November 25, 2013
One day Paul got a phone call from the director of the community theatre. “You didn’t come to auditions,” he said. It was true, Paul had missed the auditions because we were hosting the annual reunion of his college buddies. “Come in tonight and read for me.”
So he did, with the boys in tow because it was a Wednesday night and I was busy with the Young Women at church. They planned rehearsals around my schedule, never once on a Wednesday, and last month had a three week run of Blithe Spirit, with Paul playing the good doctor, the straight man in a comedy.
More recently Paul took the boys to a reading at the library and on Friday night they filmed the commercial. Paul is now the face of Dewey D, the library spokesman.
Neither of these are of the same caliber as ACME, but it sure is fun for Paul to have this creative outlet.
November 24, 2013
It actually wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t advertised either. Two weeks ago I went back to Glendale. I was gone for less than 48 hours and most of them were spent traveling or sleeping. (Yeah, you’re right, I didn’t sleep much.)
I went out for a meeting, so most of my time was spent working. It was crazy to drive the same streets I had known so well for eight years, to see what has changed and what hadn’t at all. I got to stay with friends (because I work with friends), I got to see my sister in law and my amazing nephews, and I held court at Mexicali to visit with friends from school, staying until the only way out of the restaurant was the side.
And then it was over, like a dream. I was pleased that my navigation of the area hasn’t dimmed at all. I was happy to see friends and family. I felt strange going back without making a bold statement, without making attempts to see everyone.
I had fun. But I was happy to get back home to my family. While I do still and always will miss my friends, I am happy that I no longer live there. I do not miss California, but I am so glad for the memories.
November 20, 2013
Sometimes I delude myself into thinking that music is a luxury my time cannot afford. After all, I have three jobs, two children for whom I volunteer heavily at school, one very demanding calling at church, and a household to run.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m home all day (although I’m really not) and my kids are in school, why my house is not spotless. As soon as I come to that understanding I wonder why I ever think I have time to play the piano. It is play, after all, and I am an industrious work horse.
It bothers me when I get thinking this way, because it is incorrect. Unfortunately I get this way often.
Music is not a luxury, music is a necessity.
Just as I tend to cheat my workouts when I’m alone, I cheat my music time without a purpose. While these next three weeks are busy enough I’m grateful to be working on some pieces for The Community Nativity, a solo and an accompanying piece. As I practiced last night it calmed my anxious go-go-go heart.
August 27, 2013
Yesterday was the first day of school.
Yesterday Boy Blue started first grade.
Yesterday Red started fourth grade.
This is his fourth school in two years.
We are off to a good start.
From door to door the walk to school takes about ten minutes. It is pleasant and easy and we don’t cross any major streets. We enjoy walking to school. (So far.) We are good at leaving early enough that we aren’t late. (So far.)
We met the teachers last week and had good impressions. Blue’s teacher is a beloved teacher who taught several of our friends. Red’s teacher is fairly new, but was amiable, enthusiastic, engaging, and positive. For the remainder of the day after the first meet Red enthused over the quality and selection of her classroom library. He made her an origami Princess Leia before the first day of school. (The fact that this young teacher is also attractive is not lost on neither Paul not myself.)
The night before the first day of school I was calm, peaceful, and excited. I am normally a bucket of nerves before school starts. This is going to be a good year.
August 27, 2013
I keep a telepathic record of my thoughts each night. They are witty, they are thoughtful, they use beautiful imagery and entire phrases rise and fall with an easy lilt.
My telepathic journal holds a true account of my heart. I replay the posts in my mind, certain that their beauty and honesty will stay with me until the morning when I can write them down. Unfortunately the next days’ tasks are too loud, they crowd out any hope of a morning memory.
But even my telepathic blog has days of drought. Last night recorded only scraping schmutz off the back of bathroom tiles to prep them for reapplication, hopefully an improvement. Naturally I forgot to take “before” pictures.
July 24, 2013
Inspiration is such a funny thing: little by imperceptibly little things come together. Earlier this month it occurred to me that I would not finish the year with my dear four-turning-five year olds. I have loved those crazy, spunky kids and my endlessly patient team teacher since the first class. I would look across the aisle to the other class of kids the same age and see a rag tag assortment of kids but when I looked at our children it really was as though an additional light shone on them and perhaps a little hum from the heavenly hosts above.
Don’t misunderstand. Most Sundays Kelsey and I went home completely exhausted. They are four and five year olds, after all. But they were our four and five year olds and we had a good thing going. I wanted things to stay.
I lied to myself when I first recognized the feeling that things wouldn’t last; I rationalized that it was because Cruise was leaving and other kids were moving in. I told myself that feeling was the acknowledgement that our super six would no longer remain intact.
Two Sundays ago I looked over the piano at my friend Andrea and thought she was transitioning to YW. The thought was fleeting and very subtle. It was sparked by the unusual situation that she was playing and our pianist was conducting. It was so easy to move on to other thoughts and to forget.
When I received the email on Thursday night to meet Sunday before church my first instinct was panic: I knew Joanna had moved. Once I realized that replacing her would come directly from bishop I relaxed, I’m not yet ready to be president of anything again for a while. Besides, teenage girls terrify me, so outside my comfort zone and realm of experience. Not president, i relaxed. A counsellor then.
Despite my subtle preparations I cried when the request was officially made. The father of one of my beloved students was the one asking. Andrea is the mother of another of my students and she had been the one, the new prez, who had made the request.
We’ve been here for ten months and all has been pretty tame. I guess it’s time to get out of my comfort zone.
July 23, 2013
The times and seasons of my life have never been so apparent as they have been during my adulthood. Music has waned and waxed, I’ve been social and craved solitude, I’ve been anxious to do and eager to simplify. These days I read. I read to the children, with the children, and for the children. I read for work and I read as work. I read for instruction, I read for knowledge, and I read for fun. These days I am a sponge and many things take a back seat while I absorb as many thoughts, ideas, experiences, and perspectives as I can. They shall percolate within me for a long time, and hopefully I will be a better person for it. Unless interrupted too much while I’m reading, reading makes me a kinder person.