Richard and I were able to cheer for Tim and the other Sterling Scholars this week. Tim performed Valse Romantique by Debussy at the assembly, attended only by parents and the scholars. It felt good to be back in the auditorium again.
Senior year is intense, pandemic or not. I am making efforts to avoid the indulgence of crying about the end of Tim’s era at home, because that would take away necessary energy to press forward, as that is what we must do. We are so proud of him!
Reading: Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather
Thinking about: some failures in my leadership; my grandmother, my parents, my kids.
Celebrating: 5 consecutive weeks of health.
Looking at: ideas for displaying some art.
Embarrassed about: a video I made for all the Primary children in my Stake. I forgot to put on my shoes, and the camera caught it. I am all dressed up, but have only stockings on my feet. In my Mr. Roger’s moment of making programming for children, I forgot the importance of SHOES.
Wishing for: some snow or some sunshine, just not this gloom.
Praying for: that’s personal, but our nation is high on the list.
Smiling about: Timothy’s piano performance coming up today that Richard and I can attend.
Eating: I have no idea. It’s time to go grocery shopping.
Thankful for: working machines to wash and dry the laundry so I can focus on other things. And for the chance to be alive at this important time.
I’m at the phase of pandemic living that I wish for a baby Yoda doll just to sit in a barstool and watch me work.
There are only 80 rolls of toilet paper left in the house…That feels a little edgy to me.
Nope, the outdoor wreaths are not coming down today.
Ooooh, someone just drove into the culdesac! I will stare at them and learn their secrets.
Maybe if I place these cleaning supplies in the middle of the floor, I will be more likely to scrub this bathroom after I check my email and Instagram…(Four hours and many distractions later) Nope.
I need to finish listening to this Christmas album before the boys come home and wish they hadn’t.
(Leveling two picture frames) I think they’re level. Are they level? Yes! *Snap* go the Velcro Command Strips. (Standing back and noticing I have hung them backwards) Noooooo!
So many towels. So many dog hairs. So much glitter on Christmas cards this year.
I love this house, especially after I mop. ♥️
The real joy and triumph is finding happiness when things are difficult.
(Taking a trip into the spare bedroom where I have hidden the chocolates) Maybe I will just open them and see how many are left. (The better angel of my nature takes control) Stop. Now! (Me, backing away from the chocolates, issuing them a knowing look) Later, girlfriend. Sometime later, but really soon.
There are some things for which we should just leap for joy. (Tim did a leap picture, too, but I promised not to share it. But trust me, it’s adorable.)
Tim’s car was able to make it up the hill to the temple and back before succumbing to its latest malady. The garage floor is awash in some fluid, but the tires are new. He got some good glamour shots on this ride.
Only children take seriously the first October snow. Grownups know that early snow is a bit of a tease. Look, it’s nothing, it melts as it hits the asphalt. Today, this November snow is no tease. It seems like an iron door, swinging shut against the light of fall. Gold is out, silver is in. White crayons on black construction paper couldn’t be farther from the truth of a late afternoon winter snow. The clouds seem to be a blank, universal color, but which one? Purple? Steel gray? They are not white, but their feathers are.
So much shedding from something so still as a cloud.
I sorted my house last week, accompanied by stillness and my own thoughts. I shed many things, mainly childhood supplies we no longer need, which the self-assured young mothers in my life do not want. My heart is a nebulous gray as I shed the trappings of young motherhood, feathery memories floating in the air all around me as I fill bags and boxes. The act, like a silent winter storm, is terrible and beautiful. Objects of every color and memories of every shade, so many that it only feels blank and cold when the sorting is over and the shelves are bare. White.
This was the week Richard went on a scuba diving trip, the boys played their piano concertos to an audience of two, and our tree erupted into every autumn color. Paige and Michael helped harvest the last apples before the frost. Mark took up baking again, and I started playing Christmas songs on my violin in earnest.
Favorite memory? The concerto performances.
Last week we sold our old black 1999 Toyota Sienna. It sold immediately after we listed it, and the emotions caught us a little by surprise. I guess it symbolized the adventures of raising our kids. It was a hassle-free car, with very few repairs needed during the past 18 years we owned it. I gave it a good pat and said thank you before it left our house for the last time.
During the past few months we have sold the van, Richard’s car, and three trailers, but Timothy fills in the spaces with his hobby cars. One of these must go before the snow arrives.
I took a drive down to Utah Valley to visit Daniel on his twenty-first birthday. We decided to mask up and visit Grandma Ruth and my mom and share some birthday cheesecake.
We had a spectator.
