How do you deal with your Peppery Potatoes? The Blame Game, or the Chicago Way?

It's Monday! Five more days til the weekend!

Do you ever have a foreboding feeling? You know, that feeling where you're sure if you spent the time to wash a potato, wrap it in tin foil, and bake it for an hour, you'd just end up pouring an entire bottle of pepper on it?

(Okay, I'm not saying it was any act of culinary mastery making the potato or anything, but still... that's the most cooking I'll ever do in a year. So what may seem like a simple baked potato is really like everyone else's Thanksgiving dinner.)

I was so mad. My first instinct was to blame someone. I accused Sam of leaving the pepper container facing the wrong way, so I had no choice but to open the "pour" side instead of the "sprinkle" side. 

He said that's like blaming him for the history of violence in the Middle East, to which I responded by saying that his comparison was as ridiculous as blaming me for Eve's Original Sin. This is basically the pattern for all of our fights.

But if we've learned anything from Washington politics, it's that nobody likes a cry baby. We all have our "peppery potatoes" to deal with. Mine just happens to be an actual peppery potato.

The question is, what are you prepared to do about it? I plan to deal with mine the "Chicago Way".

My potato made me sneeze. Not only that, I had to find something else to eat. I practically ended up in the hospital.

So, I sent one of his to the morgue. My target was the tater-tot, part of the potato family. (Truth be told, the tater tots had been sitting in my freezer for over two years, so I didn't feel any Catholic guilt over throwing the bag away). 

How was your weekend? Did you have any peppery potatoes to put out? Did you bring a knife to a gunfight?

Hard and Fast Evidence I'm Losing my Mind... oh wait... pretty flowers.

TGIF, because I'm going out of my MF mind.

My good friend Heather sent me a facebook message the other day:

"I left my Sig Sauer hat at your house."

She said it like she expected me to know what she was talking about, which I didn't. Was it a hat? Or a saying? Or code for something? So I googled Sig Sauer hat and two things popped up. 

This:

and This:

My first thought was, ha ha, it's a gun joke, and Heather knows how much I hate guns. But then I thought it's not really that funny, and Heather knows funny, and so maybe she really did leave this so-called "Sig Sauer hat" at my house. So I ask her what it looks like. Because yes, I really am that stupid.

She's all, "It's black with the words 'Sig Sauer' on the front." She's nice enough not to add a "duh" at the end.

Now I've established what this fabled hat looks like, so I do a quick once-over in my house. Nothing.

So I FB message her, "I'll keep looking, but I'm sure I would've noticed it by now," thinking all the while she's mistaken.

A few days go by, and we have some friends over who are admiring my new picture of London over our fireplace, and something catches my eye. Do you see it?

Here's a closer look. Tell me if you see it.

There are so many problems with this picture, worst of all the knowledge that at some point, I picked up the hat and put it on the nutcracker. (Why do we even have that nutcracker on display? Balancing precariously on a random plate?) And then, during all my 'once-overs' I never noticed it. And I was looking.

I shouldn't be surprised. That same day, Sam and his friend Brandon were stringing racquets when Sam asked me if I knew where we kept the allen wrenches. 

I'm all, "I know I've seen them somewhere lately. Where was it?"

A couple days later, I go out onto my front porch and see this.

Do you see it? Take a closer look:

To be fair to me, how was I supposed to find the allen wrenches before the allen wrench bulbs blossomed?

Luckily the weather has been just nice enough that by this weekend we should have a whole garden of allen wrenches.

I need therapy. 

So, what are y'all doing this weekend? Anything fun?

My Heart Grew Three Sizes, so I Wrote a Poem Just for You. Yes, YOU! And More Free Books... And Winners.

I have a present for y'all today, but first... Housekeeping.

1. Winner from Friday:

And the winner of the signed copy of Loser's Guide to Life and Love, picked by a random number generator:

L.T. Elliot

Please email me your address. (My email addy is in sidebar).

2. Wanna earn another free book?

I've told you before how much I love love the Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers Workshop. (WIFYR).  I know first hand of people who found their agents or sold their books at this conference.

This year, the conference will be held in Sandy, Utah at the Waterford School. (Instead of BYU. I think the change in venue has caused some confusion.)

Here's how you can win a book:

It has some great instructors, including my own writer peep Emily Wing Smith.  If you can only go to one conference this year, make it this one. If you haven't signed up, do it now. Then leave me a comment, telling me you did, and you'll be entered to win a book. I'm giving away five, so your odds of winning will be spectacular. Contest is only open to those who are not already signed up.

But wait, there's more...

Writer peeps Kim and Valynne are also holding contests for free books, so check it out.

3. I dipped my hand in poetry. And it's gooey...

Okay, so last Monday, I did a guest post at Jody Sparks' blog, and her hits went through the roof (my phrase) because of you guys. And my heart was filled with love. Seriously, it grew three sizes that day.

So, I was inspired to write a poem. And I never write poems. It's an ode to you, blog reader. Love lift us up where we belong. I hope you like it.

Oh Blog Readers:

How do I love thee?

Let me count the ways.

Starting with those rare

35+ comment days

I know people don’t think

Their comments are noticed

Oh crap, did I really

just force a rhyme with ‘noticed’?

I read all the comments

And I love every one

From the longest opus

To the lamest pun

Through fryage of hair,

Through drainage of pus,

Through puddles of blood,

There’s always been us.

You put up with my obsessions

With Rafa, Boobies and The Six

And my slightly weird fixation

With zombies and sci-fi flicks

From murdering goldfish

To things that must go

With quick of wit,

You keep me in the know

You’re aware I never finished

my 25 things about me,

So what if I get sidetracked…

Squirrels!

From the posts that cause me

Loads of shame

To the posts where Sherman Alexie

Remembers my name,

Bad movies, bad singing

And a hairless cat,

who looks like the spawn of Satan

Drawing names out of a hat

You stuck with me, commiserated,

Empathized and sympathized

And when it was called for

You even chastised.

And to those who don’t comment

I know that you’re out there

Because I see you on my stat counter

And I know where you live

Are you a little annoyed

That ‘there’ and ‘live’ don’t rhyme?

Well I can’t rhyme when I’m passionate

So maybe next time

J/K, I love all readers, but

Consider it fair warning

I harbor the hope to meet someone new

Each and every morning

And so I raise a glass,

To my fellow Wal-Mart naysaysers,

To kindred book lovers and wannabe writers,

And all the white fluffy bunny slayers.

Here's to Diet Coke, and Mocha Honey's,

Bodily fluids and overuse of the word "y'all", 

Now Dash away, dash away, dash away all.

That's why I don't write poems,

I never know how to end it.

I guess I'll press "Save Draft" 

and click the button to send it.

Be my Valentine, blog reader.  You complete me. I see you. Or as the Na'vi say it:

Oe-l

nga-ti

kam‹ei›e

In Which I Share a Picture from the Past, and Y'all Get to Throw Rocks at it...

 For today's post, I did a guest post over at Jody Sparks' Blog all about an embarrassing picture from my past. Check it out, and I'll be answering comments over there.

What I'm Reading, What I'm Writing, and This Week's Things that Must Go.

Good Friday, yon bloggerland.

What I'm reading:

The Loser's Guide to Life and Love.

It's a retelling of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, set in a contemporary high school, and so far I've laughed out loud several times.

The author, Ann Cannon, and another local author Ann Dee Ellis are hosting a Writing Marathon March 18-20. And by "hosting", I think they mean virtually, and by "Marthon", I'm assured there will be no running, or physical exertion of any kind.

Basically, you commit to writing as much as you can on those days, and then you make a goal, and then you get to reward yourself if you reach your goal.

I committed to 20,000 words. If I reach my goal, I'm flying to the moon and releasing a dove to symbolize my fledgling writing career. If the dove flies away, I'll know I'm gonna be published someday.

Anyway, to all of you writers, hop on over to their blog and sign up with me. Tell them I sent you, and you'll receive 10% off the free admission price. You can't beat that!

p.s. I'm giving away a copy of Loser's Guide to Life and Love. Read to the bottom to find out more.

What I'm Writing:

My current WIP is a mystery, and it's a mess. At least with paranormal stories, I can create complex mythologies to cover up for stuff that doesn't make sense. This book is actually making me use my brain, and I really hate to use my brain. I'm seriously considering throwing a ghost in there.

This Week's List of Things That Must go:

1. The top three reactions to my recent adventures in hair dying must go:

a. "I have a canary that color."

b. "Ha ha. Will you never learn?"

c. "At least you got warm colors. And by warm, I mean flaming."

Here's how my hair will look for the next two weeks (which is when my hair person is scheduled to clean up my mess... that is, if she still will have me. I think I may have damaged our relationship permanently)

2. An education system with no sense of humor must go.

Kid C was supposed to do a report on an animal indigenous to Australia. I convinced him to do it on Dingoes, and then I made him practice the line, "Maybe the dingo ate your baby" over and over. No one thought it was funny. Maybe he didn't have the accent down...

3. In honor of Grammar week, my sister's most famous malapropism must go:

(Talking about Diet Coke) "I have a wooden leg for that stuff."

Bonus: This guy, I won't name names, used to always say, "C'mon guys, It's not rocket scientists."

4. The Great Spring Fakeout must go.

After a mild winter with dismal snow totals, I was starting to smell spring sunshine in the air. (It smells like chicken with a hint of Rosemary seasoning). But today, snow storm. Curses, Mother Nature!

It's not the snow storm that makes me angry, it's the lack of consistency. As my mother used to say, "Inconsistency is a road to Hell paved with Good Intentions."

5. And finally, school breaks that make no sense must go.

Kid C is home today, because it's "No Attendance Day". 

I remember when the settlers first came to our valley, perservering through inconsistent weather and starvation. After their long journey, they looked out over the land, and their leader marked the spot with his staff and said "This is the place, because X marks the spot. Let today, March 5, forever be known and celebrated as... NO ATTENDANCE DAY!"

Bonus Free Book Friday:
As a bonus for those of you who read this far, leave a comment about your own things that must go, and you'll be entered to win your very own signed copy of A.E. Cannon's THE LOSER'S GUIDE TO LIFE AND LOVE.


So, are you going to sign up to do the writing marathon? Or am I alone on this?

I Warned Her Not To Leave Her Kid with Me, But Did She Listen? No...

Okay, so it looks like most of you approve of the new blog colors, or maybe you're just being nice. Or maybe those of you who hate the new colors just didn't say anything...

I think the new colors are a little girly, and a smidge on the confectionary side, but they don't make me itch. Yet.

Anywho, I was reading over my post from Monday, and I realized that I put the same picture in twice. I don't know why I did this, and furthermore, I don't know why I didn't notice. I had like 85 pictures to choose from, most of higher quality than the one I actually posted (twice). Maybe I liked how everyone looked a little orange. Here it is again, in all it's glory.

Oh well. Also, I realized that some of you are into the blogging/authoring scene in and around Utah, and yet didn't hear about the blogger/author event. Everyone is invited to these things, so if you're into that sorta scene (which makes it sound like it's a party scene, like a rave, where we all walk around with pacifiers in our mouths, but it's not... It's like the opposite of a rave... In fact, it's downright geeky) then let Natasha Maw over at Maw Books Blog know.

Natasha's like the social director of the book blogger scene. She hands out the pacifiers. She's really nice and not intimidating at all, even if she is married to a One-Eyed Sword-Wielding Duke.

 (Okay, so they look a little intimidating in this pic I stole from her blog, but I read the post and she assured readers they didn't kill anyone)

You know how it is when you're not in Kid Mode...

So, Cousin W was in from back east, and our cousin group decided to meet up at the Dinosaur museum. Everyone brought kids except me, because the dinosaur museum stresses me out enough without kids and I wanted the chance to catch up with Cousin W.

(Cousin K, Cousin A with her two kids, me, and Cousin W)

At one point, Cousin A had to go meet Cousin K in the lobby, so she's all, "Brodi, watch my kids while I go get Cousin K."

I'm all: "Um, No! I'm not in kid mode! That part of the brain has shut down! It's not a good idea!"

But Cousin A had already run out of the Bone room, leaving me with her two small kids. (The room with the dinosaur bones.) Oh well, I figured. What's the worst that could happen?

I snatched up her littlest kid and then picked up my conversation with Cousin W. A few minutes later, I turned to check on the older kid, Jackson. (Maybe four years old?)

He was gone. Like, gone, gone.

The Dinosaur Museum is huge, with lots of twists and turns. We happened to be in the "Nook and Cranny" room (which, if you're gonna lose a kid, you don't want to do it in the nook and cranny room) so I hurried and checked all of the nooks and crannies. No Jackson.

I started running, following the switchbacks of the pathway, all the while yelling out "Jackson!"

You know how you can recognize your own kid from behind, but when it comes to someone else's kid, they all look the same from behind? I'm not alone on this, right?

Well, the museum was extra crowded that day, and there were hundreds of kids Jackson's height (2 and a half, three feet) and they all had Jackson's hair cut. So not only was I yelling his name, I was yanking random kids and jerking them around to see their faces.

Yeah, this is the point where other adults start yelling at me, and I'm all, "Shut up! How am I supposed to know what the missing kid looks like from behind?"

And their expressions said, "You don't know your own kid?"

And I'm all, "He's not my kid!" And the other kid I'm holding in my arms is screaming at me, saying, "You're not my Mommy! I want my Mommy!"

And their smug faces said, "Security!"

Finally, Cousin A found us. Jackson was with her. He'd gone out of the museum part into the lobby to find his mom.

(Here he is, plotting his next great escape, and then on to world destruction)

I gave him a good scolding, and promptly blamed his disappearance on a history of bad parenting. Just kidding. it was totally my fault, Cousin A.

But I did warn her, that part of my brain was under construction. Y'all know what I mean, right?

Book Bloggers Slash Local Authors Shootout at the Golden Corral: or How I Named my Chest

Do you like the new blog look? The old look was making me itchy, so I'm going to be trying out some new looks. Let me know what you think.

We have some rockin' book bloggers in Utah, and on Saturday night I went to their Bloggers/Authors social extravaganza at the Golden Corral. 

 (some of the bloggers and authors. I'm too lazy to name names.)

Since I am neither a "Book Blogger" nor an "Author" I was a little unsure what to put on my nametag. 

It's not a matter of self-esteem or anything, it's semantics. I am not technically a book blogger, and since I haven't published a book I'm not an author either.

So Emily Wing Smith made me a new nametag: Brodi Ashton: Bombastic (which means pompous or overblown).

Oh wait, it says "bombtastic". Which is a made up word meaning... well... not pompous and overblown.

I'd never been to the Golden Corral, but I was excited to relive my hardcore buffet days from Vegas.

It was very reminiscent, although I kept waiting for the pirate ships full of dancing women to appear from the ceiling and toss beads at us. I guess that's only a Vegas thing...

(Me, Agent sister Sydney Salter and Suey's Hubby)

The evening culminated in a rousing game of "Book Swap". The rules are simple: Bring a used book. Then swap it. Other than that, it's Anything Goes! Some of us forgot padding, so there were a few injuries.

Other ensuing shenanigans (I stole some pics from Suey):

- Number of times we'd cheer when the book swap numbers were called: 32

-Number of times James Dashner would say one of the following: 

"Stop Cheering! There are no winners and losers!"

"It's not a drawing!"

"Everyone's a winner! Stop it!"

... 32

-I won Carol Lynch William's book THE CHOSEN ONE. James got a Baby book. See? There are winners and losers. 

-Bree Despain won a bodice ripper. The male model on the cover was undressing everyone in the Golden Corral dining room with his eyes. By the time dessert rolled around, everyone was naked. That's when the pirate ships appeared and the disco ball lit up. Makes you want to come to the next one, right?

-Number of trips I took to the ice cream bar, all the while claiming "I'm gonna get my ten bucks back in ice cream alone!": 4

-Number of times I complained that the hot fudge machine was rigged to be difficult: 4

-Number of times I told James to "stop looking fuzzy" for my camera phone: 2

-The whole night, I refrained from saying how I thought Apollo Anton Ohno is cute, because I didn't want Natasha Maw to think I was hitting on her husband:

(Natasha, her hubby, and her sister Leisa. The resemblance to Ohno is uncanny, isn't it? Although from his expression in the pic, I imagine a little word bubble above his head saying, "If someone tells me I look like Apollo one more time, I swear I'm gonna throw this table across the room." Just kidding. He's really nice. This is a long picture caption, isn't it?)

Here's the real Ohno. Tell me there isn't a resemblance...

-Every time someone asked me about my book, I'd answer using "We..." As in: "We're still waiting... We're working on it... We're spending our mornings writing..." I don't know why this made me feel better. As if writing wasn't such a lonely endeavor. I finally said, "And by 'we', I mean me, my left boob and my right boob. The three of us are working hard on the book."

-When asked why she had two nametags, someone said it was so she could name her two best friends:

-I won't tell you who it was...