frazzled & frumpy

Her house is stifling.  The fan above her clicks a rhythm and she lays as still as she can, hoping for relief. She pushes herself up, forcing movement that reverberates in her head. Walking through the rooms, she checks windows, praying for the breath of a breeze. She loves this house. Here she nursed and nurtured her babies.  The walls show signs of life-- fingerprints and smudges.  Smiling faces, captured and framed, adorn the walls. But, the walls are closing in and she retreats to the sanctuary of her room.  The thoughts are pressing, intensifying the pain in her head.  She tries with all her might to force them out. You're not welcome here . Still, they come. Persistent, they are. The fan beats in time with the judgements- ' not e-nough, not e-nough, not e-nough'.   She puts out the welcome mat, hoping for sleep.  Instead, she cries, curled into herself. But, the day is like any other, demanding, not to be ignored.  Amazing how you can function when you&#

I'm feeling a bit under the weather today. So, I'm sharing my new favorite quote. It's by John Vorhaus from Writer Unboxed. I loved it so much, I printed it out and put it above my desk. "LET YOUR LIFE RISE.  The practice of writing is one of deep psychological intrusion.  In becoming the writer you wish to be, you naturally undergo major transformations in terms of the person you are.  Let these changes take place.  As you gather awareness, you improve as a writer; as you improve as a writer, you gather awareness.  Let your life rise and your writing will follow; let your writing rise and your life will follow." Genius, yes? Now, go read his entire post. It's just as good.

Sundays can be challenging.  Getting a bunch of kids ready for church, that starts at 9am, is anything but peaceful. Especially when you have one that asks every Sunday- "Do I have to go to church today?" What would make today different than any other Sunday for the past 9 years of your life? Still he asks. And we struggle. And I'd like to say I never yell, not on a Sunday. But, I'd rather admit to yelling than lie. Today, I sat in Sacrament meeting and realized something. I was grouchy. No, really.  Like  judging-my-neighbor-feeling-sorry-for-myself-why-did-they-pick-this-song grouchy.  So, I repented, and asked for help. Then, one of the speakers was a man who has just recently started coming back to church. And, I was judgemental again. And, I sort of zoned out for a while. Then, something gave me a nudge and I started to listen.  He told about the changes he'd made and the love he has for the Savior and how he's devoting his life to Him. And, I felt

A couple of my favorite Snapshots and my thoughts about them. Heidi, Me, Ellen Mesa, AZ 1971? Do you see my face? No. Because I was so intent on my dive that I couldn't be bothered to smile for the camera.  This was taken at my aunt's apartment, she and her husband were the managers. Going there was sooo fun! They were young newlyweds.  They sort of spoiled us. I wish I could have that tanned, perfect skin again.  Our heights have become the opposite--Heidi is the shortest, Ellen the tallest. I'm still stuck in the middle. Doesn't it look like we get along so well?  Hehe. Oh, could we fight. We still call each other 'sissy kicker' as a joke. That's what we said when, in a desperate attempt to not get pummeled, one of us would sit in a chair and kick our legs at the attacker. Didn't matter what your sister called you, it worked! Dad the dairy farmer Declo, Idaho 1983 Dad is smiling. This must be before the milking start

After yesterday's post, sweet Larissa from Papa is a Preacher , shared a link with me. It's a talk by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love.   The talk is about the creative genius and it is pure genius . I've watched it once, and will go back to listen again. One thing she said that really hit me was this, "When it comes to writing...is it rational, is it logical, that anybody should be expected to be afraid of the work that they feel they were put on this earth to do?" We all face fears in our creating. I, personally, fear finishing. Dumb, huh? But, when I finish, then I have to face the possibility of failing. As long as I'm 'working on it',  there is no failure, no rejection. I can bask in the glory of my family and friends' praise. I can still say, "someday, maybe..." But, this is what I was put here to do. (One of the things.)  I have put away my shame at the years that I didn't write. I was still creating, it w

Would you like to know what's going on? I'm sure you're all so eager, "Oh, please, please, tell us Jewels. What the hell is happening that you are avoiding the computer and not reading our blogs and basically being a dork?" Well, I'm going to tell you. (And, if you really didn't want to know, you can stop reading now and go over to a more interesting blog. I'm just kidding, please don't go!) I've been pondering this phenomenon, yes, pondering. That's my new word. I like it.  And, it is a phenomenon, because I've honestly been avoiding my computer and the internet, in general. Unless, it's on my phone, which I use to check email and facebook, you know, the really important stuff. So, I pondered. And what I realized is this--someone is trying to stop me from finishing my book. No, I'm not kidding. This has happened before, but to a lesser degree. Who is this evil personage? The most evil one of all. Can you say Satan?

Do you go through a magazine back to front? Does it seem odd that Dr. Oz presents a different diet/weight-loss miracle a couple times a week? Does it seem odd that I've watched enough Dr. Oz to know that he promotes said miracles? Do you feel bad for Robert Pattinson, who was cheated on by Kristen Stewert? ( Twilight stars for all you folks who don't stoop to watching trash.) Do you wish that they had made better Twilight movies, cuz you really liked the books, but the movies just suck? (Don't judge me--I read all the books and LOVED them.) Do you ever try to convince your husband to call in sick just so you can spend the day with him?  Does he do it? (The Handy Man hasn't called in sick or missed a day of work in a decade.) Does your child ask and ask and ask until you give in out of sheer frustration, and, to keep yourself from screaming and locking yourself in the bathroom? Do you wonder what your dog thinks about?  Or if it bothers him that he always

Is anybody out there? Sorry about my internet-absence. Between swimming lessons, summer band, picking up kids from camp, getting kids ready for college (ack! I'm too young to have college kids!), and my daily headaches, the computer has been sitting cold.  Well, except for the work on my book, which is going nicely. (big sigh) I've missed reading your blogs and will be catching up soon. Until then, enjoy my favorite song of the week- (My favorite part of the song begins at 3:00 minutes.) ...all we need is love!

On Saturday, the camp that Jake works at had a family day. This meant we all got to go up and  pretend to be Venturing Scouts. (I've never been a scout. Not even a girl scout.  My mom wouldn't let me. I have emotional scars.) First, we shot bows and arrows. Jake is the archery director. He taught us all he knows.  Something about men doing primal things-- very sexy. Yes, that is me shooting a bow and arrow. Katniss I'm not. I did manage to hit the foam dear. Not a kill shot, but, hey, he's foam. Jacob--the expert. He makes it look easy. Then, we got to rappel. "Don't look down, Max!" Spencer looking like a pro. Yes, that would be the Handy Man's butt. Mm-hmm. Hunter didn't like the idea of going up. He has a fear of heights. I have a fear of falling.  Then, we went to the COPES course. (lots of climbing and balancing) Hunter pushed past his fear and tried out the

We take the term "day of rest" very seriously around here. Wishing you a peaceful Sabbath.

I grew up in the good old days. The ones where children roamed the streets all day and their parents had no idea where they were.  I played at any house with a child my age--even if my parents didn't know theirs.  I would wander home around lunchtime, if the strange mother of the house where I was playing didn't already feed me a PB&J (I'm sure kids had peanut allergies back then, but not once was I ever asked if I had one. I didn't, so it's okay.)  We played till the sun went down, then you'd hear the clarion call of the neighborhood-- "Timmy!  Sally! Jane! Come home!" One of my favorite friends was Lisa.  She lived on the corner of my street.  My sister, Ellen, and I would go down to Lisa's house.  Sometimes we would play house or modeling (my dream was to be a supermodel, so glad that one came true.), but the best game we played was 'Queen'. In this make-believe world, Lisa was the queen and we were her servants.  Why, you ma