necklace my very own self. I was kind of cute. Not now, but back then - perhaps if I hadn't been engaged at 17 and married at 20 ... ah well, no use thinking that way now. Hrumph. Band, drama, speech, debate (State Debate). And, in 94-95 - choir.

I auditioned for Bel Cantos on a bizarre whim. I got in and had to take early morning seminary to make up for it - I liked electives. Greg was in choir, too. Son of a piano/voice teacher, he thought he was all that, maybe he was, but ... ug ... so arrogant.

Eventually (after a very dedicated and persistent pursuit), that dorky guy won my heart and we got married.

It was all truly, truly fate.

So. Yes. I have spent the last 10 years of my life as married old woman, dedicating my life to husband, home, and children.

Join me in my bedroom. Last night, and it was a late night, like 2am, our "pillow talk" goes something like this:

Him: I've decided I don't want you to die.

Me: Really? Thanks? I don't want you to die either?

Him: It would be hard to replace you.

Me: Why is that?

Him: You're smart.

Me: Mmm, no, not really...

Him: You're as smart as me.

Me: What made you decide all this? Did you talk to a pretty girl and she was stupid?

Him: Uh ... no ... I just decided and thought I should tell you.

Me: Okay. Thanks sweetie.

*****

I went ahead and told my six year old that silly old Greek tale, Oedipus (it is in our Greek Tales book). Eddie, we called him. Crichton thought it was funny.

A few days later, in front of Gramma, Cri asks, "What was that guy's name? The one who killed his dad, married his mom, then she killed herself, and he poked out his eyes?" Such a good memory, that one.

"Oedipus?"

"Yup. That was it," he chuckles.

My mom gives me a weird look. I ignore it.


*****

oops, comments fixed now?

All-ah Peanut Butter Sandwiches

The magic of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Just think of it: fresh soft bread, oodles of creamy peanut butter, a thin, but adequate spread of chilled raspberry preserves. And the requisite glass of cold, cold milk. Makes you want to run to the kitchen right now, doesn't it?

Yes, there is nothing quite like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Sure, some people mess it up, but we all know what it is. And when it's right, mmmmm...

Not to say other sandwiches are not tasty in their own right. It's just, wow, I am really a PB&J lovin' girl.

But let's just say, since I'm a motherloving idiot who can't shut her pie hole for funzies, that someone likes only peanut butter on his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Just peanut butter on both sides, NO JELLY. Hate the jelly. Seeds in the teeth. Icky, nasty, slimy jelly. And this he calls, A Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich.

You say, "WHA??? Why that is absolutely preposterous! A Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich HAS TO HAVE jelly or it simply can NOT be A Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich. The DEFINITION of Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches has always, clearly, traditionally, included peanut butter AND jelly. To call a sandwich only containing peanut butter, A Peanut Butter AND Jelly Sandwich would ... well, it just blows my freaking mind?!"

But what does it hurt? If he wants to call his Peanut Butter and More Peanut Butter Sandwich and Peanut Butter and JELLY Sandwich, whatever. He can make his sandwich how ever he wants. You know what PB&J is; his sandwich doesn't effect your PB&J one delicious drop, does it? No siree.

Alright, but that's not okay by him. He's a little ... well, insistent. In fact, he sues you. Yes. He does. He sues you to MAKE everyone call his Peanut Butter and More Peanut Butter Sandwich a Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich, because that makes it fair and fair is fair. A judge concurs, gavel crash, done and done.

But it's not so simple. As it turns out, people who have long loved Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches, who's ancestors have always put jelly with the peanut butter as long as sandwiches have been around, are not cool with the judicial branch ordering them to treat sandwiches having peanut butter and more peanut butter equal in every way to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. AND it's not just peanut butter and more peanut butter they hate, but even jelly with more jelly.

And before Mr. Peanut Butter and More Peanut Butter can say "Ala peanut butter sandwiches," all kinds of PB&J loving folks get together to make it perfectly clear how they feel about PB&J and all this trying to get them to call Peanut Butter and More Peanut Butter, Peanut Butter and Jelly. INDEED!

Then, there are a few of us, me for example, who think maybe our fellow PB&J lovers are going a teensy bit too far, freaking out that school's might teach our children that PB and more PB is just as acceptable as PB&J ... that PB and more PB people will recruit our slightly confused PB&J children, telling them it's normal to forgo Jelly, or try all kinds of crazy combinations (like that stuff that has peanut butter AND grape jelly together. In the same jar. That's not natural!)

So I say, "HOLD ON JUST A COTTON PICKING MINUTE! Before y'all go crazy with your lawyers and making commercials, can't we just call them all SANDWICHES and then let people go about putting whatever they'd like between the bread? I mean, maybe you think it goes against all that is Holy to put a layer of peanut butter up against another layer of peanut butter, but he really gets a little ill thinking about jelly on his bread. I mean, sure, I love peanut butter and jelly, and I bet God prefers peanut butter and jelly, but here in America, we're supposed to let people make choices and we're supposed to treat people equally, justice for ALL. Sandwiches are good, right?"

"Okay? Will that be okay? Sandwiches for everybody?"

*crickets*

And that's all I got for you.

Wait.

You know what else is good? BLT's.

With cheese.

Recognition

I just wanted to direct you, if you're interested, to an article someone wrote about me.

HERE IT IS!

If the title and sub titles don't get me excommunicated I will be a lucky, lucky girl.

Perhaps people will see Sagan's bow and I'll make a fortune.

Maybe a couple of people will stop by and say nice/mean things.

A couple more "followers" would be nice. More subscribers. A book offer, mm? I like to be read.

Anyway, big, huge, tremendous thanks to Karen Maezen Miller for writing such a nice, open, complimentary piece about my silly life and opinions (Greg especially likes the bit about him being "sage and sane" *snort*).

Go read it, tell others. Make me famous. Not too famous though, I'm shy.

P.S. I just wanted to clarify one thing. It's been bugging me, the subtitle of the article says "gay marriage (fine with her)" and while I'm pretty sure you could find several instances here on my blog where I've said and implied that - I'm not fine with gay marriage, per se. What I advocate is a universal civil union for all couples, granted by the federal government, which would give all of us fair and equal protection and benefits, regardless of plumbing. Let the churches dictate terms of marriage as they will and let congress make no law abridging the free exercise thereof. That's specifically what she says about that.

A Work of Fiction and Guidelines For A Perfect Marriage

I finished a book (I'm not doing so well with my book a week goal ... alas). It was a big fat book of short stories by Orson Scott Card, called Keeper of Dreams. Card is almost always a good read. One story I really liked is called Feed the Baby of Love. It was almost painful for me to read. The main character is a Joni Mitchell kind of famous singer who has "gone underground" to get her groove back, find a muse, something. She ends up working in a diner in a small town. She meets this nice married accountant guy, who recognizes her, loves her music, but doesn't tell her or anyone that he knows who she really is. By chance, she ends up participating in a silly board game the accountant and his friends play. While snooping a little around his house, she happens to find the guy's guitar and plays it, waking up the kids, then playing for his children. The guy ends up giving her a ride home and, on the way, she decides to take him. Let me quote:

...I'm planning to sleep with Douglas Spaulding tonight. He's mine if I want him, and I want him. Not forever, but tonight, this sweet lonely night when my music came back to me in his house, sitting on his bed, playing his guitar. Jaynanne [the wife] can spare me this one night, out of all her happiness. There'll be no pain for anyone, and joy for him and me, and there's nothing wrong with that, I don't care what anyone says.

Because I am who I am, this paragraph just killed me, really ripped me apart. I think about all that Greg and I have sacrificed to have the silly little bit of Heaven we have. We don't get to plan a trip to Europe or Hawaii, we rarely go to movies (especially the kind I like), we don't drink or do drugs (though I did find vitamins with caffeine, thus caffeine is now a vitamin). We keep a tight hold on our hearts (or I do, and pray God, Greg does, too), not allowing love (or lust) to go anywhere but to my beloved spouse. We do our best to meet each other's needs. It's perfect (not as in without flaw, but as in it works precisely as it has to), and it's hard, hard work.

But how strong or fragile is a marriage? How do you know where a weak spot might be? What if some horrible person tried to bust things open for selfish personal reasons?

When women call Dr. Laura about an affair, she asks if it was an event or a pattern of behavior. An event is forgivable, a pattern ... mmmm

But I don't know, even if it was an event, such a huge, gaping rip in the fabric of trust ...

Go buy the book or hang out in the book store for 20-30 minutes if you must know what poor Mr. Spaulding, small town accountant, does when given the opportunity to jump on the real life fantasy woman.

And, just for you, Brandy's guidelines; A "Perfect" Marriage is:

1. A Sexy Marriage - Have plenty of sex.

2. A Silly Marriage - Take all insults (whether intentionally or accidentally hurtful) as a joke. For example, if Greg were to call me a big, fat cow, I would squirt him with breast milk and moo. If I tell Greg he never listens, he says, "What?" Be silly.

3. A Prosperous Marriage - Don't get into debt. If you're already in debt ... well, I'm working on that myself, any advice? But it doesn't do any good to fight about it. Try #1 instead.

4. A Fair Fighting Marriage - When you're fighting, try to figure out what the real problem is and what the best solution is with as little crazy emotion as possible. Write it down or you'll forget. Remember these magical words, "You're probably right." "I'm sorry," is also helpful, if not followed by a but. If insults start to fly, see #2 - laugh.

5. A Nice Marriage - Do stuff for each other. Little things, like making a sandwich or cookies or the bed. Flirt like you're still dating. Rub the feet. Take care of yourself. Let them do fun stuff alone sometimes.

6. A Grateful Marriage - Say thank you as often as you can - for a glass of water, for an oil change, for letting you sleep in, for letting you take first shower, for making breakfast, for buying you a pizza when you wanted a grilled chicken salad. Say thank you and mean it.

7. A Fun and Happy Marriage - More of #1. And try to have a sense of humor about everything. Laugh. Have a funny marriage.

Got any other suggestions??

I feel better now.

To make you smile - I just went up to check on the kids - Canon (3) was half naked (the potty training half), spinning in the baby room's spinning rocking chair - baby girl was sitting up in her crib, laughing at him.

"We are being happy," he says.

All us stay at home whiner babies, who HAVE the perfect, perfect life ... it's not easy, it takes hard work ... but we, and mostly I mean ME, I need to stop complaining and enjoy the work.

Sigh, happy, sigh!

Don't Change Time in 2009.

March 8.

March 8th, officially at 2am.

Your government, the one who has made life so fun for all of us, wants to steal an entire hour of your sleep, your children's sleep right out from under your pillows. Why? Because some lobbyists gave them enough money. Because they don't have to care. It ends up costing you more in energy (the kind you pay for and the kind you make yourself), but America doesn't seem to mind. America seems perfectly happy to bend over as the government shoves all kinds of lovely things up our collective arses.

Things like B-B-B-B-billion dollar stimulus packages. Where's that money coming from again? And how is it being used? And that's gonna help the real live people I know who have lost jobs and houses ... how again? What can I do? I'm just one girl on a tight tight (did I mention TIGHT?) budget.

I'm in a bad mood, as I think about how I've been getting up at 6 am ... how hard it is, but I have 5K dreams and must train before the kids wake up or not at all ... how, starting March motherloving eighth, what mythology calls 5 am will be my new 6 am. How will I get up? I am doomed. My dreams of a 30 minute 5K, dashed.

My kids are awesome to go to bed at 7:30 pm. It leaves me time to be myself, not Mommy, be with my husband, as a wife, or alone, as just nothing but Brandy. After March 8th, because of the dirtbag politicians who just ignore me, year after year, 7:30 will be only be 6:30. I'll have an hour of poor whiny babies who will never be able to comprehend why mommy callously keeps them awake. If I don't keep them up, they'll be waking up at new 6:30 instead of new 7:30 ... except, they will anyway because that's what nature intends. My poor perfect sleepers, why??

Don't suggest I start pushing back bedtime now, ten minutes at a time. Why the hell should I (and all of you) have to adjust our circadian rhythms? Ridiculous. Preposterous. Poppycock.

And my little Sunbeams at church, barely making it through that 3 hour block to 2 pm. You think this is going to make their lives (or mine, as a teacher) better, easier, more pleasant?

Honestly!!! Why do we do this to ourselves, every stupid year, twice a year? Why the hassle, why the pain? Why...

Come on, lets try something new this year, let's have a wacky little experiment, if it doesn't work out, we'll go back, but I bet you don't even effing miss it. Let's just FORGET Daylight Savings this year. I was in AZ a couple years ago, and I didn't even notice. IT WAS THE BEST DLS EVER! No one was late or early to church (more than usual). People didn't mysteriously feel sick Monday morning (more than usual). You just kept going with the clocks and watching the sun rise and set as it does. The way GOD intended it.

Please, my head hurts. Have mercy. DON'T EFF WITH TIME IN 2009.

Here, let me come up with a cut and pastable form letter. I IMPLORE you to send it to your state and federal leaders and also copy to all your friends and relatives, asking them to do the same. Please. Think of how tired you will be losing an entire hour of sleep, needlessly. How your head will hurt, trying to convince your body it really doesn't NEED that hour of sleep, you got enough. Sigh ...

****

Dear [stupid dirtbag greedy pathetic excuse for a leader],

The so-called benefits of Day Light Savings Time are a farce. The crime prevention, decreased number of car accidents, higher revenues for amusement parks, savings in energy; have you been bought off by some lobbyist for [local amusement park] or do you listen to the needs of your constituents?

I respectfully insist that you use your power, as an elected representative, to influence the end of Daylight Savings.

Perhaps you have been duped into believing the hype. Try discontinuing it this year. Let 2009 be your opportunity to test the hypothesis, measure the impact and determine a fair, informed solution. Just let March 8th be another day, where the sun rises and sets and no one touches their clocks.

In an environment where our friends and family are losing jobs and homes, must you force us to give up an hour of sleep, too?

End Daylight Savings Time in 2009.

Sincerely,

[Mrs. Brandy Roth,
Layton, UT]

*****

This is a state by state issue, for now, so please, use this link, find your governor and email him/her today. If they don't respond to you, don't vote for them. Your voice deserves to be heard (or my voice with your name at the bottom, either way).

Then, if you don't mind, send one to your senator and congressional representative. If they don't personally respond, don't vote for them next time either. They work for us, remember, if they won't listen on an issue as personally impacting and relevant as ending Daylight Savings, they are probably lazy and corrupt.

Finally, ask everyone you know to join us in this glorious experiment, in this wondrous attempt to better the world for our children. Copy and paste a copy to everyone in your email address books, with the links above intact so they can easily contact their reps also.

Please.

so tired....

Posts In My Mental Queue

I feel like I haven't posted a proper post all blessed week.

BUT I think about it more than I should.

Here are a few topic you can look forward to as soon as I can sit down and write, edit, reread, spell check, rereread, and publish:

• An analogy comparing marriage to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (I LOVE raspberry jelly).
  
• I want to show you Greg and my high school yearbook pictures the year he and I first dated.
• I must write a concise letter begging and demanding America to do away with Daylight Savings Time before it destroys my life again. And include easy links so you can copy and paste it and send it to your state and federal leaders.
• I went to the doctor ... what's a girl gotta do to get a doctor to feel up her boobs so she stops thinking she has breast cancer??
  
• I'm reading Keeper of Dreams, short stories by Orson Scott Card, and there was a paragraph where the persona had decided to commit adultery with a nice married fellow - scariest thing I've read in a long time, almost had ME sympathizing with the adulteress.
• Thoughts on the book Coraline.
  

But right now I gotta get water for Greg, breakfast for kids, see a man about a wallaby, shower, clean the bathroom and front room for play dates (multiple play dates) -

Its FUN FUN FUN FRIDAY!!!

Roth Family News

Here's a little update:

Stuff happens here. The kids keep growing.

More specifically.

Crichton is still in Karate, though our beloved Sensai Jay has mysteriously disappeared. Now we have the upbeat Sensai Jared who administered Crichton's purple belt test. Cri passed so, now I have a little purple belt ninja to protect me (note his dangerous looking black Gee); he has also begun training with a Bow staff. Crichton continues to do great in school and has several really good pals. He's an awesome big brother and only occasionally gets in trouble for taking his very wacky little brother down. He does a brilliant job of exercising control, especially considering his martial arts training.

Canon ... I used to worry that he wouldn't make it to 3. We've overcome that hurdle, but I am even more concerned about him reaching 4. Just this weekend, he fell onto a mini-tramp and bruised his eye and cheek (you can kind of see it in that one picture). Later, he fell off the banister, about 3 feet, to the ground (he crawls on that sucker all the time ... now we have rules). Then, he was standing right next to me in the kitchen and fell off a couple of yoga blocks, hitting his black eye on a chair on the way down. My poor, sweet, little monkey. I tell him to be careful a million times a day, but holy cow, kid. BE CAREFUL. Also, is the children's Ibuprofen supposed to be the exact same consistency as the Totally Nasty Science homemade snot? I mean, yuck!

Sagan, my love - she's just growing up so quickly. She's still a happy, smiley, smart, little girl baby. Quite the curious handful, post 10pm, if we let her take an evening nap. I swear, and Greg will testify, she said "kitty!" at Kitty Milo this morning. She's crawling (mostly) and sitting up, and eating random stuff (often off the floor, quite quick and sneaky, that one). Oh, and FINALLY she sprouted her first teeth, the front two on the bottom officially broke through (though her vampire teeth still look like their about to break). Pay close attention to the bow in her hair. Back in 1994, a friend of mine, Greg Baker, made a skull hair bow for me (Greg was a unique fellow... as most Gregs seem to be) inspired by the Tiny Toons character Elmira ("I love cats and I love kitties; squeeze them into itty bitties."). At Halloween, I got a bag full of tiny plastic skulls and glued one on her black-bowed-white-head-band. I don't think Sagan has any chance of becoming a "normal" girl ... heh heh heh.

Greg - he's making like a Picasso. Rare, precious, weird. And still working a lot of late nights. We miss him lots, but are trying to be SUPPORTIVE, as opposed to making him feel guilty every night.

Y'know, it's very hard to be supportive ... perhaps that why I go through so many bras...

So, that's what we are up to. That's our news and that's all folks.

Couch To 5K in 9 Weeks

So ... you know how I'm a big, fat, lazy, depressed, stay-at-home mom who pretty much just neglects her kids all day, letting them gorge their tender brains on sweet, sweet Disney channel, as I blog about every, single, ridiculous thing that pops into my head?

And you know how I like to set unreasonable goals for myself and never really get anything done at all?

Well, that's all about to change, starting today. Because I am going to go from couch to 5K in 9 weeks. Greg keeps finding all these groovy websites that help you set a specific goal then outline how to, little by little, DO it.

Does it work?

We've been doing the 100 push-ups one for a couple of weeks now. For my initial test, I did 7 consecutive push-ups, and I was really trying hard because I wanted to do at least 1 more than Greggy-poo (I failed). Saturday was the first progress test and I had to do at least 25 to move to the next level. Haha, I did 30. Thirty consecutive BOY push-ups, baby. Check my guns!

You might recall, a while back, I was singing the praises of the P90X program. But then Greg had to work so late and we started getting fat again, and didn't have an hour+ every night to "Bring it," and it's all cold and blustery here in Utah ... so, knowing that the Internet has ALL the answers to EVERYTHING, Greg discovered our current exercise routines.

So, this morning, in the 6'oclock hour, I started the couch to 5K program. We are fortunate to have a treadmill. It used to live in a nice little exercise room in the basement, but now the exercise room is my mom's dungeon ... so treadmill in bedroom.

Here's how not to use the treadmill to build up to 5K:

Get on it, walk for a minute, then jog until your legs are jelly (about 5-6 minutes, maybe .5 mile for me) walk/stumble for another minute, stop.

Here's what I accomplished today:

Get on the treadmill, walk for about 5 minutes, then spend the next 20 minutes jogging for 60 second and walking for 90. I totally completed the 25 minute session, burned 225 calories and "went" 1.586 miles. My legs were still jelly ... but they did much more work ...

Now, this is just a 9 week commitment, just over 2 months, and if you stick to it, you'll be running about 3 miles in about 30 minutes and that is freaking incredible.

So, join me. Strap on your sports bra (or not, whatever). Think of the endorphins ... mmm .... endorphins.

Cardiovascular exercise, they say, is key to burning off years of bonbons. But, we know that you have to burn more than you eat ... so, deep down, it's a matter of eating, rather not eating. I have a couple of Cold Stone cupcakes that need some attention, but after that ... it's carrot sticks and apples, all the way. Chicken and broccoli. And Lasagna once in a while.

Seriously - my dad died at 44, stroke/heart attack. My little brother died at 21 from complications after a heart surgery to correct a heart defect. My Aunt Lois died, I believe, in her late 50's, enlarged heart. My grandfather died when my dad was 17 (not sure how old) ... heart attack. If there's any one in this whole wide world who need to keep an eye in her cardio system, it is I, Mrs. B. (formerly Anderson) Roth.

Don't Blame Me, His Brother Got Him Dressed

Y'know - the saddest most painful thing a parent can imagine of is the loss of a child. I'd bet mothers think about that a lot more than dads do, though. Probably a thousand times a day I say, "Be careful!" When the boys play rough, I make them stop. "No Dying," that's my big rule (so far, so good).

So, why is it that one three-day weekend with daddy throws our home into such life threatening chaos?

I had to pick my mom up from work.

When I got back, the house was strangely quiet. I sat on the couch, not fully realizing WHY the house was so quiet. Several minutes passed then the 3 year old bursts in from the cold, crying, snot running down his nose. No coat. Floppy Indiana Jones hat. Boots on the wrong feet. Pajama pants. No gloves.

HOW COULD MY HUSBAND LET MY BABY GO OUT IN THE FREEZING COLD SNOW? WOULD IT HAVE BEEN SO MUCH OF AN INCONVENIENCE TO PUT SNOW PANTS, COAT, AND GLOVES ON HIM??? HONESTLY!!!!

So I yelled and hit my husband (domestic abuse is a daily reality for my poor man) and asked him how he could let this happen.

Thus, the title of this post.

*****

Have you heard of the All American Rejects. Of course you have. So, I dusted of the old treadmill again (modest bikini season soon approaching, ha) and turned on VH1 (does MTV even show full music videos ever anymore???) and what do I see to inspire me as I run?

This:



Wasn't that fun. Isn't it nice when a band takes the time to actually put together an interesting video? I don't want to see you lip-syncing and booty-shaking for 3 minutes, I want a 3 minute movie to music that makes me happy.

Then, I was thinking - my parents were pretty anti-MTV as I was growing up, they didn't appreciate it at all. Typical, right? But I have had MTV and VH1 pretty much all my life, and my kids get exposed to quite a bit of techie type pop culture (you should hear Cri sing Dirty Little Secret (another AAR song) on Rock Band - I'm pretty sure he doesn't know what a dirty little secret might be ... maybe like when Canon doesn't let us know he pooped on the floor). So, in another 10 years, will Cri and I be swapping YouTube links of cool videos we like?

Also, I must say, my husband and I have spent more on music, buying 99 cent MP3 files off Amazon, then we've spent on CD's in 5 years. It's like, well, it's only a buck, then I can put it on the server, the kitchen computer, the IPod (if it wasn't suffering from severe amnesia - doctors are not hopeful for any kind of a recovery), the Zune, the laptops ... this is where the music industry needs to focus ...

Where's the Chocolate and Flowers? Have a Robot Instead.

No wonder boys today aren't romanitcal ...

"Armor up! It's Valentines Day!" What's that supposed to mean?

See my big metal arm here? Yeah? Well, let me wish you a THRILLING Valentine's Day!

And, just for my favorite daddy blogger: "Happy Valentine's Day! Hope you're not killed by a super-cool robot guy!" (go leave a comment for him; he really likes the comments!)

*****
Good news, I have another date tonight. Husband dear and I have arranged for a sitter (well, my mom lives with us and she agreed), I made reservations for the closing night performance of Blythe Spirit, and, assuming Greggy can pull himself away from work (he came in at 2am last night/this morning and left around 9 ... poor guy) WE will attend the theatre.

Crichton was very, dare I say VERY disappointed that he was not invited to join us ("Mom, you never go on a date with me," - which isn't even true.). I'm all in favor of culturing my kids (my little microbes), you should hear the boys belt out Tomorrow, (really, I've got to record them and let you see!) but mommy and daddy need some alone time (boom chica wow wow).

Slight mental tangent ... I sure hope this upset tummy stuff is the stomach flu (who says that? I hope I have the flu? A mom with a nine month old who decided not to go on the pill, that's freakin' who). Also, did you know you can get pregnancy tests at the dollar store?? I KNOW! I'm sure they are every bit as reliable as the $12 EPTs, wouldn't you say?

Weird thing, when you have kids, as they grow up, some of those really ... um ... let's say icky theories from Psych 101 start ... manifesting. You think the Oedipus is wacko? Well, here's the Valentine's Day Poem I received today:
No, I'm sure he meant "I hope you do too."

Then I have stacks of book filled with pages like these:


While Greg gets a few pages, here and there, mostly like this.

Greg's a good dad, I swear he is. But, Freud might just have hit on something crazy accurate.

The question is, how will I feel when that love is redirected at some fickle evil floozy?

It's nice to be loved ...

My Laptop Likes To Be Touched. A Lot.

Just for the record, the following screen shots came at a very, excessively, stupidly, high cost (time wise). My computer is ... a little needy. It's a cute red laptop. A little on the heavy side. A little slow - a lot slow. My husband somehow deleted my FAVORITE useful program (Movie mMaker) when he got rid of Vista "for me," exchanging it for Windows Beta 7 (or some such nonsense).

SO, when I'm on the Internet ... pages aren't loading very fast ... but if I rub the mouse pad, soft and fast, the pages load more promptly. I think my computer ... has some issues.

So today, as I obsessively check my in-boxes for hate mail, I see this little piece of spam:



Me + Pillsbury = Love?? I don't think so ... I'm on a diet, thankyouverymuch (a diet that lets me drink a large (apprx. 14 gallons) Pepsi at lunch with my Panda Express BBQ Pork and Sweet and Sour Pork and fried rice and cookies).

I click it open (rub rub rub), and the email says I have a Valentine. Hmmm .... so I have to click a link to another website, allegedly Pillsbury.com, to see my Valentine.

(ALL THE WHILE rubbing that mouse pad fast and soft, fast and soft, to get the pages to open a smidge faster)

Finally, here's my Valentine:


I have two theories:

1. My perverted little computer somehow sent me the email, forcing me to ... so it could ... whatever ... (my husband's a computer scientist, so we know about the weird stuff of which computers are capable. Believe it or not, but computers need a little loving sometimes. too).
2. Maybe I if I stopped clinking links, my computer would run faster without the ... rubbing ...
   

In conclusion, Greg, dear, darling, can I have Vista back ... and Movie Maker ... and stop doing things with/to my computer ... you're changing her and I don't think I like the computer she's becoming, ok?

Now to get this thing published (rub rub rub)...

A Conversation With The Button Eyed Me About An Angry Lesbian

Button Eyes Me: That last post really, really sucked.

Me: Do you think? No, it didn't! Dammit, I worked hard on it! I felt so much pressure to quickly get out an apology, clarify my points, further the conversation ...

BEM: No, it sucked. Greg told you to wait, he said, "As is, it sucks." You know it sucked. You should have taken more time, you can do better.

Me: No, I don't think I could; that was my best.

BEM: Whatever. You sounded like a condescending ass. You apologized for having an opinion, for being open to listening to other opinions. You contradicted yourself in every other paragraph. You're an idiot.

Me: Fair enough. I made someone mad, hurt their feelings; I felt like I owed her an apology. It was sincere, y'know.

BEM: Whatever, people make themselves mad. Emotions are temporary (you of all people should know that). People choose how to react to any given situation. You didn't go out trying to hurt people.

Me: Nope, I was trying to be honest and vulnerable.

BEM: Right, but then some angry lesbian calls you out and you fall apart.

Me: I'm willing to eat dirt if it makes conversation possible, if it brings about a positive resolution.

BEM: You getting anywhere?? Well??

Me: Maybe I just need to wait a little longer ... I tend to be impatient ...

BEM: You think? Have you read the comments? Anyone listening to you? Things getting more civil?

Me: (looks at feet, sighs) no ... not at all ... so is it hopeless?? Should I just give up? I mean ...

BEM: Look Brandy - if people are unwilling to compromise, unwilling to take any steps if they can't have it all now ... well, what can YOU do?

Me: It was easier when I supported Gay Marriage - easier on my heart ... most of the people in my real life disagreed with me, but they respectfully listened, they understood, even though they disagreed.

BEM: So what did the other side (now your side) say back when you were the other side?

Me: They were nice. They spoke from a place of love. They carefully, respectfully read what I had to say and, rather than calling me out, they kept making their arguments, no need for apology, and I was never afraid of the consequences for not agreeing with them.

BEM: But it's different now?

Me: Yeah - they act like I am personally responsible for their unhappiness, their anger. Me and my kind. Y'know? I'm not taking people's rights away, they are free to love, there are laws against discrimination and hate crimes.

BEM: You don't have to tell me. In fact, until last Thanksgiving Eve, remember, you opposed Prop 8 - you agreed with them and things were all "Go Brandy, way to think things through! Such an open-minded girl, that Brandy. Despite her narrow minded, black and white, hyper-religious, bigoted, LDS culture, she overcame it all and fights for equality."

Me: I KNOW. And you want to know something freaking hilarious? When that was my stand, the people who disagreed with me never called me a narrow minded bigot.

BEM: Right, because as long as you're in favor of making everyone happy at any cost, sad people will like you.

Me: Yeah, but y'know ... I don't know if I was ever 100% sold either way ... even still...

BEM: Good gravy - Brandy ... people can't take you seriously if you're a leaf in the wind, "maybe gay marriage, no, maybe not, i dunno" ... Brandy!

Me: No look. I had perfectly good reasons for supporting Gay marriage - you know ... who am I to say who anyone can love? What harm does it do me if Erika and Jenn get married?? Why the hell so much controversy? Give it to them already!

BEM: Greg always thought those reasons were pretty stupid - that your arguments were the stupidest he'd ever heard.

Me: Yeah. He did.

BEM: So, then, BOOM, one night you just gave that all up?

Me: Uh, no, it wasn't just, "Oh, the prophet says vote for 8, let me send a fat check and take my place in line, baaaa."

BEM: You sure? You spent at least 16 years actively supporting equal rights for gays, and now you want to take them away.

Me: Do you even read my blog? I want to give homosexuals the same rights. I want all couples to have a federally issued civil union ... all the legal rights protecting from discrimination, protecting children, inheritance, the whole enchilada.

BEM: What do they say about that?

Me: I'm not sure ... I guess it's not enough, I guess it really is just about the damn word ... not the rights, not the protections, not the freedoms, just the effing word ...

BEM: You think?

Me: I don't KNOW, I don't know if I even care anymore ... why freaking bother? Y'know? I came trying to listen, compromise, show "them" how "we" think ... they spit on me, indicated they were more supportive of random acts of violence than finding resolution.

BEM: So ... you finally going to give it up? Just let it be, let "them" fight it their way? They clearly don't want your "help."

Me: Yeah, no ... I'm ok. Strangers can call me names, think their thoughts. Sticks and Stones, y'know? I'm just one person ... I have diapers to change, I have my blog, I'll keep on keeping on, as I always have. It would have been nice, to magically find the right gay person, willing to listen AND talk, have it be the right time, work it all out ... I'm not that girl. It was silly arrogance on my part to have assumed otherwise ... no, I'm just not that girl.

END DAY LIGHT SAVINGS TIME!! HUZZAH!

In Response

To Erika:

I sincerely apologize for offending you. It was not my intent to demonize or belittle you in any way.

I am so sorry for the pain you have experienced in your life. My understanding and sympathy for your pain is but a shadow of the reality you must live. For 90+% of us, this debate is a philosophical exercise – for you and the LGBT community, it is so much more. I sympathize with your pain, rage, and fear. I do not have the power to remove it and I regret adding to it.

I am sorry.

*****

If I can respectfully clarify a few points:

1. I live in Utah and therefore did not participate in the California voting process of Proposition 8. At that time, however, I did not support Prop 8 and would not have voted for it. Due to my personal philosophical and religious contentions, I probably would have abstained from voting either way.

2. You countered that my definition of marriage is “completely out of touch with humanity,” however, 37 out of 50 states and 52% of voting Californians agree with the one man, one woman definition. Majority consensus does not make the definition right, but it doesn't make it wrong; it simply clarifies the limitation most people subscribe to at this point in time.

3. You said “marriage is the vehicle delivering people to equal rights, responsibilities, privileges, and protections.” Marriage is not the car you think it is. Legalizing Gay Marriage may provide legal protection, but it won't end discrimination. You can't legislate tolerance; sometimes you can punish intolerance. However, people rely on their stereotypes, and won't easily give them up – a few of your commenters read “Mormon” and assume “lazy reflexive thinking,” “similar to many other bigoted opinions I've seen,” not worth the time it takes to read my post. Some people will always hate me for being a Mormon and you for being homosexual.

4. I need you to define equality for me. I see it as equal protection under the law. I am sincerely trying to find a fair and equitable resolution to a bitter, painful situation – I don't know if 100% equality in anything is feasible.

5. You wrote of fear and rage. Can you imagine my fear, holding my baby girl in my arms and my little boy's hand, as I approach my sanctuary, my church building, and realize some angry person with a gun has taken out his frustrations so violently? Is a window enough to alleviate his rage or will he harm my children, punish me for whatever wrong he imagines I believe? We have to push past the fear, rage, confusion and try to find a way to harmonize, if that's possible. I hope it is.

Love is an effective strategy for changing hearts. What if maybe you stop being afraid to hold Jenn's hand in public if I and at least 48% of California promise that if we see someone bugging you, we say, “Knock it off; let them be!” What if you just put those lovely pictures on your desk and smile when people notice. How about if I promise you, Erika, that I will stand right up in church and correct any homosexual misconceptions I hear? That's a start, no?

Your hurdle - 37/50 states have marriage definitions on the books, and the majority (however small) wants to keep it. I respect your passion and desire to change the law democratically. The LGBT community has been begging and fighting for equal rights for (ever?) as long as I can remember. The governor of Utah and the LDS church have stated that they support civil unions and equal benefits and protection for homosexual partners … I think it should go further, that the federal government should require all couples to have a civil union – all committed couples should have the same rights and protections for their loved ones and families, same access to insurance, etc. How does the LGBT community feel about that?

Finally, as I said at the beginning, for me, it's a philosophical debate – nothing to lose (except the fear of shot out church windows, maybe). I'm coming from the side that enjoys all the power and privileges. I feel it my duty and responsibility to be able to defend my beliefs, though I understand and accept that others will disagree. I am sincerely trying to find a fair and equitable resolution; would you rather I shut my mouth and never address “your” issue again? If I can't help, I don't want to hurt...

Marriage Defined

Just for easier reference and discussion from this post - here is my marriage defined post. Thanks to all the amazing people who are still willing to discuss this issue. I can't explain why, but I hope that open and respectful discussion can eventually lead to a resolution of this painful and divisive issue.

******

For your consideration, let me present my hard won clarity. You may not agree with me, and that is fine. I have gone the rounds for over a decade. I spent all of my life, until just 2 weeks ago, knowing I was right and those that thought differently were ignorant bigots. Recently, it became increasingly apparent that my political convictions were somehow misaligned with my religious convictions.

Muchness of Cognitive Dissonance.

I could see no good reason to prohibit homosexuals from being married. None. All the arguments from my religious friends, cohorts, mentors were wrong, wrong, wrong. Why pretend successful homosexual relationships don't exist? Why pretend your kids aren't being taught about it at school now, if not by the teachers, then by stupid kids calling each other gay. Why deny people, who clearly love each other, the ability to protect themselves and their loved ones the way the law protects me and my husband - we are a unit. Denying gay couples the right to be married was WRONG.

But then the Prophet of my beloved church, which has illuminuted for me so much Truth, as far as my Faith in God, my belief in personal revelation, the purpose of life, and my relationship with my Savior, Jesus Christ - the prophet told the members in California to support Proposition 8.

Oh the rationalization that went on in Brandy's little brain: perhaps he's not speaking as a prophet, but expressing his opinion as a person; perhaps that this the right policy for now, but, like blacks and the priesthood, time would change things - when the people are ready to receive more prophecy, we'll get the revelation; perhaps he is a product of an old fashioned environment and he doesn't understand that he is being very UNChristian to a whole bunch of God's children. And how could so many of my fellow members just blindly give money and time to such a clearly BAD thing? Were they blind little sheep who couldn't be bothered to think for themselves, who just hear the prophet and jump to action (oh that I were wise enough to be so blind)?

But, I KNOW the prophet is a man called of God to lead and direct the church. His stewardship includes the whole wide world. This is where I may lose some of you, but you need to know that I truly believe God calls men to be prophets to teach Truth to those willing to listen. I'm not saying it is limited to LDS prophets or prophets of the Judeo-Christian flavor; the vast and overwhelming majority of human beings believe in a higher power, by one name or another, some source of Truth. How does one tell a true prophet from a wacko? I believe an individual has the right to receive confirmation from God. I believe it with all my heart.

Search, Ponder, and Pray as I might, I got no confirmation that the prophet was wrong, that new revelation was pending, or that I was bad for not falling in line.

So, thus all the blogging about Gay Marriage. Something just would not fit.

Most important bit of the Bible:

Then one of them, which was a lawyer, asked him a question, ^atempting him, and saying,

Master, which is the great commandment in the law?

Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt ^alove the Lord thy God with all thy ^bheart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy ^cmind.

This is the first and great ^acommandment.

And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt ^alove thy neighbour as thyself.

On these two commandments hang all the ^alaw and the prophets.

We have with in us the capacity to love all people, regardless of gender, race, religion, anything. It's not so hard - look at any baby (mine is especially cute and sweet and easy to love, not to mention tricky to type with). For a gay person to say he/she CAN'T love a person of the opposite gender is as absurd as a heterosexual saying they could only love the opposite. We love lots of people, we don't ask to marry them all. Love is not the primary ingredient for marriage.

Can we agree on that? Will you concede that point? If not, speak now or forever hold your peace.

I know, English is not the most effective language with which to speak of love. Switch to Greek. Eros is what you feel early in the relationship, probably mostly what I felt for my husband for the first couple of years of marriage. I think we all probably have our own male/bi/female scale for eros-attraction. Some people are grossed out by the thought of a same-gender relatioship; if not bound by societal and religous conventions, I could probably swing either way. We only know how we feel and, clearly, not everyone feels drawn the same way, eros-wise. Eros feelings are not the best to follow to the alter; eros has a funny way of going away.

So, Brandy, expert on love, is it agape ("a total commitment or self-sacrificial love for the thing loved"), then, that we must feel for another to consider them for marriage? That isn't limited to opposite gender, y'know.

Right. Ok. Here is my contention.

1. There are two kinds of people in this big wide world, just two (not counting rare genetic mutations) - Male and Female. We build relationships with members of both kind. For most of us, it is easier to form friendships (we're talking philia here now) with one or the other, typically though, with members of our same gender. We tend to understand each other better. The similarities as preferred by and defined by gender make it easier to have love and compassion for members of the same gender. Nevertheless, we love both kinds.

2. Nature and culture have developed various ways of getting us to perpetuate the species. However, "perpetuate the species" isn't what you call it until around 30. Before then, it's pretty much just a desire to get your rocks off, no? There are various ways to accomplish this, one of which has the added bonus of making a baby. Only one, though. Male and female. Not to belittle the agape felt between any other coupling, nor to exaggerate the importance of reproductive capacity. and yet ...

3. There is something unique and special about the joining of opposites. (Here is where I invoke God.) Marriage is not just two people who eros or agape each other, who are commited to always putting the other's happiness and well-being first. Marriage is intended to be an institution in which a man and a woman make the commitment primarily to GOD, secondarily to each other. The commitment isn't so much to or for each other - it's a covenent with God to take care of those spirits he may bless you with as children.

It's Abraham taking Isaac to be sacrificed, completely willing to do whatever God requires, until the last moment where God spares him. It's Jesus at Gethsemene saying Thy will be done and being crusified. It's me, promising God that I will take care of His son, my husband, so he can be a good dad to our kids and Greg promising vera visa. The creative unit is man, woman, and God.
The covenent, the sacrement, the sacrifice, is specificly designated this way by God and I will vote to protect it.

Though I don't think government should have a say in my religious conviction.

What government needs to do is give the people what we want, which is a reletively easy way to legally combine assets and medical authority and clarify rights of guardianship if minors are involved and stop trying to legistlate morality, one way or another, they are not very good at it anyway (moral amendments, pshaw). Clergy needs to stop marrying every couple who thinks love is enough. Duties and obligations need to be met. There can not be a no-fault divorce. There needs to be civil unions and disolution of civil unions based upon breach of prenuptual contract.

Wordle

Just. Really. Baby.

At least it didn't come out like this... isn't she really freaking insane uh ... interesting? One of the best blogs out there.

oops, oh yeah, wordle.net

If I Had To Choose One Word - It'd Be the F-Word

I had a really great weekend - visited beloved family, reconnected with old friends. All was great.

This morning I woke up at * 5:45 am to drive the 2.5 hours to get home.

At 6:10am, I filled up my gas tank, pulled the minivan up to the gas station - baby girl was sound asleep and I just wanted to run in, pay for gas (cuz we're on a * cash-only system, my husband and I) and drive home. I turned off the car, opened my door and locked the car, set my keys down to pick up my purse, got out and shut the car door.

Yeah, with my * keys and kid inside.

I called the * police, thinking they'd just be able to do their magic slim jim thing and I'd be on my way, a little embarrassed, but wiser.

My * phone was chiming dangerously low battery.

The cops were nice enough (three cop cars to help out a stupid mom), but completely unable to get the * door open, though they tried relentlessly for the better part of a * freezing hour.

(You have to understand I keep writing profanities, replacing them with euphemisms, erasing those for factual, non-offensive description - I'll just include a * when I want to swear.)

I called Hyundai Roadside assistance - they contacted 15 * people who could not help me, and 1 who would for *$75. Sure, I'll save your baby - but it'll cost you. *

Yeah, *[he] totally took my * money for 10 seconds of * work. He wedged the top of the door, squeezed a pouch in, pumped the pouch with air, reached a long metal pole in, pushed the open thing and VIOLA my baby was safe.

Then, one hour later, it was snowing in the mountains. Horrible foggy, scary, * slippery roads. AND * Semi's kept passing me and * blinding me. I thought that stupid * post I made in case I died was going to be very * relevant.

It seemed a * lot steeper and scarier in person.

I was slipping and sliding all the * way home. Almost took out my own * mailbox.

A while back, when I posted about how I almost died making deadly chlorine gas out of cat pee and Clorox, some random, anonymous commenter suggested I do these things on purpose, for blog fodder.

Today, to him her I say ... *

Well, I can't say it. But you know what I mean, you little ... *****

No, I don't * do these * things to give myself something to * write about; I'm just an * idiot.

BUT, I am an idiot who is thrilled beyond belief to be home and be alive.

Bonus, good news - I was bestowed with a cow bag. :) It's all worth it.

In Case I Die Today

I'm not so very adventurous. I've got enough life shortening genetic potential that I don't need skydiving/watercrafting/ATVing/anything - I need to be careful.

BUT this weekend, I am taking my infant daughter and leaving the state; just us girls and a minivan. I'm sure most people wouldn't consider a baby shower in Nampa, ID high adventure, but most people haven't driven with me - I am cautious bordering on hazardous. I get lost in every mall I enter. I don't even really know my left from my right. Maps ... are art, not useful for directional information.

Now, just in case I die, I want to be able to speak from the grave to my boys:

Crichton, my dearest oldest son - my little rule follower, my too perfect child, such a good heart. You are very good and very smart, do something amazing for this world with those talents. My favorite thing about you is how affectionate you are, with me, with your sister ... you don't think you're too cool to show you love us. You're happy when you see me, at church, at school, you really like me. I don't suppose that will last forever, but for now, it melts my heart, kiddo. I meant to tell you this in person, but women are evil - ok? Give them the chance and they will crush your heart; don't waste your time with a mean girl - find a sweet, soft, nice girl (not like me), okay? And no girlfriends, no hand-holding, until you're at least 16. And no kissing until you're married. Keep your heart intact for as long as you can. You can do anything, don't be afraid to follow your biggest dream, you don't have to settle for someone else's dream for you. Everything always works out for the best.

Canon, you little goofball, my funny, contrary monkey. You have a wicked sense of humor, combined with angelic compassion. Your brother is a good friend and I hope you both remember Roths Stick Together; He'll help keep you out of trouble (and you'll help him get in a little). Make sure to condition your lovely blond hair. And brush those perfect white teeth. I know, someday you will be potty trained. And all those times you ran away from me, at top speed, giggling like a maniac, when I'd say, "CANON THAT'S NOT FUNNY!" And you'd say, "Oh, yes, it is!" - you were right. You are going to be the funnest guy in the world! Enjoy your life.

Sagan - you're going on the adventure with me, but, if, by some twisted chance, I were to die and leave you a motherless daughter,by Jango, I am going to have a few choice words for God, so help me. I ALWAYS wanted you, baby girl, and when you finally got here, I can't even put my love for you into words. It's like every pain and sadness I felt as a girl growing up, I could fix by being a perfect mom to you. My daughter, my circle. I've only known you for 9 months, but you are a sweet, considerate, mischievous little angel. You started sleeping all through the night at like 3 months old - Canon's three YEARS old and I only have a 50-50 chance with him. You have this cute little scrunchy nose smile when your ripping out my hair with one claw, and my eye with the other. And your big open mouth slobbery kisses. I love you so very much. If I die and you live, please, find a guy who makes you laugh and you really have to use your brain to keep up with. Learn how to argue without crying. Know that an apology can really clean out someone's ears and soften their heart. Boys are all dorks, don't waste your time worrying if some boy likes you, just have fun. Date to discern the kind of person you want to marry - choose wisely, then treat them kindly. Men are simple creatures, just treat your husband right and you'll never have to worry. You can do anything, baby girl, don't worry.

GREGORY ALLEN ROTH! So help me, you better take care of these kids. Don't ask them what they want to eat, give them a couple choices. If at all possible, never give them a hard NO, tell them when it might be yes. Don't make Sagan have bangs - bangs kind of suck. EAT YOUR FRUITS AND VEGGIES - give them at least one fruit or veggie with every meal. Sing to them - sing them the name songs I made up for them (Cri can teach you). Hug them, like all the time, especially when they're acting all prickly and unhuggable. Big hugs. Read to them, play pretend games, get on the floor and play. PAY ATTENTION.

And Greg ... aghh ... sorry I died. I really do love you madly, fiercely, crazy. You ... Greg ... you made my life. You saw me and pursued me relentlessly and have given me this beautiful spectacularly gorgeous life - I expected misery and drudgery and you gave me buttercups and rainbows. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna haunt you for a while - sorry. If you get remarried, she better be really really nice, cuz so help me, I will do that whole ghost claws thing if she ever makes my babies cry. Also, you deserve a nice girl. You got me, but you are a sweetie (I'm sure your jerky, arrogant, butthole act is just in response to mine) - someone really perfectly nice.

Best of luck with the sex talks - be factual, not evasive. Don't assume they know, please, just talk to them.

Teach them how to work, hard physical work, the kind you avoid.

Might I recommend purchasing a condo for my mom with a chunk of the insurance money.

What else?

Did I tell you all, I love you?

Oh, and could you do a little favor and let my blog know?

Stop Taunting Me

Crichton came home teasing me:

Brandy and Gregory, sitting in a tree,

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

First comes love,

Then comes marriage,

Then comes a baby in a baby carriage.

But that's not all, that's not all,

I see the baby playing basketball.

But that's not all, that's not all,

I see the baby peeing in the hall.

But that's not all, that's not all,

I see the baby drinking alcohol.


He said he made up the "But that's not all, that's not all," parts. Is that possible? Can a 6 year old make ball, hall, and alcohol rhyme? *quick checking of facts* There we go, he got it from Ranell ...

Crichton's been walking a little girl (Annie) home from school every day. I think it's puppy love, but he's like his dad, not all poetry, flowers, and romance. Just useful. Help get you where you gotta go.

*****

I hated Greg in high school - one night, I needed a ride home from a choir concert where Greg kind of sort of rocked ("I have often walked/ Down this street before...") - he was my only ride prospect ... I asked for the ride and that was the can of worms.

But, back in college - out in Iowa, one guy took me to a dance, some guy brought me a rose with an edited uncredited Shakespearean sonnet ... the attention was good, but Greg ... yeah, really glad, 10 years later, he has patience and tenacity. Beats the pants off flowers and dancing every night (almost every night).

How Do You Feel About This?

"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

There's a blog I read ... You've got to understand how this weighs on my heart (Why? God only knows...).

I know it's a manipulative emotional strategy. But it's effective. The same way Israeli and Palestinian parents can't help but perpetuate their hostility onto their children, I worry that Pro and anti Prop 8 folks are doing it, too, all in the sacred names of Love and Family.

Before this explodes, before people die (because what better reasons to give up your life, than for love?) - can we not come to an amenable arrangement?

I get that religious folks want to protect the institution of marriage - make marriage mean God and family, but just because we won the definition, doesn't end the sin.

(And quickly, let me just say that no one gets to throw stones, we all have our favorite sins)

I still say marriage is a religious arrangement and the government, state and federal, should not be involved with the who when whys or hows.

HOWEVER, the law should treat all people equally. Please PLEASE tell me if I've reverted, but, what would be wrong about allowing any two individuals interested in legally combining their assets, to sign the necessary contracts with one easy document? And just like I can't complain when some other church bestows the priesthood on a woman ... well, you follow my logic.

Like I tell my kids, maybe we should compromise.

At least my feet will be warm in hell...

Canon Canon Quite Contrary

It's not that Canon is naughty, he's normal. I blame Crichton, for being this incredibly self-reliant, agreeable, cooperative, polite, talk-to-able creature. Crichton made me think I was doing something right. Crichton made other people think and even tell me I was a good mom.

[hahahahahahamawwaaaaaahahahahahhahahamaaahahamwwwwaaaaahahaha]

Well. Canon is a new species.

Actually I'm not 100% sure Canonball is "normal" per say. He is supernaturally funny, especially if you're not the one who has to clean him up. But lately, it's his 99% rejection rate that is cracking me up/making me crazy (ask my kids, "crazy moms beat their kids;" we don't want to make mom crazy).

"Do you want some breakfast?"

"NO!"

Sigh.

"Do you want cereal or eggs?" Because no one can't say no to a choice question.

"NO!"

"Do you want to eat or starve?"

"Stahv."

"Ok. Let me know if you change your mind."

"Oohkee dohkee, mom."

*****
My husband and I were in bed with the diaper wearing munchkins, discussing something very important, like who was going to get out of bed and locate "the stuff," and who would change the diapers. In the background (well, right in our faces, but we were trying to ignore him), we hear, "SHUH YO CAY COAL! MMOOOM SHUH YO CAY COAL!!!"

He looks right in my face, with those compelling blue eyes ("My eyes no bloo, ohrng!"), and says, "Shuh yo cay coal, mom."

My bablefish finally kicked in: Shut your cake hole, mom.

Perhaps you would have slapped the little sucker, or at least, calmly explained that we don't talk that way. I laughed.

Yes, so now, "Shut your cake hole" is a funny funny joke. Fortunately, only immediate family can understand him. For now.

*****

Besides the usual: "Are you poopy/stinky?" - "No YOU poopy/stinky!" business ALL DAY, EVERY DAY, every diaper change we also go through:

"Where does poo-poo and pee-pee go?"

"In dah BUM BUM," Smirk.

"Poo-poo and pee-pee go in the ..."

"PAAAAHHHHTY!"

"That's right. You can put your poo-poo and pee-pee in the potty."

"No tankkoo - in mah bum bum."

He's three. Crichton finally "got it" in the first month after his third birthday ... so, any day now, right? I won't still be buying pull-ups in a decade, right?

*****

Gramma Roth called to wish him a happy birthday.

G'ma: How old are you Canon?

Him: Too and uh haff.

Me: (in the background) No, say, "Three."

Him: One and uh haff.

Me: No...

Him: OnetwothreefoursixseveneightNINE.

*****

It is not unusual for Canon to wake up once or twice a night; I think it's just him coming out of the deep sleep cycle and almost waking up. I usually just tuck him in and snuggle until he calms down, then tell him I have to go potty and will come back later (like when the sun gets up - and by sun, I mean son ... or daughter).

Last night, Sagan woke up at 2 am (just as I was dozing off) crying and poopy and 30 seconds later, Canon got up, crying, croupy coughing, and feverish. Husband was still at work (crunch time, baby, I miss you!) so it was a two-kids-crying diaper change. FORTUNATELY, I have stocked up on this amazing little product called Triaminic Thin Strips Night Time Cough and Cold. I think there was recently a report saying not to give kids under 4 any cold medicine, but, when it's 2 am and you only have 2 hands ... sorry FDA, I'm drugging the monkey.

Back in the dark ages of parenting, your only option was a sticky, sweet, pink or purple liquid and spoon/cup/syringe thingy. But now, they have these little paper-like squares that just melt away in their mouth. IF YOU CAN GET THEM TO OPEN THEIR MOUTH.

"CANON! Eat the damn medicine!" Sagan is in my left arm, squirming and yanking Canon's hair.

"MM-MMM!"

"CANON! DO YOU WANT TO EAT THE MEDICINE OR GET A SPANKING?!" Because, at 2 am, I am crazy and evil and I will threaten a sick child with bodily harm ... I make Jesus cry.

"MM-MMM!"

I turn him over and half-heartedly swack his be-diapered bum.

"MMMMM!"

"CANON! SO HELP ME! EAT THIS!"

"MMMMMMMMM!"

Here's where I (why did God send me, unworthy bad person, these precious angels?) JAM a folded up square of medicine into his uncooperative mouth. He cries, I apologize and awkwardly hug him/pry his hair out of Sagan's clenched fist.

I leave the room, he's still whimpering a little. I wait in the hallway, but he doesn't get up. He sleeps the rest of the night. Daddy comes home at 4. Canon wakes up at 7:30, happy, healthy, hungry.

"Do you want cereal or eggs?"

"No."