Just Not

You sure you want to know??

Here's the thing. I'm stuck. Freaking stuck.

Why does there ever have to be confrontation?

Why do I have to admit defeat?

Why can't anything ever just be easy?

The thing is, I made my quagmire. Sometimes ... it's just better to go with whatever happens and be done.

But no. I whined.

Last night ... more precisely, a few hours ago, husband and I were engaged in a lovely conversation about how I hate church and it's all my fault.

Yes, I'm sure it was much more robust and tactful, but, as far as I'm concerned, that's how it goes.

Hate is a strong word. Let's be more accurate:

When I think about going to church in 4 and a half hours I want to cry. I am anxious and fearful and doubtful and discouraged. Like a soldier on a suicide mission for a cause he's unsure of.

In my heart, I know that's not how it should be.

And, evidently, the onus rests on me.

Husband asked what I do to prepare myself for church and the Sabbath. I described my prayer content: help me be kind, loving, and patient with my class; help to to present my lesson in a manner pleasing to Thee. Husband determined, yes, indeed, it seemed God was granting my prayers exactly.

It's not enough. For me. For my soul. Sunbeams are Dementors, ha ha.

I don't have the intestinal fortitude to ask to be released. Released ... such a glorious word ... sweet release. Release me from all my callings, please.

To be released, I'd have to go to my beloved, sweet Primary President. I can't bear that she should see me as a failure.

I shouldn't feel this way about church; scared, discouraged, hopeless. Deficient.

I don't doubt the gospel of Jesus Christ. It's not an issue of faith. I'm tired of the pretense. Pretending I'm offended by words or body parts. Pretending to feel every forced emotion. To be moved, by the Spirit, to do good for my fellow man.

This song is stuck in my mind:

Pink Floyd - Comfortably Numb

Hello.
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone home?

Come on, now.
I hear you're feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain,
Get you on your feet again.

Relax.
I need some information first.
Just the basic facts:
Can you show me where it hurts?

There is no pain, you are receding.
A distant ships smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I cant hear what you're saying.
When I was a child I had a fever.
My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I got that feeling once again.
I cant explain, you would not understand.
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.

Ok.
Just a little pinprick. [ping]
There'll be no more --aaaaaahhhhh!
But you may feel a little sick.

Can you stand up?
I do believe its working. good.
That'll keep you going for the show.
Come on its time to go.

There is no pain, you are receding.
A distant ships smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I cant hear what you're saying.
When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse,
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone.
I cannot put my finger on it now.
The child is grown, the dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb.

What have I done wrong? I'm 31. I shouldn't feel so lost and little. Not with respect to God and Religion. I should be floating along. Others are good. My husband says he believes in God, has a confidence in God ... I'm still 50-50. Going with the whole, if it's not true, it doesn't matter, BUT, if it IS true, well wouldn't want to risk the opportunity to feel this way for time and all eternity.

On the fence.

Leaning.

Please ... don't make me go ... my brain screams, like a scared child, whose parent callously abandons them to be thoroughly indoctrinated. Husband, I'm sure, will be playing the part of callous parent. At least there's one part he's willing to role play.

Fine. I'll do my thing ... but, rest assured, it's just a mirage. I'm not really there.

(maybe I should take that What's Your Patronus quiz now)



(well, that was helpful.)

(I have play pictures, technology didn't want you to see them ... maybe you should pray for a miracle.)

Have I Said Everything I Need To Say?

On the wall, in the green room at my playhouse, hangs a poster with the following uncredited quotation:

“People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.

What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.

Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway."

(it's by Mother Teresa and actually, has one more line: "You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God; It was never between you and them anyway.")



I have a LOT of time to sit back and reflect. Just waiting for my one little scene in each act (there are no small parts, as they say). And I read this poster all most every night and it always touches me and I wanted to share it with you.

But you know what?

I already did.

Just one more example of how I have already shared everything I can on the topics I am allowed. And just so you know? I still have so much to say.

Sunrise in T minus 11 minutes.

Have a beautiful and amazing, full and happy day.

All my love,

Mrs. B

P.S. I am so bringing my camera to the play tonight! Stop back tomorrow for real live pictures of me in costume! And please come to my show. Again with a new friend, if need be.

Growing

This isn't my experience, but I kind of wish it was.

And yet I kind of hesitate to give it to my kids.

Blame the Goat

I put my camera on my husband's car bumper and he went to work.

He bought me a new one, but my computer doesn't like new camera's memory stick. (Who can blame it really, you get used to one stick and then I try to force another on it .... I'd be upset and uncooperative, too).

I'm crazy. I have lost my Brandy mind in ways you can not and do not want to comprehend.

I'm not saying I want to write pornographic posts ... but I just feel so ... I'm having a metamorphosis. Too many people who KNOW know me ... who can see my weed infested backyard from their house ... who may be sitting at my Thanksgiving table (or at least are invited to, if they still want to) read my blog. I want to address more mature topics that may not be suitable for all readers.

And that is forbidden.

SO .... I feel stifled, blogularly speaking.

People order me to blog.

I have over a THOUSAND posts of the same old crap ... feel free to peruse my archives.

Tell me what to do? I don't know how to express what's in me ... how to write what's fakey on my mind. I can write what on my mind, and I would go so far as to say, I do it damn well, BUT ...

Not porn, definitely adult. WHY?

So, I'll just go back to pouting and playing scrabble for the day ... try to convince my laptop to consent to the desires of the memory stick. If we get lucky, you get lucky.

Change is good, right? Change is the only constant. Blogs can change ... oh to be anonymous with 3 readers.

Why? Because I Am The Walrus, I Guess.

How have you been?

I've been in a weird mood.

Forever.

Now look. I went to Cornell College with a Beatles Poster in my suitcase and really only knew one Beatles' song and that was Yellow Submarine. I was ... a poser. I wanted to be the kind of person who really liked the Beatles.

That was 1996.

I am now the kind of person who knows lots of Beatles songs. But there was one Beatles song I had never heard. He and I just hadn't crossed paths.

But today, fate changed all that.

Today, I took a Facebook quiz to see which Beatles song I am. I thought Love Me Do, for sure. Maybe Octopus's Garden. Maybe Here Comes the Sun.

No. All wrong. I'm the Beatles' song I'd never heard. I Am The Walrus.



What was that??



Yeah. Naughty girl .. knickers ... Never was a Cornflake Girl. Dad used to recite Tell Tale Heart every time the power went out ... English tan ... I never knew it, but now I see it so very clearly. I always was ...

So ... I think my blog is going to go crazy for a while ... like just nutters metal bonkers bizarre.

Sorry.

And one final note. Husband got me a new camera. To replace the one I left on the bumper of his car. So ... in addition to insanity, you can enjoy pictures.

All My Love,

Mrs. B

And if you were wondering about that amazing piece of art up top? Yeah, I found it ... it's by Marty Gordon and I think he is super brilliant. I asked if I could HAVE it and he said no. BUT he said I could BUY it if it's still in the gallery and he will only charge me $30 plus shipping and handling. Y'know. My birthday is coming up ... I would be so surprised if you contacted the Amazing Marty Gordon, behind my back and bought it for me. It'd be just like back in 1983 when there was that Cabbage Patch Doll I FELL IN LOVE WITH at the craft fair. Not one of those WONKY homemade ones. She was better than a real cabbage patch doll because no pervert had branded her bum with his name! I had to see her one last time to say good bye, BUT SHE WAS GONE!!! I had a nervous breakdown. Life was not worth living if I couldn't have that brown haired doll in the purple jazzercize outfit. SHE HAD LEG WARMERS!!!! I was inconsolable. Suicidal. My dad carried me to the car, weeping, wailing, and gnashing my teeth and showed me THE DOLL! She was in our trunk. Haha. And that's how I learned there's no such thing as Santa Claus.

The End.

Did I say Wednesday?? How About Thursday??

Ha ha. Yeah, so I suck and procrastinate.

There were three request for tickets (one via facebook, two here) and so I assigned each name a number (1,2, and 3) put them into the handy dandy random number generator and got .... #2 .... which corresponds to .....


drum roll .....


PHannie!

Lemme go email her and tell her the good news.

THE REST OF YOU (all 2 of you) PLEASE let me persuade you to come see my show anyway. It really is a very lovely and sweet thing. And live theater is a million times better than movies. It's real people who have crammed hours of lines into their heads FOR YOU! And sometimes they forget. And sometimes they miss entrances. And sometimes the dog starts barking for no good reason BEFORE the kids actually get a dog in the play!!! And did I mention 11 cute kids, whom I have grown quite fond of? Do it for the children. They so need to hear your laughter (when appropriate) and applause.

I'll sign your playbill!!!

Terrace Plaza Playhouse, Ogden, UT.

Ticket Give Away

Hi. I have 2 complimentary tickets to see my amazing show Cheaper By the Dozen. If you are anywhere near Ogden, UT and can come to the show on or before August 17th (shows are Monday, Friday, and Saturday @ 7:30) leave a comment below. This is way better than the other giveaway drawing thing I did because I can just leave the comp tickets with the box office, you can claim them and POOF no mail, no procrastinating, everyone wins. Hurry now ... I'll randomly pick the winner and announce it at midnight on Wednesday and IT COULD BE YOU!

If you don't win, I hope you will still come and see me! It's the sweetest little homemade theater you ever did see and the show is just lovely!

Leave a comment!

Love ya!

B

Come See My Show!

HI!
After many years in retirement, I have decided to come back to the stage: CHEAPER BY THE DOZEN! Get to Utah and come see my show (sleep on my couch, play charades, oodles of fun). I have 10 lines, 124 words. And I'm just brilliant in my turn of the century maid costume. It's a fun and poignant family show and, what with 11 children, a dog, and me, something wacky is sure to happen every show! This will be Crichton's first experience on stage. He's beyond brilliant.

Terrace Plaza Playhouse, Ogden, UT

August 7 - Sept 18.

Please come see me!

I won't take no for an answer!

All My Love,

Brandy Roth

Like a Fly in My Mini Van

On Sunday, it seemed like a good idea to trap my family in our red minivan for 6 or 7 hours. Had you been that damn fly that kept landing on my face every time I tried to close my eyes, here are some of the things you may have heard:




Canon (3): I know dis is soap!
Crichton (7): It's not soap. It's spit.


Canon: I want dat!
Me: That? It's just a [Kit Kat] wrapper.
Canon: NO! I waaaaaaaan it!
Me: Okay, here you go.
Canon: Hey! It's just da wapper! I hate you, mommy!


Greg: There sure are a lot of smoke shops [in Twin Falls, ID].
Me: People like their lung cancer, I guess.


Me: Don't punch yourself in the face.
Canon: OW! MMOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!!


Crichton: It's a good thing no one knows my hands are secret weapons.


Me: HOLD YOURSELF STILL!
Canon: I want to move it, move it.


Me: You CAN'T unbuckle your seat belt!
Canon: Oh, yes, I can.

(later)

Me: I TOLD you not to unbuckle your seat belt!
Canon: I didn't! I accidentally pushed that wed button.


(kids fighting and screaming, me, warning, threatening, and slapping bums)
Crichton: I hate it when mommy does things for no reason!

And one last moment, not in the car: One my my aunts gave Crichton a "special" cookie. Crichton took a bite. Canon came into the room and Crichton offered him half the cookie. Canon just ran a way like a crazy thing and Crichton looked like he might cry. "What's the matter?" I ask, "Is that a good cookie?" Crichton shakes his head and walks away. I think he was worried about offending my aunt if the cookie didn't get eaten.

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

I want to thank everyone who has offered their condolences for my grandmother's death. She's been suffering from Alzheimer's for a few years now and had cancer in her liver. I am grateful I was able to take my children to see her, even if they have no memory of her or the last visit. I was able to say good-bye. Amazing how much easier it is when you don't have any unfinished business or regrets lingering around at the end.

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

Finally, I will be spamming everyone I ever met in the near future, appealing to you to come see my show, Cheaper By The Dozen. So, watch for that and hope to see you there. Opening night is Friday, my grandmother's funeral is Saturday afternoon, in Twin Falls, then back home quick for the Saturday show. Pray God for nothing but broken legs! Thank you again.

Huge Tracts of Embarassing Land

It was all a joke. My husband bought me this shirt for Christmas. I was pregnant at the time. It's a Monty Python joke. You know, Monty Python? Monty Python and the Holy Grail. These scene, to be specific.



It's an old movie, not really appropriate for most children (mine have seen it of course). Most children wouldn't get it.

It's my favorite color. Or colour, as they say in England. I wore the shirt to play practice last night.

14 year old "Frank" comes over and reads my shirt. I tell him what it says because it makes me uncomfortable when people stand around "trying to read" my chest.

"OH! From Monty Python?" he asks.

"Uhh, yes," I say and quickly cover my chest with my script.

"That movie is so funny." Then he starts saying "huge tracts of land" over and over. As well as, "Burn the witch," and "I got better," and "I like to push the pram a lot," and "I fart in your general direction," and singing snippets of "Knights of the Round Table".

"Your mother let you watch that show? It's not appropriate for children."

He shakes his head in the affirmative.

"This shirt was a joke. From my husband." Yeah, now I'm blushing, because I blush.

For the rest of the night, every time "Frank" sees me he says, "Huge tracts of land" and I put my script up in front of myself.

Thanks Greg .... I thought it'd be okay. This cast is a bunch of kids, I didn't think anyone would get it ... now I've drawn attention to my really not very huge at all tracts of land ... icky. It's the candy store at Camp Bradley all over again. (note to candy store girls, you sell out of ice cream sandwiches ... reaching down into the freezer - boys are not so innocent as they seem.)

Getting Through

Yesterday was rough.

Yesterday was packing three little kids and my mom and husband into the minivan for 3 hours and going to say good bye my grandma. And three hours back.

Yesterday was resenting my mom for being upset about her impending loss; she's had both parents for over half a century.

Yesterday was being annoyed by the continued lack of bladder control of a three year old crazy man.

Yesterday was eating bad fast food and spending too much on gas.

Yesterday was Greg reminding me that the end of one's life, though maybe not as graceful as we'd choreograph, gives others the opportunity to show their love by serving.

This morning I got the call. My grandmother has died. She passed away this morning with many of her 10 children close by.

And even though I am just one of over a hundred grand- and great- grandchildren, even though I felt like I wasn't close, wasn't very important, today, I am grieving. I feel the loss.

When I was a child, learning about death, I remember my father telling me he wouldn't die for a very long time. As my children learn about death, as they ask those questions, I tell them everybody dies and you never know when. And I hug them tightly.

Why, when we know it's inevitable, when we know it's our ultimate fate ... why is death so hard to accept? Why, when it is universal, does it feel unfair? Why does it leave us feeling robbed, cheated?

My grandma lived a long, full life. She leaves behind an impressive legacy. And I mourn her loss and am reminded of all the other loved ones I miss.

I don't know what happens when we die, if our intelligence goes on, if part of us exists, aware, forever. But I'd rather believe that it does. So, I will.