The Father Son Campout

Last night Dave took Jared and Jackson camping at the beach for a church Father/Son Campout. I told Jared to pack a change of clothes into a bag and he did-- along with a package of hot dogs and a half-open bag of giant marshmallows. (I wish I had a picture of the stuff in his bag amid the pajamas and socks...)

Today they are playing on the beach before coming home. These photos are brought to you courtesy of emails from Dave's Blackberry. (Isn't technology amazing?) I love how Jared is dressed in his swimsuit on the gray, freezing Oregon beach. At least he's prepared for the best.... :)

 

My Jedi Book-Saber

This January I finally opened the Snuggie that Dave bought me for Christmas-- in 2009. Yes, I'm embarrassed to admit that I waited over a year to take one of my Christmas presents out of the box. (Don't worry, it wasn't my "big" present-- I don't have that many issues with being cold.) I'm wasn't sure why Dave bought me a Snuggie. He said he got it at the last minute because it was a really great deal-- so maybe I'm not the only impulse shopper in the family. :) It probably was actually inspired by our frequent temperature disagreement issues. Dave wore shorts and a T-shirt while hiking through the snowy Alps in high school and has lived through two Siberian winters. I, on the other hand, can feel a light California breeze blow by and insist that I need a jacket so I won't die. So maybe the Snuggie was a smart idea after all.

Regardless of the smartness of the idea, the Snuggie box got put in my office and instantly disappeared in the piles of papers and random junk to be sorted. When it finally surfaced months later it was summer and the urgent need for a blanket with sleeves was somewhat less pressing. But now it is winter again and I finally decided to give it a try. My Snuggie is a nice camel color, so not only does it warm me up and keep my hands free, it gives me the appearance of a cozy-warm Jedi knight.

However, I didn't realize that there was another fantastic surprise waiting for me inside the box. When I opened it, I found that the Snuggie included a free gift: a booklight. And not just any booklight-- a booklight that dramatically unfolds with the press of a button, one that smolders with the eerie blue glow of a lightsaber. Seriously! Coolest. Christmas. Present. Ever!!

Good Morning Baltimore: Surgery Day

Dave's surgery was two weeks ago today. We woke up dark and early, to the tune of 5 a.m. We had to be at the hospital by 5:30. I tend to be very matter-of-fact about things, but I could tell that I was reacting oddly to the stress of the situation. The first signal was that I woke up at 5:00 a.m. and curled my hair. Which wouldn't be that unreasonable except that this is me-- I curl my hair once every month at best (that's being generous). So why the sudden urge to curl my hair in the wee morning hours when I was going to spend the whole day in the hospital and my husband would be knocked out for most of the day?

Previous to this experience I did not have much (okay, any) experience with hospitals or serious care-giving, except for childbirth. I realize in retrospect that I had, shall we say, unrealistic expectations for the experience. Sure, I understood that Dave was going to have surgery, but how bad could it be for me? I wasn't getting sliced open, for starters. Besides, I was going to have an entire week away from the kids. So even if it wasn't going to be the Johns Hopkins Hilton, I would at least have a relaxing week away from my normal responsibilities. (Those of you have experience with major surgery or care-giving to someone who has had major surgery can laugh out loud at this point.)

We got to the hospital and made our way through the sprawling hallways of the Best Hospital in America to the ancient elevator in the Halsted/Blalock wing (it takes about 7 minutes after you press the button to get to the main floor and pick you up). Dave and his dad went off for their pre-surgery stuff while his mom and I waited in the tiny, ugly pre-op waiting room. And waited. At about 7:30 am they finally called us to come visit (and say our goodbyes?). We navigated the old randomly-colored hallways of the 7th floor (you really would think that the "Best Hospital in America" would have had a remodel at some point) to the surgery prep room.

Dave pre-surgery. Don't you love the lavender walls?

Dave related how his dad had told several nurses/doctors/assistants that he had a major allergy to a chemical that they frequently use to prep people's skin for surgery. One doctor finally got frustrated with him and said, "Look, we have it on your chart. It's in the computer. For them to use that on you they would have to order it and it would automatically be rejected. There's no way that you will get that, okay!!" A while later someone came to prep his dad for surgery. He asked them what chemical they were about to use. It was the exact chemical --the one he had told four or five different people he was allergic to, the one the doctor said was impossible for him to get. And on that heartening note, I prepared to have my husband go under general anesthesia.

Hangin' in the GOR Waiting Room.

At this point, Dave's mom and I were directed to the General Operating Room Waiting Room (the GOR Waiting Room in hospital-speak), a lovely haven of mauve vinyl chairs and circa-1980's window treatments. We remained there for the next seven hours or so. I got a phone call at 8:40 saying that Dave was under and his surgery had begun. Another later telling us that the kidney was out. Another when they were sewing him back up. Dave's end of the surgery was done about 12:30. Dave's surgeon said that the surgery went perfectly and "It was a beautiful kidney!"

An example of the lovely color scheme...

Meanwhile, we discovered that the women's bathroom was even more ancient than the pre-surgery waiting room, along with being dirty and having a broken soap dispenser. I think they put the transplant surgeries in one of the ugliest wings of the hospital. Maybe they figure the patients will be knocked out anyway so they won't really care that the hallways are random bright colors and the elevator doesn't come for 10 minutes.


At about 3:30, Dave was finally coherent enough for me to go see him (although "coherent" may be too strong a word...). I really wasn't prepared for the experience of seeing Dave after surgery. I guess doing major surgery involving vital organs and full anesthesia has some minor side effects. Go figure....  It's hard to make your logical mind hold on to the fact that yes, the surgery was done by competent doctors and he is almost certainly going to be fine when your subconscious, emotional brain is saying, "What have they done to my husband and where can I find something heavy to throw at them?" Anyway, Dave wasn't at his best. I didn't take post-surgery pictures- for a good reason. However, I did take pictures three days later when Dave was looking much, much better:

Dave gave me permission to post this picture. He must have been on heavy pain meds at the time.... :)

They kept Dave on clear liquids for a day, then slowly moving him to other liquids and solids. When they finally served him full meals, they told him to take it slowly. The doctor informed us that one of the most important goals post-surgery was for Dave to not throw up.Which is, I'm sure, why they decided to serve this:

Hospital creamed spinach!! Yum!!!

Aren't you jealous?

This was after we had to endure a 10-minute spiel from the director of food services about how their goal was to have multiple appetizing choices of the highest quality food to meet all of their patients' needs. I think we threw away his card too quickly.... (The fact that Dave could eat that spinach without losing it is another feat of superhuman strength....)

And thus we progressed to the next phase of our Baltimore getaway... spending 12 hours a day at the hospital (For me, at least. I'm sure Dave wished it was only that long.)

Good Morning Baltimore: Pre-Surgery

"Hungry for something that I can't eat... Good morning Baltimore!" - from Hairspray

Dave and I arrived in Baltimore on Sunday, December 12th. Beginning Monday morning Dave was on a clear-liquid-only diet. We spent Monday afternoon at the National Aquarium. (What better way is there to prepare for major surgery than by viewing sharks and giant stingrays?)

We finished Dave's last full day with two kidneys by window-shopping downtown, perusing a Borders, Filene's Basement and walking inside the Hard Rock Cafe. As Dave started to get hungry, we explored possible options that would fit within his dietary restrictions. It's truly amazing how few foods fall in the category of "clear liquid." After ascertaining that Starbucks Apple Cider is not a clear liquid (dangit- they put cream in it) and wandering around for a while we finally stopped in a P.F. Chang's to get warm. We've never wandered much further on their menu than Lettuce Wraps and Mongolian Beef, but while I ate Lettuce Wraps, Dave discovered that they have a lovely herbal tea and Chang's Chicken Noodle Soup-- a clear liquid, sort of. (Dave watching me eat lettuce wraps and not eating any-- after a whole day of no food-- goes under the list of "feats of superhuman strength".) So I had the chicken and noodles and Dave had the soup and it was actually quite delicious. And that was Dave's last "meal" as a two-kidneyed man.

My half of the soup. Yes the noodles look like translucent slugs, but they were really delish.

Isn't that the most awesome teapot you've ever seen? If every place had a teapot that cute I'd have to order herbal tea wherever I went!

 We finished our final celebratory "meal" by reading our fortune cookies. Dave's fortune: "A visit to a strange place will bring you renewed perspective."

 My fortune: "A faithful friend is a strong defense."

Greetings from Baltimore or Losing a Kidney

I have procrastinated writing this post for some time, but now I'm up against a deadline and (as usual) that is the impetus for getting around to doing what I've been putting off.

This fall has been really interesting for our family. It began as the hangover from Dave's summer of death at work. Dave's summer schedule of getting home at 10:00 pm regularly (with a weekly-or-so all-nighter thrown in) finally gave way to a more "normal" schedule (if you consider only one night a week working until 10:00 pm and getting home around 7 or 8 pm the rest of the time "normal"). Even with our return to quasi-normal we found ourselves trying to recover from the aftershocks of living in survival mode for a solid 5 months. There comes a point where you realize that "survival mode" has become your new "normal" but that maybe, just maybe, that isn't the most sensible way to live. This is where we found ourselves this fall. In the wake of this "hangover" we have been working to piece together a more rational and sane way of doing things for our family. Call it the fall of "reconstruction" if you will. But that wasn't the only "reconstruction" we would be involved in. In the midst of our attempts to build a with a more balanced and peaceful lifestyle (free of stress and pressure, a veritable Eden of Zen-to mix my metaphors.... Sounds really realistic with 4 kids, a choir to direct and a high-powered job in the family, doesn't it?) we had an unexpected twist.

I am writing this in Baltimore. Tomorrow Dave will undergo surgery at Johns Hopkins to donate a kidney to his dad. There have been a few months leading up to this: blood tests and screenings, a trip to Baltimore and Salt Lake, more tests and more screenings. Dave's dad had kidney failure almost 15 years ago. He has had two failed transplants, one from a cadaver and one from his sister (who was a perfect match). His last kidney transplant failed the week that Dave and I were on our honeymoon, so he has been on dialysis for over 10 years.

Recently Dave's dad found out about a new procedure at Johns Hopkins, where they specialize in transplants for people who have rejected past kidney donations. He was cleared to receive another kidney donation and the search began for a donor. After multiple screenings and tests, Dave was selected as the donor. Dave's dad has already been here in Baltimore for about two weeks undergoing plasmapheresis to remove antibodies from his blood that might attack the new kidney. After undergoing more tests than we thought possible for one person (they really enjoy running tests at Johns Hopkins and don't take any tests that were done by Utah doctors seriously) both Dave and his dad are cleared for surgery.

We head for the hospital at 5:15 am tomorrow. I have felt peaceful about the surgery and like it is the right thing to do, but now that it is actually here and creeping up on me, I admit that I am a bit nervous. We have been so busy this fall that I haven't really had time to think about it too much or process it completely. When people have asked me about it I've joked, "We've been so busy that having my husband lose a major organ doesn't seem like that big of a deal," but joking aside, having your husband cut open --even by extremely competent doctors at Johns Hopkins-- is still a bit unnerving. So, yes, I am a little bit nervous, but I believe everything will be okay. We are praying really hard that this will go well and especially that Dave's dad's body will not reject this kidney. If the transplant is successful it would basically mean a new life for his dad, who has had to spend 20 hours a week or so on dialysis for the past 10 years. It would improve his health, free up a huge amount of time, improve his energy, allow him to travel: basically it would allow him to live a normal life again. So we have really high hopes and lots of prayers that it will go as planned and be successful. We have felt God's hand guiding us throughout this process and have faith that if it is His will, He can work a miracle and help Dave's dad's body to accept this kidney.

So if you have a spare minute tomorrow, say a prayer for us or send some positive thoughts our way.

Shazam!

I love restaurants. I am lucky that Portland happens to have a particularly fantastic food scene for a city of its size. I say "food scene" because Portland food is not just about restaurants. No, no, no, this is "Keep Portland Weird" Portland. (Incidentally, I saw a "Keep Salem Lame" bumper sticker today. Somehow that just doesn't quite have the same ring to it....) Portland's food scene extends beyond restaurants and markets and into food carts.

This is one of those weird Portland things that I love and find so endearing. Food carts are a huge thing here- there are over 400 of them in the city. And they are not just turf for folks peddling hot dogs or pretzels. No, no, no. Food carts are a way for budding chefs to break out with very little overhead. They have food carts with gourmet desserts, waffle sandwiches, wood-fired pizza, Korean tacos, you name it. You can get some really awesome food from these carts and at very reasonable prices.

Last weekend I was bugging Dave to take me to Pok Pok (I've been craving it ever since my fantastic lunch there in August) but he wanted to do something more budget-friendly. So we decided to go food-cart hopping. We decided to hit the late-night pod on Hawthorne. It's basically a bunch of carts in an old parking lot/street corner-- complete with a few covered picnic tables and some string lights to complete the flower-child-carnival atmosphere.

We started with an "appetizer" from Potato Champion -- home of insanely delicious french fries. I've been itching to try their specialty: a Canadian concoction called "poutine." They top French fries with cheese curds and gravy. Let me just tell you, this is not your ordinary gravy. The word conjures images of KFC potato pearls topped with a salty-greasy powder-based sauce. This gravy is from a different planet entirely. Only $4.50 to transport you to french-fry heaven.

We got our main course at a cute new cart called "Pyro Pizza". Aside from having cute "decor", they made gourmet wood-fired pizza in a brick oven in a stinkin' cart! How cool is that! You peek in the side door and there is the brick oven, right in the middle of the trailer.

We ordered a caramelized onion pizza with gorgonzola and parmigiano-reggiano cheese and pistachios. They were out of the onions, so we substituted sausage for the onions and they even took a dollar off, knocking the price down to $6-- for an awesome pizza.

They also featured house-made soda (made with cane sugar instead of high-fructose corn syrup) in fun flavors.

We paired our pizza with a Chicken Pot Pie from Whiffies Fried Pies. C'mon, the only way that you could love a place called "Whiffies" more is if they added the words "Fried Pies." Just like the only way you could possibly love pie crust more is by dumping it in a vat of boiling oil. Seriously awesome. (The current pie champion ate 9 pies in 60 minutes. Wow.) Serious calories. Serious yum.

Golden-fried, artery-clogging goodness.

I'm starting to get good at these self-taken pictures.

It was very tempting to get a crepe for dessert (Lemon Curd, Lingonberry and Chevre, anyone?), but we were down to our last $1.50 of cash and didn't want to pay an ATM fee to get more. So we settled on sampling a glass of the Basil Lime soda from Pyro Pizza. It was great- not too sweet. That brought the total for our dinner to about $15.

We still had some time to kill, so after getting lost in Portland trying to find a cupcake cart (which had already closed when we found it) we decided to head somewhere that accepted credit card for dessert. (I'm the one in our relationship who doesn't like to ask for directions. I also have a problem with GPS. I enjoy maps and like to figure out my way around, even if it's more roundabout at first.) So we headed to Pix Patisserie, quite possibly the best dessert in Portland (it's a toss-up with Papa Haydn). We got the Pixie- a concoction involving pistachios, marzipan and raspberry jam- and one of my all-time-favorites: the Shazam. The Shazam is an evil creation of chocolate almond cake, topped by caramel mousse and coated in a wild flare of dark chocolate.

The Pixie, the Shazam, and Raspberry Almond bites.

It's one of those desserts that you take one bite and then just laugh, cry or shake your head in disbelief. It's that good. (Not bad for $6.)

The shop was built from a converted garage, so on nice summer nights they roll up the "wall" of the building to open up to the night air.

So we had a fun night of awesome food, including 3 desserts, for about $25. Now if only we could find an equally delicious way to minimize calories....

Saturday Market

Last Saturday was the end of Dave's mom's "Rescue Mission" to help me get organized before school started. It was so sad to see her go. The entire family piled into the car on Saturday morning to take her to the airport. On the way back we decided to stop at the Portland Saturday Market (which happens to be right across the street from the "Portland Rescue Mission"). We parked on the Burnside Bridge next to a homeless man asleep on the sidewalk (which is probably why the spot was open...). Then we piled out the kids and stroller to peruse the wares of Portland's outdoor market.

It was fun browsing the booths, people-watching and seeing the cool stuff for sale: handmade soaps, unique handbags, artsy jewelry, knitted scarves or caps, clothing made out of recycled T-shirts... you name it.

Our favorite booth had a great selection of interesting... headgear.

Whoops!

"William Tell lost his touch?"

She looks way too happy for someone with a saw through her head....

I finally gave in and bought one each for Jared and Camryn to use for their Halloween costumes. We decided to go with a non-violent option (at least as non-violent as an object through the skull can be...) so we went with a cooking theme.

Where did those tongs go anyway?

Can anyone find my pancake turner?

Jared and Camryn wore their "headgear" the rest of the time we were out and got lots of attention and laughs from people around us. By the end of browsing the market, we were hungry, so we stopped for some food. Jackson stuck with a hot dog, Jared and Camryn picked pizza,

while Dave and I got delicious lamb Gyros with Tabbouleh.

Seriously yummy!

We were going to drop by Voodoo Doughnuts for dessert, but the line went around the block. So we opted for "Dutch Tacos" (waffle sandwiches) from Flavour Spot instead.

We decided to try the "S'mores" waffle sandwich (made with Nutella and marshmallow fluff) and the "Lemon Pie" waffle (Lemon Curd and whipped cream- super yum!).

Now that's my kind of breakfast!

All in all, we had a fantastic time enjoying the beautiful weather and delicious food.

Jackson's grin kind of sums it all up.

Or we could have spent the Saturday morning like we typically do....  Nah!

Super Mario Wii

Kindred Spirits

"A bosom friend-- an intimate friend, you know-- a really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my inmost soul. I've dreamed of meeting her all my life." -Anne of Green Gables

Friendship means different things to us at different times in our lives. From the six or seven "best friends" of a five-year-old to the "co-parenting" buddies of a young mother, friendships grow with us and adapt to where we are in life. When I was a teenager, I wanted to find that one true "best friend"-- someone who really knew, understood and appreciated me. This person would have all of the same interests and hobbies that I did. They would like the same music, the same movies and the same activities. They would share all of the same opinions on important issues. While I had many good and important friendships, I never found the "one" person who fit all of these things, so my teenager-ly brain figured that it must be because all of those qualities would come together in my true best friend and "one and only," my future spouse.

I created the rosy picture in my mind: he would love classical music and be a music major, just like I was. We would while away the evenings playing chamber music together (sigh! so romantic!). He would love classic literature and old movies and we would discuss books together. He wouldn't really care about sports (I certainly didn't) and we would ballroom dance together on all of our dates. We would share a refined life of art and culture and raise little musicians, just like us.

I still have yet to find that friend who is just like me in every respect. And (please control your shock) even my husband didn't turn out to be exactly like me --and (more shocking still) I married him anyway. Until they legalize human cloning my friends will probably always have just as many differences from me as similarities--thank goodness. The goal to find people just like me was overtaken by the desire to find people who complement me-- and that category is much, much more broad than I had originally supposed. While most of my good friends have several interests that overlap with mine, friendship has become more about appreciating each other than mirroring each other.

Rather than the literary music major I envisioned in my teenage fantasies, I married a sports-crazy chemical engineer. But our love and friendship changed me in ways that would never have occurred to my romantic, book-loving teenage self. Because of my husband I learned how to follow (and enjoy) a football game, I know random minutiae about designing and building semiconductors, I learned to downhill ski (and conquered a black diamond), and I've tried (and loved) sea kayaking, scuba diving, snorkeling and Beatles Rock Band. Because of me, my sports-maniac engineer husband has learned to enjoy opera, has a mean ear for choral and piano music, can rock a couple of cha-cha moves and appreciate a truly fine blue cheese. He still hates old movies. And whipped cream. But I can live with that.

Ah, The Irony

My favorite quote of the year maybe... someone came up to Dave at the Cantico concert and asked him, "So how is it, having your wife gone all the time?" I wasn't in on the conversation to see how reacted, but he said he kept a straight face and said, "Oh yeah, it's um... tough, yeah, tough."

What is it like, I wonder? :)

Riding into Battle

Once Dave and I were together with my sisters and Dave's sister Jen (who is a full-fledged honorary sister to my whole family) and we were playing a game of "True Colors", where you read a statement and then vote on what you think people think about you (You get points by predicting accurately whether you will get the most votes, some of the votes or none of the votes). The question was "You are riding into battle for a hopeless cause. Who leads the charge?" I thought this one was obvious: everyone would vote for Dave. I voted for Dave and then guessed that I would get none, so I was floored when I got the most votes. "But what about Dave?" I asked.

My youngest sister, Megan, who has a knack for observing and analyzing people commented on it:

"If we ever had to work together to go into battle for some hopeless cause or something like that, Dave would be the one who came up with a plan, organizing everyone and telling them what to do. Jen would be the one who finally said, 'Let's not just stand around planning forever,' and made everyone actually get into action. And Karen, she is the one who would ride at the front of the army into battle on a charging horse, waving a flag in the air."

The imagery of it just made me laugh out loud. I had never really thought of it like that before, but I could totally picture it- me Don-Quixote-like on my horse, riding into certain death. I wonder if I would have my diaper bag with me?

Memory Monday: My First Date with Dave

I decided to finally write down one of the posts that has been formulating for a while- since last October, to be precise. I actually wrote this post yesterday (hence the "Memory Monday" title), but didn't finish it yesterday (that seems to be the story of my life right now...).

Back on October 15th of last year I was going to write a blog post commemorating the 10th anniversary of mine and Dave's first date. I remember that the date was because October 15th because it was also the application deadline for a research grant for which I was applying. That morning I emerged from my basement practice room in the fine arts building (for a change) and was about to head across campus to make copies of my application and turn it in when Dave "happened" to run into me. (I learned after the fact that this "chance meeting" was quite deliberate and premeditated.)

Dave and I had been friends during our freshman year, but we never dated. My apartment would hang out with his apartment a lot, but while I was interested in Dave, I never thought he was interested in me. It didn't help that I was kinda-sorta-not-really dating one of his roommates. He spent my sophomore and junior years in Siberia serving a mission for our church. My senior year he was back from his mission and ran into my roommate Brenda (who had also been my roommate during our freshman year). They arranged to get our old group together to go "tunnel singing"-- one of the many hanging-out activities we had shared as freshman. (I think "tunnel singing" is a BYU-ism. It's exactly like it sounds: you sing in a tunnel. There are nice acoustics. And it's a chance to flirt.). So we had hung out once or twice since he had gotten back but that was it.

After running into me, Dave made some small talk, including asking if I had any big plans for the weekend. "Nope. Not really." I told him, "My roommate Becki and I are planning on trying to finagle our way into the Utah Symphony for free at the fine arts center tonight. You could come if you want." I was still operating under the assumption that a) Dave wasn't interested in me and b) "hanging out" with Dave meant him and two of his roommates and about 10 other girls. But Dave was great fun, so in the course of the conversation I said, "Oh and you totally have to go disco skating with us. It is so much fun. My brother and I got some awesome outfits at the thrift store. Except we'll have to go next Saturday because tomorrow a bunch of us are going to the opera. You could come to that too, if you're into that kind of thing." Which I didn't think he was. But he surprised me and said "Yes, why not?" to all three. So basically Dave came to try to work up the courage to ask me out and I gave him 3 dates with me without even asking. I really am low-maintenance, don't you think? But back to my story.

So Dave said he would come to the symphony with Becki and I. I was glad he was coming and fully expected him to show up with his friend Chris and at least 5 other girls. So I was a little bit puzzled when Becki and I met up with Dave at the fine arts center and it was just him. We were able to finagle free tickets (Becki knew one of the ushers and someone had turned theirs in) so had a nice "date" with the three of us. After it was over we headed over to the Wilkinson Center to see if the A Cappella Jam was still going. It was just at intermission so they made us buy tickets. I was shocked again when Dave offered to buy the tickets. We saw the second half of the show and then went to check out a Latin Dance, also in the Wilk. We were too cheap to pay to get in, so we went up on the balcony and danced instead (we had run into one of Becki's friends by this point so we made a foursome). Finally we went back to my apartment and hung out some more. Dave played Becki's guitar for us, including his 'famous' original song "Blue Cheese" ("... it comes from blue cows..."). Then he handed me the guitar and asked me to play for him. Guitar is not one of my many musical talents, so I asked for a topic and proceeded to make up a two-note accompaniment to my poetic improvised text about going to Wal-Mart to shop for a wireless notebook.

And so it began....

How Can I Keep From Singing?

Last Sunday we started ward choir again after my break to recover from having a baby. We got off to a bit of a rough start. We didn't have a lot of people and it was just kind of a tough rehearsal- I didn't feel like we accomplished a whole lot or like people enjoyed it. Today it was Sunday and again, the time had rolled around for choir. While ward choir director is one of my favorite jobs in the world and I LOVE it when things are going well, I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with choir. I LOVE choosing music, directing the music, having rehearsals, the friends I make at rehearsals, putting together performances, teaching people about singing, and so on. But trying to recruit and get people to come is the bane of my existence. I HATE recruiting for choir. Mormons are notoriously busy with multiple callings, small children, extended family, community activities and such. Trying to convince people that they can find time for one more thing, especially on Sundays, can seem like an impossible task. All along my hope with choir has been that if I try and work hard enough and long enough, eventually we will get a consistent group of people to come and we will be able to not just sing a song or two for church, but progress as a group and get better... that we will be able to make beautiful music that expresses our love for the Lord, brings the Spirit into the meeting and touches people's hearts. But whenever we start to take steps toward that, it seems like things fall apart and we go back to having a "choir" of 6 or 7 people. I try not to take it personally when people don't come, but it is hard not to....

For a while I have been getting discouraged with choir because it seems like we have had more steps backward than forward and choir has been getting smaller, not bigger. Today I decided that I needed to at least make an effort to recruit for the Christmas program and call to remind people. (Note: I would rather get teeth pulled than have to call and try to get people to come to choir. It makes me extremely uncomfortable and nervous. And I take it personally when they say no.) I started calling people and the very first person I called said, "You know I love choir but I just need to spend that time with my family right now." What are you supposed to say to that? The next two people that I called were also "no"s. At that point I was about ready to just ask to be released from this calling. Why do they have me do this if all I am doing is torturing people, tearing them away from their families and making them suffer through one more Sunday meeting?

Regardless of my inauspicious start, I kept calling people and got a few "yes" responses. I quit calling people when Dave called me to eat lunch. He had cooked bacon, toast and omelets for lunch. (Did I mention that I love this man?) After filling my stomach with delicious, salty, greasy food I felt much better about life.     

By the time we finished eating it was almost time for choir, so I started getting chairs out and getting the music ready. At a typical choir practice, two or three people arrive by 2:05, with another couple coming by 2:10 and a few more at 2:15. Today we had 6 people here by 2:00. By 2:05 there were 14 people. And more and more people kept coming. We had 25 people at choir today, including some brand new people who I didn't even call! We had a great rehearsal, working on a piece to sing later this month and a couple of songs for Christmas. The choir sounded great! We had fun! We made progress! I love this calling! Someone from the choir had volunteered to bring treats so people stayed for a few minutes afterward to socialize and eat treats. It was an all-around great rehearsal and great day.

I always worry that when we have a good turnout like this people will assume that this means that they aren't needed and will stop coming (this has happened to me several times). But if they keep coming, think how awesome it would be...

Summer-y Summary Part III: Playing Out Back