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. ...

Photo original here . I  live just a mile from Hill Air Force Base --and directly in the flight path of the planes. After eight years, it hasn't gotten old. I love listening to the jet noise and seeing them soar over our city. This weekend is their air show , which I'm sad to say, I'll be missing. Lucky me, they've been practicing today, and watching them has proven that even jets can be poetic. Soar Flocks fly across the horizon, Their metallic wings gleam gray and blue, With dizzying speed they ascend, Their cries rumbling, thundering, Stirring emotion and pride, Trailing clouds of patriotism in their wake.

I have a love/hate relationship with my body. Don't we all? I read this article yesterday and it resonated with me. For so long, I avoided swimsuits. I just didn't go where they were needed. Then, came the t-shirt years, when I somehow figured wearing a baggy-knit-thing would hide who I was. And, pictures? They have been erased and edited and cropped, carefully only showing my face, and, maybe shoulders. I guess it's our human nature. To look in the mirror, and instead of seeing beautiful, glorious beings, we pick ourselves apart, honing in on each and every teeny-tiny flaw. We squint and frown, and often, just avoid the reflection altogether. It doesn't help that 'the world' is telling us what we need to look like and all the many things that are wrong with who we are. There are things I hate don't like about my body. I would list them, but, well, that would be like saying 'Voldemort'-- giving power and substance to the thing I wish to...

(Original here .) The house is quiet. The only sounds that stir me this morning are sleepy breathing across the hall, chirping birds outside my window, and the heavy, distant rumbling of trucks making their early rounds. Soon enough, the house will wake. It will be filled with shouts and laughter, the ping-ring of video games, and the soft whoosh of the refrigerator door being opened--again and again. There will be arguments and footsteps and, most likely, the bang of toys hitting walls. This is the symphony of my life--the song I've learned to love. But, for now... I can ponder and plan, alone with my thoughts. I wonder about the future, both near and far. I pray for my children, especially those not here. I check my mental calendar, noting appointments and schedules. But, mostly, I write. Stories run through my mind. I greet characters I love. They tell me about themselves, what they want to do, where they want to go. They whisper secrets in my ear and I am grate...

The front room in our house has had many purposes. My husband calls it the "Home Teacher's Room"- the one you keep clean for visitors. Then, for a long time it was the Wii-room.  We had an entertainment center and an old tv, and pretty much gave it over to the kids. But, then, they moved the Wii downstairs and the front room was empty and unused. That's when I got an idea.  What if we made it into an office? But, not just any office, a nice office, a space for me. It's taken months of buying things here and there, painting and building. With the help of the Handy Man and lots of hard work, it has finally come together. I've never decorated a room before. Oh, I've put up stuff, but never had a real vision for what I wanted. But I did with this room and--I. Love. It.  I'm still missing a window treatment and an office chair, but I'm patient. For now, I'm enjoying it the way it is. The entire project cost less than $100. O...