The apple always falls close to the tree

One of my twins had to type up a self evaluation for his math class, and his answers gave me an epiphany about apples:

Cheating has been a problem with some this year. What should the teacher do about the people who cheat?

If he or she cheats on a test, quiz or homework the teacher should give them an F for the rest of the term because what I have learned in choir is that cheating makes u dumber. 




Hmmmm . . . how do u cheat in choir again? Oh right, watermelon, watermelon, watermelon . . .


That explains my IQ.



My personal favorite question/answer, was of the nature every teacher dreams of:

How accurately did your grades reflect your learning and understanding of the material? 

Not great. I think this class wasn’t the easiest class for me. I didn’t really get what you were saying. I thought you taught it like a B level for the other students, but for me I just didn’t get it that well. I didn’t get what you were explaining. 

Did I already say hmmmm?

I guess it's true what they say about the apple falling within a reasonably close proximity to the tree. It usually doesn't fall quantum leaps away from the tree, is what I'm saying. And if the apple falls at a 90 degree angle, or at a slope–intercept or on a line parallel with x or y, poor thing hasn't got a chance. Unless of course the tree is named Pythagoras.

An exercise in description of, without commentary on, macrame wedges and mullets

It was LDS Storymakers weekend again, which means anyone who is everyone was in town for the Whitney Awards.

It's also means the amount of super cute macrame wedges walking around Utah tripled.

I, myself, was wearing macrame wedges before it was even cool, so I moved on to Fit Flops years ago. I wouldn't be surprised if within five years everyone is wearing Fit Flops to Storymakers.

A few dear-to-my-heart author friends were in town (and sporting super cute macrame wedges) for the Whitneys, including Melanie J. from Write Stuff and Miss Heidi from Dunhaven Place. On Friday night I got to see them at the King's English bookshop in Salt Lake City.

Have you been there? If not, you must go! Alls you do is take I-15 to I-80. Pretend you're on your way to Cheyenne, but before you get there, yell PSYCH, and turn off at 1300 E.

From there follow your heart to Sugar House.

In other words, turn left.

When the road slims down and the neighborhood gets vintage, turn up to 1500 E. where you'll happen upon a hipster local business district adorned with twinkly lights and a jazz band. It's the kind of street that might remind you of Cal Berkeley.

I've never actually been to Cal Berkeley, but I've been to a lot of places that remind me of Cal Berkeley, and this place reminds me of the places that remind me of Cal Berkeley. Also my History Professor in college was from Cal Berkeley, before he got fired for his liberal ways, and this street reminds me of a street he might stroll down to purchase a latte, or an out-of-print book about original ideas.

So anyway, Luisa Perkins was having a book signing at Kings English bookshop for Dispirited, which I hear is an excellent read, and if chapter one is any indication then, yes, it's captivating. I bought the book, had Luisa sign it, then sat around chit chatting with all the authors wearing super cute macrame wedges. I think the only other person besides me who wasn't wearing wedges was Jami from Superfluous Miscellany, who was the first person to leave a comment on my blog.

You never forget your first comment.

She is also the person who inspired the conclusion to my memoir.

You never forget the person who inspires the conclusion to your memoir either.

Jami and I have known each other for years now, and yet she was surprised when she met me. I wasn't what she was expecting.

She thought I would be taller.

She thought I would be larger than life. But actually I'm smaller than life.

It's a strange feeling when you get people wrong like that.

I think it's the same way with places. Probably when I actually visit Cal Berkeley I will think, huh, this doesn't remind me of all those places that remind me of Cal Berkeley, after all.

I think it's the same way with things too. Like my youngest son's mullet, which is an outgrowth of his mohawk. It throws people off when they hear he named it Fredward.

"Huh," said my brother-in-law, "It strikes me more as a Billy Ray Cyrus."


Huh, I guess this wasn't really an exercise in description of, without commentary on, macrame wedges and mullets after all, was it.

The Midas Touch

My Gigi was struck by lightening three times. That explains why I inherited an electromagnetic gene that enables me to attract excitement into my life. I passed this gene on to my 15-year-old son, which combined with my husband's raw-talent and sheer-force-of-will genes, has somehow endowed my son with the Midas Touch.

Mostly everything he touches turns to Under Armor basketball shoes, but there are other perks too. For instance, he has already traveled to almost every major city in the United States, besides Fargo, North Dakota and Casper Wyoming.

Last weekend he was in Philadelphia shooting hoops and checking out the crack in the Liberty Bell, and that wasn't even the exciting part.

The exciting part happened when his plane landed in Salt Lake City on Sunday night. Just as the passengers were about to exit, the pilot came over the intercom and instructed everyone to please stay seated until further instruction.

Suddenly, and without warning, at least 10 cops rushed the plane. For all I know they were waving guns in the passengers faces as they shouted, "Edgar, we know you're on this plane! Give yourself up."

But Edgar didn't give himself up, so each passenger had to break out his ID until Edgar was finally located 15 minutes later, seated directly behind my son.

I repeat, he was seated directly behind my son.

I looked Edgar up on Facebook and his profile pic is a stake in the ground with Go Away! spray painted down the side. It looks like he's a faculty member at the Arts Institutes, but don't quote me on that because there are several Edgars on Facebook.



Speaking of Midas Touch, thanks to DeNae Handy, your Mother's Day gift giving decisions just got a whole lot easier:

We've had the most wonderful response to our story collection "Tell Me Who I Am," and now it's available in a gift set which includes a pretty bookmark and -- that's right! -- a box of Utah Truffles!  All for just $20, which includes shipping.

 



You'll want to order quickly; quantities really are limited, and the last day we can take orders and guarantee you'll receive your gift is Tuesday, May 8.   

Price Includes Shipping

Book only $17.00 USD Gift Set (incl. truffles and bookmark) $20.00 USD

P.S.  Remember my awkward commercial debut? Click on this link for GoalZero if you want to witness it. Notice they took out all the speaking parts and left only the smiling pretty parts. (Or technically, the smiling pretty awkwardly parts.)