frazzled & frumpy

"Mo-om! Can you take me to Wal-Mart?" You should see my hair. I washed it today, for reals. I sort of straightened my bangs. The rest? Meh. I'm a little nervous to straighten all of it because a couple days ago I tried to straighten my earlobe. It's still sort of curvy, though. And, now, it's a nice shade of red and has a lovely scab. "Mo-om! I really need a new phone.  Can we go at 7?" Do I need to put on makeup? If I don't, I can pretty much guarantee that I will run into one of my neighbors, or that girl from high school who is now a supermodel. (Do supermodels go to Wal-Mart?  Probably, if they're also from Idaho.)  What about a bra?  Yeah, I should put one on. Don't want to end up in one of those 'People of Wal-Mart' videos. "Mo-om!" I haven't gone anywhere today. There has been no need for gussying up.  Maybe I should make myself presentable.  The Handy Man swears he doesn't care how I look. I think

Sadie informed me that my 'Year in Pictures' was sadly behind. I knew this, but I didn't know how far. So, I updated.  I haven't been very good about taking a daily picture, and that's my goal.  I'm going to try to develop a good habit. Starting today. Happy Sabbath.

Do you know what happens when you have a whole quiver of children? You get used to that can't-move-without-bumping-into-someone feeling.  You accept the idea that your 'parents only' bathroom gets used daily by people who are way too young to procreate. And, when a couple of your kids are gone for a few days, you feel the need to fill in the space. This causes you to, in a moment of 'I need more kids' weakness, allow your son to have a late-night. I didn't have 'late-nights' as a kid. We just had good, old-fashioned sleep-overs.  My parents didn't care if they didn't know the other parents. Would we be sleeping in a bed or on the living room floor with 16 other stragglers?  Whatever.  Just be home by 10 in the morning. Now, though, our world is a bit different. So, my son invited his 4, no 5, no,  6 closest friends (all boys but one girl- who has completely wrapped herself around my heart).  I baked brownies and popped popcorn before they a

On Tuesday, our state celebrated Pioneer Day. It's the day we commemorate the pioneers arriving in the valley.  I like it because we get a day off, we barbecue and watch parades and fireworks. (None of the things the pioneers did.)  I like it because I would've been a lousy pioneer.   I know the other pioneer women, and especially the men, wouldn't have appreciated my whining or my sarcasm.  "You know what I love in the morning? That gritty-dirt-in-your-teeth feeling. Makes me look forward to the whole day." "If I could just train these mosquitoes to sting my cheeks, then I'd be all rosy and attractive." "Man, I slept so good last night. The rocks are soo much more comfy than the mattress I left behind." Then, when we got here, and Brigham Young announced that "This is the place",  I probably would've looked around and said, "Seriously?"  Then, I would've sat on my rump and cried. 

I'm a bit of a news junkie. I watch it everyday.  Friday morning, of course, was different.  After a half an hour of coverage of the tragedy in Colorado, I turned it off.  There was nothing new to report and I was tired of them repeating the terrible details. Since then, one of the popular 'news' features has been 'What to Tell Your Children'.  Various psychologists have weighed in on how we should help our young ones deal with this.  I didn't listen to them.  I know exactly what I'll tell my kids. We all have been given a gift in this life. It's called free agency.  We each have the ability to choose every day. We choose what we think, what we say and what we do.  These choices make us who we are. There are people who choose darkness.  When given the options, they follow evil.  Their choices are to cause harm to others.  They are selfish, thinking only about their own desires and having no concern for the pain they cause.  This is a hard part of

Today I am guest posting on Faith in Ambiguity . I love Tara's blog. She's such a great writer, and she's honest and open and not afraid to take risks. I admire all those things about her.  So, click over and read me there. Then, go back next week when she comes back and read her stuff. It's more than worth it.

Reasons.  I've been pondering my reasons for things--priorities and motivation in my life. The reason I blog. I had someone question what I do. That's okay, everyone is entitled to their opinion.  It doesn't change my reasons.  (Sticks and stones, and all that.)  I started this blog for two reasons.  One was that I thought I would become famous and more importantly, rich. Funny, huh?  I do have advertising on here, thanks to the wonderful BlogHer community. The money I've earned from that wouldn't fill my car with gas, not even one time. That's all right. I've put that idea aside.  The fact is, the second reason for this blog has become the main reason-- to write. I'm  a writer. It took me a long time to be able to say that.  I felt like I needed some kind of publishing contract to give myself that label.  Not so.  I've been a writer my whole life.  It's always been a part of me.  It is one of the things that makes me happy.   And, as I'

It's hot. Our swamp cooler is limping along, trying to keep up with the rising temperatures.  The smallest exertion causes me to drip.  I don't want to do anything.  I don't want to clean. I don't want to cook. I want to lay on my bed, under my ceiling fan, and try not to move. My house doesn't care that we're rivaling Hell today.  Dishes must be washed and floors vacuumed. I feel the bead of sweat as it travels down my back. I bend over and get drops on my glasses.  My hair, which I grew out for some strange reason, is always damp and begs to be put up off my neck. The day finally ends and the Handy Man and I are lying on our bed atop the covers.  The ceiling fan brushes a slight breeze over my legs. I'm grateful that the sun has slid into slumber and the mercury is making its way back down. I close my eyes to enjoy the quiet. But, it isn't quiet. Across the hall, one daughter is on her phone, exclaiming about the wonders of her new laptop.

I think a lot. When I don't understand something, I think about it. Lately, I've been thinking about running. Not as in, "I think I should run."  More like, "Why in the hell are all these people running?" The only time I remember running on purpose was when my sister was chasing me with a butcher knife.  And, when my friend's rooster chased me out of the yard.  Of course, I did a lot of running when my kids were little and found joy in trying to get me to chase them.  My running always involves chasing. But, running for fun?  It's become a bit of a plague.  Everyone seems to be taking it up.  I see them running in the morning when I'm 'running' to WalMart for milk.  Or in the evening, there they are, jogging down the street as if they have nothing better to do. Don't they have anything better to do? Also, running is expensive. You can't just throw on your five dollar WalMart keds, and ten dollar WalMart sweats and ru

Time flies when you're having fun. Or when you're spending your minutes reading.  It took me several days, with many, many interuptions.  ("Mom, can I have a fruit snack?"    "Mom, I need a drink?"   "Mo-o-om! Max is annoying me!") My children have not grasped the concept of Mom is Working.  They don't think I work.  We won't go into that right now. So, I finished. And, I have to say,  I'm happy.  Happy with my work and happy that it's ready to go out. Shoot. Happy just turned into nervous. I appreciate everyone who commented and guessed. I honestly had no idea how long it would take me.  Turns out, it takes 8 hours and 3 minutes to read my book out loud. (If you're also deleting/adding/editing.)  That means the winner is Michelle , who guessed 8 hours. Wow! Only 3 minutes off. That's some pretty magnificent guessing right there!  (The chapters are on their way to your inbox.) Next, I need to get my query letters s

For a desert, our state is incredibly green.  I love our mountains, especially now that they're robed in verdant emerald.  Driving up the canyon is one of my favorite activities, passing the trees that line the road. But, as the second driest state, we're dependent on our snowfall.  Every year, we wait with anticipation to see what our winter will bring. Last year, our state received an abundance of snow.  Though I complained (A LOT), there was a positive side to our moisture- we live in a desert.  Last summer, we didn't have to hear all the warnings about  water usage or drought.  It was a nice break. This year, our snowfall was less impressive.  Yet, our weather/water watchers assured us that because of last year, we were in good shape.  But, what happens when you have a good water year is that everything grows.  Then, when it's followed by a dry year, what happens is this-- Photo credit- ksl.com Yep, our state is on fire.  We currently have 10 fires