I am Famous. But not as Famous as my brother.

What does it take to get me out of blog-hiding?  My brother being on Conan O'Brian.  And Good Morning America.  And Inside Edition.  And the Huffington Post.  And . . .

You've probably already seen it, but if not, please go watch Daniel and the New Hot Five perform for appreciative French cows.  Or watch them peform for equally appreciative French people here.


And when you're done with that, you can go listen to me sound smart on the Mormon Channel here:

Shameless self promotion.

Yesterday I ran 2.2 kilometers. That is 1.36701 miles. This is possibly a new record. Which proves to me that I am, in fact, very easily manipulated by meaningless stuff. I rarely if ever make it past the one mile mark. But when those little numbers on the treadmill are whizzing past so much faster it makes me feel all . . . capable. "Look at me!" I think, "I have just run a whole kilometer! And I feel so . . . fresh! I could probably run ANOTHER kilometer! Ha! I must be some kind of athelete or something!"

2 minutes later.

"Wow! 1.5 kilometers! I'm just sailing along here! I'm practically a track star!!!"

And other equally embarassing self-congratulatory twaddle.

But hey, I ran 2.2 K. I ran HALF of a 5K! Looka me, everybody! I am awesome.





Shut it.

How Big M spent his New Years' Vacation

What do people do all day?

The Ayi (maid): Clean every bathroom, as if it has not been cleaned in 10 years. Vaccuum the entire house. Wash all the dishes by hand. Then run them through the dishwasher. Wash all the kid-prints off all the mirrors and windows. Mop the entire main floor. Translate at least three telephone calls. Take out the garbage. Dust everything in the house. Make swedish pancakes when the kids get home from school. Teach Super L Chinese.

Super L: Make the beds. (We have to maintain SOME semblance of a work ethic, here) Go to IKEA or Carrefour (French Walmart, basically), for everything we have realized we desperately need . . . since yesterday. Find out that none of it (fingernail clippers, clock radios, doorknob locker childproofy thingies) is available in China. Go food shopping. Wash everything I bought at the wet market with soap and a plastic brush. Try desperately to convince Leafy Isaac to stay away from the water dispenser. Move furniture around. Be chastised by my maid for ironing (I will do! I will do!) when all I really wanted to do was watch TV without feeling guilty. Actually parent and play with my children. Help with homework. Make a real dinner, from scratch. Dream of the day when our computer arrives and I can actually use all this free time to WRITE MY BOOK!

Big M: Make lots of big important decisions, radically reorganize the structure of the department, suddenly become the boss of 30 extra people, eat Korean food. And that was just yesterday.

Cletus and Lemmy: Get up earlier than you want to, complain through breakfast, bum a ride to the bus stop off the neighbors or the driver, go to school and have the BEST SCHOOL DAY EVER!, every day. Come home, bum a ride from the school bus to our house (a whole two blocks), eat swedish pancakes, do 5 minutes of homework, play pool, make secret hideouts in the basement, watch the Chinese Disney Channel.

Leafy Isaac: Wake up at 3:30. Wander the house wreaking havoc, till Mommy hears you. Scream till she makes you breakfast. Throw all the toothbrushes in the toilet when she accidentally falls asleep on the couch for 2 minutes. Eat 4 pears, 2 apples, 3 bananas, 26 ritz crackers, 4 slices of bread, 9 mandarin oranges (with peels), 3 swedish pancakes, 2 whole chicken breasts, and two bagels. Declare that you are still hungry. Run around like a maniac all day long in the giant house. Wrap the Ayi all the way around your finger on a daily basis. Play in the water dispenser, for at least 4 hours of every day. Speak English sounding nonsense to Mom, and Chinese sounding nonsense to the Ayi.

Life is good, my friends. Life is good.

Stuff I learned in China (in no particular order)

1) China is awesome.
2) The Chinese government has control over all indoor heating in Beijing. Consequently, you may well find yourself wearing your coat and two pair of socks and huddling under the comforter in mid-afternoon in your hotel room.

3) Chinese taxi drivers, as if in apology, will keep the ambient temperature of their cars at around 92 degrees farenheit.



4) Incense, in the right context, actually smells pretty good.

5) Incense, when still smellable in your hair three days after your return to the states, doesn't smell so good any more.

6) Even Matthew can enjoy shopping, if it is done correctly.

7) In China, traffic lanes and lights are more suggestions than actual rules. (Yes, Chris, it's worse than Egypt. Is too! IS TOO! My friend has lived both places and says I am right. Sorry.)

Actually, I can't even explain the traffic there. It is death-defying and poetic. The best I can do is tell you to watch this, or this.

8) Being a redhead in China really will get you stared at. Even in a city with 200,000 expats.

9) Being forced to choose between two phenomenal schools is an agonizing problem. A good problem to have, but an agonizing one none the less.

10) In Beijing, there is always something unexpected around every corner.

11) Peking Duck is really, really good. Really. Good.

12) There is way too much cool stuff to say about just a few days in China to tell anyone without losing your voice, or their patience.

Why my Mom is Cool.

I mean, I ask you. How could you be cooler that that? Seriously.

Stuff my kids say wrong.

Cletus sees things with his "eye bulbs."
Lemmy roasts "smashermoes" on our neighbors' fire pit.
Leafy Isaac drinks from a "pissy" cup.
And we have "spain toast" for breakfast.


Also, overheard yesterday,
"Mom, the girls called their trampoline a TRAMP! Isn't that funny?"
"Um, is it?"
"Yeah! Cuz a tramp is like, you know, a lady who doesn't even care what people think about her."

(I must explain, though it would be entertaining not to, that one of the boys favorite songs is Sinatra's "The Lady is a Tramp."

Yaaaaaaay!

Poor Lemmy was up throwing up in the middle of the night, but found a second to ask who won. He was very happy that it was "Orakabama." So am I, buddy, so am I.

And on a happier note . . .

. . . here are some Halloween pictures for your amusement.

You're welcome, Michelle.

We are-- Word Girl, who foils villains with the power of her vocabulary, her nemesis Dr. Two Brains (Lemmy), who accidentally fused a mouse brain with his own brain, Word Girl's monkey sidekick Captain Huggyface (who hates his hat) and . . . something Cletus created himself. He had no title for it, but finally decided he was "A Noun." Because he is a Person, Place or Thing.

Aren't we quite the family of nerds, all.

Non-post-dated mail, that will be personally delivered tomorrow morning.

Okay, what is WRONG with you people?

When a child says a swear word, and you hear him say it, I understand that you have to deal with the situation. However, when said child tells you that he didn't know it was a swear word and your response is to SAY TO MY CHILD THAT A SECOND GRADER SHOULD KNOW THAT --- IS A BAD WORD . . . seriously? He's now going to be punished for not knowing enough swear words?!?!?!?! SERIOUSLY!?!?!?! And when the child replies that the only word his Mom ever told him not to say was 'stupid,' shouldn't that clue you in that you are dealing with a child who is honestly unaware of what swear words are? SERIOUSLY? Are you a moron?

And when you proceed to put said child in detention, on HALLOWEEN, for saying the swear word they didn't know was a swear word, without even listening to the part of the story where (punk kid) tricked said child into saying the word, then turned him in to the authorities, you are really really asking to be sworn at yourself. But I will try to contain myself when I come and give you a large piece of my mind in the morning.

Maybe.

Cletus Haikus

So Cletus was reading his aunts' and uncles' Haikus, and decided to write some of his own. He disappeared upstairs for 15 minutes and returned with these:


"Let's do a play Fred"
"All of the stages are wet"
"Hey lets play inside"

Friends are all ways fun
Let's go play now Cade, right now!
Naaa let's do a play

Let's go to the park
No, let's do a summersalt
No, let's eat pancakes

Hey let's eat pancakes
Naaa- let's eat spegety sos
Ya let's eat that thing

What. The. Heck.

Ummmmm, is he not aware that there are cameras watching him?

How to be Awesome.

1) Peel potatoes directly into the sink. While doing so, think "I should not put these peelings down the disposal. They will probably clog it up."

2) Put potato peelings down the disposal.

3) Call yourself an idiot. Loudly. Several times.

4) Try to clean out the disposal. Fail.

5) Get underneath and contemplate the amount of work required to take apart the disposal.

6) Remember Matthew's theory that absolutely every problem can be solved in less than 5 minutes on Google.

7) Google the problem.

8) Pour lots of boiling water down your clogged-up disposal. Wait ten minutes.

9) Contemplate mailing a thank-you note to whoever created google.

10) Blog about the whole experience. Because you are awesome.

More Haikus

All right, just have to showcase some more reasons my family is excellent. Here are a few selections from the Henderson Haiku (something else that starts with H and is funny).

The bicarbonate
Psychosomatically
Embryonated


Bloody thumbs. Gauged eyes.
Intestines hemhoraging.
Must be Halloween.


Ape man sits near me
pounding pointer fingers are
frightning and funny


Haiku is awesome
Difficult to do right
A noble pursuit


and finally, mine, dedicated to Nobody:

Don't mean to be rude
But your MOM goes to college!
Face! I got you good.

Thank you. Thank you.

The Don't Waste Utah Guy

Okay, what is wrong with people?

Yesterday on the way home from piano lessons, I was sitting at a stoplight when the guy in front of me nonchalantly set his glass bottle out the window of his car and onto the street. Right in front of my car. Do people seriously still do that? I mean, I realize I was raised in the height of the "Don't Waste Utah" campaign, and to me littering is only slightly less wrong than, say, murder. But STILL!

So, fresh from a family discussion about how I should be more willing to publicly voice my disapproval of anti-social behavior, I honked. Once. Briefly.

Boy, that guy sure showed me! He immediately threw a can of something out of this window. And another. Then, as he turned and began merging onto the freeway, a pack of cigarettes, two more cans and (swerving wildly with each throw) a full fountain drink. What a genius. He's CLEARLY injuring me with his petty display, and not wasting any of his own money throwing out full drinks and pack of cigarettes.

He then drove very very slowly for a while on the bridge, waiting, I'm sure, for me to pass him so he could throw things AT my car instead of just in front of it. Finally he tired of this and drove off, darting wildly in and out of traffic. I'm sure he felt he had sufficiently taught me a lesson. I just wish he could have seen how hard I was laughing.

Dear Lady Doing Yoga at the Airport

Seriously? This is your idea of an appropriate way to pass the time while you wait for your flight to come in? I mean, everyone else is tired and cramped from their flights as well, but we also realize that it would not be acceptable to do a full and very public yoga routine three feet in front of the row of (occupied) seats. We are all able to grasp the concept that this kind of behaviour would make our fellow travelers intensely uncomfortable.

Also, I'm pretty sure that you don't understand the full concept of yoga. Because I'm certain you aren't reaching the sufficent level of focused and centered what-not while you are simultaneously CHATTING LOUDLY ON YOUR BLUETOOTH! Seriously. You look like an idiot. Please stop, for your own sake.

Thank you,
Big M (but actually Super L)

The Artists' Way

So Big M and I have set out on a quest to un-squelch our Creative Selves. For me, this has involved actually starting to write my book again, and working through a brilliant book called The Artist's Way. You should all get it, now. Unless you want to stay squelched. Then by all means . . .

But anyway, my assignment for this week was to choose what I would be if I had 5 other lives to live (singer-songwriter, Irish dancer, pastry chef, Egyptologist, jazz singer in the 40's) and then do one of those things this week. So, at long last, and shrimpy shortie fingers aside, I have learned to play the guitar. Yesterday. I can now play Justin Roberts' "The Hippopotamus Song" and Johnny and June Carter Cash's "If I Were a Carpenter." Very, very slowly.

Thank you, thank you.

It really puts your life in perspective . . .

. . . when you have friends who are so much cooler than you are. Like, when you're out to dinner with them and they can just casually drop into the conversation statements like these:

"Well, when I was a pilot firefighter in Alaska one summer. . ." or "I know when I was hiking in Australia, my friend and I walked into this huge spider web and a spider this big (dinner plate) was sitting on his shirt . . ." or "Once when I was crossing a rope bridge in Nepal, all these yaks started crossing the other way, and we had to scrunch up against the ropes to let them all past . . ."

Seriously. Yaks. Why are these people even friends with us? We're like the nerdy seventh graders who get to eat with the most popular 9th graders, for no discernable reason. Thanks, guys!

A note to my anonymous critic.

I respectfully venture to suggest that perhaps you should find better uses for your time. For instance, if you spent a few hours getting aquainted with basic literary devices, such as satire and hyperbole, and their usage in humorous work, you wouldn't have so much time left to waste on randomly and venomously criticizing the parenting of total strangers after reading (misreading) one blog entry. Thank you.

The Management