frazzled & frumpy

(image -  lds.org)  "38.  Now it came to pass, as they went, that he entered into a certain village; and a certain woman named Martha received him into her house. 39.  And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard his word. 40.  But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore, that she help me. 41.  And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things; 42.  But one thing is needful; and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her." -Luke 10:38-42 I like the story of Martha and Mary. I love that the Savior came and visited these women, his friends. And, I love the way it shows us how to deal with our everyday lives.  (These are my thoughts on this story. Only mine. Not doctrine. Not representing my church. Just me.) Martha was a homemaker. She was

Today I did this- woke up at 4:30am. The Handy Man forgot to turn off his alarm and it woke me while he showered. I never got back to sleep. I exercised, though, so it was all good. went to the doctor (hypothyroidism causes a once/year visit).  Interesting tidbit- this doctor (this is the first time I've gone to him) lives in my neighborhood and goes to my church. He asked about a pap smear, and said he could refer me to someone else. Um, yeah. There is no way in hell I'm having that exam by someone I'll see every Sunday.  grocery shopping. I used to enjoy this. Not anymore.  laundry. Always laundry.  read Dean Koontz. Love his books and the way he weaves his insight about writing into his fiction. "Writing isn't a source of pain. It's psychic chemotherapy. It reduces your psychological tumors and relieves your pain." (Odd Thomas) Took a nap with Noah. Now, he's wide awake with no sign of going to bed. made spaghetti and garlic bread.  Now

Sadie got asked to Prom. She'll be 16 next week, and this will be her first date. (Our kids have to be 16 to date.) It's all very exciting.   Getting her 'response' ready.  "If there's more M&M's- it's yes, more Reeses- no." I'm pretty sure he'll know the answer without counting. I asked her if she wanted to wear my dress. What do you think? Maybe her date could find a super-cool, baby blue tux.  (Holy Smack! I wish I were still that skinny!) Do you love his mustache?  I'm not sure what I saw in him.  It was actually a lousy night. We broke up a week later. *sigh* I do not miss high school.

(When I said I would write about my blogging process, I did because it's very different from my fiction process. But, since then, I've wondered about the wisdom in this. Please don't think I'm giving advice or trying to present myself as a professional, or even decent, blogger. You can find much better advice in other places, I'm sure.) Long before I knew what a blog was, I would often have essays rolling around inside my head. I wrote a couple down (my favorite was about my irritable uterus. If I can find it, someday I'll post it.) I'd send them as e-mails to my family, because I had no other way to share them. Then, my sister introduced me to blogging.  Now, I can share my silly insights with anyone who cares to click over. I don't plan my posts ahead of time. This is something I've thought of doing, but I'm not much of a planner.  I LOVE making lists, but rarely follow through with them.  (How's my schedule going? you may ask. Let&

My friend, Tangledlou, over at Periphery, had asked about the writing process. How do you do what you do? I wasn't going to write a post about it. I let those insecurities creep in- why would anyone care? Then, I was asked in my comment section if I'd written about my book- the writing and editing process. I really haven't.  So, in the off chance that someone might be interested, here goes. I've been writing since I was about 8 years old. I started with poetry- always rhyming and not often making  sense.  I branched out to writing stories when in high school, then essays as part of a college class.  I always had it in my mind that someday I would write books. After I got married and started having babies, writing was put on the back burner. I went years without writing anything.  Then, one day, I got an idea. And I started writing again.  The inspiration for my fiction usually comes in strange and unexpected ways.  One book idea came when I was driving home on

(Image from morguefile.com) It's been a weird week. The kids had Monday off and that turned my space/time continuum into sheer confusion.  Each day began with the normally allotted hours, but somehow, they ticked themselves off at a rapid pace.  Breakfast folded right over into the yells of, "Mom, I'm home!"  Those precious minutes, I'd like to have pinched them, held them, for just a bit longer.  Laundry piled and no sweet smells waifed from our kitchen. The Handy Man arrived from his day of work and I looked back at mine. Where did it go? I need a schedule. I realized this sad fact weeks ago. I've tried. I downloaded calendars, blocked out time for each and every task. But, I've lived too long in spontaneity.  For two decades, my time has been spent on the whims of my children.  The price didn't seem high, but now I find my account is unbalanced.  School and appointments, shopping, homework.  They constantly make withdrawls, but rarely put an

My kids didn't have school today. 'Work day' for teachers means no me time for Mom. The good news is that tomorrow, normally a lowly Tuesday, is the first day of Spring. Hallelujah! Speaking of spring, there's this robin that's been in our neighborhood for the past couple months.  I've wondered about this. Don't they normally fly south?  I always thought that was a sign of spring.   He seems a bit lonely, never with a friend.  Perhaps he stayed behind, preparing for his girl to come home.  "Look, honey.  I missed the migration, but I've been here waiting.  I have a nice place picked out for our nest."   Perhaps, he was hurt and he couldn't keep up with the others. Or, he had an intuition that we would have a mild winter, so he didn't want to expend the energy for the long flight. Most likely, he got lost and refused to ask for directions.

If you looked around my house,  you wouldn’t be impressed. Hand-me-down furniture.  Carpet, that, like my life, is a bit trampled and worn.  Our meals are far from fancy, the pantry often rivals Old Mother Hubbard.  We don’t take nice vacations, don't vacation at all.  My children, while amazing in my eyes, win no prizes for sports or grades.  Personally, I’m no glamour goddess. I’m overweight and the signs of age are creeping up.  The smooth and tight of youth are but a memory.   What a sad life, right? Actually, I’m ridiculously happy.   Oh, I have my moments when worry takes over and stress balls up inside me.  My pillow is familiar with tears that are shed in the night.  But, these things are temporary and the light of a new morning always brings hope.  How is it that I can be happy in the midst of what the world would view as a bleak existence?  Happy is a choice. I have a friend who is in constant search of the next thing, sure that happiness is ou

I was looking at the pictures on my laptop,  searching for some whimsical or thoughtful picture to post for Wordless Wednesday. What I found was this- Perhaps it's time for a 12 Step Program.

Do you ever look back at your life and think, "Wow. I'm so awesome." ?  Yeah, me, too.  Sometimes, I amaze myself with what a great mom I am. Really, I should  get an award.  Case in point- We were at Sea World a few years ago.  Max was just 20 months old, and being small, he spent a lot of time in the stroller.  All the other kids decided they wanted to ride the big roller coaster, you know, the one that ends with a big splash?  I said I'd stay with Max. Yep, self-sacrificing, that's me.  So, Max and I waved good-bye and waited.  We saw the car leave and listened to the delighted squeals.  I stood behind the stroller at the end of the ride, waiting for Handy Man and the kids.  "Oh, look Max. Here they come." I pointed so he wouldn't miss a thing.  You could hear the screams as it began its speedy decent.  It reached the bottom, and the water, a HUGE wave sprayed up- right toward us! I turned and ran. Leaving my child behind. (No applause

I got my notice today. Seriously, I'm on the official winners list. I mean, the winner selection list.  Same thing,right?  Pretty excited to start getting my $5000 a week. I'm trying to decide what to do first. Also, just for me,  this fabulous offer- Three nickels for $3.99!  Holy smack, what a deal.  Don't worry. When I'm all rich and fancy, I'll still blog.  I'll tell you all about my fabulous life. And, post pictures of my amazing nickel collection.  I promise not to forget you.

I believe that people are put in our lives for a specific purpose. I do not believe in coincindence. We may not always recognize the hand of a higher power, but it's there. Recently, I've had quite a few of these angels in my writing life. As I've said before, I didn't write anything for a very long time. But, now that I'm at it again, I'm finding all kinds of help as I try to develop my skill. One of these helps came by way of a fellow blogger Tangledlou. She writes this amazing blog called Periphery, one which I am absolutely and completely jealous of. I read it religiously. A week or so ago, she posted a book review of Stephen King's book On Writing- a Memoir of the Craft .  I'm not a big Stephen King fan (too gory for me) and I didn't even know about this book. Thought maybe it was new. (Ha! Jokes on me. It was published in 2000.)  After reading the review, I decided I must read it and got it from the library. No surprise, it's amazin

My morning has a routine.  Mostly, I listen.  I listen as the Handy Man gets up and hear the muffled rain in the shower.  Through groggy mist, I hear him move around the house, breakfast, teeth brushing. Then, he kisses me goodbye, all minty fresh.  One of us whispers our wish that he could stay and sleep in with me.  One more kiss and then I hear the rumble of the garage door. Soon after, the sounds of my high schoolers as they get ready for their social games and school work.  A slam of the door is my only goodbye as they rush to the bus.  Two more up and I hear cereal bowls and the soft sounds of Looney Tunes.  I hold my breath, waiting for the sound I don't want to hear. I wait for the hushed-voice-giggles across the hall. Those noises tell me my two youngest are awake.  I hope and pray each morning that slumber will keep them just a  little bit longer.  Once they're awake, the battle will begin. Max is a too-cool-for-school teenager trapped in an 8 year-old body.  A ye

It’s March. Have you noticed? I gleefully flipped my calendar over yesterday.  I love a  new month, with all its empty squares that are yet to be filled with appointments and stuff.  I love that for a few days, my time seems to be my own.  It looks lazy.  For a little while.   I especially like this month, because, there, on the 20 th , circled in bright yellow marker, is the day- the first day of Spring! We’ve had a weak and wimpy winter.  Hardly any snow and our days seldom dipped below freezing.  On those days when it was cold, I had to force feed my children their coats and gloves.  They weren’t convinced.  What is winter?  It hasn’t shown up this year.  I do like winter. Like all the seasons, it has its virtues.  There’s hot chocolate, which, let’s face it, isn’t enjoyable at any other time.  Steaming cocoa and a sweaty neck just don’t mix.   I’m not a skier, nor do I fancy being wet, so snow has very limited potential.  It’s good for exactly two things.  One, to dres

I'm dealing with a major headache today. So, I'm pulling out one of the very first posts from this blog. Hope to be back tomorrow. A Not-So-Desperate Housewife (abc.com) I watch TV, this much is true. But, years ago, I gave up soap operas. Since then, I haven't even been tempted. Then, a couple weeks ago, I was folding laundry and looking for something interesting to watch. I stopped on a rerun of Desperate Housewives. What a mistake!! After one hour, I was  hooked . I watched pretty much every day for three weeks. I tried to rationalize it. It has better acting and better stories than daytime soap operas. Besides, I liked it because I had so much in common with these women. Really? Sure. Here's the comparison: Susan - is a writer and has one daughter. I want to be a writer and, hey, I have one daughter. She's also in love with a man who doesn't know she exists. I am in love with a man- and have kids who pretend to not know I exist. Gabby - Shops

I'm having another guest post today. It's absolutely because I want to spread the love and in no way because I made a huge goof and asked two people to post.  I'm way too together and organized to do something like that. Anyway.  I'm so happy to introduce you to Rissa from Reese Rants and Raves .  I'm always intrigued by people who have very different lives than mine.  Rissa is one of those people.  Plus, I'm totally jealous because she's been to Hawaii many times and I've only been there in my dreams.  So, here is her post. Enjoy. ** Thank you, Jewels, for hosting me on Leap Blog Day. I appreciate you sharing me with your readers. And, I thank your readers for letting me in today. ~ rissadee** When I was ten, we spent our entire summer vacation in Hawaii . Even though Honolulu had everything a ten-year old could ask for - the beach, a swimming pool, McDonald's - after Week 2, I was ready to go home. I missed my friends, my bed and, accord