frazzled & frumpy

I met Meg last year at our Listen to Your Mother rehearsal. She sat next to me and I was at once drawn to her, but also, completely intimidated by her vivacious personality. When she read her essay, I fell in love. Since then, our times together have been few (we live on opposite sides of Salt Lake, which sometimes feels like an ocean away), but through facebook and blogs, we keep in touch and I have had the enormous privilege of getting to know her and calling her friend. As one of the most gifted writers I’ve known or read, I feel a bit hesitant to write about her. But, it’s her birthday , and, this is my gift to her, because I can’t come to her house with a present in hand. I’d love to, though, because, Meg is the kind of person for whom you would take extra care in wrapping her gift. Because, she would appreciate every part of it. I imagine she would open it slowly, carefully, and, she’d probably save the ribbon. She would gush over the beauty of the package long bef

(Original here .) At the ripe old age of 29, I had three children, 3 yrs. and under. All in diapers. I stayed home with said children and their care and keeping were what took up all of my time. 24/7 I fed, and diapered, and nursed, and bathed, and played, and chased-- and fed, and diapered, and nursed some more. With Mother's Day approaching, and very little money, I had a grand idea. A gift my husband could give me that would cost nothing. But, one that would give me so much. So, very nervously, I mustered my courage and told him, "Do you know what I'd really like for Mother's Day?" He shook his head. I gulped. "Two hours alone. All alone." *His answer made my heart sink. "Why?" Why? Why did I want some time to myself? I wasn't asking for a vacation far away, I was happy to be there, in our dingy little apartment with it's textured walls and stained carpet. I just wanted some time where I wasn't answering the bec

Last year, following a few coincidences-that-weren't-coincidences, I found myself auditioning for Listen to Your Mother.  What followed was a whirlwind of meeting new friends, and rehearsals, and facebook chats, and, then the performance. And, it was, by far, one of the best experiences of my life. I have a dozen new friends because of this and they've each touched my life in very unique and loving ways. Have I gushed enough? Have I convinced you that you need to audition? Because you do. Seriously. Like right now. If you are a mother, or if you have a mother (I know you do!), if you have a story to tell, this is your chance!!  The details for the auditions are here- LTYM-Northern Utah . Give it a shot. You never know what may happen, and I promise, you won't be sorry.  And, I can sit in the audience and say, 'Hey! I know her!!' And, if you aren't in Utah, you can check their national site to see if there are auditions near you! (Here are a coup

At the end of my senior year in high school there was only one thing I wanted-- (other than a date with Curtis Beezer)-- I wanted to be Miss Mini-Cassia.  This was the local pageant that led to Miss Idaho, and ultimately, the grand prize of all prizes--Miss America. I'd been dreaming of this since I was 7 and watched Burt Parks sing, "There She Is" on our old console tv. (Miss America 1985-Sharlene Wells-Hawks) So, I entered the pageant. After weeks of rehearsals, cat-walk practice, and honing my amazing dance, (which I, sadly, choreographed myself), the night came. I felt dazzling in my silver, sparkly evening gown and spray painted shoes.  At the end of the pageant, we were to share a quote or dream. Did I stand there with my bouffant hair and red lipstick, and say, "I want world peace." ? No, I made up some dumb thing about looking to the future . I don't think that's what lost the pageant for me.  (Could it have been my terrible routine to &q

I sometimes wonder how my feet ever got married to my husband's. They are so incredibly different.  He wears shoes. All. Day. Long. Like, even if he isn't going to leave the house for the rest of the day, his shoes stay on. Until bedtime. My feet start to sweat when I just look at his shoe-clad tootsies. I take off my shoes about 2.7 seconds after I walk in the door.  Also, his feet do not like to be touched. Ever. Mine? Oh, please, my feet are sluts. They would be touched all day everyday if they could. And, then they would beg you to touch them some more. Also, his feet are sort of ugly. He doesn't feel bad. He has man-feet. They're never attractive. Mine are pretty cute, even if they are humongous size 11's.  I like his feet, though. They carry him around and he lets me use them as heaters when mine get cold in the night. But, they've had a bit of a sordid history.  First, he chopped his foot with an ax .  Diagnosis: severed tendon. Tre

I have six siblings. Three sisters and three brothers. (I’m a Libra, so things balance out.) I adore them all. But, there is only one who has been with me my whole, entire life. My older sister, Heidi. I may have been a bit of a disappointment to Heidi. She had an African-American doll and thought that for sure I should be born looking like it. Also, she wanted to name me Donna. Heidi and me with our Grandpa. Heidi is two and a half years older than me. She has gone before me always. Paving the way. I watched her with her friends, in school and at church. I watched how she dressed, how she talked and how she acted.  All the while, I tried to fit my steps to hers and follow along.  And, then, I didn’t.  In high school, our interests and aims diverged into different paths. She tried things I never dared. She had a confidence that terrified me. She dated boys I disliked, and then she married one.  But, it never changed how I felt about her.  I love he

This month, I'm going to do a photo-a-day challenge. I found the challenge on the Idea Room. This doesn't mean I won't write. But, my camera has been collecting dust for quite some time, so I decided it's time to get it back out. Here's the list for the month- Also, today is my Dad's birthday. Happy Birthday, Dad, I love you!!!