Writing, Pedicures, Mullets, Missionaries and Regret

I’ve been pretty busy getting ready for a writer’s conference I’m attending this week, so my blog has suffered from some neglect. As have my children.

But there’s a lotta stuff that’s gotta get done before you can jet off to spend three days with a bunch of authors: some famous, some not. Stuff like cleaning the house–but still not the floor because what would we do with all of our socks if we didn’t use them to keep our feet clean while walking across dirty floors?

And then there was the pedicure and eyebrow shaping (which is a fancy way of saying “fixing my monobrow”) that had to happen. Plus the outfits to be picked out, including the one I’m going to wear to pitch my book I would like to be published. Hopefully my clothes alone will convince him to read the manuscript, because I haven’t really prepared the pitching part of my pitch.

I also had to spend some time going through the syllabus and picking out which classes I want to attend. Even though I’ll probably change my mind once I get there.

Then there was the episode of Who Do You Think You Are? that I had to catch up on. Because I love to see famous peoples’ hearts turned to their fathers. Especially when they are famous people like Rob Lowe who is nice to look at. But I’m sure I would have been just as moved watching an ugly man hop on a plane to both Washington D.C. and Germany to do a little family history research that could have just as easily been done online.

And maybe there was some writing that had to get done to take with me to boot camp. Which, contrary to what I first thought, is not an exercise class that makes your body hurt but an exercise class that rips apart your writing so it can be better. And maybe if I had done the writing before the painting of my toenails, I wouldn’t have been quite so stressed out the last few days.

But this color on these toes has put a smile on my face. Sometimes you gotta go for inspiration before perspiration.

And no. The dirty floor under my feet is not my own but that of the Salt Lake airport where I am waiting for one of the famous authors, Melanie Jacobson, who is on a later flight than mine. Which gives me an hour and a half to blog. And also to people watch.

So far I’ve seen one mullet and two missionaries being welcomed home. I mean the missionaries, not the mullet. Because no mullet should be welcomed in any way.

But missionaries definitely should be. Which is why I love flying into SLC on a Wednesday night. The two tonight came home from Tonga in their white shirts and ties and those skirt things that Polynesian people wear  that I don’t know the name of. And flip-flops.

That’s my kinda mission.

And the blonde missionary and his family keep standing here reunionizing. Like maybe they’re not going to see each other again for another two years. But it’s pretty fun to watch because other people–Polynesians mostly–keep coming up to him and asking him about his mission. One lady asked him if he had come home from Hawaii because that’s where her daughter is serving.

And I wanted to yell to her that I know the mission president in Hawaii because his daughter is one of my best friends. Then we would have had a nice chat where I would tell her what great people the mission president and his wife are and how they have one heck of a great daughter.

But I didn’t. Because I’m blogging. Which I haven’t done in a while, but it probably shouldn’t be an excuse not to tell a mother who misses her daughter that she’s in good hands.

Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda.

Pictures I should have taken on our seven hour drive to Vegas that usually takes four…

1. The decrepit water park in Newberry Springs. When it was built on the side of the trash strewn highway outside of the hellhole that is Barstow, California, hubby and I thought it was a stupid idea.

We were right.

It closed within a year.

And every time we drive past it now it looks more and more like something from a Scooby Doo episode. I would live for the gang to solve the mystery behind who the numbskull is that thought that was a good idea.

I can’t help but envy the optimism it took though.

2. The World’s Tallest Thermometer at the Big Boy in the pit stop (I really wanted to call it another kind of stop that rhymes with pit, but this is a family blog. As in, my 11 year old reads it) that is Baker, California. It used to be an interesting landmark that told us just how hot or cold it can get in the desert.

Now it’s The World’s Tallest Tower of Broken Lightbulbs and Dreams. And a preview of what the world will look like after the Zombie appocalypse.

3. The man on the side of the road standing next to his Delorean with the doors up. The. Doors. Up.

Because if you drive a Delorean, there is no other way to stand outside it than with the doors up.

I can only assume with all the upheaval in Libya, his plutonium delivery was delayed, thereby leaving him stranded by the side of the road.

In My Day…

You know what I missed out on in fifth grade?

Mean girls.

Sure I had some tiffs with friends and there was one girl we didn’t always include (I’m sorry, Heidi. It’s one of my bigger regrets in life).

But I don’t remember any girls who were mean just to be mean.

I do remember the Day of the Great Cow Slaughter.

My brother remembers it too. He would have been six or seven at the time.

Kids stood three deep watching through the chain link fence that separated the school playground from the neighbor’s cow pasture. Mr. Neighbor Man accomodated our curiosity by doing the whole thing a mere two feet away from us, ignoring that other half acre of pasture he had with its hidden corners.

He shot the cow in the head. I remember it was with a rifle, but I could be wrong. Whatever he used it was quick. One minute the cow was standing, the next minute it was down.

I didn’t see it again (I was short even then and did not have a prime spot at the fence) until after much cranking of the pulley in the back of Neighbor Man’s truck, the cow hung by it’s back hooves on a giant hook. Which has a name that I would know had I achieved my dream of being a cowgirl. But I didn’t, so I don’t.

I watched as the neighbor split the cow open. My only thought was, “I wonder if it’s true cows have five stomachs” then being disappointed that the guts fell out in a giant, gray fleshy ball covered in wet grass. It was a little like watching my dad dump the grass out of the lawn mower bag. If the grass were covered in cow cud.

There may have been blood. But I don’t think so. I’m the girl who gets grossed out by band-aids, so I think I’d remember blood.

In fact, the whole thing is just a funny little grade school memory to me. A product of my childhood in Idaho. Made even more curious by the fact this took place while we lived in Boise–the capitol of that fair state–and not in the farm town we’d later move to.

Because, really, how many kids get to watch a cow slaughtering in between playing handball and crack the whip?

Not my kids They still play crack the whip and handball, but I can’t even imagine the uproar if the kids at their school were exposed to a real life lesson on Where Your Hamburger Comes From.

They can listen to Katy Perry, wear daisy dukes, read books about kids fighting each other to the death, then see the big screen depiction of it. Their parents will let them dress like adults, talk like adults, and think they’re adults.

What they won’t do is give them responsibilities or make them take any.

And you know what?

If I had my druthers, I’d let my kids view a backyard cow slaughtering over being exposed to these kids any day.

Because those coddled kids are mean.

Especially the girls.

The World’s Cutest Dog and My New Best Friend

So, good news…

This dog I’ve never heard of but has four million followers and a book deal is still alive.

Wish I could have posted the actual video, but I don’t know how to do that. Even after wasting an hour trying to figure it out. And that’s after I spent an hour trying to figure out how to download an audio book to my iphone or Kindle.

Failed there too.

But other good things have happened this week. Like this…

I was standing in a really long line waiting to turn in some paperwork–which it turns out, I didn’t have all of so I will be doing the same thing again– and the lady who was collecting it said to me, “You look really familiar. Do I know you?”

Me: shrug
Her: “You probably get that all the time, don’t you? People think you look like a movie star.”
Me: “You are my new best friend.”

Made my whole week. Also made me think I should not wear sweats more often.

And I’m pretending that there’s no possibility she was thinking I look like Sarah Jessica Parker. Who I’m currently watching in a movie instead of sweeping/vacuuming my floors. But I’m not wasting time, I’m doing research. I’m learning how to do everything from I Don’t Know How She Does It.

And I think it’s working because I’m watching and blogging at the same time, which seems to be going really well.

Or not.

But also it’s raining outside, thereby negating any motivation I may have had to do anything besides watch a movie.

And my kids are gone so I don’t have to be responsible today.

I will have to keep wearing shoes to walk across my floor however. Because dirt on the bottom of your feet just feels gross.

LDS Blogfest: Only Upon the Principles of Righteousness

Oooh, I’m totally late posting this. My only excuse is that it is Spring Break and clearly my brain knows it.

So I’m participating in this LDS Writer Blogfest which means I’ll be writing another post about our General Conference. Sorry if you’re conferenced out, but read on.

When I was twenty-three, just after my husband and I graduated from the BYU, we found out I was pregnant. We were very excited because this fit in nicely with our plans of when we wanted to start a family. My husband was about to start law school in Cleveland, Ohio, which meant a move across the country, but no big deal. I had a teaching degree so I knew it would be super easy to find a job in another state. And then once the baby came, well…

We didn’t really think that far ahead to consider what we’d do.

Sadly, we didn’t have to because I miscarried a few weeks later before we even moved to Cleveland.

And then I miscarried again a year and a half later.

And again a couple years later after we’d moved to California.

But then we finally did have a successful pregnancy. And by successful I mean one in which I threw up at least three times a day for six months, yet still managed to balloon to the size of a blimp before going through four days of induced labor until my doctor finally performed a C-section.

It’s not really how I had imagined things would go before I got pregnant. But when I held my daughter  for the first time, I decided to stop being mad at God for the miscarriages and start being grateful he knew better than me when I should actually have children.

Letting go of control is a lesson I have to learn over and over. I’m kinda slow when it comes to that one. Which is why Heavenly Father sent me that first baby and why he made me wait for her.

She doesn’t like to be told what to do. I remember trying to nurse her one day thinking I knew for sure she needed to eat. But she wouldn’t do it. I was so frustrated with her until I got the very clear impression that I would not be able to control this child Heavenly Father had sent me.

I have to remind myself of that moment A LOT. Especially now that baby is eleven and almost as big as me. I can’t pick her up and put her in time out or back in bed or anywhere else I want her to go. I can’t force her out the door to school, I can’t threaten to spank her if she’s naughty.

I don’t have control over her. I can give her a consequence if she breaks a rule, but I can’t make her follow the rules.

Which is a real struggle for me. So Elder Wilson’s talk Only Upon the Principles of Righteousness was a good reminder of that first moment of inspiration I had eleven years ago as I tried to make my too full daughter eat. Especially this part:

This scripture says we must lead by “principles of righteousness.” Such principles apply to all leaders in the Church as well as to all fathers and mothers in their homes.3 We lose our right to the Lord’s Spirit and to whatever authority we have from God when we exercise control over another person in an unrighteous manner.4 We may think such methods are for the good of the one being “controlled.” But anytime we try to compel someone to righteousness who can and should be exercising his or her own moral agency, we are acting unrighteously. When setting firm limits for another person is in order, those limits should always be administered with loving patience and in a way that teaches eternal principles.
We simply cannot force others to do the right thing. The scriptures make it clear that this is not God’s way. Compulsion builds resentment. It conveys mistrust, and it makes people feel incompetent. Learning opportunities are lost when controlling persons pridefully assume they have all the right answers for others. The scriptures say that “it is the nature and disposition of almost all men” to engage in this “unrighteous dominion,”5 so we should be aware that it’s an easy trap to fall into. Women too may exercise unrighteous dominion, though the scriptures identify the problem especially with men.
Unrighteous dominion is often accompanied by constant criticism and the withholding of approval or love. Those on the receiving end feel they can never please such leaders or parents and that they always fall short. Wise parents must weigh when children are ready to begin exercising their own agency in a particular area of their lives. But if parents hold on to all decision-making power and see it as their “right,” they severely limit the growth and development of their children.
Yep. That’s what I’ll be working on.
Here are a few more blogs to hop to if you want some other Conference insights.

Amanda Sowards

Angie Lofthouse

Ben Spendlove

Cami Checketts

Charity Bradford

Danyelle Ferguson

Giselle Abreu

Julia Keanini

Julie Coulter Bellon

Kasey Tross

Kayeleen Hamblin

Kelly Bryson

Krista Van Dolzer

Laura Johnston

Melanie Standford

Rachelle Christensen

Rebecca Belliston

Sierra Gardner

Stephanie Worlton

Stop It!


I have been too busy cutting words from paper to put any words on paper (or screen, if we want to get literal here). Plus, this other thing called life kept getting in between me and my blog. But I’m back, ready to share the profound wisdom you’ve all been missing from me.

Are those crickets chirping?

Okay, so “profound wisdom” may be a little optimistic. So let me just tell you what’s been on my mind this week. And I’m sorry if it sounds like ranting. That’s how my mind works. And, also, it’s going to get a bit Mormon-y up in here. You’ve been warned.

For the not-so-Mormon among my fair readers, twice a year we have what’s called a General Conference wherein our prophet (yeah, we’ve got one of those. Because we’re all Old Testament like that), apostles (we get a little New Testament too), and other “pastors” speak to us in four two hour sessions on the first Saturday and Sunday of April and October.

One of the best parts of this conference is that we get to go to church in our pajamas. Because it’s in our family rooms. Or wherever else we keep the TV. So I spent much of my weekend (okay, I confess, only Sunday morning) watching this conference. Which is always awesome and uplifting, so I’m bummed I didn’t get to watch more of it. I heart DVR though, because it’s got it all saved for me.

Anyway, one talk I did hear is this one, The Merciful Obtain Mercy by President Dieter F. Uctdorf, which rocked. Totally. Like I wanted to hold a lighter up and sway back and forth. And so did a lot of other people who heard it. But that’s not how we really work here in the LDS church. We sit and listen and don’t even “amen” until the end of a sermon. And clapping? Forget about it.

But.. we do take snippets of what was said and post, pin, tweet, and sometimes even vinyl it (I’ve got a vinyled sign myself that says “Find Joy in the Journey”, so no judgment here).

So the most popular quote from this conference seems to be one that comes from this part of President Uctdorf’s talk:

This topic of judging others could actually be taught in a two-word sermon. When it comes to hating, gossiping, ignoring, ridiculing, holding grudges, or wanting to cause harm, please apply the following:
Stop it!
It’s that simple. We simply have to stop judging others and replace judgmental thoughts and feelings with a heart full of love for God and His children. God is our Father. We are His children. We are all brothers and sisters. I don’t know exactly how to articulate this point of not judging others with sufficient eloquence, passion, and persuasion to make it stick. I can quote scripture, I can try to expound doctrine, and I will even quote a bumper sticker I recently saw. It was attached to the back of a car whose driver appeared to be a little rough around the edges, but the words on the sticker taught an insightful lesson. It read, “Don’t judge me because I sin differently than you.”
Now if you’re thinking it’s the Stop It! part that’s getting all the attention, you’re wrong.
It’s that last quote. The one from the bumper sticker: “Don’t judge me because I sin differently than you.”
Which is an awesome bumper sticker. And now, thanks to the magic of technology, you can go to various LDS websites and print out a cute copy of it that looks like you scrap booked/crafted it yourself. I’m guessing you’ll be able to purchase a darling sign with it the next time you’re in the craft section of Deseret Book. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
But here’s my problem(s) with it:
1. I feel sorry for that guy with the bumper sticker. He found an awesome mantra and then the exact audience (I’m assuming) it was intended for went and adopted it as their own. Not only that, but they cuted it up too.*
2. When we post/pin/vinyl this, who are we doing it for? Are we asking other Mormons not to judge us? I’m just wondering, because we are good at talking about sin in the abstract–like how to avoid it or overcome it–but not necessarily at talking about the sins we’re struggling with. We tend to try and keep those on the down low.
3. If we’re posting/pinning/vinyling this for people outside our own religion, that makes even less sense since a) we usually try to put on a picture perfect face for them and b) what we consider to be sins a lot of other people don’t.
4. If we’re going to reduce the words of an apostle to a memorable quip, it seems like Stop It! is both easier to remember and better encompasses the message of his talk. 
Anyway, maybe I’m over-thinking this. And I’m not blind to the irony of my writing a judgmental post about people misusing a quote about judging others.
I guess the thing I’m really struggling with is how to skip over the whole pin/post/vinyl thing and engrave this message on my heart. Because that’s really where it needs to be written.
* Just because I don’t like the cutesy printable of this quote, doesn’t mean I don’t love this site and all the other printables it creates. It is a fantastic blog.

Things On My To Do List That I Probably Won’t Do

1. Stop ruining my 11 year old’s life.
2. Figure out why the one sport my husband watches on TV is the one loved by everyone else in the world except Americans. Does he hate America?
3. Do less.
4. Figure out a way to make it look like I do more.
5. Stop calling Scramble and Words with Friends a productive use of my time.
6. Grow a super awesome garden and learn how to can my plethora of produce.
7. Nag less. (I would need the cooperation of those I nag for this).
8. Sleep through a Monday. Any Monday. They all stink.
9. Follow through on my threat to go on a looong vacation the next time my kids fight.
10. Find that calendar of daily organizational chores I printed out in January.
11. Find time to find that list.
12. Care enough about having an organized junk drawer to find the time to find that list so I know what day I was supposed to do that job.
13. Stop making to do lists for other people.
14. Start making real to do lists for myself.
15. Do the things on my For Reals This Time To Do List.

And The Lucky Winner Is… (Not The Girls With The Hair)

Midnight marked the end of my Lucky Leprechaun Give Away. Which means I not only have a winner, but can also finally take down all my St. Patrick’s Day decorations.

Which basically means throwing Girl 3’s leprechaun in the outside trash so she doesn’t find it. Again. (I tried Friday, but she saw it and said we still needed it since St. Patrick’s Day wasn’t actually until Saturday).

If you’re dying to know which one was hers, I’ll tell you. Drumroll please…

Picture number 3! Only two people didn’t guess that one, which means they either didn’t read my post carefully or they’d already been celebrating St. Patrick (and his supernatural ability to drive snakes out of a snake-free country) in the traditional Irish manner of getting drunk at a parade. 

So good job folks! And, thank you all for participating. I wish I could afford to purchase Melanie’s book for each one of you, but alas, our leprechaun trap failed once again. Thus we remain pot-of-goldless and I can choose only one winner.

So let’s give a big shout out to…

Anne Marie!!!!
Who, as luck would have it, is a homie of mine, having also been born and raised in fabulous Burley, Idaho.
I know, I know. Not fair, right? She wins a fabulous book AND has the distinction of being a native Burleyite (Burleyian?). If only all of us had that kind of good fortune, there’d be no more need for leprechauns or traps with which to catch those sneaky bastards (pardon my Irish).
If I lived closer to my sister (i.e. back in Burley), who was a high school friend of Anne Marie’s,  I would round up embarrassing old pictures of our fair winner and post them. Although, I think big hair had gone out of style by the time she was in high school. So her old pics probably aren’t nearly as embarrassing as mine. 
Oh, who am I kidding.
Big hair never goes out of style in Idaho/Utah!

Case in point, a few pics I found on the intrenet when I typed in Utah hair:

The There-Wasn’t-Room-Under-My-Bed-So-I’m-Storing-My-72 Hour Emergency Kit-Under-My-Hair Look
The SpongeBarbie-SquareHead
The I-Carry-All-My-Pregnancy-Weight-In-My-Hair Look

Now, maybe you think I can’t be trusted since 1) I don’t live in Utah and 2) I didn’t actually take these pics, so they could be decades old.

And you’re right. I really can’t be trusted (did you see how I snuck that curse word in when you weren’t even expecting it?).

However, I spent a month last summer in Northern Utah and saw women sportin’ these same hair-do’s.

And I saw it again when I went back at Christmas.

And, I’m pretty sure I’ll see it again the next time I’m there.

It’s a thing. A Southern Idaho/Utah thing.

So keep it up girls! You’re beautiful even with the giant heads!

And congratulations Anne Marie! I’ve got your personalized and signed copy of Twitterpated ready to stick in the mail!

This Is SOOOO Much Better Than A Leprechaun Trap

You know what’s better than leprechaun traps?

Well, pretty much anything, but particularly books. Especially when they come with parties.

Like the one I had last weekend for my friend, LDS author Melanie Jacobson. That’s right, I know her. Jealous? Well just wait until you see the pics from the book launch party I threw her:

Look at all these yummy eats!

Melanie’s not actually a giant. I am just short. And she’s wearing heels, so you know, no fair, right?
Also, I’m not pregnant, this is just a terrible picture of me. And maybe I ate too many of those yummy treats.
See all these cute birdie sugar cookies? I made them. Look at the next picture to see why.
See the birdies on the top right side of the book? That’s right. I made them to match. I am totally pinning this.
 You know, for all those other people on Pinterest who may need ideas for throwing a book launch party for Melanie.

See all those books? You couldn’t by the end of the night.

I’m in pretty tight with the author, so I’ve already read Twitterpated and, just like her other books, it did not disappoint. If you want to get a little taste of it, you can go here. My favorite part though, next to the whole career-minded-girl-too-busy-for-a-social-life-falls-in-love plot line, is the acknowledgments page. Because I’m in there. Even though I didn’t even know her when she wrote this book, so she couldn’t have known I’d be throwing her a party. She’s just nice like that.

Since I couldn’t invite all of you to the party, I’m giving you a chance to win one of Melanie’s books as part of this blog hop thing-a-ma-jigger I’m doing.

This thing: View luckylep3.jpg in slide show(and if you go here you’ll find lots of other blogs giving away lots of other fun prizes!)

The rules for entry are pretty simple. The first one is to leave a comment for one chance to win.

The second is a little trickier (but, really, not much). Since this is a leprechaun giveaway (though you don’t actually get a leprechaun) I’m throwing in a little leprechaun challenge.

Remember the leprechaun trap my Girl 3 had to build? Well, after a frantic text to my friend Carrie asking her if she had any fake gold (because I knew she would. If only she had answered my text sooner) and then a last minute trip to Target–which has an astonishing lack of St. Patrick’s Day celebratory crap–and then to Party City, we were able to round up some supplies for the trap.

That’s after I had to dig through old scrap booking supplies to find green paper and then brave the smells and killer dust bunnies under Girl 1’s bed to retrieve a shoe box which I must have been inspired by St. Patrick himself to find. Girl 3 didn’t have to do too much searching to find green paint to use for covering the  box. Although the garage floor ended up a lot greener than the box did.

She came up with the idea of a trap door that the leprechaun would fall through as he ran for the pile of “gold” (Rolos and those candy coins) at one end of the box. An idea– Girl 1 was kind enough to point out– that “totally copied” the one she did in first grade. She also helped by using the words “copy cat” and “little brat.”

Dad implemented Girl 3’s idea by cutting a whole in the top of the box. Which made it less of a secret “trap door” and more of a very noticeable hole. But he also covered the box in the green paper I really didn’t want to cut out and glue, so I’m not complaining. I did do all the glue gunning of the candy to the top of the box however.

Then Girl 3 decorated the box with pictures she drew of leprechauns and their houses. And also sugarplum fairies. There’s really only so much you can do with leprechauns before you’ve got to throw in some other holiday figures.

Girl 1’s helpfulness continued the next morning when she drew fangs on the fairy and the leprechauns and then decided to eat some of the “gold.” Which meant some frantic last minute re-glue gunning for me and then some more gluing for the teacher when Girl 3 didn’t even make it out of the car before all the candy came off.

Anywho, all that is just a long way for me to tell you how you can be entered five, yes FIVE, times into the contest.

Along with your comment, leave your guess as to which of these leprechaun traps is Girl 3’s


# 2

# 3

# 4

So you got that?
1) Leave a comment for one entry
2) Guess which box is Girl 3’s for four more entries (I’ll give you another hint: it’s not going on Pinterest).

BUT! That’s not all folks!

If you become a follower of my blog today I’ll enter your name one more time!
That’s a grand total of six entries for the low low price of guessing, typing, and clicking!

The contest runs from March 17 – 22, so don’t wait. You don’t want to miss this opportunity to win a fantastic book AND to read more exciting blog posts about other “fun” holiday homework assignments!

Enter Now!

My Beef (Not Corned) With St. Patrick

You know why I don’t like St. Patrick’s Day?

It’s not because I’m neither Irish or Catholic — though I think that’s reason enough not to celebrate it. Along with the fact that corned beef and cabbage sounds pretty disgusting. And what kind of holiday doesn’t have good food? Not one worth celebrating, I’ll tell you that much.*

But I could look past all of those things and still at least break out something green to wear** if it weren’t for the stupid leprechauns and the traps to catch them that my kids teachers think it would be fun for us to build.

They’re not. Just like it wasn’t fun to build those stupid farms when my oldest girls went through kindergarten. The ones with the instructions that said “no plastic animals” and “must be done by the child.”

Yeah, right. You know how many parents followed those instructions?

Two. My husband and me. And we thought we were cheating when we let Girl 1 help Girl 2 when it was her turn. Until we got to the open house and saw all the freshly painted wood farms with the cute plastic animals. Girl 2’s sad half painted milk carton and little horses hand shaped from clay with only her sister’s help, looked even sadder next to the farms of kids whose parents care.

Especially since most of her horses’ legs had broken upon transport from home to school. We had to tell people Girl 2 had actually made a glue farm and her broken-legged horses were laying on their sides waiting to be put down. And wasn’t that clever of her to think of that?

Not our proudest moment as parents.

So you can imagine our excitement when, due to budget cuts, Girl 3 didn’t have to make a farm last year when she was in kindergarten. And I guess we got a little too comfortable and assumed there would be no first grade leprechaun trap.


The paper came home last week. And I read it and groaned. Which sounded a lot like Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire, except I yelled “Leperchaaaaaaaaauns!!” instead of “Stellllll-A!”

And then I “forgot” about it.

Luckily Girl 3 remembered.   Which means she and Daddy will get some project time together tomorrow. After I remind him that I built the last one that required either a lever or a pulley. Both of which he insisted he not only didn’t know how to construct, but also wasn’t entirely sure what they were. So probably a good thing he went into law and not construction.

But this time he doesn’t have an excuse. The assignment is only to build a trap. And since he’s the one who ruined any chance of cheating by throwing away Girl 2’s trap with all my fancy pulleys AND levers (because I’m an overachiever), he’s the one who gets to build our last leprechaun trap ever.
And this one better work because if Girl 3 doesn’t bring home some leprechauns, I may have to do like those one guys did to Christmas (according to Glen Beck) and declare war on St. Patrick’s Day.

Until then, Happy Leprechaun Trapping to me and a wish to all of you that you never have to do the same.

* Except this year I am celebrating it by doing a blog hop and giving away this book:

So come back Friday for a chance to win in my Lucky Leprechaun Giveaway Hop!

** To be honest, I spend a lot of  time in my green Monterrey Bay sweatshirt, so it shouldn’t be too much of a sacrifice to wear it on Saturday. Again. With my sweat pants.