Pictures at last!

My wonderful parents got me a new camera for Christmas to replace my broken one, so now I have about a billion pictures to share with you. Enjoy!
Family

More family

My aunt Kim with her cute puppy

My grandparents opening gifts

General Christmas mayhem at my grandparents' house

My cute niece Addison

My other cute niece and her beautiful mama

Just cute

New shoes from Tim!

I really love my shoes

General Christmas mess at our house

The top of our Who-ville tree

From the side

At the end of our wonderful Christmas

Game night with the games we got for Christmas



Too many pictures, I know. I may have been overcompensating for the several months without a camera. I have more from New Year's...but maybe I'll save those for later.

What I'm grateful for (in no particular order)

1. Family. A thousand times over, I'm grateful for my family. Grateful that I get to spend time with them, that we have so much fun together, that they are such good people.

2. A new camera! My blog will be cool again!

3. My loving, supportive husband who keeps me from freaking out on a regular basis. I'd go to pieces without him. I'm so lucky to have someone who cares about me enough to tell me when to take things off my to-do list.

4. My job. I absolutely love my writing/editing job at Northridge Publishing and when I think back to where I was working six months ago and how much I didn't like it, I am so incredibly grateful to be where I am now.

5. Tim's job and how much self-esteem it gives him to be needed/wanted/valued in his work.

6. Our memory foam mattress. Not to brag or anything, but we have the best bed in the world. If you ask real nice, I'll let you sit on it. :)

7. Snow. Okay, this is a stretch today, but I am grateful that there will be some water for next summer. And for how pretty it is when it snows.

8. New tires on Tim's car. I didn't get stuck when I drove his car today and that is simply miraculous.

9. Tim's math tutor Alli. She's amazing and Tim's grade improved like, 400% from the last time he took Calculus. So so grateful.

10. Christmas! My favorite Christmas moment came after the presents had been opened at my parents' house but before we left for my grandparents' house to see my extended family. I was sitting in the living room, cleaning up and packing up our gifts, when I looked around at the jumbled mess and I was completely overwhelmed by how blessed I am to have so many people to love and who love me back. It wasn't the gifts that made me start to cry, but what they represented. I know there are so many families who do not get along, who have been torn apart by the choices of some family members, who don't have everyone with them at Christmas, and I am so grateful that at least once a year, my family gathers to celebrate not only our Savior, but our love for each other.

Turning to Jesus

As much as I love Christmas, it tends to get a little crazy. Everyone wants to spend time with everyone else, but party times conflict and all the fun plans get smashed in between trips to the grocery store and baking crazes and shopping. It's wonderful to have time off of work and school, but there are days when it doesn't feel like much of a vacation. Something has to get cut out. This year, it was my family's annual trip to the Cathedral of the Madeline in Salt Lake for a Christmas choir concert. I love going, but I knew that fitting it in would be more stress than it was worth (and besides, those wooden benches are not comfortable).

My mom shared a quote with me the other day that I can't remember exactly, but it was essentially that we have to turn to Jesus in order to survive the Christmas season. I laughed when she told me, but it occurred to me that Christmas, with all its accompanying stress, is exactly when we need Jesus the most. I've watched the season get crazy, and the to-do lists become overwhelming, and in the midst of it all, my patience with people and traffic has run low. In the last few days, I've seen more angry drivers and impatient shoppers than at any other time of the year. The demands of the season distract us so easily from the reasons for celebrating it.

And so, I'm turning to Jesus to help me get through the season. I'm trying to remember why it is I'm shopping and baking and wrapping, and surprisingly, it's in those very activities that I've found the Savior. He gave unselfishly and unceasingly, and as I have planned gifts and surprises, I have felt the Christmas spirit most strongly. I can't wait for Christmas so I can watch the faces of my husband and family as they open the gifts I carefully picked out for them. I can't wait to feel the kindness of the day envelop me. We celebrate Christ's birth because He gave us life and love and hope, and in turning to Him, I find my patience and compassion returning. And that is the best gift of all.

Merry Christmas!

The Nativity: A Christmas Production

Last night, at my Maryon family party, my extended family put on our Nativity play. This play has been a part of our family since my father was a child. My Grandma Pat wrote the script and it includes Christmas songs and hymns, and scripture passages from the Book of Mormon as well as the Bible. We have performed the very same thing year after year. When I was growing up, I was an angel with a halo of gold tinsel and a white sheet draped around me. Once or twice I got to play Mary, and in later years, I played the piano accompaniment or read some of the narration.

This year, Tim and I were asked to play Joseph and Mary. We were being a little silly as we put on costumes and as I tried to swaddle the baby doll that was Jesus. But when it came time to walk across the room and kneel together around the blanketed infant, the story took shape and reality. My cousins knelt around us, my aunts and uncles read lines of scripture, and together we sang joy and praise.

My cousins and I are growing up, growing a little old to dress up, but this is a tradition that I know we'll carry on. Eventually we'll have our own children and they will be forced to dress up as angels and shepherds and wisemen. There is something beautiful about sharing a tradition with family, especially one that celebrates something as holy and joyful as the birth of our Savior. We may roll our eyes a little at the production, but in our hearts, we love taking part in this Christmas pageant every year.

Done, Need to, Ready

Done with teaching, done with finals, and done with being sick.

Still need to work, still need to shop, still need to wrap, still need to bake.

Ready to play, ready to plan surprises, ready to sleep in, ready for snow, ready for family, ready for Christmas!

Gosh, I love this time of year.

My Many Hats

I don't actually own many hats (though I do drool over the incredible works of art in the My Fair Lady Ascot scene) but somedays I feel like I have too many to keep track off.

For example, this morning I woke up and put on my elementary school teacher "hat." It's a little ragged but still intact. It's wide-brimmed with a ribbon around the band, an attempt at homey comfort, but most of the time it's just a work hat that keeps the sun off my neck. (Please read into these metaphors...)

As soon as I was done being a teacher, I threw that hat into the back of my car and pulled on my writer/editor hat as I zoomed to my next job. When I got to the office, I collected boxes of new submissions, answered emails, edited text, and settled in to write more. My 1920s journalist hat still looks sharp after several months of working, though the brim on one side is starting to stretch where I keep pulling it down.

Throughout the day, I occasionally switch to my friend/confidante hat (a wide scarf) or my creative writer hat (newsboy cap). When I'm done with work, I have to switch again, sometimes pulling on my ACT prep teacher hat (cowgirl) or thankfully slinging on my best friend/wife hat (Tim's BYU baseball cap). Tonight I will pin on my Ward-Christmas-Party hat (I'm still not sure what that looks like) and then I'll pull my hair back and tie a scarf on when I hang out with my friends.

The roles I play occasionally feel so completely different from each other, I hardly recognize myself. Sometimes I wish I had just one hat to wear each day, one person to be.

I have a blog I follow that always asks a question at the end of each post. If this were that type of blog, I'd end this post like this: What "hats" do you find yourself wearing most often? Are there any you wish you wore less or more? Do you think it's possible to only have one hat?

Teaching update

Yesterday I made a conscious effort to be positive, energetic, and animated when I taught. Usually that makes my class time go better--if I'm excited to be there, they are too. And then I'm moving so much that I don't notice if they're chatty.

Yesterday I had first graders, one of whom spent the class crying under the long counter on one side of my classroom until I told her if she didn't participate in class, we'd have to talk to her teacher later. She came out long enough to be obnoxious and disruptive so that I had to discipline her again, which provoked more sobbing as we walked back to class. Literally sobbing. Her shirt was wet from her tears.

Another student spent the day pulling sheets of colored and lined paper from my small supply, drawing pictures, and handing them out to other students regardless of me asking her to just sit down.

Two other students decided that having the freedom to move around the room (we were exploring how music can make us feel) meant they could roughhouse and wrestle where they thought I couldn't see them. When I called them out for it, one of them got his feelings hurt and refused to talk to me for the rest of the class.

The rest of the class was restless, chatty, and did not stay quiet for more than about two minutes at a time, which is usual for first graders.

There are good days, and there are bad days. This was a bad day.

To be a teacher

Last August I took a job teaching music at an elementary school. It's been about four months since then, and I've discovered that teaching well is an extraordinarily difficult task and truthfully, I'm not very good at it. I've gotten better since that first terrifying day, but I haven't figured out the secret to it. I can make a decent lesson plan and I've learned how to deal with most of the problems first and second graders can come up with, but I haven't been able to make the leap from just going through the motions and being a teacher.

Then a few weeks ago, I was called to be in my ward's Primary presidency. Other than being slightly overwhelming because of the responsibility of the calling, I found it ironic that I'm being called to work with more children. I wonder, what am I supposed to be learning from all of this? Is it preparing me for my own kids, or is it an incentive to wait?

As I sat in Primary on Sunday and watched one of the younger kids yell through Sharing Time, it occurred to me that maybe the only lesson I will take from all this is patience. I have never been good at letting chaos go uncontrolled and kids really are the epitome of unpredictability. If I am going to survive the year and eventually be a good mom, I am going to need so much more patience than I currently possess.

I think the other thing I am going to learn, or at least I hope I will learn, is love. My sister-in-law Bekah is a fantastic teacher and she's given me lots of help and humor. She said on her blog the other day that as she's become a mom with a daughter to love, she's found more love for her students as well. When I read that, I realized that's one of the things I'm lacking. Most of the time, my students are out-of-control problems that need to be solved, shushed, corralled, and managed. I don't worry very much about whether or not they're having a good day, but rather whether or not I'm having a good day. And I think it's supposed to be the opposite.

I don't know if I'm going to get any better, but I've decided to give it a try (probably after Christmas break, let's be honest). I'm teaching 120 six-, seven-, and eight-year-olds how to read music notes and clap a beat and sing, but I want to teach them to be good people, to be excited about learning, and that I am an adult who cares about them. I don't know how to do it yet, but I'll let you know if I figure it out.

O Christmas Tree!

The Adventure:

Last Saturday, my family (parents, sister Rachel & brother-in-law Jase) and Tim & I embarked on a quest...a quest to find The Christmas Trees. We got permits to cut down our own Christmas trees this year, and though it ended up being a long day, it was completely worth it.

Our permits were for the Ashley National Forest, which is up by Duchesne and much further away than we initially thought, which contributed to the long day. None of us had ever cut down our own tree before, so we didn't know what to expect. It turned out to be a lot harder to find good trees that were less than fifteen feet tall and that were at least 200 feet from a road, river, or campsite than we anticipated. In the end, we had to slog through a food and a half of snow and walk across the frozen river that ran next to the road to find our trees, but we were successful! We cut down three trees, strapped them to the bed of the truck, and eventually made it home. We were wet and frozen (especially my dad, who was the unlucky one to step through the ice into the freezing river water) and exhausted, but like I said, I think it was worth it. Hiking through the snow-covered mountains reminded me of my grandparents' house in Wyoming, and in spite of the rough moments, it truly was a grand adventure.

As a side note, Jase was the champion of the day. Not only did he drive for hours and through snow, he also cut down the trees and fixed the chainsaw when the cord broke. He saved the day!

The Tree:

Now we have a fresh Christmas tree that has already filled our house with the elusive scent of pine. It definitely doesn't look like something from a Christmas tree farm--its branches are tangled and stick out at odd angles, it's lopsided in places, and it's about ten inches too tall for our living room--but I love the natural look it has because of that. We were going to trim the top off, but I liked the way the top branch bent along the ceiling so we left it. Then I realized what it reminded me of: the Christmas trees in How the Grinch Stole Christmas. They're all bendy and curving and tall and spindly, just like our tree. So if anyone from Who-ville comes asking, we don't know anything about a missing Christmas tree. *wink wink*

I had to take a picture of our tree on my phone, so the quality is terrible, but you get an idea of what it looks like:


I tried to take a picture of the top so you could see how it bends:

You can just see the tiny crystal star dangling from the end of the very top branch.

After we finished decorating our tree last night, we started a new family tradition. We turned off all the lights except the lights on the tree and a few candles, including a candle pyramid from Germany, and read some Christmas stories and poems while drinking hot chocolate. It was lovely--so exactly what we needed to remind us why we love this holiday. A tiny break from our demanding lives to bask in the glow of our beautiful (and hard-won) tree.

Giving thanks for the weekend

This not having a camera thing is very annoying, especially when it comes to awesome things like Thanksgiving and game nights and shopping and the-blizzard-that-wasn't (okay, I guess there wasn't much to take pictures of there). Ah well. I will still "post" pictures and I encourage everyone to use their imagination.

Ready? Here we go!

Thanksgiving weekend was lovely, except for some rather expensive car repairs (as car repairs tend to be). Thankfully, we had only one car to repair, and that is something worth putting on the gratitude list. Thanksgiving day was spent with my parents and my dad's extended family. I realized that I haven't spent Thanksgiving with my own family for three years so I really enjoyed being here with them. It was very strange not to my have little brother with us, but we managed.

[Insert mental picture of a long counter filled to the brim with good food, and another of Tim and I playing Uno with my cousins, including Hazel who is four and very nearly beat us all... She is sharp, that one.]

Friday I did the almost unthinkable--I got up early for Black Friday sales. I know, I know, what was I thinking? Well, there were a couple of amazing deals on things I wanted to get Tim for Christmas and a really amazing deal on an external hard drive (which are generally quite expensive), so off I went. And...drumroll...I succeeded! I got a great deal at Kohl's on Tim's gifts, stopped by Jo-Ann's for a few things I've been wanting to get for a while, and then I swung by Best Buy on the off-chance that the hard drive might still be in stock, and it was! I was amazed and incredibly pleased with myself. I spent a total of an hour and a half out and about, hardly spend any time in a check-out line, and then I was back in bed to sleep a little longer and be exhausted the rest of the day. It was kind of exhilarating to get such good deals, though I'm not sure I'll ever do it again.

[Insert mental picture of me holding three shopping bags with a triumphant smile, then insert a picture of Tim hugging his new external hard drive. Yes, he was that happy to get it.]

Later Friday, Tim and I went to see The Scarlet Pimpernel at the Hale Center Theater again, and though we didn't get to see that cast we wanted, it's still an amazing show. And the best part? Now Tim is familiar enough with the music that we can listen to the CD in the car!

[Insert mental picture of a scarlet pimpernel...no, of a guillotine...no, of Tim and I singing along to the soundtrack in my car. Yeah, that one.]

And last but not least, Friday night we had a game night with some of my mom's extended family, and it was hilarious. I have the funniest family in the world, I'm pretty sure. Let it be known that my team should have won Cranium Turbo even though we technically came in last.

[Insert picture of the family sitting around my parents' dining table with cards in front of them, then insert a picture of Jase and Rachel doing a "sideshow" challenge for Cranium, then insert the picture of all of us laughing so hard we could barely breathe. That one's my favorite.]

Just thinking out loud

This month is already halfway over, and I can't believe I've hardly written anything on this blog. It's not that it's been particularly busy month--though it has--but rather, it's just been fast. It's that point in the semester when thoughts stay in my head for about fourteen seconds before I'm racing to remind myself about something else and all the forgotten thoughts get emptied into the swirling pit of vague anxiety that hovers somewhere in the vicinity of my diaphragm. Tim is majorly stressed out about school (it looks like this semester might get the best of him again), and I'm realizing just how much I rely on him to keep my anxiety away. It's hard to pull your partner out of their stress sinkhole if you're trying not to slip into your own. We're going to have to take turns or something. One of those tricks of married life we haven't quite figured out yet.

All today I kept thinking about things I wanted to blog about, but I couldn't settle on anything. I actually keep a list of things that I want to write about at some point, but nothing feels relevant without being redundant today. My thoughts are feel like they're chasing their tails, to quote my first graders.

I'm thinking about faith and doubt and cancer and the essay I've been trying to write about it and how I need to get cracking so I can submit it for a writing contest. Thinking about writing and how my friends have kept up with that and are getting published and I'm letting that part of my life slide and plus I think I'm getting dumb being away from school. Thinking about writing for work and wondering how I'm ever going to get caught up and how much work and I can squeeze in over Thanksgiving and wondering if I really want to work over Thanksgiving anyway. Thinking about friends I haven't talked to recently and then about Christmas and wondering how that's going to work out and then jumping to Harry Potter this weekend and a football game and then a birthday party and wait, am I teaching on Sunday? No, I taught last week. I think. Wondering how we're going to get Tim through this semester and if we'll find him a tutor in time and he still needs to register for next semester but he might need a break but that's probably not a great idea but maybe. And then remembering the horror stories I heard in traffic school tonight (stupid speeding ticket) and how I'm grateful that I wear my seatbelt and how I'm never talking on my cell phone while driving again, ever. Rattlesnake, hockey puck, monkey monkey underpants. (That's a Gilmore Girls shout out, in case you missed it.)

Whew.

There's a line in You've Got Mail that I love, and because I love movie quotes and I love getting things right, I looked it up: "Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life--well, valuable, but small--and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So goodnight, dear void."

I don't really want an answer to any of this madness running through my head, though I'm sure someone will read it. Blogging is truly a paradox sometimes, the public bearing of private thoughts. Tonight I just needed a void to empty those thoughts into. So goodnight, dear void.

Elder Maryon

And just like that, he's gone. Into the MTC, there to stay for only three weeks, and then the real adventure begins. I admit I got teary at our goodbye, but soon I will be only happy and excited for Ethan/Elder Maryon. He's in the care of our Heavenly Father, and that's a good place to be. As he put it to my mother, "Just think of it this way...the Big Man in the Sky just won the custody battle." Heh.

I feel like we can finally breathe a little bit, now that the weddings and farewells are over and the missionary is on his way. I have plans to clean my kitchen today for the first time in...well, a while. I got pretty sick last week, but after a quick trip to the urgent care and a week of antibiotics, I'm feeling much better (albeit still soooo tired...but I blame Daylight Savings for that).

I think the feeling I have today, above all others, is just an awareness of how time is passing, how life is moving forward. Tim and I watched out wedding video the other night, and as I watched pictures of us flash by, I thought, what full lives we've have! We've done so much already, and yet our greatest adventures and joys and sorrows are still ahead of us.

It makes me think of one of my favorite songs, "More Time" by Needtobreathe:
I hoped that you could understand
This is not what I had planned
Please don't worry now
It will turn around
'Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we'll be fine
So say what's on your mind
'Cause I can't figure out just what's inside

I heard this first when Tim and I were still doing that whole long-distance thing, and it was so apt. But now, it seems to apply no matter what's going on. Just a few more months and something will change, someone will turn, life will be different somehow. Both a sad and happy thought. Bittersweet, I think we call it.

"Ladies and gentlemen..."

LORELAI: "...We have flakes. Flakes have been sighted. Flakage, if you will, has begun. [walks across the room] Michel, it's the first snowfall of the season. It's very lucky. Make a wish."

MICHEL: "Get away from me."

LORELAI: "Oh, you're not supposed to say it out loud."

MICHEL: [answering the phone] "Independence Inn, Michel speaking."

LORELAI: "The world changes when it snows. It gets quiet. Everything softens."

MICHEL: [holds out phone] "It's your mother."

LORELAI: "And then the rain comes."

Even if it ends in ten minutes (likely) and doesn't stick (highly probable), it's still exciting. Happy first day of snow everyone!

So proud

My little brother is leaving next week to serve an LDS mission in Everett, Washington. I'm a little bit jealous that he's going to be in an incredibly beautiful place for two years, but mostly I am realizing how much I am going to miss him and his (sometimes crushing) hugs. I'm incredibly proud of Ethan, especially for his devotion to God and for putting that devotion into action. I know he's going to make an awesome missionary.

On Sunday, Ethan gave his farewell talk in my parents' ward and we had a ton of family come to support him. (I was reminded me that when we start having kids and baby blessings, Tim and I are going to single-handedly fill the entire chapel with our family members. The ward will just have to fill in the overflow or something.) Ethan's talk was really good. Like, really good. Like, I took notes. Yeah, he's going to rock a mission.

One of the things that Ethan said is that prayer is never wasted. Even if we pray and don't see the results we asked for, that prayer was needed for something and affected some kind of change, even if it was only an inward one. I think one of the reasons this struck me is that this is something I have struggled to understand.

For several years, I have worked at not giving up when my prayers don't seem to be answered. Illnesses have not disappeared, family members have not been protected, miracles don't always appear, and sometimes it's a struggle to believe that they ever will. But looking back on the last few years, I realize that if nothing else, my prayers have made me more compassionate and humble. Learning to pray for these kinds of things fosters something good within us, even if the outward results are not what we prayed for.

In addition to Ethan's lovely talk, we provided the musical number as a family. Tim and I sang, Rachel (who got back from her honeymoon the night before) played the viola, Ethan and my cousin Mike played the cello, and my dad played the piano. It didn't go perfectly, but I think it went well. The song we played/sang is a favorite of mine (I actually arranged the viola and cello parts) called "Savior, Redeemer of my Soul."

This song became important to me around the time my dad was diagnosed with cancer almost four years ago. Rachel and I played it the night before he went into surgery, and then again that weekend for my ward's Easter program. I sang it while I was in England with a more beautiful voice than I ever had before. And I have often found in this song the words to express my testimony:

Savior, Redeemer of my soul
Whose mighty hand hath made me whole,
Whose wondrous power hath raised me up
And filled with sweet my bitter cup.

I know that it is not by my power that I am and have been raised up out of grief, disappointment, fear, and pain. And I know that we can be whole even when illness persists and loved ones pass away and we feel our prayers are not answered. It's a beautiful song expressing a redeeming idea and I was so happy that we got to share it.

And all this inspiration and testimony because my brother is going on a mission. So good. So proud.

Doesn't it seem like everyone in the world is sick right now?

I have been fighting with a dreadful cold the last few days, and I have only two thoughts:

1. If you have a hacking cough, do NOT watch Finding Neverland. Now every time I start to cough, Tim looks at me like I'm going to die a la Kate Winslet.

2. Terrible cold = lots of fluids = going to the bathroom every hour and a half. If this is what it's like to be pregnant, I'll pass.

She's married!!!

My sister got married yesterday! And in spite of the rain and wind (which conveniently died down when we took pictures), it was a beautiful day. It was so incredibly special to see my little sister in her temple clothes in the sealing room with her sweet husband, and to have my little brother sitting next to me during the ceremony. I felt so proud and privileged to be there, and I'm not ashamed to admit, I was very tearful, especially when I hugged my newly married sister.

The rest of the day went well, too. Rachel was absolutely gorgeous (is anyone surprised?) and she and Jase looked so happy. I wish I had some pictures to post, but my camera is broken and so I'll have to borrow some and post them later. Rachel just wanted a luncheon following the ceremony (no reception), so set up and clean up weren't too bad, and the decorations turned out to be really lovely. I think the most fun part was the photo booth that Jase's family set up. Rachel and Jase put together a bunch of silly costume items so we all dressed up and did silly pictures. And the coolest part of the day? Jase surprised Rachel with a limo to take them to Park City after the luncheon!

We were done cleaning up by about 4:00 and back to my parents' house and in pajamas less than an hour later. It was lovely, but so strange to be done with a wedding so early! It felt like a separate day altogether. That might be why I still don't know what to think about Rachel being married--it doesn't seem real. Jase has been a part of our family for a while, so it doesn't really feel like anything's changed. We're a family of seven now, adding people here and there. It feels right to add these boys to our family, though. And I'm excited to have life get a little less crazy and stressful, especially for Rachel.

Jase and Rachel are so perfect together, and I'm absolutely thrilled for them. Hooray for weddings and temple marriages and beautiful days!

A post about my husband, whom I love

Maybe it's because my sister is getting married and I've been remembering my own wedding, but I wanted to write something about how amazingly sweet my husband is. I probably won't tell him I wrote this, because he would be soooo embarrassed, but it's all true.

Tim was sick today. I overzealously checked in on him every hour or so, just a quick "You okay? Need anything?" He usually sent back something like, "No, but thanks," and I was satisfied. During one of our exchanges, my phone buzzed an extra time and I looked down to read, "Do you need anything?" And I just melted. That little phrase made me feel so cared for.

Later, I got home later than I said I would and Tim came out to meet me. He got to the car before I'd even opened my door. "I didn't know where you were" was all he said to explain the anxious crease between his eyes. I felt bad that I had worried him, but again, I suddenly felt so...precious to him.

Tim is amazingly good at making me feel loved. I have never, ever doubted how he feels about me, not even when we very first starting dating. He was never shy in expressing himself, even though I was. When we were dating and engaged, we spent most of our time thousands of miles apart and so when we were together, we tended to overcompensate for the separated months. This garnered us some relentless teasing and ridicule, and though we deserved some of it, it made me afraid to express myself. Tim got the worst of the teasing, but I marveled at his ability to brush most of it off. He didn't care if we were doing things "right," like I did. He just cared about me and making me sure I knew it.

Now that we don't have to rely on Skype to see each other every day, we're more relaxed about our time together and can spend time apart. But I think the fear and pain of separation have left an indelible mark on both of us. We're still affectionate and cutesy and yes, probably a little nauseating. And you know what? I love it.

I love that we're cute and cuddly and silly. I love that we say "I love you" a hundred times a day. I love that I fall asleep every night with Tim's arm around me and that we spend ten minutes cuddling in bed every morning. I love that the first thing I do when I get home from work is hug and kiss my husband. I love that nothing calms me more than Tim's hands cradling my face. I just love my husband, and I want to make sure he feels that as often as I feel his love for me.

P.S. I changed my mind. I am going to show this to Tim. He will absolutely be embarrassed, but I think that he will also like it.

And it was a glorious day

Today, I got a small glimpse of what heaven will be like, and oh, it will be glorious. I was surrounded by family, but instead of the laughter and chattering of frequent family gatherings, there were tears and open arms and smiles. We were very aware of who was missing, but we were brought closer because of that. We waited anxiously until everyone was together, watching to see who would walk through the door. My heart was full as I embraced my sweet brother and sister, my almost brother-in-law, my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and of course, my husband. I'm sure it was overwhelming for Rachel and Ethan (that first time through the temple usually is) but I hope they felt the spirit that was there.

We had so many people come that the little Draper temple couldn't quite fit all of us and the other temple patrons into one session, so they split up the groups and my family got to have our own session. It was incredible, knowing that every person in that room was connected to each other in some way. Like I said, I'm pretty sure it's a slice of what heaven will be like.

While we waited in the chapel before the session started, it struck me very forcefully that the whole point of temples and temple work was sitting in the chapel with with me. The power that binds families together in a temple is the same power that guarantees that my cousin Nigel is still part of our family and we'll see him again. And that made the work being done for Nigel by his father a reality, not an abstract.

I could see Nigel very clearly in my mind--dressed in white temple clothes, standing respectfully, his hair curly again as it if had grown out from when he buzzed it before being sent to Afghanistan. I'd never seen Nigel in the temple while he was still alive, so I know it wasn't just a memory. I think it was my heart's way of reminding me that he was there with us.

I know that I'm lucky--a lot of families never get the opportunity to be all together in the temple, for one reason for another. I hope I get to relive that moment many more times. So many things became clear to me in a way they never had before. How much I love my crazy, wonderful family, for one. How incredibly blessed we are to have a promise that we'll be a family forever. And how family relationships are the strongest, most valuable ties we can hope to have in this life. I can't wait to have my own children and to introduce them to this web of loving people that I call my family, because really, I don't think it gets much better than this.

"They seek him here, they seek him there..."

Monday night, Tim and I sat entranced at the Hale Center Theater while The Scarlet Pimpernel unfolded around us. It was enchanting. It was wonderful. It was breathtaking--literally. There were several times that I realized I had been holding my breath during the songs. If you've never seen this play, please do. Soon, if possible. It's easily one of my top three favorite musicals of all time. It's got everything--daring adventures, passionate romance, hilarious disguises, life and death, and the most incredibly awesome costumes you've ever seen. Seriously. I would considering doing something illegal to obtain just one of those dresses--just one, mind you!

The Scarlet Pimpernel has been a favorite story of mine for many years now. I can't remember if I saw the movie first (probable) or read the book first (less likely), but I fell in love with it. I distinctly remember sitting in the car somewhere in Salt Lake, oblivious to my family around me, barely breathing as I raced through the novel completely enraptured. I finished what I still consider to be one of the most romantic chapters in all literature, put the book down, and sighed with my whole heart all aflutter. If you've never read this book, read it. Have patience with the descriptive paragraphs and enjoy being surprised by the original story.

I'll put in a plug for the movie too. The 1982 adaptation starring Anthony Andrews, Jane Seymour (Dr. Quinn, as she is better known), and Ian McKellen (Gandalf in his much younger years) is the best version, so far as I'm concerned. I haven't seen it in a long time, but I could still probably quote the better part of the movie to you right now. ("Oh, the English and their stupid sense of fair play...")

I absolutely love this play/movie/book. And I love sharing things I love with the people I love. (It's very lucky for Tim that he enjoyed the play almost as much as I did, because we ARE going to see it a second time.) So go ahead. Pick up the book. Listen to the music. See the play. Rent the movie. You're gonna love it, I promise.

You know those days...

...when the one load of unfolded laundry somehow multiplies into four? When the rubber band breaks just as you try to put it over the cheese (which, by the way, is moldy on the bottom) and your fingers get snapped? When the dishes in the sink are starting to smell as the milk in one of the stacked bowls starts to curdle? When you wonder if the pile of clothes on the floor of your bedroom is clean or dirty because you can't remember and you're pretty sure that they're dirty and wait, those are the jeans you've been looking for and keep meaning to wash so you have something to wear for work, and just as you are calculating how long the pile can stay on the floor before the spiders will consider it fair game and infest, you remember that you were making a grilled cheese sandwich for your husband, who doesn't feel well, and by the time you rescue the sandwich it's pretty well blackened on one side?

Yeah, I do too.

I love laughing at those days.

Not because crying isn't an option...because it is...and a good, frequently used one, too...but because really, what else can you do with those days? I tell my 1st and 2nd graders that they always have a choice with how they react. We are in control of ourselves. And so, on days like those days, I choose to ignore the dishes, scrape the black off the sandwich, push the four loads of laundry off my bed (joining the pile of dirty clothes), let Tim deal with the spiders, and go to bed. I will tackle it all another day. As my favorite Anne says, "Tomorrow is another day, with no mistakes in it."

That's all. Good night.

It's the small (and not so small) things in life that make living so grand

Yesterday, as I left work right around sunset at 6:30, I walked out into a wall of cool, crisp, delicious air. The rain had stopped for the moment, and though I was chilly, I was instantly refreshed. The red leaves were vibrant on Cascade Mountain as some sunlight found a secret way through the clouds to illuminate the mountains in stripes and spots. It was a simple moment, but it was a gorgeous reminder that autumn is here.

I told Tim recently that we needed to find something to be excited about. It feels like we're always in survival mode, just "making it through" the week of homework, tests, and work, and we needed something to look forward to. Yesterday's peace-infusing sunset was a sweet reminder that while dream vacations are fun to plan, there are little things everyday to enjoy. And then, as I got thinking about it, there are somewhat big things going on as well. Life, life-changing things.

My sister is getting married in fifteen days (two weeks from Saturday).

My brother is leaving to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in thirty-three days (four weeks from next Wednesday.

My cousin was killed in Afghanistan seven months ago last Monday.

Together, all of us are going to the temple.

My sister and brother are going through the temple for the first time next week, and my aunt and uncle got permission to take my cousin's name through at the same time. My family and extended family and soon-to-be-in-laws (of Rachel's) will make up at least half of the session. Just thinking about the spirit that will be there when we are all together in the Draper Temple gives me chills. And tears. (But those just come whenever they feel like it anyway.) It's going to be a very special experience, and I can't wait for it to come.

Then of course, a wedding, and a mission farewell, and family pictures...Oh yes. There are a lot of things to look forward to.

Some other things I'm looking forward to/am happy about/feel the need to share on this blog:

I am going to see The Scarlet Pimpernel at the Hale Center Theater on Monday. SO. FREAKING. EXCITED.

My mom has been in St. George at the Senior World Olympics this week and has been swimming quite well. Quite well, as in nine gold medals for nine races, and several new records set. I am constantly amazed at how cool my mom is.

And last but definitely not least, my sweet husband got a 92 on his math test!!! It was exactly the kind of victory he (and I) needed where school is concerned. Unless you have ever watched your spouse struggle through semester after semester of defeating assignments and failed tests, you won't know what it means when he (or she) finally gets that elusive good grade and some of the weight of your stress is beautifully lifted. To our dear friend (and practically a relative...we're some kind of in-laws, I think...) and math tutor Alli, we are so so so grateful.

Today, I'm grateful that it's Friday. I'm grateful for a 92 on a math test. I'm grateful for temples. I'm grateful for family. I'm grateful for the rain and the autumn season. And I'm grateful for all the small (and not so small) things that make this life so grand indeed.

The Problem with My Solution to My Problem

I remembered why I'm not usually crafty: I have no patience for it.

If I can throw something together and have it look great, awesome. I'm all about efficiency, not quality. It's a sad fact, but it's true. So if I don't have the tools readily available that I need to make something amazing, I will settle for something less-stellar without hesitation. Should I work on changing this? Possibly...but probably not anytime soon.

Ah well. I will still make some awesomely crafty things...I just won't take much time to do so once I start...

Word(s) of the Day, Part 2

I included my own sentences to help clarify the meanings. And to give you an idea of how such intelligent language can be used in everyday conversations...heh.

fossick \FOS-ik\, verb:
1. To search for any object by which to make gain.
2. Mining. To undermine another's digging; search for waste gold in relinquished workings, washing places, etc.
3. To hunt; seek; ferret out.
For example, I watched him fossick for his phone for an hour before telling him it was in his front pocket.

rigmorole \RIG-muh-rohl\, noun:
1. An elaborate or complicated procedure.
2. Confused, incoherent, foolish, or meaningless talk.
There was quite a bit of rigmorole surrounding the rigmorole of asking his date to the Prom.

hobbledehoy \HOB-uhl-dee-hoy\, noun:
An awkward, gawky young fellow.
If I get asked out by one more hobbledehoy, I'm joining a convent.

diaphanous \dy-AF-uh-nuhs\, adjective:
1. Of such fine texture as to allow light to pass through; translucent or transparent.
2. Vague; insubstantial.
Well, that's a diaphanous argument if I ever heard one.

soupcon \soop-SAWN\, noun:
A slight trace, as of a particular taste or flavor.
The party had a soupcon of inebriety although no alcohol was consumed (must have been a Mormon party).

kenspeckle \KEN-spek-uhl\, adjective:
Conspicuous; easily seen or recognized.
I'd know that kenspeckled red hair anywhere.

cachinnate \KAK-uh-neyt\, verb:
To laugh loudly or immoderately
I can never stop myself from cachinnating at the most inopportune times.

anacoluthia \an-uh-kuh-LOO-thee-uh\, noun:
Lack of grammatical sequence or coherence, esp. in a sentence.
I spoke with a--well, what I mean to say is--there anacoluthia is the--but not very often--though I never did say that.

beek \BEEK\, verb:
1. To bask or warm in the sunshine or before a fire.
2. (Of wood) to season by exposure to heat.
Beek is related to the same Middle English root that results in bake. So it would be entirely appropriate to say to someone, Go beek yourself by the fire.

foudroyant \foo-DROI-uhnt\, adjective:
1. Overwhelming and sudden in effect.
2. Pathology. (Of disease) beginning in a sudden and severe form.
3. Striking as with lightning.
I could only take his foudroyant personality in small doses.
-or-
If I am around him too long, my negative reactions are likely to be foudroyant.

incunabulum \in-kyoo-NAB-yuh-luhm\, noun:
1. The earliest stages or first traces of anything.
2. Extant copies of books produced in the earliest stages (before 1501) of printing from movable type.
The incunabulum of this list is but a distant memory...

My Problem

There is one small problem with this new job that I love, and it is, to put it simply, that it makes me feel monumentally inadequate. All day long, I hold and handle the creative works of other women. I study how they were made and I look for unusual or especially creative elements. And I often come away feeling like an uninspired lump of nothing. I mean, I am technically a Master of Fine Arts--"creative" is practically in my title. And yet, I am not making anything of my own. It makes me feel very insecure about who and what I profess to be.

The truth is (personal confession--indulge me), I spend a lot of my time feeling insecure. I don't like this about myself, but I worry about other people's opinions of me, even people I know love me. I wonder and worry quite a lot if I'm doing things "right." Any discontent I feel about anything--my clothes, my house, my weight, my blog--almost always comes out of the suspicion that someone else does it better. I know that in general, women are prone to the deadly sin of comparison (and therefore never think of ourselves as "enough"), but it's not just a comparison. It's that somehow my choices are inherently flawed because I didn't do things the way other people did--I didn't do it "right."

Sometimes I even worry about who I am: Am I nice enough? Am I too nice? Am I nice for the right reasons? Do I spend enough time with my family? With my friends? Am I being unreasonable? Am I being a pushover? Over and over, my inner dialogue second guesses everything about myself.

The practical part of me just read over that last part and rolled her eyes. Sheesh, just be who you are and stop worrying about it, she said. And I do listen to that voice most of the time. I've worked hard for more than half of my twenty-four years to be more confident and sure of decisions and myself. But there are days (especially lately, triggered by my job) when I lose that sense of who I am. Days when I stop asking what I like and only worry what other people will like. Days when I forget whose opinions actually matter. Days when I'm lost.

I told my sister-in-law the other week that sometimes we need to let ourselves cry. We need to admit to and experience our negative emotions so that we can truly move past them. But now, I'm not sure that's completely true. Yes, we do need to feel what we feel, but there is a point when it just becomes self-indulgent.

So.

I am going to battle my insecurities and reclaim my creative identity.

I have a list of projects I want to do (some of which I've already started), I have a book of writing prompts I'm going to work my way through, and I am going to work on that whole staying-confident-at-all-times thing. If I need to, I am going to make a list of things I like because I like them. (I'm thinking of that scene in Runaway Bride when Julia Roberts tries all the different kinds of eggs...) And I'm going to remind myself daily that the list of people whose opinions I should listen to is much shorter than I think it is.

I realize this was a very self-indulgent post, and I hope you'll forgive me. I also hope you know what I'm talking about--the pull of insecurity and self-doubt and push of confidence and action. If not...well, lucky you. :)

Maybe someday I will learn to speak up for my opinions a little more. Or maybe I will learn not to care what other people think. Or maybe I will finally figure out how to hang on to my identity, regardless of whose beautiful projects I am writing about.

About this time of year...

...when the mountains are flecked with red and the days are cooling off and everything is starting to look a little faded, I get crazy homesick for Pittsburgh.

I thought I knew what autumn was when I moved out to Pittsburgh. Heck, I thought I knew what trees were. Come to find out, I had no idea. About either.

Fall in Utah is usually an event that lasts a couple of weeks but fades quickly. Back East, Fall is a process. The leaves keep their green until all of a sudden, they burst into color, vibrant and very alive. Color seeps into the trees one leaf, one branch at a time in a dizzyingly beautiful process. Nothing fades until after weeks of kaleidoscope landscapes, miles of trees in every shade and hue between maroon and apple green. Everything is vivid and bright and showy, and everything is beautiful. For someone who can't get enough of picturesque landscapes (or enough photos), it was heaven.

I realized this morning that my homesickness is fitting right now for another reason: it was exactly two years ago that I realized Pittsburgh had become home. I'd been there for one full month and I spent most of that time trying to adjust and figure out where and who I was. But then, one beautiful September afternoon as I walked home from school, I realized that I was happy. Something had clicked, and I was home. And then, about a week later, I realized I wanted to marry Tim and I'd have to leave this new home much sooner than I'd expected. I have never regretted that decision, but I do miss Pittsburgh sometimes.

I love my Utah home and mountains and I wouldn't trade them for anything...except maybe, some days, for an East coast autumn.

The 11th Thing

(I knew I forgot something on that list...)

11. National Public Radio! I love listening to NPR when I drive to and from jobs. It makes me feel smart and informed. Today I listened to a talk show about Mormon feminists. I've heard about books, music, the current administration, the current economy, peace talks in the Middle East, Islam, religion-based search engines, genetically engineered salmon, Americans imprisoned in Iran, pirate lawyers, the Tea Party and its financial backers, the primary elections, foreclosures, and a woman who was mistaken for a whale and harpooned in Montenegro.

Oh yeah, I'm informed.

10 Things I Love

1. I love my job! It's a strange and unfamiliar feeling, but I really do love it!

2. Uno. Dunno why, but it's been my favorite game lately. Probably because you can play it so quickly and not spend hours trying to get a winner.

3. Pushing Daisies. Such a funny show! It never should have been canceled. "Well, that idea might make a stupid idea feel better about itself."

4. New couch pillows. There's just something about an extra touch in a room that you've seen a thousand times to make you happy.

5. Zumba! I love that I enjoy exercising for the first time, like, ever.

6. Blueberry muffins. Gotta love a fresh muffin first thing in the morning.

7. Making my bed. That's weird, I know, but it makes me feel like everything else is so much cleaner when our bed is made.

8. Fridays. Nothing beats the feeling of knowing you don't have to go to work (as much as I love it) for two whole days.

9. Children who are quiet. Specifically, children who are quiet in my music class.

Last but not least...

10. I love Tim! He is so good to me. When I'm stressed, when I'm worried, when I'm sad, he doesn't dismiss my feelings. He just makes me feel better. And he makes me laugh. I'm so in love with him, geez.

What September 11th Means to Me

On March 4th of this year, my cousin Nigel was killed while fighting in Afghanistan as a Marine. He was killed by a roadside bomb, an IED, while escorting a detainee. That night, we gathered as a family to mourn together, to remember, to hold each other while we cried openly. There were eight of us cousins who grew up together, and it was terrible, losing a family member so suddenly and so violently. It didn't seem fair--it wasn't fair, and we miss him.

The week following Nigel's death, at a funeral attended by political leaders, Freedom Riders, and hundreds of friends and family and ward members, my sister and cousin and I sang a medley of "Homeward Bound" and "O My Father." Somehow, we made it through the song without crying until we were finished. A Marine guard had escorted my cousin's body back to the United States and had watched over him every minute, until the flag that covered his coffin was folded and given to his mother and he was laid to rest at the Salem Cemetery. Again and again, we talked about Nigel's desire to serve in the military. Since he was about three years old, that's what he wanted to do. He spent his life preparing for that, and as soon as he graduated from high school, he enlisted with the Marine Corp. I know that he was grateful for the privilege to serve his country and fight for the ideals and principles he believed in. As one of his brothers said at the funeral, "His life was not lost; it was not taken; it was given to his country."

I'm not happy that there was a war for Nigel to go to once he enlisted, and I wish we didn't still have Americans in Afghanistan fighting against terrorists. I don't always agree with the politics that came out of September 11th and the anger that still exists because of that day, but I know that the things that were worth dying for to Nigel are worth believing in.

September 11th is a day of remembrance. It's a day to remember those who were killed nine years ago, and also a day to remember those who have been killed since. It's a day when, seeing the flag at half-mast, I remember that we have something worth fighting for and something worth believing in. I miss my cousin, but I am grateful for what his sacrifice has reminded me of.


Here are the words to the song we sang at his funeral (I am not smart enough to figure out how to do a sound clip):
In the quiet, misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing and the sky is clear and red,
When the summer's ceased its gleaming, when the corn is past its prime,
When adventure's lost its meaning--I'll be homeward bound in time.

Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow,
Set me free to find my calling, and I'll return to you somehow.

If you find it's me you're missing, if you're hoping I'll return
To your thoughts I'll soon be listening, in the road I'll stop and turn.
Then the wind will set me racing as my journey nears its end
And the path I'll be retracing will lead me homeward bound again.

Oh my father, thou who dwellest in a high and glorious place,
When shall I regain thy presence and again behold thy face?
In thy holy habitation did my spirit once reside?
In my first primeval childhood was I nurtured by thy side?

When I leave this frail existence, when I lay this mortal by,
Father, Mother, may I meet you in your royal courts in high?
Then at length when I've completed all you sent me forth to do
With your mutual approbation, let me come and dwell with you.

In the quiet misty morning, when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing, I'll be homeward bound again.

A Letter From Tim

Dear BYU's Financial Aid Policy Makers,

I really, really, really hate you guys right now. You are ruining my life, eating all my steak, and it's your fault I had a bad day. I would prefer to maintain a good relationship with you, but you are making that extremely difficult. To put it simply, every message from "my financial center" is like getting carnations in my email. If that isn't clear enough, here's this classic for you:

Dear Darla,

I hate your stinkin' guts. You make me vomit! You're scum between my toes.

Love,
Alfalfa (aka Tim)

P.S. I almost hope BYU loses this weekend.

Kidding.

Mostly...

Today's Score: The Mouse Warrior

A score against the mice! Last Friday, while I was home alone, I heard the tell-tale skittering that meant I had company in the kitchen. Sure enough, a small, furry something was hiding out behind the fridge. I put one of our traps behind the fridge, hoping that would take care of it, but alas! The mouse ran out and through the kitchen and back under the fridge just before I had a bowl in hand, ready to trap it should it choose to come back out.

I waited stealthily, silently, and sure enough, the demon creature came out and ran straight toward me. Like the true Mouse Warrior that I am, I only screamed once...or twice...and dropped the bowl on my unsuspecting prey. I meant only to trap it, but I misjudged the distance and the bowl landed on the poor thing's neck...and killed it. I wasn't sure it was dead, so I swept the body under the bowl with the dustpan, put another bowl on top of that, and the laundry soap on top of that--just in case. And then I let my brother-in-law clean it up later, lucky him.

Since then, rumors of my fierce warrior-ness have spread throughout the mouse community and we've not seen head nor tail of any more mice. Hopefully they stay gone!

Tim & Kate: 2 (mice killed)
Mice: 4 (sightings)

Also, this morning as I was demonstrating for my 2nd graders the precise way to flap their arms like a chicken as they marched to music, I had one little boy ask me incredulously, "Aren't you embarrassed?"

"Nope, I have no embarrassment and no shame!" I declared, continuing to flap my arms. He looked at me like I was crazy, but I just smiled. And I thought, if I can get these kids to sing, clap, play instruments, and be quiet by being ridiculous, it is absolutely worth it.

Today's score:
Kate: 1
2nd graders: 0

Miracles

Sometimes, things just don't go your way. Sometimes decisions are hard, life is stressful, and everything seems broken. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try or how often you pray, you just can't get things to work out.

But then sometimes, everything falls into place. Just. Like. That.

The last week and a half have been insane--I had three job interviews, Tim had one, and between the two of us, we walked away with three new jobs.

That's right: Tim and I are both employed!

I don't know if I can fully explain how it all happened, but life and job hunting literally just fell into place yesterday. I'm going to be writing and editing for a magazine, and Tim is working as an IT guy at a financial firm. We found jobs in our fields, jobs that pay enough for us to live, and that start right away. Plus I also still have my two part-time teaching jobs. And we really did nothing to get these jobs and opportunities. It was one of those incredible times when Heavenly Father just handed us some blessings and as we stood, open-mouthed with our arms full, He just smiled and said, "You're welcome."

I don't know if anyone but Tim will ever really know how stressful the last few months have been. We tried very hard to hide it from everyone else, but truthfully, the lack of employment has been a very, very heavy weight we've been carrying. I know we were lucky--we only had that burden for three months. But to have it completely lifted in less than two weeks, to see how perfectly things worked out, to feel free of such a large burden...well, I'm not sure that I could ever describe that either.

We have jobs. I thought that when that happened, I'd want to write a blog post full of exclamation points and excitement and giddy joy, but now that it's happened and not through my own power or resources, I am only full of quiet, fervent gratitude. If it weren't for the mice, life would be perfect.

Why I won't sleep tonight:

There is a mouse,
Here in my house.
It does not run
But comes for fun,
To scare my wits
To little bits.
I do not like it, Sam-I-Am,
I do not like it--not a fan.

If this mouse should wish to stay,
I'll ask him back another day
When, armed with traps and poison, see,
I will be rid of this new enemy.

I do not like the mouse that ran,
I do NOT like him, Sam-I-Am!

Still kicking

First graders are waaaaay easier to entertain than second graders. And they still get excited to sing songs and learn games and play instruments. And they like to be quiet when I ask.

And I could not be more grateful for that.

From the bottom of the pool...

Who knew that 2nd graders could be so terrifying? Or so energetic? Or so loud?

Actually, I think I knew that last one...

In a bizarre and unexpected turn of events, I am now the Music Specialist at Westmore Elementary. That's right, I teach music to the 1st and 2nd graders for an hour every day. How did such a strange thing happen, you ask? Let me 'splain...

My wonderful sister-in-law Bekah teaches 4th grade at Westmore. Earlier this summer, she thought there might be some openings for teachers' aides for the new school year and I thought that sounded great, especially if I reached the end of the summer still job-less.

Bekah called me Monday to let me know there were indeed some aide openings and gave me the needed information. "Oh, and if you're interested, they also need a music teacher." The pay was good, the hours short, and I thought, why not? It's a job, after all. I'll just go in and interview and see what happens.

I went in to interview and ten minutes later, I had the job, more or less. There were some technicalities to work out, but if I wanted it, the job was mine. Did I want it? I said I did. I planned my first lesson, took notes from Bekah on how to run a class, and went early this morning to set up, prep, and wait.

And then the children came in...and every carefully prepared speech left my head, every structured and organized minute flew away, and in the hands of twenty-nine restless, talkative, easily distracted seven-year-olds and one particularly disruptive child, my first hour of teaching was not what I would term a success.

Granted, no one got hurt, no one threw up, no one cried (except possibly me much later), and I did get them to sing in more or less unison at one point, so perhaps I could give myself some credit. For my very first ever day teaching with a class that is known to be hard to handle, perhaps it wasn't so very bad.

Well...yeah, it was still that bad.

I have a new plan for tomorrow's class and I know that this teaching thing will get better and easier over time. But I can't help stopping and wondering, how the heck did I get here? From hired to teaching in two days, I jumped in with both feet and hit the bottom of the pool running. I am determined not to drown...and who knows? I may even learn to swim.

Surviving the Summit

There it was...the trail went up, the mountain loomed, and I took those first steps knowing that before the end of my journey, each of those steps would hurt.

I was right.

Two and a half hours later, I was two and a half miles up the mountain and still had eight switchbacks to go. Though it was only a three-mile hike, the trail ascended 3,000 feet in those three miles--literally an uphill climb the entire way. My knees were ready to give out, my ankles hurt were aching, and I was soaked with sweat. I didn't know how I was going to make it up that last half-mile to the Summit.

That was when my little brother Ethan, the firefighting champion that he is, walked with me at my slow pace, sometimes pushing me from behind, as I fought to keep hiking. And I thought, this is what family is all about--supporting each other when we falter, pushing each other up when we feel we have no strength, walking at the pace of the slowest person to make sure we all make it to the top.

The hike to Hidden Peak at Snowbird has become a yearly tradition for my family since my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Though we don't always hike, we at least ride the tram to the top of the mountain and stay for the program that the Cancer Wellness House does and take pictures of the hundreds of yellow flags snapping in the breeze. The flags are each dedicated to people with cancer, and each one speaks of hope and love, triumph and strength, as well as grief and farewells.

This year was the first year I was able to hike all the way to the Summit, and though it just about killed me, I am so glad that I did it. I realized as I hiked that surviving cancer, just like surviving the Summit, isn't about the end result--it's about every step along the way, it's about taking control of each day, it's about how you live and how you hike. And if you're lucky, like I am, you will have a loving, crazy, wonderful family to do it with you.

Graduation

Yesterday was my last official day of class...ever. I'm finally, completely, thoroughly, one hundred percent-ly done with school, possibly forever. (I reserve the right to go back if I want to...someday.) It's a strange feeling to be done, to know that I may never be a student again, that all my time spent in classrooms from here on out will be in a teaching capacity, that I can no longer mark "student" when asked for my occupation. It's exhilarating and freeing and forlorn at the same time.

In a week or so, school will start up again at BYU and UVU, and I will not be one of the many people buying books, checking my class schedule, reading syllabuses, and resigning myself to another semester of homework and classes. I've been going to school every September since I was 5 years old, and I just turned 24. I've been a student for the last 19 years, and except for the past year when I was also a wife and full-time employee, that was one of my primary identifiers. That word, "student," defined so much about me, and without it, I feel a little unsure of myself.

At the same time, I can't help but rejoice in my freedom and make plans for my newly-open evenings and weekends: learning how to bake bread, finishing that quilt Tim and I started a year ago, organizing photos into photo albums, reading the two dozen or so books that I own but have never read. Yes, I think I may really enjoy not being in school. And of course, I'll be supporting Tim as he slogs through another semester, which will probably make it easier not to miss being in school myself.

I was able to go to my graduation in May in Pittsburgh, thanks to my wonderful and generous parents. Tim and I and my parents flew out a few days early and I got to show them all around the city I called home for a year. We had a lot fun, in spite of the rain (which, really, only completed the true Pittsburgh experience). We ate a ton of really good food (Pamela's, anyone?) and shopped and visited my campus and picked up the bound copies of my thesis. I read at the MFA Graduate Student Reading and visited with old friends and professors. And then Sunday May 23, I went to my graduation where I wore a gown with funny sleeves and a green and purple hood, and I took time to celebrate and be proud of myself. Maybe that's a strange thing to say, but when the President of the University declared us graduated and all the family and friends stood as they clapped and cheered for us, I got teary-eyed as it hit me--I did it. I got my Master's degree. I worked so hard, especially during the year I was also working full-time and writing my thesis, and to have my parents and husband--the people who knew exactly what that degree cost me--stand and clap for me and my accomplishment and all it represented...wow. It was one of the highlights of my life, a moment I don't think I'll ever forget.

Going to my graduation was the perfect celebration. Having a bound copy of my thesis on my bookshelf is just amazing. Being done with my last summer class is so relieving. I did it. It's done, and more than anything else, I am so grateful.

Happy 1 Week Birthday, Gracie!

My newest niece, Sandra Grace Herrick, was born one week ago today, which just happened to be my birthday. I was quite pleased that she made the deadline--she was born right around 11:30 pm! I now have a legitimate reason to be her favorite aunt, and I fully plan to milk that fact. She was 7 lbs. 14 oz. and 20 inches long. She is absolutely beautiful, with her mom's big eyes and her dad's full lips, and I can't wait to see her grow up and learn and develop her personality because I have no doubt, given her parentage, she's going to be hilarious. And amazing. Good work, Paul and Bekah! And welcome Gracie! We've been waiting for you.

24 years ago today...

Thanks, Mom, for laboring to bring me into the world. I really, really appreciate it. (Tim does too.) I know it was hard and painful, but I hope it was also worth it. I love you!


It's hard to believe that I've been around for 24 years of good experiences, growth, learning, tears, and occasional tantrums. It's been good--really good. I am grateful for everything and everyone that have made me who I am and brought me to this point in my life.


Today was a really wonderful day. Tim and I had a picnic lunch together and went to the temple. Then up to my parents' house for dinner and presents and games. Perfect.




I have a feeling 24 is going to be a great year...Happy Birthday to Kate!

Hotel Herrick

I love my little basement apartment so much more when it's clean! It's not at all fancy, and every once in a while I look around and laugh at how mismatched everything is. It's come a long way in the last year, though, and I'd like to show it off a little. So, without further ado...

The Living Room(what is just out of sight in both pictures is the entertainment center and TV):



The Office/Guest Room--check out that beautiful quilt made by my Grandma Hadley! (Also just out of sight in this picture is the extra entertainment center and TV...Anyone need some furniture?):


The Bathroom:


And the Kitchen/Dining/Laundry Room:


We have a lot of family coming to stay with us soon, so I am so glad we had time to make everything presentable for our guests. Hotel Herrick--lowest prices guaranteed--is officially up and running!