frazzled & frumpy

Words. Words are what I know. It's what I do. I wake up in the morning and I think them. I speak them and listen to them. And, I write them.  That's my favorite. I try to write them everyday, usually I succeed. Some days, I totally fail. But, I always think about writing. And, then, when I don't write, I feel it. I'm sort of tired of feeling it. And, I feel it a lot because of this blog. Because I don't post enough, I don't post everyday, my posts aren't funny or insightful or whatever. I laid in bed this morning and thought about quitting. Instead, I decided to shove my guilt aside and take a break. Three weeks. No blogging. A 'Blogcation'. Then, I can concentrate on other writing, and my new calling, and my kids. And, the Handy Man. (I like concentrating on him.) Then, I'll be back. May 14. Until then, thank you, my readers. I know you're an elite, small group, but don't think I don't appreciate you. Your l

We've been in a slump lately. A tantrum slump. Meaning, there are tantrums all. the. time.  I'm really sick of it. Tantrums don't work. My kids should know that by now. And, yet, they still happen.  Why? I. Don't. Know. But, just for kicks, here's some reasons they've thrown tantrums over the years. Because...  Max wanted me to home school him. (As I lay here on my bed, in sweats, in quiet , you can see why this won't happen.) Noah wanted me to rent him a game on Redbox. (The last time I did that, I forgot about it and had to pay almost as much as it would've cost to buy the dang thing. Also, he played it once .) Sadie (at age 8) had a meltdown because I mentioned to her brother that if she had a baby at 15, she would have to put it up for adoption. ("You're going to make me give my baby away?!?!?") Do I have to explain this one? Any one of the seven didn't want to go to church. Happens every week. Every. Week. Yet, still, t

Writing is fun. It is joyful and therapeutic, inspirational, cathartic, soul-reaching work. When it isn't work. Writing as a profession can sort of suck. Making it a profession is hard. Blogs that are financially successful, (especially ones where the blogger just writes, no crafts or cooking) are few and far between. Getting a steady, loyal readership is tough. Just ask, well...me. I've thought about quitting, but really, if I was in this for the money I would've quit years ago. One of the best ways to write, and, make money at it, is books. But, that process sucks, too. First, you have to write a book, then edit it, edit some more, then some editing--you get the picture.  Then, you have to find an agent, more editing, then the agent has to find you a publisher. (I made that sound much easier than it is.) I'm still on the editing part. I recently had someone tell me about their friend's daughter who makes a few thousand a month writing and publishing ebook

Tonight, we were reading scriptures. (And don't think we're all perfect and read everyday. We so don't.) It was Hunter's turn. He read a verse that ended with: "and they shall be driven before like a dumb ass." Yep. Dumb ass. Giggling ensued. I was not immune. I couldn't help it. Sometimes you have to not take yourself too seriously. Even during scripture time. Who you calling dumb?

(I spent the past couple days focusing on thoughts and writing and vulnerability. Instead of a photo, today I decided to write on the prompt.) I drove myself up the canyon. A winding road twisted among the bare trees, their tips budding with the promise of spring. I walked into a quaint cabin and entered a different world. Surrounded by women I didn't know, I subconsciously chose a corner, the shyness of my youth washing over me like a wave. I watched conversations and listened to discourse, taking notes on paper and in my mind. Women approached me, pulling me from behind my self-inflicted wall. Layer by layer my fears and inhibitions were stripped away. As my shell opened, my heart lay exposed. Soft , delicate, it beat in timid rhythm as vulnerability became my badge. There is no growth without risk. I cannot live and learn unless I let myself become pliable, supple, susceptible to pain. I wrote, I shared, I laughed, I cried. And, then, I cried again. I let my mind fol

After a week of snow, even a little sun shine is welcome. Through the moonroof.

This was such a failure when I tried it in February, but I still like the idea. So, I'm trying again. Here's the list- And here's today's photo. What's more fun on a snowy spring break than a snow-recliner?