Good news friends. My pitch outfit--with some help from my pedicure--totally worked. The senior editor of the publisher I want to publish with wants my full manuscript. The WHOLE thing.
Doesn't mean it's going to actually get published, but apparently those sort of requests don't happen very often.
The bad news is he wants it in two weeks. Two weeks from last Friday. Which is actually less than two weeks now. Which wouldn't be a big deal except for the fact my manuscript is about an eternity away from being submittable. Sadly this means my blog will be on hiatus while I do some major editing.
Other things on hiatus during the next two weeks: house cleaning, responsible parenting, and my life.
But in some awesome news, my husband swept, mopped, AND polished the floor while I was gone, thereby eliminating any need for socks ever again.
Or at least for the next two weeks. Because I'm pretty sure by the end of my hiatus from everything that doesn't involve me scowling at my laptop, we're going to need socks all over our whole bodies to create a barrier from the dirt.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, April 20, 2012
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.
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.
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.
Friday, April 13, 2012
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.
http://ac360.blogs.cnn.com/2012/04/12/ridiculist-boo-the-worlds-cutest-dog-is-alive/?hpt=ac_t2
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.
This dog I've never heard of but has four million followers and a book deal is still alive.
http://ac360.blogs.cnn.com/2012/04/12/ridiculist-boo-the-worlds-cutest-dog-is-alive/?hpt=ac_t2
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.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
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 SowardsAngie 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
Friday, April 6, 2012
Stop It!
Whew.
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:
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.
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