If Utah were a Cake, it would look like This:

Okay, so blog posts are going to be sporadic. I have reasons. Tons of reasons. Reasons pouring out of my eyeballs like the tears of a Packers fan at the Seattle game. And reasons do not slide out of the tear ducts like actual tears do. They are prickly and they scratch as they go.

Do you like that piece of stellar writing above? Good, because one of the reasons for the sporadic blogging is the fact that my deadline for Everneath Book 3: The Everneath-iest is October 15th, and that third book is filled with useless metaphors and nonsensical analogies like the above.

And when I'm not writing, I'm trying to keep up with this guy:

Kid B loves Skylanders, and he loves McDonald's, so he made a Skylanders/McDonalds store. You can order fries, or Skylanders, or fries and Skylanders. The possibilities are endless.

Have I ever told you that Kid B also loves babies? My phone is filled with pictures of random babies and familiar babies, like this one:

Not sure if he just feels like babies speak his language or what. One of his favorite babies is our neighbor, Baby Rex.

Kid B holding Baby Rex's hand.

The other day, Kid B and I went to pick tomatoes at Baby Rex's house. Baby Rex was stuck inside with a stomach bug. The two little friends were separated by a single pane of glass. Kid B held his hand up to the glass, like he was visiting a loved one in prison. Baby Rex did the same. It was the saddest thing I'd ever seen. Here's the picture he took:

It's only a pane of glass, but it might as well be an ocean. 

Then there's Kid C. For his Utah Geography test, he had to bake a cake in the shape of Utah and then decorate the different regions. I don't think his teachers took into account that fact that some parents don't know how to cook.

I was all, "How are we possibly going to bake a cake in the shape of Utah?" Because believe it or not, they don't sell utah-shaped cake pans. I feel sorry for the kids who live in West Virginia.

It only took me a few days to figure out that the way to do it was to bake a regular rectangle, and then cut out the top right hand corner.

Be quiet! I don't care how fast you figured that out! Okay? Okay.

Here's Kid C putting the ingredients together. (And by 'putting the ingredients together', I mean 'opening the cake mix')

And here's the final product:

I have to say, Utah tastes delicious. Especially the mountainous regions.

Utah is also very fattening. 

So, what's everyone up to this weekend? Anything fun? 

How a Blind Dog and a Good Samaritan Made me Think Anything is Possible

So, I was turning left on one of the busier streets in the neighborhood, when I saw a dog wandering back and forth across the median.

I thought, he probably knows where he's going. Then I got a better look at his eyes.

Can you see them? They are completely milky white, and they were watering profusely. I pulled my car over, just as another man did in front of me. We got out of our cars and helped the dog to the side, and checked him for any tags or any type of identification.

There were none.

The man who stopped with me was named John, and judging by his accent he was from somewhere in Great Britain. And all I have to say is, this dog is so lucky he wandered into the same street down which John was driving.

For those of you wondering - at this point in the story - what I named the dog, I'll tell you... I named him "Blindy." I did this for two reasons:

1. I'm incredibly uncreative.
2. I wanted to give him the opportunity to "own" his disadvantage. Turn it into an advantage. This way, when someone asks him his name, he can announce proudly, "Blindy. I was named after Edward Blindy the III, who conquered ancient Rome." And then the person who asked his name can look all uncomfortable, all the while, Blindy knows the person is really thinking, "Um, I would've thought the name came from his milky white eyes." And then Blindy can feel happy that he's messing with someone.
3.  Do you think I over thought it a bit? 

John decided to take Blindy to the nearest animal shelter, but neither of us was convinced that someone would actually come to claim him. An old, beaten-down, blind dog? I tried not to admit to myself that most likely he was abandoned. 

I gave John my number and asked him to keep me posted. He called about an hour later, and said, "The shelter says there's no electronic identification, and because he's blind and old, they will probably put him down soon."

Inside, my heart cracked a little. I asked John, "So... where is Blindy now?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Um... he's in the back seat of my car again. I couldn't leave him there. I'm taking him to my vet to make sure he has no diseases he could possibly give my other dog, and then I'll take him home."

Another pause, because I have tears in my eyes. 

Then John continued. "He's old. He can't have that much life left. I can take care of him until then."

Can you guys believe John? He lives in an apartment. He can't have that much extra space. And yet the second Blindy wandered into John's pathway, he had a home. 

The vet pronounced Blindy disease-free, and so John took him home. A few hours later, I got a text from John saying he'd given Blindy a bath, and now he wasn't as scruffy. 

John asked me to post ads about Blindy. Even though I worried that there might be those with nefarious purposes who troll the lost and found boards, looking for animals for all the wrong reasons I put an ad up on KSL's lost and found with Blindy's picture. I still had hope that someone out there loved this dog, and was looking for him. 

So I told John that if anyone does answer the ad, put them through a rigorous background check. Make them prove that they know and love Blindy. 

But really neither of us thought that would be necessary. 

The next morning, I got another text from John. Blindy's owners had contacted him. They brought pictures to prove their paternity. They loved and missed him, and were so relieved to see our ad on KSL. 

I left for my conference in Cedar City that day thinking anything was possible. Doesn't that make you think anything is possible? And don't you want a friend like John in your life? I do. 

Seven Steps to Stretching, Presented by Kid B

Hey y'all! 

A quick note for anyone in the Cedar City area: I will be teaching a writing workshop with Emily Wing Smith and Lindsey Leavitt on September 15th. And I'll be signing that night. Details here.

Side note: This post has lots of pictures of kids. So if you don't like kids, you can skip it.

Side note to the side note: WHY DON'T YOU LIKE CHILDREN??

So, today, one of my friends was all, "Hey! You're not blogging as much as you used to!"

And I was all, "No! I'm not! I'm blogging once a week."

I don't know why I put the above information in conversation form. You probably think I have the world's most boring conversations, and why in the world would I want to recount the above one in a blog? 

But, in case you didn't get the subtle undertones of the aforementioned (really Brodi? "aforementioned"? In a blog post?) conversation, I am blogging once a week. Because I had a choice: I could either cut back on blogging, or cut back on writing books and stuff. And as much as editor Kristin likes my blog, I think she likes my books better. 

Anywho, onto the blog. Last weekend, Kid C decided to run two 5K's in two days, in two separate cities. 

The first one was in Eagle Mountain, and the proceeds of the race went to raise money for autism awareness. He dedicated his race to Kid B. Here are the two of them before the race, fueling up on blue snow cones. 

Kid C ran hard, and took first in his age group, twelfth over all.

Kid B decided running looked really easy. So he took off. In no particular direction. 

That night, we tried to get as much sleep as possible, because the next morning we left at 6:30 a.m. to drive to Huntsville for his second 5k. 

While Kid C was warming up, Kid B decided he needed to stretch too. Here is the series of stretches he did. You are welcome to try this at home. 

Step #1: Open yourself up to the inspiration for stretches

Step #2: stretch those glutes.

Step #3: ?????

Step #4: Clap your hands above your head

Step #5: Who wants to win? I do!

Step #6: Collapse on the ground

Step #7: Win the race!

He's making a video detailing the stretches. It will be available for purchase soon. Kid C must've studied his moves, because he took third place in his age group. 

Do you ever have one of those weekends where you think your kids are actually cute? This was that kind of weekend. 

Um... look how happy they are to be standing next to each other. Taking another picture. So so happy. 

It's ASK ME ANYTHING Day.

Okay, folks, it's ASK ME ANYTHING DAY! How do I know it's ASK ME ANYTHING DAY? Because I posed this question on Twitter:

Hey y'all, if I did a blog post where I answered your questions, would some of you actually ask questions? The potential silence is my fear.

Because I can totally see this happening. I say "Ask me anything" and then there's a silence so loud it makes my ears (and my pride) hurt. 

But I had enough people on twitter say they would have questions. So, I'm putting it out here. 

Have you ever wondered about my writing routine? Everbound? Everneath? I don't know, what other questions are there? What I eat? 

Okay, obviously my questions are a little lackluster. So I'm depending on you for better questions.

So, ask me questions in the comments, and I'll answer in the comments. 

Okay, ready? go!

Our first questions comes from twitter:

A) are you planning on touring other countries? maybe, say, New Zealand? and B) what do you do when you get writer's block? (:

Answers:

A) I would LOVE to tour other countries. But I would have to save up my own money, because I'm not sure if/when my publishers overseas would be sending me anywhere. 

B) Many writers will tell you to take a break, and I agree to take a break, but then sometimes you just have to push through it and get words on the paper, even if the words are really bad, and they don't even form coherent sentences, much like this sentence I'm typing right now. 

Okay, bring it on!

How I Took the Road Less Traveled... and why I might change careers

For this latest round of revisions, I decided I needed a change of scenery. So I put the car in drive (don't know why I needed to specify that) and I turned the steering wheel (again with the specifics) toward the South/Southeast of Salt Lake City. 

I went South really fast. Then I turned left at Highway 6, a.k.a. the "Highway of Death", so named after the man who discovered the highway, Richard J. Death. Richard had a hard time making friends, so he was thrilled when the discovery of this highway brought him notoriety. 

Then, when you reach Price, you raise your hand to shield your eyes from the sun, and you look out in all four directions, and you ask yourself, "Which way looks to be the most desolate?"

Then you take the road less traveled, highway 10, and follow it all the way until you hit... well, nothing. You just have to know where to turn left. 

Then you turn left. (I know, who would've thought simple directions would make such an awesome blog post? Wait. It doesn't? Um... too late.)

And you follow a dirt road, and suddenly you come upon this:

aren't you happy you took the road less traveled? 

I had no idea when I took that picture this morning that it would end up looking so dang good. See, a real photographer would be all, "Okay, I think I'll set up here, because check out how the reflection on the glassy pond optimizes the light from... that... giant golden orb in the sky!" (Okay, I don't know if that's how photographers really talk.)

But as for me, I was walking around the mini-lake, tripping over sage brush, talking to the grasshopper who happened to be following me on my walk. Okay, I wasn't really talking to him. I was yelling at him to please stop following me. 

I was thinking about my blog post, and I was all, "hey! I should take a pic!" So I stopped right where I was and clicked the photo with my iPhone, and voila. My new career! (Okay, maybe I'm putting a little too much value in the beauty of the photo above, but seriously, most of my pictures look like this:

That parentheses above is hanging by itself, so I'm going to close it here.)

Anywho, I'm planning on spending the next three days writing here:

Sleeping here:

Exploring this:

And talking to this guy:

I won't worry about the isolation until he starts talking back. 

So, what do y'all think? Anyone wanna come down and join me? Anyone taking bets on when the buffalo will answer my questions? Anyone else picturing a tiny camera in the buffalo's eye, recording my every move? 

Just me?

By the way, I arrived here last night, when the buildings were all dark, and the isolation felt more like the setting of a slasher flick. But I made it through the night. I don't have phone service, but I can send someone a frantic text if I get in trouble, and hopefully that person will check his/her texts. But if that person is like Sam, he may not find out anything until the next day. Not that anyone could do anything, because by the time they got in the car and drove to the ranch, my body would be cold and filled with maggots. 

But just so we don't end on a downer, like my own cold-blooded murder, remember the time I posed with Jef from the Bachelorette?

My Week in Pictures

Hey y'all. 

I thought I'd give you a glimpse - through pictures - into my past week. 

Last weekend, my family and I went to the Shakespeare Festival in Cedar City Utah. This has been a tradition for me since I was eight years old. So, for about 15 years. Give or take a decade. Or three. 

We took Kid C and his cousin Necie to Les Mis. Got them tickets on the front row. Here's how excited they were: 

If there's ever an appropriate time to call your kids "brats"...

Oh, Les Mis. I've seen you at least ten times. How come you never told me you were so sad? My mom, sister and I were sitting on the front row, and maybe it was because of the fresh loss of my dad, but we were weeping the entire time. At one point, I caught one of the actors looking at us. I imagined he was mentally high-fiving himself, going, "I'm rocking this performance! They can't keep the tears in!"

Every year, on the friday morning of our festival visit, we play tennis. The games are epic, although my partner was more interested in playing against his own shadow than against our opponents. 

My nephew wanted a real sword from the festival, so he appealed to my mom, who of course bought him one. My sister bought him a bow and arrow for christmas. For his birthday, I guess there's nothing left to get him but a handgun. 

Here he is, knighting my other nephew. 

Pic taken seconds before he lopped Asher's head off

On Sundays, we have an hour of church. Here's what Kid B used that time to create:

Other children are coloring pictures of Jesus. Kid B made his own XBox game console.

He also made a dog, with 87 movable parts.

Then he proceeded to shake it at the people sitting in the bench behind us, all the while barking loudly. 

Why do I suddenly think church is fun? 

Last night, I was lying (laying?) on the grass. Kid B saw me, and immediately ran inside the house. He emerged a few minutes later with three blankets and two pillows. 

We stayed until the stars came out. 

What's your week been like? 

How in one Encounter in an Airport, I Conquered my Fears

Hey y'all! Sorry I missed last week. I spent much of the week at the SCBWI conference in L.A. 

Photo taken by SCBWI Team Blog

For those of you who don't know, SCBWI is pronounced "Skehbwee."

Kidding. Do not go to this conference and be all "I'm so proud to be a member of Skehbwee." Trust me. I did that my first year, and I made no friends. 

SCBWI stands for Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators. I know, I know, we can all think of a million easier acronyms. But... there you go. I've said it so many times now that Kid B's middle name is Esseebeedoubleyouwhy.

I don't even know why I'm talking about the conference, because the most exciting thing happened on the way home from L.A. 

To preface this story, you should know that I have a really hard time approaching people I admire. For instance, if I see an author in the hotel lobby, and I loved their book, I will turn in the opposite direction and run to Canada. Unless I'm in Canada. Then I will run to Peru. 

Some would say this inability to function would interfere with a publishing career. Sometimes it does. For instance, there was the time I saw my agent across the lobby, scanning the lobby for me, and instead of approaching him, I texted him. I thought this was an appropriate course of action, until a friend said, "Why are you hiding behind that pillar texting someone who is mere yards away from you?"

And that was my agent. (My agent, Michael, doesn't know this story. Welcome to my neuroses, Michael.)

This is Michael. Intimidating, isn't he?

So, now that you have been properly informed...

On Monday afternoon, I was at the LAX airport waiting for my flight home, when I noticed someone sitting across from me. I did a double take, and realized it was the most recent winner of the Bachelorette, Jef Holm. 

Emily and Jef, looking a little homely for my taste.

So I texted people. I was all, I'm sitting across the aisle from Jef from the Bachelorette

And people responded, Get a picture! 

So I got a picture! And here it is:

If you'll notice, I held my phone up from behind the book I was reading (which was an ARC of Lindsey Leavitt's GOING VINTAGE, which is so good that it took me a good twenty minutes to even notice Jef.)

I texted this picture to friends. And friends were all, No! You have to get a picture with him! You will regret it for life if you don't!

So, I thought to myself, This time, I will not be the coward who is taking pictures from behind a book! 

Before I could chicken out, I put my phone in camera mode, and shoved it into the belly of the girl sitting next to me, and commanded, "Take my picture! Take it with me, and that guy." (points at Jef)

Now, from her point of view, we had been sitting there in silence for half an hour, with Jef across from us, and then all of a sudden, I accost her and demand that she take my picture with some strange guy. Not only that, but she's from Australia, so she has NO CLUE who Jef is. 

But I sprang from my seat and said, "Follow me, beeyatch!" (Okay, I didn't add that last word.)

I walked up to Jef and said, "Can I have a picture with you?" Then, for good measure, I added, "My nieces will just die."

Now, this was a lie. I do have a lot of nieces, but I couldn't think of a single one who watched the Bachelorette. 

So... behold the picture proof of the giant leap forward for my cowardice:

This picture was the second attempt by my foreign friend. Here was her first:

I like to think that if Jef and I spontaneously decided to run away together, this is what it would look like. 

Wow. This was supposed to be a short blog, but I guess this moment was more significant than I thought. 

My friend, who is obsessed with Jef, called me immediately after I texted her the picture. She was all, "What was it like? How tall was he? What did he smell like? How did his waist feel?"

And I was standing in line right behind Jef trying to board the plane, speaking softly into my phone, describing how the person in front of me smelled like soap and lavender and his waist was not squishy. Please say that he couldn't hear me. Please.

What do you think, bloggerville? Do you know who Jef is? Even if you don't, are you impressed by my gumption?