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...

Evolution of Love... and Are You Smarter than a First Grader?

Happy Friday. I can't do a Free Book Friday until I actually get off my butt and mail the books to the previous winners. Hopefully next week.

Must Be Love

Kid C came home with a Valentine Card from one of his favorite girls. He has four favorites. But he told me he can't be in love with any single one of them until he's sixteen years old. 

I don't know where he gets his information, but I thought this reasoning was sound. So I called up my first grade boyfriend and told him I couldn't have really been in love with him, and I faked all my love letters. He asked for his pin back. It was a Michael Jackson pin.

In third grade, my cohorts and I had moved from monogamous relationships to that all out free-for-all known as kissing tag. This one boy with a brown turtle-neck (I can't for the life of me remember his name) followed me all around school, trying to tag me. I mean, "tag" me. Which, in this case, really does mean tag me, because as much as we played the game, I'm pretty sure there was no actual kissing involved. 

Anywho, turtle-neck boy followed me around the whole school, and all I could think about was how his turtle-neck must be choking the life out of him. So, although I didn't get any "action", I did develop my endearing aversion to "things that choke". i.e. turtle-necks, necklaces, rings, scarves... Units clothing.

In sixth grade, I received my first kiss. Her name was Tiffany and it was a game of spin the bottle. We were at an all-girls sleepover, and I'm pretty sure when we read the rules to "spin the bottle" we must've missed the part where it says: "Works better in a co-ed environment."

In the immortal words of Katy Perry: I kissed a girl. I didn't like it, but I did taste cherry chapstick.

I'll tackle the junior high and high school years next week. But back to Carter's Valentine Letter... he asked me to decipher it.

**Don't scroll down if you want to play**

It seriously took me hours. Don't try to read the words as words. That's impossible. Just pretend someone spilled alphabet soup on a piece of paper and your job is to sound them all out. Scroll down a ways for the answer, but let me know in the comments if you could figure it out without scrolling down.

Kid C Speaks Chinese. Who knew?

Announcing the winner of The Dark Divine and The Way He Lived...

Random Number Generator:

15

Winner = Shauna.

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

Chronicles of Kid C (Like Chronicles of Riddick, only better)

Kid C came home the other day from school, devastated.

kid C: "Brodi [yeah, he still calls me Brodi], did you know there are people who kill fish?"

I assumed he was thinking about the welfare of our new fish, Chopie.

me: "um... yeah..."

Kid C: "Did you know they kill them... and... eat them?"

me: "You don't say..."

Kid C: "That's bad, right? They're bad people, right?"

me (Only because I don't particularly like fish): "Yeah. Very bad."

Kid C: "They don't realize fish have lives. I saw a man kill a fish."

me: "Where?"

Kid C: "In China."

me: "When did you go to China?"

Kid C: "Remember that time I didn't come home for dinner? I was in China."

me: "Oh."

Kid C: "Did you know when you're in China, you have to speak in a different Lang-goo-ish. Or they won't understand you. Here's how I sound when I'm in China:"

I hope no one's offended by Kid C's fake Chinese...

I'm off for a writing day with Bree Despain. Which means I'm not gonna get a lot of writing done today...

Cardio Tennis: It's not Pole Dancing, and It's Not for Wusses. It's not for Super Cool People Either.

Thanks to everyone who entered Friday's contest, and special thanks to those of you who provided a Morgan Freeman Mad Lib. The winner will be announced on Wednesday's post.

What I'm Reading: Just started Dark Days of Hamburger Halpin

What I'm Writing: 15,000 words on current WIP

1. Happy Monday, y'all.

**Sam told me to warn you: Don't read following paragraph if you haven't had breakfast**

Well, not very happy at our house. Kid B has been blowing chunks. You know it's bad when the only solid chunks are made of milk.

**End Warning**

I know this, because it was all over me. I think he lost half his body weight with that move.

2. Cardio Tennis: It's not what you think...

Saturday morning, my friend Alissa convinced me to go to a Cardio Tennis workout. She convinced me by telling me there would be music.

I'd never been to Cardio Tennis. All I could picture was all of us with our racquets, jogging in place to the beat of the music, or stepping up and down on a platform, or dancing around a metal pole suspended from the ceiling.

What else was I supposed to think, when I Googled Cardio Tennis and found this:

Am I alone on this? That is not what playing tennis looks like. With one arm, she's pretending to hold a pail of water, and with the other, she doesn't even look like she knows she's holding a racquet. She's either about chop vegetables with that thing, or dismember her students.

And I thought, if there's going to be dismemberment, I'm so there.

So we get there, and we are the only girls, with eight men. The instructor comes out with a boom box (do people still call it this? Boom box?), blasts some 90's techno rock, and then she starts firing balls at us.

It was intense, and it looked nothing like the picture. At one point, I was paired against this one guy. I was instructed to hit passing shots. He was instructed to sacrifice everything including life and limb to thwart me. It was war and it was ugly.

Afterward, as we were picking up balls and bloody appendages, he sidled up to me and we both acknowledged the fierceness of our competitor a la Starsky and Hutch.

him: "I like your style."

me: "I like your moves."

I like your moves. sound bite  Starsky & Hutch sound bites

3. Ice Dancing. Class with a capital K. 

Anyone catch the ice dancing last night? Anyone see the Russian pair, and wonder what alternate universe we'd landed in where this is a sport?

At least they weren't toting guns and shooting stuff.

So, how was your weekend? What are you Reading/Writing?

What Morgan Freeman Teaches us about Writing Novels... and Free Book Friday

Free Book Friday

Today, it's a Writer Peeps special! 

First I am giving away a signed copy of Bree Despain's THE DARK DIVINE. She is #3 Crazy in my writer's group. (Although lately, she's been making a push for #1)

Also, I'm giving away Emily Wing Smith's THE WAY HE LIVED. She's #2 Crazy since 2009. 

Read to the bottom to find out how to enter.

Here's What's on my Mind:

1. It's been one of those weeks. You know, the kind where everyone around you is eating message hearts that say, "Be Mine" and "I'm Yours" and "So Cute" and then you open yours to find this:

How did the heart makers know? The next heart I drew said "So, Suck it".  I didn't bother to take a picture of that one. 

I stopped drawing hearts after that. Chances are the next heart would say, "Grow a pair". 

2. The Olympics: Full of Characters I care about.

 Shaun White hangs a Double McFlurry

(Okay, maybe that's not a real trick name)

When watching the Olympics, I've been saying to Sam, "You gotta watch Vonn... She knows how to triumph over adversity" and "Here's Lindsey Jacobellis. Do you think she'll redeem herself?" and "Morgan Freeman says Shaun White is gonna do something that's gonna blow my mind!"

I got thinking about how this applies to writing a good novel: plot doesn't matter if the reader doesn't care about the characters. 

Without Morgan Freeman, Vonn would've been some stranger in spandex going really fast down a hill, and it left me wondering, how would Morgan Freeman narrate my life in 30 seconds or less?

It's like a Mad Lib.

When [insert name] was a little [girl/boy]

[She/he] would [insert endearing quirky characteristic, like eating cardboard, or drawing on bedroom walls]

And the other kids would [make fun of/spit in his or her jello]

Today, you can find [him/her] on the [mountain/ice/snow]

doing [crazy stunt/triple axels/going 90 mph]

And you know what? Nobody spits in her jello anymore.

Go World.

So, in honor of Morgan Freeman, to enter the contest:

1. Follow the blog. (This time, it's only open to followers. So, Follow first)

2. Leave a comment. Easy Peezy.

3. For a bonus entry, include how Morgan Freeman would narrate your life in 30 seconds or less. Feel free to use the Mad Lib.

4. Want one more entry? Tweet about the contest. Include the link in the comments.

You have until the end of the weekend to enter. Yay! Go World. 

How the Olympics are like the Hunger Games... and the Free Book Friday Winner

The Free Book Friday Winner is:

SalGal

Email me your address and book choice. (My email addy is in sidebar)

Many of you have asked how I pick the winners. It's simple:

1.    I assign a number to every commenter, starting at 1 with the first commenter, and continuing on. If the commenter has tweeted or blogged about it, they get another number too.

2.    I take all the numbers, and I write them on separate squares of toilet paper, and attach each one to a tiny little parachute.

3.    Sam then takes them sky-bound and drops them over Vancouver.

They are judged in much the same way as the pairs figure skating event, with high points awarded for artistry and synchronicity, and with a slight proclivity toward Russian entrants.

Anyone watching the Olympics?

Evan Lysacek was amazing on the ice last night. He makes it look so effortless. 

Okay, maybe that move took a little effort.

I love watching men's skating, because like many girls from my generation, I wanted to grow up to be Johnny Weir.

 Did you see the looks he was throwing the judges last night? He'd wink at them like they could get him VIP seating at the Bedazzler Convention. (I bought my tickets last June. I can't wait!)

Winter Sports can be extreme, and not just a little schizophrenic. Like the biathlon. 

Cross country skiers are forced to stop after each lap, drop to their knees with skis on, and shoot targets. It just seems so random.

Like the gamemaker was all, "They go round and round in circles, with sticks on their feet, then they stop and..." scratches head... "get attacked by bears?... no... chew 17 saltine crackers and whistle the Star Spangled Banner?... no... I know! Carry an egg in a spoon!"

They were about to give up when another guy was all, "Let's just have them drop to the ground and shoot stuff. We'll make 'em carry their own rifles."

 

It's something straight out of Hunger Games. I'm just waiting for the Muttations to appear.

Anyone else watching? Anyone else putting off writing to watch women's hockey? I know I am.