frazzled & frumpy

Gah!! I am so out of practice with this blog-writing thing. I start a post, then erase it. Start another and erase it too. Then I go on other blogs to get inspired and all I get is discouraged because they are obviously not out of practice.  Sheesh.  Here's the thing- I'm going to be in Listen to Your Mother . (Which, if you don't know, is a nationwide show that celebrates motherhood. It's amazing. You should go. It's May 5th.) And, if you go on the site and click on my name, it brings you here. To my blog. My very, very neglected blog. (If my blog was a kid, someone would call DCFS.)  And, though I doubt tons of people will be clicking on my name, if they do, they'll see my sad blog and think I'm lame.  (I am lame, but I really don't want to have verifiable proof.) So, I'm trying to get back into practice.  If my announcement about LTYM seems familiar, that's because I've done it before. Three years ago. It was incredible. L...

As I scrolled through my facebook and Instagram feeds this morning, I found myself feeling a bit overwhelmed. My breathing quickened, my heart raced and I thought I might be having a panic attack. What was wrong? you ask. (Thanks for asking.) But, really, nothing. Nothing was wrong. Everything was right. So. Very. Right. It was...Perfect. Yes, I'm talking about the "Christmas of 2015" posts. Holy crap! You all had a great year! And as I looked through all the pics- fancy tables, gifts piled around the tree, beaches, and Disneyland- I realized how lacking I am. I mean, seriously, I suck at Christmas. But then a little voice whispered (I hear voices, don't judge), "No one's life is like that all the time." Oh, right. It's the social media bear trap. You know, where everyone posts all the best stuff in their life while behind the scenes they're just as screwed up as the rest of us? I'm guilty of it. Yeah. I delete pictures and crop and fi...

Last week was my birthday. It wasn't a "big" one that ended in a zero. All the same, it felt big. Maybe because the one ending in zero is next year. And that zero will have a 5 in front of it. Yes, it's true. I turned 49. And honestly, I'm wondering how the hell it happened. No, I'm not kidding, not being glib. I really don't understand how I'm suddenly an 'older' person. OK, maybe it wasn't so sudden. I've been 'older' for a few years now. But, this year, I feel it. I could blame it on college. I walk around campus in the ant-like crowds and can't miss the age differences. I'm fully aware of the smooth skin and tight everything on those kids. They're overly stylish even in their I-don't-care fashion. They talk about dating and roomates and who just got home from what mission. I walk among them as invisible as a tree--something to maneuver around. But it's more than my new-found student-status. It...

(One of my classes today.) Today I started a new chapter in my life. It's called, Your Mom Goes to College As my first day at Weber State ended, I realized there are a few things that might happen if you return to school after twent--mffshh *ahem* a lot of years.  If your mom goes to college she might assume that buying a parking pass means she'll just arrive and find a place to park. When she spends 35 minutes trying to find a parking spot, she might start swearing. A lot. She also might almost hit another car. And then, when she realizes she's already late for class she might just park illegally on a residential street screaming "Screw it! Give me a ticket!" and then run to class.  She might arrive at her first class ten minutes late. Arriving late might give her anxiety * .  Then she might spend the next hour trying to pay attention to the teacher while also wondering how much her parking ticket will cost. If your mom goes to college she mi...

There has been a lot of tragedy in our lovely state this week. Several families were altered forever. Lives were changed. Futures suddenly uncertain and dark. The story of the Bear Lake accident was all over the media, both locally and nationally. It broke our hearts and made us all hold our loved ones closer. Thing is, tragedies happen everyday--quietly, without any fanfare or notice, except by those affected. Whether public or private, one thing remains the same--we all experience heartache. As a member of the human race we all go through trying times. We try to avoid it, but Heartache is the master at hide-and-seek. It finds us. It squeezes our hearts, wringing them out till we feel drained and lifeless. But, it isn't so. It is the pain that reveals how very alive we are. It is the intense, immense love in our lives that allows for the ache, fosters it. It is hard. It is hurtful. It is meant to be. Grief and sadness, trials of all kinds, are the things that make us wh...