The Post That Wouldn't Be Written

I have Literally been struggling all day on this post. Like I have never ever struggled before. I have written it a dozen times and deleted it. It's just not coming out right.

Maybe I've lost my bloggy touch.

I went for the straight faced "strange thing happened to me at the temple yesterday" angle, but it felt too preachy. Too "Look at Brandy, so richus."

I tried for a Button eyes me format, so I could mock my own religious fanaticism. That felt awfully blasphemous. Making light of a sacred (if insane) experience, not a good way to get God to look kindly upon you.

I tried fervently to distract myself with emails and illness. Not quite sure how to say what I want to say without making all my beloved and devoted readers shake their heads.

Maybe I can just tell you ... the nice picture of Jesus told me ...

See.

Just not cutting it.

SO!

Have you ever had a beyond explainable religious experience that you totally wanted to share but couldn't for fear of institutionalization? And what did you do?

Do you believe in God? In Jesus? Why death? So, death, and then what?

Cheese puffs, distracted ... giving up. You inspire me (that's an order, not a compliment).

Handy Dandy Chart I Use For Couch To 5K in 9 Weeks

If I haven't yet inspired you to run around a bit, perhaps if you see how easy the Couch to 5K schedule is, you will want to give it the old college try. I'm struggling through week 7 now. STRUUUUUUUUUUUggling. But it sure makes the first 5 weeks seem ridiculously easy peasy.

You might also be interested to know that:

The 5K is the most popular race to run. All us cool kids are doing it (well, I haven't actually run 5K yet, but, y'know, I WILL).

Professional runners train barefoot.

I'm having the dickens of a time running for 20+ solid minutes. I did it once, I know I can do it, but I keep wimping out.

Both the heels of my feet are cracked. It hurts to walk. Maybe I need profession running shoes.

Shampoo is a crock. You don't need to shampoo every day, every other day, maybe ever. Water. But I like the creamy lather and yummy smell. So, I'll keep paying. I did give up soap though. For Body Wash. MAN! Those marketing guys are good.

Laptop battery dying ... plug in down 1.5 flights ... time for a nap I guess.

Things Get Stuck In My Brain

As I read the stuff you write, all of you, with your wonderful blogs, sometimes I keep thinking about it, like, for DAYS after I made my incoherent, typo laden comment(s) - I'm still thinking ... wanting to say more. Better.

Maybe I should shoot off an email.

But that's no good. You might email me back and then I'd have to reply back ... it could go on for days ... I have an OCD pen pal thing, I never knew how bad it was until recently.

It's pretty bad.

(I won)

I keep listening to that John Mayor Meyer Mayer, whatever his name is - the song called "Say" - "say what you need to say." Rather, "Say wachoo need ta saaaaaheyheyayay."

One of you - I just can't tell you enough that women aren't men, women are crazy. I don't know why, but it is true. If a guy doesn't talk to you, doesn't respond or reply, it is probably because he is not interested. SIMPLE. If a girl hesitates, it is because she has to go through every parallel universe each possible decision may create and weigh all the pros and cons and consult half a million friends and relatives, some random strangers on blogs, Twitter, Facebook, check to see if she's ovulating or PMSing ... there are a lot of factors at play. You just never know ... maybe it's just me. Me, being a crazy girl, who puts my amazing husband literally through hell (where hell equals a not-pleasant, contractual and emotional obligation), who doesn't any where near deserve such a patient, intelligent, funny, man. So you think you're saving yourself from damaged goods ... and that's wise, but a good apple might have a few bruises under the shiny skin and it's fine.

I'm mostly a good person who deserves a good husband and to be happy - is what I'm saying, is what you provoke out of me, make me doubt. Is what I'm trying to convince myself of.

It's Mayer. Hey, that reminds me of that Jonathon Coulton song, First of May - I've never listened to it all the way through. I tell myself I will, then I chicken out and skip ahead.

And another one of you - I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you every time I hit the publish button. I'm afraid I won't come through this one thing, this one silly thing that I want so bad and I'll feel awkward and stupid. And poor. And I'm stupid selfish to push for it anyway. You've inspired me so many times, encouraged, supported ... I'm always in awe of you. And maybe now just isn't the right time. It'll be ok ... but I'll regret it. Probably either way I'll regret it.

And you know how stupid you feel when someone pays you an undeserved compliment and you both know it was undeserved and inaccurate, but you took it anyway, as if it belonged. Yeah. When name calling fails me, I punch a shoulder. If no shoulder presents itself, I am lost. Not clever or witty, not even that tenacious. Just ... annoying, if you ask me. And still feeling embarrassed. I wish there was a take back feature. In life. Or even if I could just see 2 minutes into the future. Or had the wisdom to shut my virtual cake hole. So sorry.

Let's see, anyone else? When you called me your bloggy idol, I choked on my spittle. Must never compliment Mrs. B. Roth ... only insult.

Oh, and that lady who asked the Internet what we thought about her getting a boob job because she's an A ... please! All those people who said, if it will make you feel better, sure drop 10K on a set of hot knockers, they are full of shite. FULL! You're a woman. Fix the boobs, you'll find some other part of your body or mind or personality to hate. The blogger I love who recently botoxed - I have to say, I was disappointed. Why do we do this? It's not just to ourselves, but to each other, too. You've elevating yourself by stomping down your peers. Can we just love Susan Boyle the way she is? Can't you just accept me the way I am? Let me be grey and wrinkled and saggy of breast. Sure, I'm not pretty, but wise and funny - crows feet!

Oh, and not a reader I'm sure, but stuck nonetheless, you need to be less of a jerk to your kid.

I'm debating whether or not to include links ...

OK, no links. Sorry. We know who we are.

I have to get up at 6am and pretend to move 2.5 miles while staying in the same spot for 30 minutes. It's much harder than it sounds. I will succeed.

Random Random nonsense of a post. But I love the blogs I read. Keep writing things that get stuck in my head. The thoughts I fill with your words help drown out Agent Oso ... OH NO! Now that song is in my head again ... here's a freaking link for you.

Some Things DO NOT Get Better With Time.

A List of Five* Things That Get Worse If You Ignore them:

1. The diarrhea laden underpants you left soaking in the toilet when you went to answer the door to find out your kid got bit by the neighbors' dog. (y'know, now that I think about it ... I'm pretty sure I did not wash my hands first. Gross. Sorry neighbor, but your dog DID bite my kid - fair is fair)
   
2. The kitty litter box you couldn't make your kid clean up after he got bit by a dog.
3. The ant colony behind the couch.
4. Unread Google Reader blog posts (132 and counting, could y'all take a little break until I catch up?)
5. Unchanged poopy diapers.
6. The funny smell in the freezer (I put TWO boxes of baking soda in there, what do I have to do? Clean it out?!)
   
7. The weeds growing in my un-tilled garden (seriously, is there no one who will borrow me their roto-tiller and offer to DO the tilling? People! And you call yourselves Christians/Buddhists/Quakers/Agnostics/Lutherans/Really Nice and Moral Atheists! Honestly. For shame.

*where 5 = my favorite number and should never be construed to bear any significance on the number of items in the actual list.

The King Jumped the Sponge

I was here, and saw this:



THAT'S why WE almost never watch athletic events in my home.

Meet me at McDonald's!

WAIT! You can get a kids meal for $0.99 when you buy a regular meal? You know, they have apple fries now, for the kids? And you could totally get a side salad with your double whopper with cheese! And a diet coke!

I'm just saying ... $0.99!

(What?! Monday's are free. Anything I get done is double points (I may make it triple this week though). SO, I get to read blogs and write.)

You're Here For WHAT?!

You track your blog right? How many, from where, what they click on, etc., right? I also like to see what words they typed into Google before they were referred to me. Here are the 5 most interesting/entertaining/awful key word referrals to my blog (and by five, I mean five is my favorite number and it has no bearing on how many items will be in the following list):

1. A while back I "accidentally" discovered the recipe for deadly chlorine gas as I was cleaning out the litter box with Clorox, and died. I could be saving lives with my blog. Or encouraging dirty cat boxes.

• bleach and cat pee sizzles [yes it does]
• pee on bleach
  
• I nearly gassed myself with bleach
• chlorine gas when pregnant [yikes ... really yikes. Make the husband/baby-daddy take care of the kitty litter when pregnant. It's the #1 pregnant perk]
  
• bleach and ammonia king of the hill [King of the Hill could have saved my life ...]
  

2. People often come here for information on how to get pink eye. I have lots of suggestion.

• how to give yourself pink eye
  
• my eye just got bloodshot in a matter of ten minutes, is this pink eye?
• dirty litter box pink eye
  
• can you get pink eye from a litter box [eye bet you could]
  
• pinkeye nose wiping [gross]
• antibacterial soap for pink eye [I used my handy dandy leftover prescription antibiotic eye drops - it hurts when you get soap in your eye]
  

3. And for some reason, I get a lot of housework related referrals. If you do a search on my blog for dishes+laundry+housework you get a compilation of how I go crazy a lot and fight with my husband about who should be doing what. This is probably NOT the blog to find the following:

• how do i make my wife do laundry [if you find out, my husband would like that information very much]
• wash dishes dalai lama [does he provide and in-home service? sign me up!]
• do they need to wash dishes or laundry [both, it's always both]
• how do they wash dishes or laundry [i don't]
  
• research+how often should you do laundry [when you are out of clean underwear]
  
• getting laundry washed gay [couldn't have said it better myself]
• love to do laundry [Whisky Tango Foxtrot? Must not have a washer and dryer two floors away from the bedrooms and closets]

4. I recently read The Handmaid's Tale and titled my post "I Can Read - Nolite te Bastardes Carboundorum". But I never provided the translation in my post. Now, all these poor souls who evidently haven't bothered to KEEP READING the book, end up here and STILL don't get the answer.

• nolite te bastardes carborundorum atwood
• nolite te bastardes carborundorum translation
• what is the name of the former Offred in Handmaid's tale [Offred]
• nolite te bastardes carborundorum [OK you lazy slacker, it means "Don't let the bastards grind you down" essentially. But if you'd just keep reading a little further, the guy tells her]
  

5. It seems like people are kind of obsessed with using the internet for nefarious purposes! Shocking!

• Mrs. B. Nipple [possible just an unfortunate name]
• sick sick smoking free porn [sorry, unless you like the Hoff, you are out of luck]
• her boobs on fire [ow! but represented]
• show me how to change diapers from beginning to end [uh ... no]
• order gay boy
• mysterious gay boys video
  
• saggy milk sacks [at least it's nice to be appreciated]
• going all the way on a first date [guilty, but only after ten years of marriage]
• underwear
  
• camera inside a vagina [I could show you inside my uterus - good enough?]
  

6. Here are two random entries which I have no idea how they relate to my blog, however they seem to be related to each other.

• Tiffany got laid got laid by postmaster in post office [there was my tribute to the mailman, but it was just a blog post, nothing more, I swear]
• Tiffany Watkins lost camera [don't look here ... maybe, see above?]

7. How to clean Sharpie. That age old dilemma. I CAN help!

• clean sharpie off carpet
• clean sharpie off upholstery
• sharpie carpet
  

8. And some more random keywords people typed into a search engine and ended up with me:

• nanny mcpoopooflakes
• WEAK, !I HAVE BEEN TRYING FOR WEEK, BARLEY SPEAK%
• what can i do to fix the waist on my pants. its too high. [buy new pants]
  
• I hope that you didn't mind too much
• nuskin mormon affiliation [I've wondered about that myself. Suspicious, no?]
• roth pi [mmmmmmm]
• where's the chocolate [I'll never tell]
• "I forget now"
• "......and it bothers me that it bothers me"
• what happened to anakin's cutof legs
• rude apple
• "fuse 8"
• stupid things my mom made me wear
• roth gay marriage [gay as in gay or gay as in stupid?]
• greg crichton insurance[yes ... but why are you checking?]
• "smoking a pipe"
• bit of a stupid thing to say [NOW your at the right place.]

And with that, I'll stop.

You get anyone looking for weird stuff?

One Thousand Posts - Do You Know Who I Am?

Dear Readers,

I've been thinking.

A dangerous pastime.

I know.

I just wanted to say:

Holy Freaking Crap!

This is my 1,000th post. I have posted almost everyday for almost 3 years. Can you imagine?

So much information. So many useless details concerning one of the 6 billion (1/6,000,000,000). Insignificant.

But it's me. My life. Part of it. A little of my mind, my soul. As if I have something important to contribute...

I don't know what you think when you come over here, what you expect, but I am so happy you stop by. How amazing is it to have your life validated like this? It's not a mockblog - it is me. And people are interested.

People are interesting.

Thanks so much for visiting. My laptop is about to die and I'm too lazy to plug it back in.

1000 posts. Happy Days to you!

Guess What I Bought

It's not something I can put in my purse or pocket.

It's not something you can smell, taste, touch. But you might be able to see it and sometimes hear it.

I don't think it is composed of atoms, but it exists anyway. It's really real and it's all mine.

You'll never guess.

WWW.MrsBRoth.Com

Sure it just brings you right back where you already were NOW, but someday ... someday it'll be important that I own my own .com, just wait and see. Stick with me readers, we've got BIG places to go!

The Best Chocolate Cake Recipe in the Known Universe, Then A Salad For Balance

I am about to reveal unto you the BEST homemade chocolate cake recipe in the known universe. Like all things miraculous, there is a trick, a catch: Once you make this cake, you're going to want to have at it as soon as humanly possibly.

But you can't.

You have to wait at least 4 hours,and preferably 12 hours. This cake takes time. It must be cooled before your frost it, but then, you've got to give it time to mellow. If you're not willing to sacrifice the time to let the cake achieve it's full potential, go make yourself a damn mix or buy a friggin' sheet cake. Don't waste the cocoa unless your prepared to enjoy perfection.

Are you?

Are you really ready?

The Best Chocolate Cake Recipe in the Known Universe

2 cups granulated sugar
1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa
1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1 cup milk

1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup boiling water

1. Preheat oven to 350. Grease and flour two 9" round cake pans.

2. Mix dry ingredients in one bowl. In another, mix together eggs, oil, milk and vanilla. Add wet ingredients to dry ones and blend for 2 minutes on medium speed. Stir in boiling water. Batter
will be thin. Pour evenly into two pans.

3. Bake for 30-35 minutes (toothpick test). Cool in pans for 10 minutes, CAREFULLY turn out and finish cooling on wire racks. I mean it. LET THEM COOL ALL THE WAY OFF.

Brandy's Amazing Frosting Recipe That Doesn't Taste Like Pure Powder Sugar But Is Really Good and May Put You In a Diabetic Coma

1 cup butter (softy soft soft)
1 cup cocoa
3T corn syrup or honey
1 1/2 t vanilla
3 cups powdered sugar
3-6 tablespoons milk

Cream butter, cocoa, corn syrup, and vanilla. Add powder sugar a cup at a time, add milk 1 T at a time. Mix it up like crazy until it is light and fluffy and oh so good.

We had this cake FOR dinner Sunday night. Then I ate some more on Monday for elevensies. I felt so guilty I ate a huge salad for lunch. This huge salad, in fact.

All of it.

Have another recipe:

Brandy's Fantastic Cranberry, Spinach, and Walnut Atonement Salad with Feta Cheese and Raspberry Vinaigrette.

1 Bag of Spring Mix
1 Bunch of Baby Spinach
Broccoli, tomatoes, carrots, whatever yummies you like on your salad
Dried Cranberries (Craisens)
Walnuts
Feta Cheese Crumbles
Raspberry Vinaigrette

Throw it all together and devour.

This salad is GUARANTEED to remove any and all guilt you may be carrying around after partaking of my first two recipes.

Now. Go in peace, my beloved readers and enjoy your taste buds responsibly.

What I Do For Fun - MAD LIBS!

MAD LIBS

If they would just try a little, this website could be so much more!

POLITICAL SPEECH

Ladies and gentlemen, on this fluffy occasion, it is a privilege to address such a/an exquisite-looking group of forks. I can tell from your smiling toenails that you will support my tasty program in the coming election. I promise that, if elected, there will be a/an baby lotion in every hippopotamus and two hemorrhoids in every garage. I want to warn you against my fan-frikin-tastic opponent, Mr. Brandy. This man is nothing but a/an Australian paper. He has a/an hot character and is working pine cone in glove with the criminal element. If elected, I promise to eliminate vice. I will keep the ants in the public till. I promise you slimy government, frumpy taxes, and fat schools.

You’re So Bad…

One hairy contestant that came to masticate was so arid that one of the judges made a bet with her. He said she was such a bad garbage lady that if she constipated in homeless shelter, everyone would leave! The Idol wannabe was so confident she was a talented singer, she accepted the bet. If she could sing for a crowd in the homeless shelter and have 9 of the people there not snort, she would get to gobble to Hollywood! So the contestant, who sort of looked like Canon, sang her toes out. She shook her nose and waved her melons, and one by one, all of the people in the homeless shelter left. All except one, that is! Bob Saget stayed and clapped for her! He yelled Oh, my! and even gave her a standing ovation! She was so happy, she started to ponder!

Crichton's Contributions

We just got a new mailbox because the flag on the old one mysteriously disappeared (or "steer-uh-shlee dishes-peered," according to Canon). We threw the old mailbox out. BUT, thanks to Crichton's school's recent informative "Garbage as Art: Recycling Trash and Saving the World" section, I had to *ahem* GOT to retrieve it back out of the ironically GREEN dumpster and the kids have been playing mailman like its FUN (clearly they are unaware of the term "going postal"; ignorant children).

So, I have been getting quite a few sweet love letters. They look like this:





Greg, on the other hand, he gets letters like this (pay close attention to the translation key at the bottom):


Greg did quickly did the math and determined it to be a positive net result. So he's good with that.

*******************

In 1996, at Cornell College (No, not that one. The one in Iowa.), I roomed with a lovely artist type named Julie. She had a thing for drawing skeletons. She drew this captivating door decoration, which was very effective at keeping stupid boys away, as I was engaged to Greg at the time:



Not too very long ago, I was rutting around in my box of yesteryear (labeled: Remnants of a Life Less Ordinary). Crichton saw this piece and was inspired by Julie's art. He made his own version to adorn his bedroom door:



Talented, isn't he?

I'm Wearing Him Down - END DST IN 2009!

END DAYLIGHT SAVING TIME IN 2009!

Better darn well believe I will continue pestering you about this very important policy matter.

Orrin, YOU have earned my vote. (see how easy it is, politicians?)

Come on Y'all! Write to your Senators, write to your Governors, write to all your Congressional Representatives - ONLY vote for those that respond.

Gov. Huntsman - What? You too busy to send your faithful constituents a note telling them you hear and obey?? Harrumph! See you at the voting booth, baby!

I can't do this alone, ladies and gentlemen! Get on your dang computers and write to your leaders. STOP this insanity once and for ALL!

Perhaps I need to HAND WRITE a few letters. They say that REALLY REALLY catches their attention.

It's Only Funny Because It's True. I Love My Minivan

Walking In The Rain

Feeling sad? Try taking a 3 yr old out for a rainy day walk. It'll cheer you up quick!

And if you do it on garbage day, you can chase the garbage lady all the way up the cul-de-sac and back, watching every neighbors garbage go into the truck.

Hot Chocolate will warm you back up.

But you better go while you can. In Utah, you never know when it's going to snow some more!

*Thanks so much to Phannie at You Don't Have To Can To Get To Heaven. Love that blog. Taking advice is fun.

Crichton Could Kick Your Butt

Last Saturday, Crichton had his third Karate Tournament. He worked really hard on all his moves and we even built a sparring dummy out of empty diaper boxes.

Here he is waiting to do his forms. New hair cut. He's just an amazing kid - I am lucky to be him mom!

In the Kata Forms, Cri and another kid tied for 1st place, they had a "Kata-off" to decide the best. And the winner is...

Here's what the sparring looks like:

And here we are with the trophy!

Home again. A proud day. Hard work pays off!

Crichton started Karate the end of February 2008 and has been going 3-4 times a week ever since. He's on the Demo team and recently started learning Bow Staff (a big long stick that really hurts when in the right hands. Also when in a three year old's hands.). Crichton decided to take the summer off though - so he'll be taking swimming lessons and doing either T-ball or soccer. He plans on starting back up in September.

All These Things (Part III - The Anticlimatic Conclusion)

First, I went a little crazy; nice people were concerned.

Then, I ran away to the temple.

However, whatever I needed, whatever I was looking for, it wasn't in there.

A number of people suggested I seek professional help. And find alternate housing for my poor widowed mother-living-in-my-basement. I save those roads for another day.

Alternately, I ran miles, listened to happy music, walked in the rain, stayed caffeinated, prayed a bit, kept on with baby sleep training - achieving a modicum of success, snuggled on my kids, canoodled with my husband. Friends said nice, uplifting, supportive, sweet things to me. People care. Thank you for caring about me. Thank you so very much.

I've been pretty good since Thursday, I'd say. I'm in with love my husband, I'm giggling with my kids, I'm not plotting my mother's murder.

And so, here we are today: Alive and well. Intact. Perfect?

Exceptionally tough Sunday with the silly Sunbeams (a bit of a cry after church and that was done with), chocolate cake for Sunday dinner (amazing how it winds the kids up before bed, having chocolate cake for dinner), and all is right as rain in my head again.

I don't know what makes me crazy. What makes me crazy? What makes me break? Can I be fixed? Do I need fixed?

When I was 13, I broke a thermometer and played with the mercury. I may have even tasted it. Mercury is pretty cool, though.

My dad had several pretty significant periods of severe depression, ongoing for days and weeks, with no happy breaks.

I know that depression, official, diagnosable depression, needs to be significantly more ongoing. I need to be sad more days than I am happy. It's really not that way. (Though I do tend to write more often when I'm sad, as a catharsis, I guess. Sorry, can't be posies and pixie stix all the time)

I think I have a wacky hormone cocktail in my brain that, when combined by several nights of too little sleep, throws my mood completely in the crapper. I let myself get buried by emotion. I have my little breakdown, get a little sympathy, listen to people tell me what to do to feel better, it always works and I limp merrily along.

It's not such a big deal to be sad once in a while. I don't think I need medication for it. I don't think paying a counselor to listen to me whine will help any more than my blog (though my readers may grow weary of it - who cares. If I bore you, stop reading) (just kidding, I need you).

I need to make myself A Secret Sadness Antidote with step by step instructions.

I think the following should fix me:

1. Run. For at least 30 minutes. There should be sweat and a sense of physically not being able to keep going. Get someone to watch the kids if necessary.

2. Shower. Because one stinks when one gets all sweaty from running and showers are oh so nice.

3. Put on real clothes (no elastic waistbands or men's XL t-shirts). Socks and shoes, too

4. Do something with hair and throw on a drop or two of make-up, nothing fancy, lip gloss and mascara and a bit of powder. Just enough. And perfume, the kind one saves for special occasions.

5. Eat something fresh - fruit or vegetable or grain or nut, but something really healthful.

6. Hap-hap-happy music (play list to be posted later, downloading songbird to assist me with this, even as we type, as my iPod is decrepit and I never liked iTunes anyway). Happy mellow happy music. Dancing. With children. Happy dancing music.

7. Indulge a smidge. Dollar store shopping trip. Go out for ice cream or get a soda and a candy bar or out to lunch or all three. No guilt for the guilty pleasures.

8. Blow bubbles. Outside. Bubbles are beautiful simple magic. Let all your troubles float up up and away with the bubbles. Let your anxiety and worry and fear *pop* out of existence. Bubbles.

9. Nap or go to bed early. Must get enough sleep. There are three things the body needs: Food, exercise, and sleep. Moms with little kids (or teenagers or every age in between, I imagine) often have their sleep interrupted and it messes the brain up good. Skip the stupid TV and steal a little sleep.

10. Just pray to God for assurance that he loves you. Think in your mind, "Father in Heaven: do You love me? I just really need to know, " He'll say yes and give you a hug.

Two songs cheered me up a lot:

Jack Johnson - Breakdown
Bob Marley - Three Little Birds (used to "talk to Bob", but now, I listen :))

Go buy the Mp3s quick and keep them handy for just in case.






Deuteronomy 4:29-31

29 But if from thence thou shalt ^aseek the Lord thy God, thou shalt ^bfind him, if thou seek him with all thy heart and with all thy soul.

30 When thou art in ^atribulation, and all these things are come upon thee, even in the ^blatter days, if thou ^cturn to the Lord thy God, and shalt be obedient unto his voice;

31 (For the Lord thy God is a ^amerciful God;) he will not forsake thee, neither destroy thee, nor forget the ^bcovenant of thy fathers which he sware unto them.

Finally, you will be thrilled to hear: Greg indicated he may make an attempt to try to possibly maybe come home from work a little earlier than he has usually been coming home. Maybe.

Good enough for me.

My Home Teacher is Funnier Than Yours

Home teachers. The guys from church that come around every month to give you an inspirational message and ask if your family needs any help. Usually they're just normal guys, but not mine. One of my home teachers is a comedian, among other things. Through the glory that is YouTube ... I get to share with you my home teacher:



And you know what's even funnier? He's NOT the one who told an inappropriate joke I still don't get about dancing Baptists.

On My Way To A 5K

Hi there.

By the way.

I've been doing that wacky Couch to 5K program. You might remember me mentioning it, once or twice.

Just had to brag give you a quick update.

Wednesday was my 20 straight minutes of jogging and I did it.

To rebel against my rebellious dad, I am a rule follower. No skimping here - 5 minute warm-up walk, TWENTY MOTHERLOVING MINUTES at 5 mph, zero incline, and 5 minutes of walking because I couldn't remember how not to move my legs. That comes to 2.08 miles. Just saying. In 30 minutes. SO while YOU were eating popcorn and watching a Seinfeld rerun ... yeah, I burned 312 calories. (Is that all? Felt like more.)

I did it, I did it. I. DID. IT!

So yeah, I pretty much rock. I'm about the most amazing person to ever live. My body IS a wonderland.

NOW. According to my calculations,

5 kilometers = 3.10685596 miles

I need only to fit in one teensy little mile more and I will have 5K legs.

Perhaps a new pair of shoes are in order, now that I'm a runner, y'know.

Makes one wonder: if I was able to do the impossible on Wednesday ... could I have done that at anytime, but didn't think I could, so couldn't but really could have?

And what else am I not doing because I think I can't, but I really can? Putting the mountain of laundry away and keeping on top of it from here on out? Planning, preparing, fixing, and cleaning up 3 meals a day? Sticking to a budget? Eating healthy? Quitting caffeine (even if it is a vitamin)? Heading out to beautiful California for a retreat? Finishing up my degree, once and for all? Potty training the boy? Being a kind and beautiful wife? Being a super fun and awesome mom? Getting over all my issues?

Running is pretty freaking amazing. Highly recommend it.

I believe this, doing what you thought was impossible, is how one builds self-esteem.

No other activity in my life ever had me cheering myself on, mentally shouting, "You can do it, Brandy!" the way this running has. It is hard, but I am making these little ridges of "You CAN do it! I know you can do it. Just a little more," in my brain. Also: endorphins. Husband says the happiness you get from running IS natural.

Yay Me!

All These Things (Part II)

So. I ran away from home to the Odgen, UT LDS Temple in desperate need of sanctuary.

One can not speak too specifically about what one does in the temple. One might say, however, if one is not in her right mind, one might find the endowment session melodramatic and tedious. One might have to stifle cynical snorts and one might find the long, redundant process quite annoying when all one wants to do is get to the Celestial room and sit in peace with her thoughts, pray, to be still and Know.

You go to the temple to "work." Usually, you are performing one of half a dozen ordinances on behalf of dead people. I was doing an endowment session, which takes about 2 hours. I was not feeling especially patient. I kept asking myself, why all this ceremony? Where is Jesus and His simple gospel in all of this? Sorry, *Vincenza Canino who lived in Italy in the 1600's, I hope my lack of faith doesn't effect your eternal progression.

Here's a little note: I don't really care what your opinion of ordinances for the dead is. If you have questions or criticisms, email me directly and I will respond cordially - however, I will not hesitate to exercise my bloggy super power to remove comments if I feel you are being offensive or inappropriate. And I'm a little touchy today. Thank you and now back to your regularly scheduled post.

Finally, I made it to the celestial room (and isn't so easy as you think, okay?). Plunked myself in the first cozy chair, and started crying my stupid eyes out. Fortunately, I had an old, slightly used tissue in my pocket. People usually hang out in the C-room for a few minutes, chit-chat with God or each other, then quietly return to the lone and dreary world. I sat there for over an hour.

I begged God to kill me. Just take me up to Heaven for the good of all those I love. Let me die in the temple, looking all holy and faithful. Full of Faith. Full of something.

God, clearly, did not come through on that one.

(God answers every prayer. Sometimes he says, "Yes," sometimes he says, "Quit acting like an idiot.")

I prayed to know how to fix myself, to understand why I go crazy emotional.

(Asking God why he made women crazy is like asking Him why He made men so jerky.)

I prayed for forgiveness for being a terrible wife to poor, sweet Gregory, and a nasty, neglectful, impatient mother to my children. Honestly, what kind of mother makes her babies WALK HOME IN THE COLD RAIN WHEN THEY HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM?

Then I started thinking about what it was gonna be like when I got home. Messy house, testifying to my laziness and ineptitude. Broken baby girl to deal with all night long. Angry, hungry husband with a mountain of evidence proving he should fire me and trade me in on a functioning model.

I wondered if I could hide in the temple. It's very maze-like (I'm lost the moment I get out of the lobby) and the temple workers are old, bad eyesight. I could hide in a locker until I'm sure everyone has left for the night. If I set off an alarm, I'd just say I fainted and pretend to have amnesia. I could pull it off. But then there's the whole lying in the temple to temple workers ... probably you go to hell for that crap.

When I was through crying about every little thing, I got up out of my cozy chair and slowly walked back to the dressing room. I carefully changed out of my temple clothes, folding everything so neatly. I put my "street clothes" back on and dragged my feet as I left the temple.

The temple didn't do it for me.



*Possibly the great great grandmother of the famous artist (of whom I've never heard) Vincenzo Canino (1892-1978) Hey, I was born in 1978, hmm. No such thing as coincidence, I say.

All These Things (Part I)

I've never done a multi-part post. I just write and write until the story is out of me. Today will be different. Here's Part One:

Thank you to all my dear concerned friends who commented, called, instant messaged, emailed, offered yourselves to me selflessly. Thanks to Dr. Laura, who evidently reads my mind. I've taken as much of all of your advice as I can.

Tuesday got worse before it got better.

It started at 3 am with a baby who once slept through the night, popped four teeth, and now needs to relearn how to sleep through the night. She forgets that FIRST you have to lay down. Then you suck a couple of fingers, than you just drift off to dream land. *Broken, we call it. Baby girl is very broken.

At 4 am, Greg poked his head in Sagan's room and asked (seriously), "Why are you torturing her?" He wanted me to abandon her and go back to bed. But her sadness penetrates through pillows, fingers pressed to eardrums, loud breathing ... everything I can do to block her cries; they penetrate.

At 5:30 am, she FINALLY REALLY gave in. As I crawled in bed, Greg mumbled, "I told you so," but claims to have no memory of making such a senseless statement.

Cri went to school. Greg was about to go to work. Then I broke. I yelled at him that I NEEDED him to come home from work earlier. I couldn't take it, I needed a break. I indicated imminent impending insanity. I did. He was certain such a simple thing as him being home 60-90 minutes earlier couldn't possibly be the CURE I think it is. Yes, yes, the crazy girl knows nothing, run along husband, I'm sure everything will be fine. He left mad. Very very mad.

I didn't clean. I whined to the internets. They sympathized. They advised. Take a break, you're breaking.

You're telling me.

Listened to sad songs.

I tried some retail therapy: Dollar store (in this economy ...). Took a pregnancy test, y'know, maybe there's an innocent scapegoat to blame. I failed the test. Such a failure. I guess those sore boobs ARE due to baby's new sharp teeth. Cleaned a wall, applied stickers.

I looked at the clock. After 4pm and no Crichton, yet? Hmm. I went outside and looked down the street. There he was. I waved ... he looked like he was crying.

What's up?

"Dad said he'd be there in 20 minutes, but it was already 20 minutes and he wasn't there and I don't like walking home anymore and sometimes the bathrooms at school work and sometimes they don't. The principal ...."

Wait. What about Dad?

"Your phone wouldn't work and I called dad and he said he would be there in 20 minutes, but he wasn't."

You called Dad to pick you up?

Lovely. Just rainbow sparkling perfect.

We go inside. My phone is (always) lost, neighbor girls are locked out of their house, want to call their dad, my baby's crying, Canon has no pants on. I locate my phone in the van: 5 missed calls, all from Greg. I am in so much trouble.

I call Greg, he's almost home.

"You can go back to work. Sorry."

"I'm gonna be late tonight."

"That's what I expect." Of course, what do I do to make him want to come home? Everything is a mess, inside and out.

I need a break.

There is one magical place a Mormon woman can go, an indisturbable sanctuary - temple. I asked my mom for help (a triumph for my prideful soul, in and of itself). I made dinner, changed my clothes, grabbed my temple bag, and abandoned my life.

As far as I was concerned, it was a one-way ticket.

20 minutes of driving. Very quiet in the minivan, feeling like I forgot something.

I have no sense of direction - I take the exit I think might get me there, I am wrong. I drive around the old (i.e. scary & dark) part of town and just before I'm about to give up, there is the Angel Moroni in the sky. Ah. Okay. Park, walk slowly inside. Alone.

In the 10 years since I was endowed and sealed to my husband, I've never gone to the temple alone. It's always been with Greg, always happy, always holding hands. I show my temple recommend card to the old man at the desk. He scans it and looks me in the eye, "Welcome, Sister Roth."

I think some cynical thought about religious bureaucracy.

_________________________________________________________________

*How fix your broken sleeper:

1. You stand by their bed or crib and CALMLY (ha ha ha) keep putting them into sleeping position until they realize they need to stay in sleeping position (I only have luck putting my kids belly down and none of my kids have gone "belly up," but I CAN only recommend putting them down on their backs. Having a fan in the room is supposed to reduce the chances of SIDS and also works as a nice white noise machine if you haven't yet mastered your Ninja Parent techniques.

Oh. That's it, just one step. Repeat a million times the first night, half a million the second night and 3-4 times the third night, once, maybe twice there after until they break again.

Last night (night 2) Sagan politely slept from midnight until 7, at which point Canon ran into her room yelling, "SAGAN! YOU AWAKE?" At which point the answer was affirmative. Very, very affirmative.

Brandy's Not Here Right Now, She Went Crazy

"Hi, how are you doing today?"

No one cares what the answer is, it's something to say so you don't have to stand in awkward silence.

Go ahead, ask me how I am today.

Fine.

I am just motherloving freaking fine.

How many times can someone hear how much they suck before they quit? How did my brain get so messed up? Am I crazy? I try so hard to explain how serious I am, how serious the situation is ... oh, I see, I am the problem. Ok, you're probably right, but I don't know how to fix it. I just know I need NEED to get out of here. I need some help, I need a break, I need some time, I need something ... what do I need?

I don't need to be told the dishes haven't been done, I don't need to be asked if there is any clean laundry, I don't need to have it rubbed in my face that I went to Wendy's for lunch yesterday, I don't need a random call for a ride just as my baby gets to sleep, I don't need to be asked why I'm torturing the baby when I'm gently trying to get her to lay down and sleep at 4 am, I don't need to be told I should go get a job because I suck as a housewife. Yeah. I don't need any of that.

It probably is my fault, all the problems stem from me. If only I could keep the house clean, do the laundry, fix all the meals, stay happy, clean up, get up, work out, look great, play with the kids, teach the kids, drive the kids to their activities, change the kitty litter, magically pull money out of my ass, pay the bills, be available any old time, never need a break, never lose my temper, never get emotional, never need anything from anyone ... is that what I need to be to be perfect?

I just want to be mean, I want to criticize everyone, point out their stupid selfish flaws and complain about their short comings. I want to deflect attention away from me. I'm sure it's all my fault, but I don't know what to do.

On Sunday, there was a scrap of paper on the floor after Primary. I picked it up and it was a message from God ... I'll take that advice now and perhaps, just maybe, God will have helped me not go crazy today.

So, Brandy, How's That 5K Training Thing Going?

On February 17th, I announced I would be training for a 5K. It was the couch to 5K in 9 weeks program. And today would make 9 weeks.

Did I quit?

Am I an utter failure?

Well, friends, remember how I and my family were sick most of March with various illnesses ranging from strep to sinusitis to bronchitis to ear infections to random stomach cramps? Well, that set me back a little in my 5K training. Officially, I'm on week 5, workout #2. Ladies and Gentlemen, that means yesterday morning I did a brisk 5 minute warm-up walk, then jogged 3/4 mile (8 minutes), walked 5 minutes, jogged another 8 minutes, then walked a few more minutes until I could breath again. In total, I was on the treadmill for about 30 minutes and moved 2.08 miles.

Wednesday ... Wednesday's workout is a 5 minute warm-up followed by a 20 minute jog, no walking, all jogging for about 20 minutes. Scared to death. Wow. Whew. Whoo.

8 minutes of straight jogging is tough. Of course, when I started, 60 seconds of jogging followed by 90 seconds of walking (repeated for 20 minutes) was pathetically challenging. The first time I jogged 5 full minutes, I was so proud of myself. Reading it, I know it sounds like nothing, but I am not an athletic girl. For me, this is a triumph akin giving birth or hitting a golf ball over the water (I'm not much of a risk taker, folks).

You really have to realize, getting my fluffy self to the point where I can make my legs go 2 miles in half an hour ... it's pretty freaking phenomenal. I only have 10 workouts left on this program. In 3 more weeks I should be able to run 3 miles in about 30 minutes. Sounds unbelievable, but I just did 2 miles in 30 minutes and that was unbelievable. 3 weeks before that, I could only do 1-1.5 miles in 30 minutes. And before that ... I could walk/jog for about 10-15 minutes and go about 3/4 of a mile.

The 20 straight minutes is kind of scaring me though. 20 minutes, jogging. Hmm. I'll be spending the time I have continuously telling myself I can do it.

Let's Just Go With Cute Kid Pictures For Now And Dig Deep Later

We had a really great spring break. It was so nice to have so much time with Crichton. They really spend so much time in school. Crichton's teacher doesn't like teaching first grade. She really wanted to be a Vice Principle or a 6th grade teacher, but got stuck in 1st grade. Well. Sucks to her. Crichton doesn't need a teacher anyway. I don't think they've taught him much he didn't know already, besides useful info like Johnny Appleseed and Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King, Jr. Oh, and yesterday on the way to church, "My friend Andy wants to marry a boy. He's gay." School is so very useful.

We spent one day at the Airplane Museum. My kids love it there, running around those huge machines.


Crichton has his homemade superhero shirt on. SC=Super Cri. Canon brought his light sabre.

Here's a nuclear bomb. The first time we came, I felt weird about these things, the pacifist, the humanist, the environmentalist inside kind of freaked out. They were in denial that these things exist and how they are used.

Here's Cri in the ejection seat.

We spent an evening at the park. Sagan got her first swing rides:
She seemed to like it pretty well. Check out her sharp little teeth. It's about time to wean that thing!

The boys went down the slide about a million times.

We forgot to bring any kind of toys, but the boys played pretend baseball until a real team showed up and took over the field.


They had some rocks and stuff that made a pretty great backdrop for some cute pictures:




Thursday we went to the Dinosaur Park in Odgen - it's a fabulous brilliant place! I want everyone to go there!

Here's a little animatronics scene that Canon is too sacred to go in.

Cheesy grin!

Ok. That's what I've got for you thus far. I failed to take ANY Easter pictures while the kids were dressed up all fancy ... and not ... well, chocolate and fancy clothes are not friends. So, I plan on washing all their duds and taking fake-make-up Easter pictures. I pretty much suck at all celebration type activities.

Hoppy Easter

A joke from my childhood:

Knock knock.

Who's there?

Cargo.

Cargo who?

Car go beep beep, over the Easter Bunny.

That's all I've got for you ... bloggy constipation. Maybe tomorrow is a laxative.

I want to see Frank again ...

On Suffering

I miss my daddy. Today he would have been 54. I would have made him a cake, taken him to dinner, watched Crichton try out his latest Karate moves on grandpa, watched Canon shoot him with his finger gun, watched Sagan tentatively let him hold her, then smile big and cute as he blew on her neck. We'd have all sung Happy Birthday and given him hugs. I would have found some bizarre trinket or piece of memorabilia to give him. Maybe a funny tee-shirt. We'd all have signed a naughty humorous birthday card.

I know my pain and suffering are not unique. A couple lost their baby girl last night. This life here, it is temporary. Every second is precious. Every day is a miracle.We get so comfortable, so used to the way things are, we take it all for granted. But there are no guarantees. You hold on tight to your spouse and your kids, you would give everything up to keep them one more day and you know it.

Days like this, times like now, make you really want to KNOW what the big picture looks like, how it goes after life is over. I'm tired of playing around with faith and theories - this is serious business. I want my husband and kids forever - is that possible and if so, what do I have to do to make that so? What if death is the end? What if there is no soul, nothing further than this existence, this miserable bleak and sorrowful world of impatient selfish lazy people.

The suffering is good, though, it makes me strive to be kinder, more thoughtful, more loving, to go ahead and snuggle my kids for a few more seconds.

Melancholy ... I think I'll back to my book and wait for husband dear to come home, praying constantly that he makes it home, miss him ...

Things In The Works

Sorry - you know it's spring break here, right? Plus also, you probably don't care, but I feel obligated to y'all. I just do. I have you all in my reader and when you post it's like a nice little gift, nothing I expect of you, just something I appreciate (well, except I'm 132 posts behind in Google Reader and that makes me feel guilty and obligated too... gah), BUT I feel like I need to give you something at least every few days ... stupid I know. But I loves you so much.

A List of stuff I've been meaning to post on:

1. A science experiment where I MAKE laundry detergent then compare it to store bought ... I have about 100 pictures to go along (there will be muchness of editing). My original control subject made my test results inconclusive. Working on a new staining agent that is not water soluable ... and test subjects I don't love so much. Perhaps husband's old underwear. YES!

2. I'm FINALLY reading Dr. Laura's Bad Childhood Good Life, but I think I need to call Dr. Laura's show when I'm done and find out if having the maker of your bad childhood (and mine wasn't THAT bad, just pretty sucky, maybe it was bad ... well, okay, my adolescence was pretty awful, my childhood was fine, but I have these issues ... ug .. blert) where was I? Yes, does having the maker of your bad childhood LIVING with you as an adult, well, how do you go about always having a good life then? Let me finish the book, formulate coherent thought, then I'll get back with you.

3. OH the plethora of cute pictures of my kids which I have captures. Quite a few really cute shots of Sagan with her teeth and big smiles, Crichton's getting grown up, Canon is a stinker. Cute cute cute pictures ... we so need to go have some professional family portraits done. Or find a friend ...

4. Coupons and pantry stocking ... I was sick and lazy for most of March, our food stocks were dwindling, Greg and I took care of that.

5. How we accidentally paid $1100 instead of $100 to a credit card and it mucked life up a bit, but seems to be working out.

6. All about how our toilet exploded, the homeowners insurance saved the day and pictures of our new master bathroom and the free bedroom carpet. We learned how to tile! Got a new bathroom and came out $300 ahead.

7. Maybe by the time I get all these posts up, I will be able to post that Canon is potty trained. A mum can hope ...

8. I'd love to figure out how to blog mean gossipy thoughts and opinions I have about people who almost certainly read my blog without anyone getting hurt or mad, but I probably can't, so no gossip for you. HOWEVER, maybe I can do it in comments on YOUR blogs ... heh heh heh ... then all my readers will have to click on all my blog roll blogs (that's all of you, I hope, email me if I've missed you, I'll add anyone until you bore me or stop being related to me) they will read all your blogs and comments to see if I wrote about them. Evil genius ... you can thank me for the extra readership now - send bags and bags of Hershey Bliss chocolates to my PO box.

9. The price of printer ink. Wow, it sucks. It is almost cheaper to buy a whole new printer (wireless, mmmm) than replace the ink. Anyone wanna buy my old fancy pants Dell All In One fully functioning printer/scanner/copy machine? Going cheap ... no offer refused, in fact. If you wanna pay shipping, I really will let this baby go for like ... anything. (But the ink is freaking outrageous to replace).

10. Change Diapers, change clothes, clip nails, fooderate the fooderholes, change diapers, wipe noses, wipe tears, take things away, change diapers, change clothes, fooderate, hold to heart, admire perfection as they snore, change diapers, fooderate, clean clean clean. This is what I do between posts.

GETTING OFF THE COMPUTER NOW!!!!!!!

Guest Post

Hi!This is Crichton!I'm the guest.My mom will not make me a blog.She is Brandy you know her! I made Crichton Saves The World! That is the end of my blog poste.

No Time To Think

We have adventures planned for all week - Airplane Museum, Dinosaur Park, Aviary. I'll take pictures. Right now we're watercolor painting eggs and paper towels. I need to shower, husband said I could do it when baby girl takes her nap. I'm sure she'll drop off here soon.

At midnight, I announced i would get up at 6 and go grocery shopping. Baby girl is still broken ... I don't think 6 ever happened. Or 7. 8 I remember though. That's when Canon came in with a Lunchable and offered me ham. It was really turkey, but he's only 3.

Laptop replacement cord(s) on the way.

I've been editing husband's book a lot lately. I'm starting to like it (the book - I always liked the editing). And the time and talking together. It's about this werewolf accountant. Page 159 starts to get good - zombie swarm.

Crichton is begging to have his very own blog. I'm considering it. Maybe Friday.
He's thinking of calling it "The Amazing Cool Mr. Cri Roth." He's reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid right now - he loves it.

Alright, need baby girl to sleep. Be sure to use sunscreen, now, alright?