Imagine

Imagine two glorious days in Red Lodge, Montana.

Imagine a bakery with the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked turnovers, scones, muffins, cinnamon rolls, and cream puffs.

Imagine a drive up the Beartooth Highway to where snow covers the ground as far as one can see.

Imagine a hike up the side of a mountain, climbing, climbing, climbing the whole way. Tough? Yes, but imagine the calories burned and the future food consumption that makes possible.

And speaking of food...

Imagine an elegant, candlelit dining room serving artistically designed plates of Filet Mignon or salmon with scallops. Imagine pudding topped with fresh raspberries or homemade cheesecake with strawberry glaze.

Imagine an historic hotel and a room with foil-wrapped chocolates on the pillow cases and a large jacuzzi bath.

Imagine a breakfast of omelets, hash browns, lemon raspberry muffins, and herbal tea, served outside on a shaded patio.

Imagine a gentle 5-mile hike through sparse forest with the constant roar of a stream rushing by.

And if this isn't enough, just wait...

Imagine half way through that hike, the crash of thunder overhead, followed by the downpour of rain (and even some hail) moistening the ground and freshening the air.

Imagine two glorious days in Red Lodge, Montana.

Bittersweet

I first truly understood the meaning of the word "bittersweet" nearly three years ago when we left Luke at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah. I was so happy for him. There was nothing in the world I would rather see him do at that exact time than serve a mission for our church. It was joyous indeed, yet I cried tears of sadness for the two-year separation to come. I knew he would grow and change so much, and other than weekly emails and phone calls on Christmas and Mother's Day, I would miss all of it. Just before we said our final goodbye, the MTC President announced that we would sing the hymn "Called to Serve," and he admonished us to stand up and "sing it like you mean it!" So through bittersweet tears, we stood and sang, all of us parents who would not see our sons and daughters for two whole years.

Since that time, with my increased understanding of the word "bittersweet," I have experienced it in many other situations although most probably not with the same intensity as that day at the MTC. One such experience occurred last evening when I attended a choir concert at Skyview High School, Isaiah's final concert of his high school career. Isaiah has sung in choir all four years, so Seth and I are veteran concert attenders. Several times each year, much to Seth's dismay, we head to the high school to watch Isaiah (and for the past two years, Eli as well) sing in various concerts. Isaiah has always said he doesn't much like to perform; he takes choir as a break in his day from several difficult, honors-level classes. Still, last night, I think he began to know the meaning of "bittersweet," as the graduating seniors stood in a semi-circle, held hands, and sang Josh Groban's "You Raise Me Up."

Following the singing were the senior awards presentations. The choir director gave awards for "Most Valuable" and "Most Improved" choir students, based on a vote of the 40-member choir. Isaiah, who never expected to win anything, was awarded "Most Improved Choir Student."

Bittersweet. So many events in life are like that. I expect another dose of it this Sunday when I watch Isaiah graduate. He is, after all, one of the "little boys." Before we had Seth, we had two distinct sets of children: the big kids (Luke and Shulamith), and the little boys (Isaiah and Eli.) So how on earth is it possible that one of my "little boys" is graduating from high school? Tell me how this is possible. How is it possible that he is also now, without question, the tallest member of the family, towering over both his father and Luke. I just blinked, and he was entering kindergarten. Really, it was only a second ago.

Bittersweet.

Impulse Purchase

So I did it. I actually bought my own longboard. Admittedly, it was a bit of an impulse purchase. Here's what happened.

When I was in Salt Lake City with Shulamith last week, we rode her longboard several times. As I mentioned in an earlier blog entry, it was scary at first but got easier and more fun each time. By the end of the week, I could actually ride it all on my own, and I was just beginning to get the hang of using my body to make turns. Then I was home with no longboard.

Saturday night, Luke and I decided to go to the brand new theatre here in Billings to watch "Angels and Demons." We arrived early, so we opted to roam the mall to use up time. When I saw Zumies, I thought, "Let's just wander in and look at longboards." That we did. And right there in front of me was not just any board, but Shulamith's exact board! The attraction to this board was that I already knew I could ride it. It already felt comfortable. So without much thought or hesitation, I bought it! Then I panicked. What if it was just a fluke in Salt Lake City and I can't really ride this thing? What if I just wasted my money? Maybe I should have put more thought into this purchase?

Since Saturday, I've been able to go out riding three times. It is so fun. Yesterday, I finally found the perfect hill for my beginner-level skills. It's a nice, gentle incline, so I don't get going too fast too soon. I will go back and practice there again today.

I had been thinking lately that I needed a new hobby this summer, something other than P90X and walking. I considered cycling or ice-skating or swimming. But I think this longboard is exactly what I needed. I've promised myself that I won't ride it each day until I've completed my P90X routine. Discipline here is key.

This was a good impulse purchase.

Angst

The Germans have a lovely word: angst. So lovely is it that it has made its way into the English language as well. I think the beauty of the word is that in a single syllable, it embraces so many complicated emotions. Angst - a feeling of apprehension, dread, and anxiety, often accompanied by sadness or depression. Today, as I sit in the Denver Airport on my way back to Billings, I am consumed with feelings of angst. It is always so when I have to leave Shulamith.

This August it will be five years since we first brought Shulamith to Salt Lake City to begin her college years. It feels like only the blink of an eye. In that 5-year period, I have made thirteen trips to Salt Lake City to visit her, and she's been home at least that many times. She has also spent three of those five summers with us in Billings. Still, it never gets any easier to leave her. I am reminded of the first time we left her in August 2004. On the drive back to Billings, I cried so hard that we were pulled over by the police while on the freeway. We were baffled by what could be wrong. The young trooper asked me to step out of the car and to follow him back to his vehicle, which felt like miles behind. Once there, he told me he had been watching us the past two hours, noticing me sobbing the entire time. He said they were experiencing many cases of domestic violence, and he wanted to know if he could help me in any way. When, though continuous sobs, I explained that I just left my only little girl at college and had to go all the way back to Billings without her, he politely told me to "have a good day."

Five years later, you would think I might have better adjusted to this separation. With the miracle of modern technology, Shulamith and I are able to communicate several times daily through email and several times weekly through cell phone calls and text messages. I really am so lucky. Still, here I sit in the Denver Airport fighting back tears. I ask myself if my life is really so pathetic that I can't handle "normal" situations like my 23-year-old daughter living ten hours (or an expensive airplane flight) away. Waiting at home in Billings, I have a wonderful family which includes not one, not two, not three, but FOUR wonderful sons. I have one of my two closest friends (the other moved to Texas last year) also waiting for me. And still, I cry. I usually only get to spend a long weekend in Salt Lake, but this time I was there an entire week. You'd think that would make it easier to leave. It doesn't. It just never gets any easier. I tell myself I need to suck it up, seriously, because this is ridiculous. But the tears still flow.

Instead of whining, perhaps I should focus on the highlights of our fun-filled week. That would be more interesting, right? Let's see. As always, we saw our share of movies, four to be exact. We watched "Duplicity," "Bride Wars," "Taken," and "17 Again." We enjoyed all of them. "Duplicity" was confusing, but we liked it anyway. "Taken" was a bit violent but still a great story. "Bride Wars" and "17 Again" were both hilarious, which is why we watched them toward the end of the week so as not to exacerbate my downward spiral.

We also did plenty of shopping, our #1 favorite activity. Shulamith bought several items for her new apartment; she and her roommate will be moving next week because their other roommate went to Argentina. And we ate lots of wonderful food, hitting all of our standards (Cafe Rio, Pei Wei, Park Cafe) as well as a few new restaurants. We spent two fun days in Shulamith's kindergarten class with 20 extremely busy, but also extremely cute little kids.

The new attraction of the week was longboarding. Shulamith has a new friend who enjoys longboarding, so she has learned to do it in the past couple months and has even purchased her own board. So of course, I had to try it. I love it! Really, it is so fun. It was scary at first; I hung on tight to Shulamith as she walked, and eventually ran, beside me. By my third time, though, I was able to do it all on my own. Slowly. Very slowly. I am supremely cautions. I have no desire to fall. It was such fun, though, that I seriously may buy a board myself. I've been thinking lately that I need a hobby other than exercising, and this just might be it.

Okay, it looks like my flight to Billings may be boarding soon. I should go wash my face and rinse my red, swollen eyes. At least I was smart enough to skip my make-up today.

Angst. The Germans have a good word.

Kindergarten Logic

I had the privilege to spend today in Shulamith's kindergarten class. I had many delightful conversations with her students and even learned some things I did not know. To preserve anonymity, I will change all the children's names.

First, I had a nice chat with Jillian.

Jillian: What's your name again?
Me: Terrianne
Jillian: How old are you?
Me: How old do you think?
***Long pause***
Me: Take a guess. How old do you think I am?
Jillian: Fourteen?

Now those of you who know me well will laugh here because as you know, I have serious age issues, and I'm perfectly thrilled when people guess I am in my 30s. But fourteen? That's a first.

Next, Shulamith and I were complimenting Angela, a little girl who often has a difficult time behaving like a kindergartner. She had an especially good day, so we told her we would write a note telling her mom what a great day she had.

Angela: You don't need to write a note?
Shulamith: Why not?
Angela: Because my mom is picking me up, so you can just tell her.
Shulamith: Really? Where is Jennifer (baby-sitter who usually picks up Angela)?
Angela: Oh, she's not around any more.
Me: Where is she?
Angela: I think she died.

We really hope this isn't true!

Then Shulamith was working one-on-one with a little boy named Jack. Right in the middle of Shulamith asking him a question about the story they were reading....

Jack: Ms. Shulamith, I can buy you brush for your hair.
Shulamith: Do you think I need one?
Jack: Yes, you do, and I would like to buy you one.

Bad hair day, Shulamith??

Another chat with Angela later.

Me: You read that whole book by yourself! You sure do read well.
Angela: I'm the best reader in the whole class. Actually, I'm the smartest person in the class too.
Me: Really?
Angela: Do you see this table? The kids at this table are the smartest kids, and I'm the smartest of us all.

Self-confidence? No problem. Humility? Not so much.


My visits with the kindergartners made me miss Seth, so I called him. He was at Lindsey's house playing the Wii, so he wasn't interested in talking.

Seth: Hello
Me: Hi Seth! How are you?
Seth: Good.
Me: Are you doing okay without me?
Seth: I like it here without you.
Me: You do? Why?
Seth: Because we can keep the house dirty, and you don't boss us around.
Me: Well, don't you miss me just a little bit?
Seth: I miss you about one-half.
Me: Well, I miss you a whole bunch. See you Thursday.
Seth: Bye.

And there you have it....my conversations with children for the day. Shulamith has a substitute tomorrow so we can play, but Wednesday we'll be back in class. Maybe I'll learn some more then.

Denver Airport

Greetings from the Denver International Airport in Denver, Colorado. I have spent many hours here, and today is not much different from my past visits. Ironically, to get a decent fare on a flight between Billings and Salt Lake City, one generally has to fly through Denver. Occasionally (and Shulamith is better at this than I am), one can find a reasonable non-stop fare on Delta, but most of the time we're stuck on United coming through Denver. Since Shulamith and I and fly back and forth several times throughout the year, we've both come to know this airport as our second home. It's not a bad airport really; far worse would it be if we had to spend all these hours in the Billings Airport where there is absolutely nothing to do. Here, there are shops, restaurants, newsstands, and best of all: free wireless internet connection!

So here I sit with my laptop, surfing the net, checking my email and Facebook, and writing in this blog. My cell phone just rang. It was Trudy, my faithful walking partner. "Can you walk?" she asked. "Ahh, sure, if you can zip on over Denver, I have about an hour before my flight to Salt Lake City takes off." She said she has been in a time warp and forgot that today is Thursday.

Text message just in from Eli: "Am I supposed to pick up Seth, and where is he?" "Yes, go get Seth at Tommy's house. And thanks. I love you."

Text from Lindsey: "Emma got a stick bug to take to preschool for pet day." "Yuck! She might as well have taken Seth's bucket of worms that he got from Cub Scouts [Have I mentioned how much I dislike Cub Scouts?]"

Okay, back to this lovely airport experience. One thing I love to do in this airport is walk up and down the corridors looking at all the signs at each of the gates indicating where the next flight will go. I long for people who live far away when I see their cities (Ahh, Celeste...I just saw San Antonio). I reminisce of past trips to exciting places (Honolulu and London, oh so long ago; and Orlando, just two months ago, but I miss it already). And I dream of places I would like to go (far too many to list here). Then I watch the people waiting for these flights and wonder why they are traveling, what their lives are like, who is waiting for them at their destinations.

When I tire of walking, I decide it must be time for food. That's always a good distraction, right? Today I had a burrito at the Mexican Cantina and an ice-cream cone from Ben & Jerry's. Are we in vacation (non-diet) mode or what? Thank goodness for P90X. And now I sit at my respective gate waiting for my flight which should depart in about 50 minutes. At the other end will be my lovely daughter and a week of fun times with her. Tomorrow I will meet her kindergarten class. We also have plans to go to the outlet stores in Park City, shop for her at Costco, hit several regular malls, and maybe even try longboarding, her latest idea of fun. Wish me luck!

Okay, it looks like they're preparing to begin boarding this flight. Have a wonderful week everyone.

Le Petit Negre

I think we did it! Luke helped me upload the YouTube video of Eli's piano piece. The video quality is poor, but the piano performance is awesome. Spoken like a true mother, huh?


YouTube video

Mother's Day Reflections

The past two Mother's Days (2007 & 2008), the highlight of my day has been my phone call from Luke. For those of you who don't know, Mother's Day and Christmas are the only days in the year that missionaries are allowed to call home. We missionary moms cherish those two phone calls; we wait anxiously for them and then cry when they're over. I knew this year would be less exciting without the anticipation of that phone call; still, it was a lovely day. My first Mother's Day greeting came from Eli as I was blow drying my hair. Then during church, Shulamith texted me "Happy Mother's Day. I love you." When I replied to her text, she chastised me for texting during church! I came home to a Mother's Day cake from Isaiah and a card from Luke, which all the boys signed.

Then it was time to attend Eli's piano recital. His teacher always has her recitals on Mother's Day; this has been a delightful addition to my day the past five years. Eli played beautifully. I had not yet heard his performance piece even though he played it at both district and state competitions and for adjudications. His teacher and I have an agreement; I won't attend these competitive events. I get too nervous. Then my anxiety transfers over to Eli, and he doesn't play his best. I far prefer performance over competition, so it's a win/win for everyone if I wait for the recital.

We have a YouTube video of part of Eli's song, and my goal is to post it to this blog. The only problem is I have no clue how to do that. As many of you know, I am "technologically challenged." I still haven't figured out how to upload pictures to this blog, let alone a video. I'm hoping one of my intelligent, computer savvy sons will help me later tonight. If that happens, the next thing you should see is Eli playing the piano.

Here's hoping...

Dog Years

Now that my "summer" has arrived, I find myself gradually, but surely, working my way back to the schedule my body prefers. Not a "morning person"? people ask. Oh, but I am. I am most definitely a morning person. I love mornings. I dearly love the wee hours of the early mornings. It's just that what I like to do in those wee hours is SLEEP! So yeah, my body, which has rebelled against and resisted my 8:00 a.m class for the past eight months, is now re-establishing its perfect, natural rhythm. And that feels fantastic!

One thing I especially enjoy once I wake up (at say 9:00 or 10:00 a.m.) is turning on the TV to whatever morning show happens to be on. Yesterday, however, as I flipped on Regis and Kelly, a horrifying story came across the screen. They were featuring the world's oldest dog. Calculating dog years is not as simple as the 1 to 7 ratio (dog years to human years) many people believe; apparently, each of the dog's first two years is equal to 10-1/2 human years, and after that, it's a 1 to 4 ratio. This dog (in human years) was 120! What breed of dog was it, you may be wondering? A Dachshund! Help!!!!!!! For the record, I tell my students they are allowed only three exclamation marks in their entire lives, and I am well aware that I break my own rule here. It is for good reason.

Allow me to explain. We have a Dachshund. Her name is Chloe. And as my friend Lorrie so eloquently described it, she is "the most complicated dog on the planet." Here's a bit of history. Chloe was born the tiniest of a litter of five puppies to Betsy, the Dachshund owned by our then best friends. I was part of her life literally from the start. I was there when they decided to breed Betsy and as they sought out the perfect mate for her. Throughout Betsy's pregnancy, I accompanied Joanne to the vet for Betsy's regular check-ups. When she went into labor in the wee hours of the morning (that really should have been a sign of things to come), Joanne called and I rushed right over.

I should backtrack. At some point during Betsy's pregnancy, Shulamith (then 12) asked Joanne, "Can I have one of Betsy's puppies?" Joanne, without batting an eyelash or even looking over at me, replied, "Of course you can. You can choose whichever puppy you like." And that was that. We would soon own a Dachshund.

Okay, back to Betsy's labor. In a matter of five or six hours, Betsy delivered five tiny wiener dogs, the tiniest of which was born last. She had a crooked tail and one too many toes on each paw. Of course, this was the puppy Shulamith wanted. This was Chloe. Chloe's big sister and brothers pushed her out of the way, not allowing her anywhere near her mother to nurse. Left to natural selection, Chloe would most certainly have died. We couldn't let that happen. Joanne and I warmed a wash cloth in the microwave, rolled Chloe in it like a hot dog, and took off to the vet. When we laid her on the examining table, the veterinary assistant exclaimed, "Is it alive?" "Yes!" we replied, "and we need her to stay that way." When the vet examined her, he said she may survive and she may not. He instructed us to mix baby formula with pedialite and to feed it to her using a tiny bottle made for dolls.

That began the round-the-clock vigil to keep Chloe alive. Our friends had the worst of it because she was, after all, still their puppy. They awoke every 2 - 3 hours through the night to go through the routine of warming the wash cloth, wrapping Chloe, mixing the formula, and feeding her through the tiny bottle. I spelled them occasionally, so they could go out for a few hours. In time, Chloe grew and gained enough strength to find her way among her four siblings and feed from her mother. When she was six weeks old, we brought her home.

Shulamith was delighted. Chloe was adorable, but we had no idea of the challenges ahead. Most notably, she could not be house trained. We tried everything imaginable. We read books. We talked to other dog owners. We sought help online, in pet stores, from strangers even. Nothing worked. I now understand that Chloe's special needs make it impossible for her to be trained. This presents a difficult problem as you might imagine. She can't ever be down in our house. If she is inside and not being held, she must be confined to her cage. I used to feel terrible about this. What kind of a life is this for her? Ultimately, I concluded that while it may not be the best life, it's the only one she has, and it's better than no life at all. Since she knows nothing else, she's actually been quite content through the years.

As she's aged, though, that contentment has waned. Chloe turned ten in March, so in human years, 53. Barely middle aged. She should be in the prime of her life. Not so much. She is especially unhappy at night, so she often whines and howls relentlessly at 2:00, 3:00, and 4:00 in the morning. Can I tell you that after nurturing five babies, none of whom were especially good sleepers, I'm not one bit interested in being up in the middle of the night with my dog! The other issue is the awful mess in her cage. Keep in mind, she's supposedly Shulamith's dog. Is Shulamith here to clean out her cage every day? No. Seth adores Chloe and has claimed her as his own, but do you suppose he has taken on the job of cage cleaning? Ah....no. That job is left to me. She used to play happily outside all day during the summer, reducing the mess in her cage, but recently, she's started barking continuously whenever she is out, so for the benefit of the neighbors, we are forced to bring her in.

I love her. I do. I care what happens to her. But I have to admit that I have grown weary of all it takes to deal with her day to day. I tell myself this can't go on forever. Dogs don't live that long, right? Then I hear this crazy story about a 120-year-old dog. And it's a Dachshund. I realize that I could be dealing with Chloe for the rest of my natural life. The thought is overwhelming.

Thirty Years

Today, May 5, 2009, marks the 30th anniversary of my father's death one day before his 46th birthday. In many ways, it seems like only a short while ago that he was here, working as a fire fighter in Portland, watching basketball on TV. My dad loved basketball, particularly a team in Portland called the Trailblazers. I don't know much about them, nor do I care, but he did. Back then, if the Blazers were playing at home, the game wasn't televised; one had to listen to it on the radio if it was that important. To my dad, it was that important. He listened to or watched every game they played for years and years. He followed them when they were losing; he followed them when they were winning. I'm not sure he ever had the opportunity to see them play in person because tickets were expensive. I hope he saw them live at least once, but I really don't know.

He followed them all the way to the national championship in 1976. I remember that day as clearly as if it were yesterday. As I already mentioned, I don't care about basketball. I don't care about any sport really unless Eli is playing. Nevertheless, that day in 1976 will be forever etched in my mind. My dad was a quiet soul. He was calm and introspective. He didn't say much, nor did he show a lot of emotion, either positive or negative. But when that final buzzer sounded and the Blazers won the NBA championship, my dad leaped from his easy chair, bounded off the ground, threw his hands into the air, and exclaimed, "They actually did it!" He was overjoyed. I was overjoyed FOR him. What a day. I still don't care about basketball or follow the Blazers or even live in Portland, but my brother and his daughters do. They still follow the team. They still watch the games. They rejoice in Blazer victories. And it makes me smile.

Yes, in some ways, it seems like just a short time ago that my dad was right here on earth. In other ways, though, it seems like a lifetime because so much has changed. In that period of time, I graduated from college, married, earned my master's degree, gave birth to five beautiful children, pursued a part-time career as a college English instructor, traveled to Europe and South America, and lived in five different states. And that's just my one life. Much more has changed in society in general, particularly in terms of technology. I often think about the many things I wish I could show my dad. I wish I could show him how now, though modern technology, he could watch that part of the game he missed when he had a "run" at the fire station during the final quarter. I wish I could show him the ease with which he could heat up a cup of coffee in the microwave. I wish I could show him the wonder of computers, especially email. He wasn't much of a letter writer, but I think he might like email. He didn't really like to talk on the phone, but I wish I could show him text messaging and what a great alternative it is. I wish I could show him all the amazing opportunities available with just the click of a mouse.

Far more important than technology, though, I wish I could show him my children. I wish he could see his eldest grandchild head off to a doctoral program in psychology and a new chapter in his life. I wish he could see his lovely granddaughter manage a class of busy kindergartners day after day and do it with such love and such grace. I wish he could see his second-oldest grandson sing the National Anthem in a quartet at his high school graduation this month. I wish he could see his third-oldest grandson's love for life, which makes him positively irresistible to everyone. I wish he could snuggle his youngest grandson in his arms because really, there's nothing in the whole world that is any better than that.

I love my dad, and I miss him. This season is always a bit of a struggle for me, and this year it has been particularly so. But that's okay. To grieve is to love. It's part of the human experience.

Thirty years.

Joy Amidst the Chaos

Here it is, 10:30 p.m. on Sunday evening, and I find myself reflecting on the weekend and the week prior. It was a long week indeed. Well, literally, that is not so; it was the basic seven-day week. But it felt long. So long. Every day brought challenging issues, several of them right on top of each other. I felt exhausted almost all of the time. Anxiety is like that. It robs every ounce of one's strength and offers little in return.

However, in the midst of the chaos, two events stand out as shining examples of all that is good in life, the healing power of laughter, and the joy of accomplishing goals. Thursday evening, Seth and I attended the "Mr. Skyview" pageant at Skyview High School. Why did we go? Because, unlikely as it may seem, Isaiah was one of 20 contestants for the title of "Mr. Skyview." I say it seemed unlikely mostly because Isaiah generally isn't "into" such activities. I felt the same element of surprise when he was nominated for Homecoming royalty the past two years. "Really?" I thought. "That just doesn't seem like the Isaiah I know."

So I went to the "Mr. Skyview" pageant not knowing quite what to expect. It turned out to be a beauty pageant for guys, including categories of competition in casual wear, talent, formal wear, and question/answer. It opened with all 20 contestants doing a choreographed dance number, and there was Isaiah dancing right in step with all the others. The audience roared with laughter as did I. What fun! The casual wear and formal wear segemants were equally enteratining as each contestant was escorted across the stage by a lovely young lady. Isaiah looked dashing in his tuxedo and played right up to the audience throughout his entire time on stage. By this point I was nearly rolling on the floor in laughter.

Then came the talent competition. Keep in mind that Isaiah is a talented young man. He sings beautifully and can also play the piano although he prefers to keep that skill a deeply hidden secret. But no, Isaiah instead chose to perform magic tricks for his talent. Does he know how to do magic tricks? No. Not at all. His routine was pure comedy from start to finish as he performed the silliest, most ridiculous magic tricks you can imagine. The audience roared.

Isaiah did not win the title of "Mr. Skyview," but that matters not at all. He participated in a fun event in the final month of his high school career. And in doing do, he and the others brought joy and laughter to an audience full of students and parents, including this particular mom who was having a long and trying week. Thank you, Isaiah. I love you.

Oh, and I should add that the entertainment for this event (as though the contest itself wasn't entertaining enough) was a performance by Eli's select choir, All Naturals. An added bonus!

That was Thursday. Friday brought more hassles, too boring to discuss, but Saturday morning I had the privilege (read: this is required for my job) of donning cap and gown and marching with the faculty in commencement exercises for Montana State University Billings where I teach. Ordinarily, this would not have been something I was excited to do. Imagine sitting through a 2-1/2 hour graduation ceremony when no one you care about is graduating. I mean really...these ceremonies are boring enough when you're there for someone you know and love. I haven't taught there long enough to see any of my my own students graduate, but this year, three friends happened to be earning their degrees. This made it all worthwhile. My closest friend of the three now lives in Texas, so she couldn't be here to walk through her graduation, but I looked at her name in the program and felt pride in her accomplishment. She finished her degree this year taking online classes while caring for her three little girls and baby-sitting one extra child. Celeste, you are my hero.

Two other friends received their degees as well, both master's degrees. One earned his degree in athletic training and already has a job offer in Western Washington. Am I jealous about that?? Yes! But I am also grateful because he and his young family can now begin the next chapter of their lives. Congratulations Dave! Lastly, another friend earned her master's degree in educational technology. She accomplished this as she taught full time, cared for her family, and persevered through many obstacles along the way. Go Teresa!

A rough week? Yes it was. Joy admidst the chaos? Indeed.

P90X Update

This Saturday I will complete my fifth week of P90X. Here's what I know so far.

1. This is the hardest workout program I've ever done.
2. I think it's worth it.
3. I can now do many push-ups; before P90X, I couldn't do a single one.
4. Despite what Tony says, Core Synergistics will never be my favorite workout day.
5. I like Kenpo X and Cardio X. They are fun.
6. I still suck at yoga.
7. Ab Ripper X is 16 minutes of sheer pain; fortunately, it only happens twice a week.
8. I can tell my metabolic rate has increased. Hooray!
9. I can keep my weight down without worrying over every single fat gram.
10. I don't have anything close to a "beach body" yet, but I'm still hopeful.

P90X. Do your best, and forget the rest.