frazzled & frumpy

I am a reader of books. I am a writer of books. I love books. From my earliest memories, I loved books. I spent hours reading and imagining myself in the places and lives on those pages. I read about Helen Keller and Ann Frank. I read novels that took me to faraway lands and on fantastic adventures. Books are magic. Today, with rain pouring outside, Noah came in my room, flopped on my bed and said, "There's nothing to do." "Let's go to the library." This brought an immediate smile. As the recent owner of a library card, Noah bugs me almost daily to go. While I perused the CD's and wandered the non-fiction section, Noah ran (don't run!) back and forth from the children's section to show me what treasures he'd found. At one point, he positioned himself at a computer so he could look up a book. And, then, he showed me the encyclopedias he'd found and I explained what they are. ("Before we had the internet, this is how

For a very long time, I sailed through my life in comfort. Not financial or even true physical comfort, but that which comes of keeping things easy. No challenges, no goals. I had a husband and we kept having babies and I let those things envelope me in the security of sameness. I was happy on my ship called Comfort Zone. Or so I thought. Then a few years ago, something happened. I took a tentative step, then another, until I'd walked the plank and faced the ocean below me. An ocean with tides and waves and shark-infested waters that would require me to swim, and work, and try . I stepped off the edge and plunged. I began to write. I wrote a book, began another. Then, I started my blog. I wrote. Not everyday, but enough. The gift buried deep inside me began to flower and bloom. And, I met people. Other writers who inspired me with their talent and encouraged me with kindness and love. I wrote. I blogged. I contacted complete strangers for help. I joined groups and let

I believe in miracles. I do. I believe in angels and that God does, at times, reach down and touch our lives.  A couple weeks ago, I had the priviledge of going to a movie set--right here in our humble town of Layton.  The movie's working title is 'The Cokeville Miracle' , and it's based on a true story.  Now, I have to admit, I don't remember the incident that happened in Cokeville, Wyoming in 1986. (Probably because I was 19 and didn't pay much attention to the news back then.) But, as my day on the set went on, I learned the story and why it's going to make such a compelling movie. One of the best things about the day was meeting some of the crew. They were kind and personable. Every person I talked to went out of their way to answer questions, and take selfies. They. Were. Awesome. I met Bob Condor , 1st Assistant Director (AKA- Handsome Bob). When asked what was the best part of being involved in this movie, he couldn't pick just one thing.