Twas Brillig

Many of you already know how I feel about the word verification thingies. Today’s poll addresses this sensitive issue. Go on over to my sidebar and vote. I must know these things.

And, may I also ask, to those of you who use word verification thingies on your blog, why? Have you had experiences that made you implement one? Did you just think it was a wise idea? Do you just love to torture people like me? And for those of you who DON’T use them, why not?

In my blog’s little lifespan, I’ve only received one Spam. And guess what? It was kind of entertaining. I mean, I deleted it and all, but for one brief moment, I thought, “hmmm, that’s kinda funny!” But if it turned into a real problem, I would definitely go to a word verification system for comments (which would be a DRASTIC measure for me!)

And one last question: Does anyone besides me try to SOUND OUT the word verification? I don’t know why I feel the need to do this, but I do. And sometimes they’re really entertaining. And maybe that’s why I always spell them wrong–I sound it out in my brain and then I spell it the way it OUGHT to be spelled, not the way it IS spelled…. I dunno. I think really I’m just dumb. Which is sort of a painful revelation to me…
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ETA:
Look. LOOK! I’m NOT STUPID!!!

You Are Not Stupid

You got 10/10 questions right! While acing this quiz doesn’t prove you’re a genius, you’re at least pretty darn smart.

Apparently, word verifications are not the be-all, end-all indicator of brain capacity. AND THIS QUIZ PROVES IT!!! (Okay, but really. If you don’t get ten out of ten on this particular quiz, then there may just really be something devastatingly wrong with you. Still it’s what I needed today…)

I’m not alone. There’s another Brillig. I know. I’m as shocked as you are.

Actually, his name is Steve Bosman and he seems to be a pretty decent chap. However, his site is called ‘Twas Brillig*–the asterisk is apparently part of the title, so at least we’re not IDENTICAL, right?

But here’s the worst part. His blog has been around longer–a LOT longer than mine. Which means that he didn’t steal my name.

I stole his.

*GASP*

Okay, in all fairness, we both stole it from Lewis Carroll (you can read all about it here).

As I said, Steve seems to be pretty cool, though he’s certainly into getting his “geek” on–quite in tune with the world of video gaming and science fiction–not really a world I belong in whatsoever. But he also goes off on random rants that sound oddly similar to things I myself might go off on. And he’s in England, and I only wish I were in England. (I spent three of my “growing up” years in England and I pine for it. Oh, how I pine for it.)

So, really, no one is likely to confuse us with each other. But it also wouldn’t be the end of the world if they did.

As for me, I came up with the name ‘Twas Brillig just on a whim, as I was making my blogging debut a month and a half ago. In high school I had done a few service projects that I wanted to do anonymously and so when something needed to be signed, I (again on a whim) signed it “Brillig.” So that when people asked who had done it, they could say, “‘Twas Brillig.” (If you listen closely, you can still hear my 15-year-old self giggling over that.) So, 13 years later, when I decided to start up a blog, I just grabbed at whatever came to mind, and I’ve been Brillig ever since.

I like Lewis Carroll just fine. I’ve read all of his stuff and it’s all dandy. But I’m not obsessed with him. In fact, he’s not even one of my favorite authors or anything like that. I’ve had a lot of readers find me because they like Lewis Carroll or, more specifically, the Jabberwocky. And that’s great! Welcome friends! But it feels a bit strange to be paying hommage to an author/poet who I am not exactly obsessed with. Haha.

With all of that said, though, I do actually really like the Jabberwocky poem. I love that it’s nonsense and yet it makes perfect sense all at once. And I guess that that’s where I’m hoping to go with this blog.

(Some days, though, I think it will very likely be a little more nonsense than actual sense…)

So, how did you come up with the name for your blog? I’m sure many of you have explained this many times already, but humor me and do it again!

Oooh! Oooh!!! I have a great idea! While you’re all anxiously, nay BREATHLESSLY, awaiting my next post, why not go vote for me.

And to those of you who have already voted for me, THANKS!!!! Again, I want you to know that I’m not going to win it. Okay, you already knew that. But I want you to know that I know that I’m not going to win it. But it would be SO COOL not to come in last!

My brain is oatmeal. Sticky, gooey, flavorless oatmeal. I’m not quite certain about why, though I suppose it’s very possible that it has a lot to do with the fact that I’ve been awake all night long with a fussy baby several times in the last week. Also, I suspect that the mind-numbing process of house-hunting is starting to get to the little grey cells. And anyone who tries on a regular basis to take four psychotic children to Church and then try to keep them quiet the whole time knows how damaging that can be on the brain.

And because I’m super, I’m gonna share the oatmeal with all of you:

1. I’m fully aware that Scooby just opened a bag of marshmallows that he’s eating for breakfast because his lazy mom is sitting here at her computer, unwilling to get up and think of something with a speck of nutritional value. Eat on, kid. You probably won’t get that good of a meal for lunch.

2. After a gruelling time at church yesterday due to alarmingly rowdy children, Hubby looked at me as we were loading the kids into the van and said, with a hint of desperation, “Okay. Which one of us is getting the *snip-snip*?” It’s still making me laugh. (Apparently he hasn’t heard that I’m planning to rip out my uterus and sell it on e-bay.)

3. My life would be so much easier if I sold my uterus on e-bay.

4. I won’t ever find my dream house in my price range. In my mind, I’m taking the best things about every house we’ve seen and combining them into one. I highly doubt that that “one” exists. I’m feeling like a big ol’ snob. But I don’t care. I want luxury living and I don’t want to “settle” but I refuse to be “house-poor” too.

5. Because of #4, I will probably still be in my mother-in-law’s basement a year from now.

6. #5 just gave me a heart attack.

7. Scooby and Lil’ Dude both need to go to the doctor for “well-baby” checks and immunizations–they are both late on those– and Fluffy needs to go have her various exams and shots for Kindergarten. I think I would rather rip every last hair out of my head rather than brave the doctor’s office with all the kiddos. I’ve done it a thousand times, but right now I’m just really not up to it. I have no idea when I’m going to get around to it. I’m such a super mom.

8. I have Barney on downstairs for the boys and a Barbie movie on upstairs for Fluffy. From where I’m sitting, I can hear them both. They sound really funny combined.

9. Diapers rule. Potty training is over-rated. It’s so much harder to go anywhere with a potty-trained child than with a diapered child. Plus, potty trained children have accidents. I’m feeling accidented-out. It’s too late for Fluffy and Bubba, but with the younger boys I’m not going to potty train them until they’re like 12. I hope the other kids don’t tease them too much. Maybe I should look into homeschooling.

10. I need a shower. I probably won’t get one today.

11. I need a nap. I probably won’t get one of those either, unless falling asleep during Barney counts.

12. Hubby and I watched “The Secret” the other night. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it. While I think that a bunch of it is a load of crap, I think that there’s also some real truth in it. What they call the “universe” I call “God” and what they call “believe” I call “Faith” and what they call “ask” I call “Pray.” When you make those little adjustments, I think there’s a lot of truth in it all. But it’s still a bit far-fetched. God loves us. But I don’t think He always gives us exactly what we want, no matter how much Faith we have.

13. Sometimes I want stupid things. Thank goodness God doesn’t give me everything I ask for.

14. Kate was in town last weekend. I still haven’t written anything about it or posted pictures of it, including the pictures of us sneaking into my house–you know, the one the Hubby and I built and then walked away from. As teens, Kate and I used to stalk boys. As grown-ups we stalk houses.

15. This post has taken me nearly two hours to write. And not because it’s been deep or required a lot of effort! I don’t get to just sit down and “blog” because there are so many needy little people all around me. I’ve changed diapers and cleaned up accidents and even given the kids food besides marshmallows and broken up fights and found things to keep each one entertained, all during the time I’ve been writing this post. I know. I’m awesome.

16. It’s time for me to start my “blog rounds.” So many blogs to read, so many comments to leave. I love the blog world. Every time I click on one of my bookmarked blogs, there’s something interesting or funny or insightful to read or see. The internet is cool. I feel so bad for everyone who lived in the last 5000 years without it.

17. Bubba just came running down the stairs carrying a block of cheese and a gigantic butcher’s knife. There’s nothing quite like seeing your 4 year old running with a gigantic butcher’s knife. Rest assured that I have since confiscated the knife and cheese…

18. There’s gotta be a better way to cut cheese than with a butcher’s knife.

19. The little grey cells are about to explode and then there will be oatmeal everywhere. Just add some milk and sugar and it won’t be so bad. And now off I go.

Welcome to Flashback Friday, friends!

You asked for more Matt (you remember, my gay best friend who would come up with ridiculous things for us to do all the time and somehow I always went along with them?) so here’s more Matt.

So, it was my freshman year of college. Matt comes running into my apartment–by then he never knocked anymore.

“We are going to Cedar City,” he announces.

It was already getting dark outside and I wasn’t sure I was up to the three hour drive.

“What are you talking about?” I ask sleepily, hoping he’d get the hint and leave me alone.

“There is a Shakespeare competition going on and WE are going to go watch it.”

Yeah, a Shakespeare competition for HIGH SCHOOLERS. And not just any high schoolers, but kids from OUR old high school, where we still knew a lot of people. I felt a bit too grown up to go hang out with kids who were still in high school. But I also knew that when Matt had an idea, there was no stopping him.

I probably started packing a bag. “Where are we going to sleep?”

“In my car!” he joyfully proclaimed. (Meaning, his mom’s station wagon.)

“NO NO NO!! Matt, NO! Seriously??? Matthew, we need a better plan than that.” I only called him “Matthew” when I was annoyed…

“I don’t have any money, do you?” No. I didn’t. Fine. We’d sleep in his car. I wanted him to believe that he was asking just too much of me, but my non-stop giggling betrayed me. I was kinda looking forward to an adventure.

So we dashed out the door, with me leaving lame excuses for my roommates (my dorm was part of an exclusive in-depth foreign language study program and we weren’t exactly allowed to leave… I know. It was all sorts of screwed up… I can’t tell you how many times I was “visiting a sick friend” or there was a “family emergency” and so on).

On our way out of town, Matt pulls into the hospital. “Matthew…. what are you doing….?”

“Trust me,” he said with that ridiculous grin that made him so completely UNtrustable. So we got out and walked through the hospital. Suddenly Matt whispers, “Stand guard here in the hallway.” Okay… He dashes into a hospital room and comes back out a minute later, giddy in his joy and laughing too hard to stop and tell me what was going on. He grabs my hand and runs down towards his car, dragging me with him.

We get to his car and he starts pulling things out of his pants and shoes and shirt. Surgical gloves. Piles and piles and piles of surgical gloves. “Here, find a place for these! The glove compartment! Shove them into the glove compartment!!!” So I shoved the gloves into the glove compartment, squeezing them into every nook and cranny and was barely able to close the little door.

We had a very pleasant drive, talking and gossipping and swapping boy stories and laughing till we cried, which was our way. At one point, he looked at me and said, “your eyebrows need help.” Yeah, they did. “Let me work on them tonight, okay?” Now that was one area that I DID trust him in. He could make me beautiful. He always did.

We pulled into Cedar City, but got completely lost. Hard to believe, since there were about four streets all together in Cedar City at the time. But we were lost. And so Matt was pulling all sorts of stunts trying to figure out where we were, including a billion illegal u-turns and running red lights. Finally he pulled over, turned his lights off, and went to ask for directions. He came back a second later, still a bit lost, and headed to turn right, but changed his mind and turned left from the right turn lane on a red light. Through all of this, I was, of course, SHRIEKING!!! And then the sirens joined me. We were being pulled over.

“License and registration, please,” said the friendly cop. Matt goes for his license, and I go for the registration. In the glove compartment. I open the little door, forgetting what I had worked so hard to cram in there, and POOF. Surgical gloves explode out and fill the whole car. The cop just stares on in bewilderment.

“Uh… his dad’s a doctor,” I said, because for some reason it made the whole thing seem a little bit more logical. Because OF COURSE doctors keep surgical gloves stockpiled in their glove compartments. I watched Matt’s face turning purple–he was trying so hard not to laugh. So was I. We were both holding our breath and digging our fingernails into our arms and anything else we could think of.

“Do you know why I pulled you over tonight?” asks copper.

“No, sir,” Matt said with pure innocence.

“I’m pulling you over because you don’t have your lights on.”

And that was it. We both completely lost it. Matt collapsed against the steering wheel and I collapsed against him. Since we’d entered Cedar City, we had done ten thousand illegal things, but we were being pulled over for forgetting to turn the lights back on.

Copper let us go with a warning–forgetting to turn your lights back on wasn’t any big deal. WHY he didn’t impound us for drunk driving, I’ll never know. We weren’t drunk, though I think that spending too much time together should also qualify as intoxication. I mean, really. At this point, I don’t think there was much difference. The symptoms were all the same.

We never did find our “high school friends” that night. Matt pulled into the parking lot at McDonalds and we slept in the back of the station wagon there. SOOOO classy. But before we fell asleep, he said, “your eyebrows.”

“Oh yeah. Okay. Have at ‘em, boy.”

But it was dark and his only instrument of torture was a disposable shaver. It was only a second later that he said, “uh… don’t be mad….”

“WHAT?? WHAT DID YOU DO????”

“Um, I shaved your eyebrows off. Gone. They’re all gone.”

He then attempted to draw them back on. With black eye liner. It didn’t work, but it was the best I had. I looked horrible. And here’s the proof (this pic was taken a few days later, but the eyebrows are drawn with the same black eyeliner. BADLY drawn.)

Matt and I did eventually find our friends the next day. I don’t remember anyone commenting on my eyebrows. Maybe high schoolers were too nice, or perhaps too intimidated at that point, to mock me.

And, before you ask, I NEVER DID FIND OUT what the surgical gloves were for. But, if I know Matt, he didn’t waste them. He put them to a good (though very likely bizarre) use.

Hey everyone! I know that you’re never going to believe this, but I’m doing another interview today!!! Some of you are thinking, “doesn’t she do one of these every other day or something?” And no, Snippy Gentle Readers, I don’t do them every other day. Today’s is #3 and, honestly, I thought I was quite finished with interviews. But, you see, when I saw that the mighty Gunfighter was doing the interviewing, I jumped on board. I simply couldn’t pass up that kind of honor. And so, without further ado, I bring you his awesome questions and, perhaps, a mediocre answer or two.

Tell us about where you live now. What’s it like? Tell us about the people that live there, and the things you and your family do for recreation. Tell us if you plan to live where you are forever, or if you have plans to change locations.

I live in the US now–Utah, to be specific. This is where I “grew up” oddly enough–we always had a house in Utah, no matter where else we happened to be living or travelling. I never expected to come back here. And I certainly never expected to like it. But I do. We own a home here, which we’re desperately trying to sell, and we’ll be buying another home here (about an hour away–closer to Hubby’s work). So yeah, it’s a pretty permanent home for now. As for recreation, my hubby and kids love to ski, but they don’t get to do it very much. I take the kids to museums and libraries and parks. Nothing too exciting or out of the ordinary–which is, perhaps, the appeal right now!

Since my life revolves around eating… tell me about your favorite foods, what things do you cook well? What is your favorite comfort food? What kinds of food (if any) make you physically happy?

Much to my surprise, and the surprise of everyone who knows me, I’m one darn good cook. Hahaha. Apparently I make a fabulous roast, but I wouldn’t know because I can’t eat red meat (no, not a religious thing. I don’t have the enzyme to digest it. When I try to eat it, I get very sick!) I make lots and lots of chicken dishes, because I can eat that. I love Thai food, Indian food, and Mexican food, and I cook all of that, but my personal favorite is Italian food. There’s nothing on this planet that can’t be fixed with a plate of penne.

Tell us about your religious background? Are you an adherent of any religion or denomination? Do you regularly attend services?

I am a devout member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (read: Mormon). I not only attend, but I’m often a teacher or speaker. Hubby is often in a leadership role. (Mormons don’t have a paid clergy–the leaders have normal lives with normal jobs and then lead on top of that.) We have truly dedicated ourselves and our lives to it. I don’t talk about it here too much–not because I’m the least bit ashamed or because it’s any kind of a secret, but because I want everyone to feel welcome here. Because everyone is welcome here! I feel like I can reach a broader “audience” by talking about basic morals and everyone can be uplifted, rather than coming across as shoving my religion down people’s throats and having people put off by it. That’s not to say that I don’t like religious blogs–I do! I actually read quite a few of them, Mormon and Not Mormon.

Woah! There’s been all together TOO MUCH SERIOUSNESS AROUND HERE!!!! Do you know what that means? That means that it is time to pull out some of the MEME’s I’ve been tagged with, and that I’ve just been sitting on.

Who’s ready for some Chinese Torture Freezetag?

See, I gotta do this one today because I’ve already been tagged for it three times (by Shauna, Gina, and Cherann.– And Butrfly has been threatening the taggy tagginess too, so I gotta beat her…)

So, here’s the scoop on this Meme:

1. I will write 10 interesting things about myself.
2. I’ll tag 10 people.
3. If you’ve been tagged, you do your own list and tag 10 more people. (”No tag backs.”)

Sounds simple enough–except for that whole “interesting” part…

1. I’m the youngest of six children (4 girls, 2 boys). My mother is the antithesis of “maternal” so I really don’t know how she managed! I love coming from a big family and my siblings and parents are some of my very bestest friends.
2. I speak four languages (English, German, Spanish, Italian) but I have studied ten all together.
3. I have lived on four continents (North America, South America, Europe, Asia) and have spent significant time on a fifth (Africa).
4. I had all of my babies without a drop of pain medication. Three of the four were born at home.
5. Before you think I’m trying to be superwoman because of #4, you should know that one of the biggest motivating factors behind my decision for natural childbirth is that I’m extremely resistant to pain medication, so rather than ask for an epidural and discover too late that it wouldn’t work on me, I decided to be prepared for a natural birth.
6. Even though I was a “straight A” student and considered “brilliant” (what a joke!!) I dropped out of high school about 6 weeks before graduation, to the utter shock and horror of my parents and my teachers.
7. I attended Brigham Young University on full-ride scholarship, despite #6.
8. I received perfect scores (36) on both the English and Reading Comprehension sections of the ACT–pretty hard to believe when I see all the typos I leave in comments and posts all over the place!!!!
9. My senior year of high school I had a leading role in all of the school plays except for one. And yes, I’m STILL BITTER about that one that I didn’t get, even though it was widely acknowledged that I’d earned it. Hahaha. (That was eleven + years ago… How sad is it that I’m still bitter about that?)
10. For a time, I was a theater major in college. It wasn’t until I changed my major to something else that I actually started getting into plays in college. I never did get a college degree, though, because I still haven’t figured out what I want to be when I grow up!!

And now, to spread a little linky lovin’.

1. Butrfly NEENER NEENER!!!!
2. Des
3. Ms. Whiskeymarie
4. Super Des
5. Jenn in Holland
6. Blonde Canary
7. Wonderful World of Des
8. The Bakers Rock
9. Diggity Des
10. Emma Sometimes

(Okay, I don’t know what is up with the link-colors up there, and I know that if I took the time to fix it, I could. But you know what? I’m NOT GOING TO. But rest assured, gentle readers, they are all links whether they’re green or purple…)

I tried to do a wide variety of linkies here, so that some of you can get to know others of you, because you’re all FABULOUS!

(And yes, I realize that Super Des is, perhaps, on the list more than, uh, once. But see, I promised her a little extra linky love recently, so I had to deliver!)

Others have mentioned the depths of despair and rage that home-selling can take you to. But, see, I’m very happy-go-lucky and ridiculously optimistic and little pebbles along the way don’t get me down.

Until last night.

I think Hubby can count the times on his fingers that he’s seen me cry–and almost every single time has been while I was pregnant or freshly postpartum (no, I’m not, so don’t even ask, because there’s no telling what I might do when pregnancy is insinuated.) I think last night counts as two. Hubby is a brave man. He has no idea what to do with a blubbering woman, but he handled himself with great dignity. He rubbed my back and listened to me blurt out stupid things during little breaks in my sobbing.

I’ve learned something about myself. I’m okay with hard work, I’m okay with having to sacrifice comfort and dignity, I’m okay with waiting and waiting for the right buyer to come around. I’m even okay with being broke because of it all.

But I’m not okay with being laughed at.

Hubby argues that I wasn’t being laughed at, but rather that I was the recipient of “constructive criticism.” And that, Gentle Readers, is a bunch of crap. This was an attack that was made personal and there was snickering involved–probably rather widespread snickering.

I screamed out, during this little breakdown of mine last night, that I’m doing EVERYTHING RIGHT!!! And when a trial is thrown my way, I get through it with kindness and patience. One blow after another, and I’m still a trooper. And rather than rewards, I get kicked a little harder the next time. And I act like a big girl and get through. So I get kicked even harder, as though the universe is searching for that one weak spot that will finally break me.

Okay, Universe! You’ve found my weakness! Kudos to you! You got me! Yes I’m a prideful, self-absorbed baby whose feelings have officially been trampled and broken. Now we all know. Well done.

And, suddenly, I’m NOT okay with the things I’d been okay with. The dream house being taken away from me? Nope. Not okay anymore. The sale price that has been lowered so low, despite all the money we’ve pumped into it? Not okay anymore. The hours of hard work I put in, and then the waiting and waiting and waiting? Nope. And, oh yeah, that baby that I lost, who I didn’t even know at the time that I was pregnant with, who surely died from all the heavy lifting and painting and crazy hours I was keeping? I handled that with the patience of Job, even through all the bleeding and hormonal swings and everything else involved. I was so okay with it. But I’m just NOT anymore!

But that’s not really me talking. Just my hurt feelings. Because I am okay with all of it. And I’ll get through this one too. Funny that this would turn out to be the straw that broke my back. I guess I really am learning a lot about myself.

And that’s probably the whole point.