frazzled & frumpy

Getting the mail is not fun for me.  I don't get checks. Or packages. Or even nice, hand-written notes. Mostly, I get ads. Sometimes I get letters, but they're often addressed to 'Past Due' or 'Final Notice'. That's not even close to my name.  I just throw them out.  Saturday, I trudged out to the mail box, hoping it would hold my Publisher Clearing House notice.  Instead, I looked inside and saw this-- (Yes, that's snow surrounding my mailbox. Ever had to make a path for your mailman? They get very grouchy about having to step in snow. ) I knew right away what it was. I would've done a happy dance right there, 'cept I was standing in two feet of  snow. It's so deep, you can't see how cute my boots are! I didn't even wait till I got inside. I ripped that baby open. I might have squealed a little. I hurried inside and showed my kids. "Look! It's my friend's book!" "Really? What friend

Some days, ideas come to me like a spring rainstorm.  Thoughts drop and pelt my brain until it flows over into my fingers and onto my screen. I cannot type fast enough, as my thoughts race ahead of me, looking back, urging me to hurry. Other day, ideas avoid me- wild, feral cats who want nothing to do with my tame brain. I chase them, getting oh, so close. Just as I'm about to touch one, grab it's striped tail, it scurries away and hides beneath a rock. Then, I sit, hands still, hoping one of them will wander over and join me. They stay back, watching me warily,  sending an occasional hiss my way. Today is a cat kind of day.  And, I really don't like cats. (feral- domesticated species that has reverted to living in the wild.)

This is our 'day off' tent. How did you celebrate President's Day?

(Disclaimer- I haven't read any popular, erotic fiction. Any similarities would be purely coincidental, and quite surprising. This is just my way of breaking up all the gooey sweetness of this week's posts.) Two Shades of Black (morguefile.com -CarolinaJG Aramalina Flint looked into Presbyterian Black's eyes. Oh, his eyes. She could get lost in them. "Wait. Where am I?"  Oh, right, his eyes. He touched her hand. She shivered. Dang, it was so cold tonight. "Why didn't I wear a jacket?" "I don't know," Presbyterian responded. "Oh, sorry. That was supposed to be a thought." "You think?" "Sometimes." He shrugged then leaned toward her. Aramalina giggled.  Presbyterian came closer and kissed her porcelain cheek. She giggled again. "Is something funny?" He purred. "Well, first, you sound like a cat. And, also, your long eyelashes tickled my face." "Dang. These darn eyel

Children's laughter. Belly laughs. Giggles. Smirks. That moment when you're so very tired and you start to laugh and can't stop. When you're sitting in church and your sister makes a comment and you just can't help yourself- even though you know your mom is furious. Watching America's Funniest Home Videos with your kids. Noah's giggling when the puppy licks his face. I love laughter.  I love the endorphin rush when you laugh loud and hard.  I love making people laugh. Laughter is happy.  It may be nervous or halting. But, it can build a bridge, make a connection and relieve stress. I grew up in a house where we laughed often. When we all get together, I can be assured that my sides will ache. I love when my house is filled with laughter.  Things may not be ideal around here, but we can always laugh. (A year ago, at our girl's weekend, my sister shared this with us. It was one of those 'laughing-so-hard-you-can't-breathe' mom

Our home is decked out in red and pink. There are hearts, cupids, and banners that exclaim love and my desire to possess everyone in the house. Be Mine!    (I'm sort of selfish that way.) My kids get very excited for Love Week. Mostly, it's the candy. But, hopefully, they're also excited for the love notes they get each day.  Hopefully, they'll tuck these little treasures in their drawers and when they see them in May or August, they'll be reassured that they are indeed loved. I try to express love for my family every day. We say "I love you" a lot. I cook them dinners and wash their laundry--little acts of kindness that say I care. But, I think we all need a little something extra every now and then. And, in this day of technology and email and facebook, a hand-written note is rare. Maybe they won't appreciate it until years later, but I cling to the hope that someday they will. As part of Love Week, I'll tell you some things that I love

That they will be happy, and confident. That the draw of home will be stronger that the pull of the world. That their minds will be full of memories-- happy, silly, and overflowing with laughter. That they will accept others as children of God. That their testimonies of Jesus Christ will be strong. That they will have families of their own. That they will never doubt who they are. That they will give me grandchildren, so my home is never completely quiet. That love will be the overriding motivator  in everything they do. (This post was inspired by the prompt from GBE2- BlogOn .  This week's prompt was 'Dream'.)

Puppy Love Sadie has been asking for a puppy for a very long time. She promised she would take care of it, pay for it, blah, blah. I told her that because she has school, I would be the one to take care of the dog.  So, we put her off. Then, last week, I was on facebook and saw that my long-time friend had one puppy left.  Getting another dog was not something we'd been considering, but one look at his cute face and I sort of fell in love. I showed his picture to Sadie, and she joined me in my adoration.  So, after a couple days of messaging and calls, the Handy Man and I went to Salt Lake to pick up Chandler. (Sadie's name for him.) Riding home. My kids are all smitten. Noah follows him around like a bodyguard.  If he comes up missing, I'm sure it'll be because Noah swallowed him whole. I will eat you up!  Even my husband likes him.  It's sort of hard not to.  (Unless you're the resident dog, who's been around for 8+ years. He, Patrick,