Rice Krispie Treats

are fortified with 10 essential vitamins and minerals. And I'm sure they're low in fat. And they're mm mmm good. Which is why I feel absolutely no guilt over the fact that Foxy J and I (mostly the I part) will likely have finished a full pan within 48 hours of its making.

Another Way to Waste Time...

The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to Purgatory!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very High
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	High
Level 2 (Lustful)	Low
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Very Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Low
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Low

Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test

Too Many Master Fobs

Edgy Killer Bunny's post tonight resonates with the post that's been forming in my head for the past couple days. On Saturday when I was trying to grade papers and S-Boogie wanted attention and Foxy J needed to do homework and my sister wanted us to come over to help watch her daughter while she worked on a family photo project and as always the twin shadows of the approaching deadline for the Delacorte First Young Adult Novel contest and my crappy not-even-close-to-ready-to-enter-in-the-contest book hung over my head and really I just wanted to curl up in a ball and hide from the world, I realized something: I am trying to be too many people. I simply don't have the time to be a husband and father and brother and friend and librarian and teacher and writer (and blogger, if I'm honest). Well, I probably do have time to be all those things, but I don't have the time to be them well. I often feel lately like I'm doing a half-baked job of everything. And that's really frustrating, because I know I can be an excellent husband, father, librarian, etc., if I just put the effort into it.

The other problem is that if I fulfill all my roles that relate to other people (i.e. Foxy's husband, S-Boog's father, my students' teacher) I end up sacrificing the role that's just me for me. And, let's be honest--I'm not going to paint myself as some martyr here--I have never done that and I probably never will. A large part of the reason that I was so stressed to get things done this weekend is because I had wasted a lot of time downloading music and reading comic books and tracking down the latest rumors about Ms. Hill (yes, I managed to download music even while our internet was down; I am a determined time-waster).

At any rate, since I had this epiphany I've been trying to figure out what can go. In the first place, I don't want to give up any of my roles. On top of the fact that I don't want to give them up, all of my familial relationships carry with them a certain sense of responsibility and moral duty. I'm not about to give any of those up. Similarly, I don't teach or librarianate just for the hell of it--each of those pays for our roof and our food and S-Boogie's monthly bottle of Singulair (by the way, JB, yes, Boogs has asthma). I suppose no one's paying me to be their friend (though now that I mention it, that is an idea), but I'm not going to give up that role either.

I'm this close (picture my fingers really close together) to concluding that the writer has to go. It certainly doesn't make me any money. Well, that isn't true. Dialogue gave me a nice little check. But I think that paid for the trip to California we took a month or two before I got the check. And I haven't written anything worthwhile in a few months. I have a pretty decent rough draft of a novel I plan to submit to Deseret Book one of these days, but before I do that I'll need to revise it. And before I revise it I'll have to finish revising the other book I want to submit to Delacorte. And, even assuming that doing a good job of revising is within my capabilities (and I have yet to prove that), I can't do any serious revising until after I'm done husbanding and fathering and brothering and friending and teaching and librarianating. And let's not forget that important task of chasing down L-Boogie rumors.

Alas, I don't think I can give up writing. Even if I do a crappy job of it, it's one thing I do for me and we've already established that I'm too selfish to give up any of those things.

And, apparently, blogging counts as writing.

I am thankful for:

• the library across the street from my home, which has several computers with working internet access, and which I happen to have a key to, allowing me a 24/7 connection to the outside world during our weeklong banishment from the web by our service providers
• my sister’s cell phone, which has made it possible for us to sit on hold with MStar for hours at a time during said (still going) banishment, which, since we switched to fiber optic internet and phone service a few weeks ago, also means our phones aren’t working
• the cell phone MStar loaned us last night, in order to make it through the long weekend, in which fiber optic repairmen won’t be working, without continuing to use up my sister’s minutes
• modern technology
• the fact that we have nearly reached the out-of-pocket maximum for S-Boogie this year, meaning that if her current congestion leads to (another) hospital visit, we’ll only have to pay about a hundred dollars
• the nebulizer the insurance company gave us a few months ago, which may prevent said hospital visit
• the sweet deals I found at DI yesterday—a brown retro polyester Lee jacket for $4, a long-sleeve striped Gap dress shirt for $5, and some brand-new-looking brown wool flat-front dress slacks for $5
• my employer, who gave me a nice holiday bonus this week, which will help me pay off the student loans I foolishly acquired while in school (it won’t make that much of a dent, to be honest, but still I’ll be that much closer)
• my wonderful friends and family, all of whom I will not name here, except
• my brother, Svoid, who is preparing a yummy Thanksgiving dinner for the family as I write this
• my wife, Foxy J, who made two yummy pies—pumpkin and chocolate pecan—last night, to be devoured later today
• my daughter, S-Boogie, who reminds me every morning that I need to wake up, put on my glasses and my watch, eat breakfast and take a shower (who knows what I’d do if she didn’t tell me what to do)

Oh my goodness, there's an entire universe of us!

Just discovered this:

http://spaces.msn.com/members/FobnRob/Blog/cns!1pjoLfl0YSUtBet8_v5LoT5g!389.entry

Who Knew Chain Blogging Would Take Over The World?

Courtesy of Mandi:

2 names you go by: Master Fob; Slappy White

2 parts of your heritage: Irish (hence the black hair); Danish (mmm... Danish...)

2 things that scare you: heights; chainsaw-wielding maniacs

2 things you are wearing right now: n/a

2 of your favorite bands or musical artists (at the moment): Michael Franti & Spearhead; Common (you thought I was going to say Lauryn Hill, didn't you?)

2 favorite songs (at the moment): "Love of My Life (An Ode to Hip Hop)" by Erykah Badu and Common; "The Last Trumpet" by Lyrics Born and Lateef the Truthspeaker

2 things you want in a relationship (other than real love): intelligent conversation; lots of "your mom" jokes (and no, the two aren't mutually exclusive)

2 truths: I have a birthmark right below my rear that everyone on the swim team in high school made fun of; my hair isn't really black

2 physical things that appeal to you (in the opposite sex): shiny fingernails; long, dark eyelashes

2 of your favorite hobbies: reading comic books; listening to snooty underground hip hop

2 things you want really badly: to publish everything I've ever written and ever will write; your mom

2 places you want to go on vacation: England; a cruise (anywhere)

2 things you want to do before you die: live the rest of my life; hm, that about covers it

2 ways that you are stereotypically a dude/chick: well, I'm not a dude/chick, and I'm not sure what one is like, stereotypically (confused?), but I am stereotypically a dude in my inability to talk (in person, as opposed to in writing) about my feelings and (this one contributed by Foxy J) my aversion to housecleaning (in my defense, however, I do wash the dishes as much or more than Foxy)

2 things you are thinking about now: the last question; the next question

2 stores you shop at: Target; Media Play

2 people you would like to see take the quiz? Foxy J; Svoid (keeping it in the fam)

Nine Reasons I Love Foxy J (not necessarily the top nine)

1. She has cool links on her blog's sidebar.
2. Even though she pretends she doesn't like my music, she knows off the top of her head that "First in Flight" by Blackalicious is a good example of African signifying and she volunteered to do a presentation in her Spanish class on hip-hop music and the signifying monkey.
3. She saves me many trips to the dictionary by knowing the spelling and definition of every word in the English language. And 86.2% of the words in the Spanish language.
4. She used to kick cerebral ass in College Bowl alongside Ken Jennings, before BYU cut the funding (presumably in favor of their oh-so-much-more successful football team), and now she's got S-Boogie asking to watch "Jeppy" every night before bedtime (even on the nights Jeopardy isn't on).
5. She likes my friends (and the feeling appears to be mutual).
6. Her parents are the coolest pseudo-hippie biker intellectual Mormons I know.
7. She has been 100% supportive of me publishing "Getting Out" and "Staying In," where a lot of wives might not have been so comfortable with the idea. (Someday she'll revise and publish her version of "Staying In.")
8. Her eggs, when fertilized and incubated properly, grow into beautiful and intelligent children (at least so far).
9. She talks to God and listens when he talks to her.