Boy Trapped

Warm in Winter

2012-01-27T15:50:00.000-07:00

The second the weather warms up, the boys and I head outside. To the park by our house. To the pool. Sometimes no further than the front yard. While the locations may vary, there are two elements that don't.

1) The sun is beating down, warming me from the outside in, starting with my ray-absorbing brown hair. Soon after my hair starts to feel warm, the cloth covering my shoulders and knees begins to heat up. Finally, if there's not too much of a breeze, my skin starts to feel warm. I love this feeling.

2) There is a book in my hand. Always. I peer at children over the top edge of whatever fantasy or mystery or chick-flick has caught my eye, frequently devouring two or three books per week. I bookmark to go push a swing or assist little bodies with reaching new heights, but I quickly return to my book.

While the book part is achievable pretty much any time of year, the warmth doesn't seem to be. I've been cold since November. I'm pretty sure its contributing to my tension headaches, and I have been wearing a flannel shirt and knee-high socks to bed most nights because I just can't seem to shake the constant chill. I complain constantly of being cold, and I'm fairly certain it is driving Kirk crazy.

But this morning I found a magical corner, capable of delivering that summery warmth. It even comes complete with an area for Dylan to play while I half-watch and half-read. The ninety minutes I spent there were glorious. Heaven-sent. Fulfilling. Sustaining. And I can't wait to go back.

Where is this little piece of heaven? The children's section of the Magna library. At 10:00 am, the sun shines through the huge glass windows, lighting perfectly a couch located in the children's section. The couch offers an unobstructed view of the many activities designed with chubby fingers in mind and offers a perfect spot for this mom to relax and read. But the unexpected cherry on top was that as I sat there in the abundant natural light, my hair started to get warm. My brown sweatshirt absorbed the sunlight, and I got warm enough to sit in a short-sleeved shirt. My skin never quite radiated heat, but stuck in winter, I'll take whatever warmth I can get.

Yeah, I'll be back.

Not Quite Like Wine

2012-01-25T07:45:00.000-07:00

I kind of thought that my mothering skills would progress like wine; they'd get better with age. I'm pretty sure that didn't happen.

I don't think I've gotten worse, either. Just... different.

Dylan has been grouchy for days. Lots of days. With a slight stuffiness, I figured he was just in the beginning stages of a cold. But it never came. I talked to Kirk about it yesterday as I once again gave Dylan pain medication for a pain I couldn't identify.

"I wonder if those molars he's getting are hurting him?" Kirk asked.

Duh. Molars! Yeah, he's getting some of those. And that would sure explain his sad, "Ouch," the bit of stuffiness, and the figurative eggshells I've had to carefully navigate to keep him from melting into a puddle of tears at any given moment.

Had it been Adam, I'd have known to watch for molars, because the daily email to which I had subscribed would have told me to expect them. They'd have been on my radar at least.

Had it been Alex, I'd still have possessed the memory to recall teething from when Adam did it. Plus I was around him all. the. time. The grouchiness alone would have prompted me to research a cause.

But as Kirk and I did our December 21st Christmas shopping spree, and I came to the realization that sewing a church bag for Dylan (to match the ones I made for the boys back in 2009) just wasn't going to happen, I had to admit something a bit painful.

I'm not that mom.

I used to be. I have the blog pictures to prove it. But I'm not now, and guess what? That's okay.

There is no mother-making cookie cutter; there is no right way. I've tried on a few. I did working-full-time mom when Adam was born. I've done part-time a lot. I've done full-on stay-at-home (that's when I made the bags). Now I seem to have found some sort of work-part-time, get-a-degree, maintain-hobbies-and-friendships craziness that keeps me running from thing to thing. I'll probably try on a few more as we progress through life. I've yet to do soccer-mom (or football-mom as the case may soon be). I'll always struggle with rock-the-kids-to-sleep mom (I just can't hold still long enough).

No, my mothering skills are no fine wine. But I'm proud to declare myself a Twinkie. Consistently good and practically indestructible.

Ninja Skills

2012-01-23T09:43:00.000-07:00

Today I'm feeling like I have some serious ninja skills. And I'm not talking Fruit Ninja... I'll leave that to the little redhead who seems unfairly skilled at that game seeing as how he is only two.

No, today's ninja skills have roots in my childhood. My mom would buy me pretty dresses with sashes that tied around the waist. Every Sunday, I'd put on a dress and not be able to find the sash. Every Sunday, I'd get the same, "Can't you just leave the tie on your dress," lecture. Every Sunday, I'd think to myself that the answer was probably no.

My mom saw a sash. I saw SO much more. Just like when my dad says, "Toss me that hammer." The untrained eye may see only tape measure, shoe, 2x4, or rock. But Dad sees a hammer. Well, in that sash, I always saw the missing piece to whatever project I was working on.

And that's my ninja skill. I can look at something and see its multiple uses. I'm awesome at re-purposing, and I'm really good at figuring out a way. I'm pretty sure I rarely do things using what we like to call the right way, but things get done.

And today that ninja skill came in particularly handy. On Saturday, Adam and I talked about what kind of cake he might like for his birthday, and we settled on an iPod cake. Perfect to capture a bit of Adam's current interests, and perfect because cakes come out of the pan in a decidedly iPod-like shape.

As soon as he decided, he quickly made me a screen on his iPod which showcased the apps I was supposed to choose from, and I started to panic.

Crap. The apps. How am I going to pull that off?

The right way: If I had the time and money, I'd liked to have bought edible ink and printed it onto fondant transfers. Oh, and learned to make fondant.

The reality: No time, no money, and the cake has to be done by tonight.

I thought and thought and...

Ninja skill!

Fruit roll-ups. I could cut the pieces out of fruit roll-ups. And I did.

It really didn't take that long.

And it was kind of fun.

And I got to eat the leftover pieces.

Happy Birthday, Adam! (Tomorrow, really...)

A is for Attitude

2012-01-17T12:14:00.002-07:00

From "Living the Abundant Life" by President Thomas S. Monson

A in my ABCs refers to attitude. William James, a pioneeringAmerican psychologist and philosopher, wrote, “The greatest revolution of ourgeneration is the discovery that human beings, by changing the inner attitudesof their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives."

So much in life depends on our attitude. The way we choose tosee things and respond to others makes all the difference. To do the best wecan and then to choose to be happy about our circumstances, whatever they maybe, can bring peace and contentment.

Charles Swindoll—author, educator, and Christian pastor—said:“Attitude, to me, is more important than … the past, … than money, thancircumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think orsay or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness, or skill. It willmake or break a company, a church, a home. The remarkable thing is we have achoice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day.”

We can’t direct the wind, but we can adjust the sails. Formaximum happiness, peace, and contentment, may we choose a positiveattitude.

But can I? Am I capable? Can I do the best I can and then choose to be happy even if my professor docked me a hugely unfair amount of points for a minor error?

I'm still crossing my fingers and hoping I don't have to find out...

Annual Book Review

2012-01-16T15:58:00.001-07:00

Be prepared to be disappointed.

I thought about my annual book review and even started to type up the list of the books and the stars, and then I thought, "Isn't all of this available on GoodReads already?"

And the thing is... it is.

I thought about any life-changing books I've read this past year, and - realizing I had to consult GoodReads to even remember what I read - decided there just weren't that many.

But then I remembered why I really blog. Oh yeah. For me.

So for me (since I'll likely never print my GoodReads list, and maybe my posterity might care what mediocre books I read), here's a super boring repost of the best and worst of 2011:

THE FEW I KIND OF REMEMBERED:
Left to Tell (Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocost) - Immaculee Ilibagiza
I love that Immaculee realizes that, although the background is her experience in the Rwandan Holocaust, the book she has authored is not a story of those events. Rather, this book is the story of her immovable faith in unbelievably trying situations. In every instance where she prayed, she also acted upon her faith. It was her actions - based on her faith - which ndnallowed her to survive. This would make a great book club book

The Way of Kings, Brandon Sanderson

This book was one of the best I've read in a genre I can't get enough of. The world Sanderson has created is not limited to just one system of government or philosophy. Instead, he uses many characters and their unique perspectives to flesh out the details of diverse religions, daily routines, and values systems. I lost myself completely, and I have a feeling this world will gnaw at me until I pick up the next book.

1984 - George Orwell
** spoiler alert ** It's really rare for me to start out loving a book and then end up monumentally disappointed, but that is precisely what happened here. I was hooked from the beginning, intrigued and dying to get deeper into the overall philosophy. I was intrigued by Julia and by who Winston became with her. I was so into the idea of The Brotherhood. And then Winston got "The Book," and everything came to a screeching halt. The ideas became wordy and oh-so-repetitive. But I was willing to wade through it to get to what I knew would be a dynamic ending. And then...

Let's just leave it at that I don't care how many people have to die or be brutally tortured to see that right wins. But I'm struggling with leaving a story knowing that good did not prevail.

Cry, the Beloved Country - Alan Paton
When my husband asked me what this book was about I found it impossible to explain. "Well, it's about South Africa. But it really kind of isn't. It was about blacks and whites, I guess. No, not really that either. I guess it was more just about humanity. Common themes like love and forgiveness and responsibility and education and charity. I don't know. It was just about people. And about moments where they chose to do what was right even though it was hard and moments where they didn't choose to do what was right because it wasn't the custom."

Paton's writing style initially drove me crazy, but once I got into the book and could see the bigger picture I understood why he wrote the way he did. I loved his use of the word "you" to place me directly in the setting. I also loved how there was dialogue that wasn't attributed to any particular character. It made the themes - the pain, the struggle - so universal, attributable to all rather than one.

There were moments I won't likely forget. The description of Shanty Town will - I hope - stay with me forever. And the charity and forgiveness shown by many of the characters is an example I hope to follow.

WISH I'D NEVER CRACKED THE COVER:
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies - Seth Grahame-Smith
I think it would have helped if I had liked Pride and Prejudice. It definitely would have helped if it had actually been about zombies. All in all, I don't know why this book even exists, and I certainly do not recommend it. I finished it only so I could say I gave every page a chance, but I was disappointed from start to finish.

American Quartet - Warren Adler
While the plot was well-developed and intriguing, the sexual detail surrounding both the detective and the bad guy was just too descriptive and perverse. While I understand the need for the detail as it pertained to character development, for me, it just made the book an un-enjoyable read.

VARYING LEVELS OF AMUSING BUT FORGETTABLE NONETHELESS:
The Scorch Trials - James Dashner ****
The Maze Runner - James Dashner *****
The Ship Who Sang - Anne McCaffrey ****
Power Down - Ben Coes ****
The Compound - S.A. Bodeen ****
The Last Unicorn - Peter S. Beagle ***
The Mayor of Casterbridge - Thomas Hardy **
So Cold the River - Michael Koryta ****
The Holy Thief - William Ryan **
Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter - Tom Franklin ***
Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter - Seth Grahame-Smith **
The Shack - William P. Young ****
The Blue Sword - Robin McKinley ***
Unwind - Neal Shusterman *****
The Peack Kepper: A Novel - Sarah Addison Allen ***
Tribulation Force - Tim LaHaye ****
Conquest Earth - William Manchee **
Civil War - Wiliam Manchee ***
The Eye of the World - Robert Jordan ***
Fishers of Men - Gerald Lund ****
Little Britches: Father and I Were Ranchers - Ralph Moody ****
The Paradise War - Stephen Lawhead **
Keys to the Demon Prison - Brandon Mull *****
The Chosen One - Carol Lynch Williams *****
The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane - Katherine Howe *****
Lonestar Sanctuary - Colleen Coble ****

So there it is... my annual book review in incredibly truncated, boring style. If you really want to know more, let's be friends on GoodReads!

Gender Roles

2012-01-12T11:49:00.001-07:00

I had a presentation on gender roles due in class this week, and I knew I just had to include this picture.

Funny: Last year, Alex was totally willing to play dress up with Kaitlyn while at the babysitters.
Funnier: This year, he and Kaitlyn have converted another little boy to the idea.
Funniest: The boys fight over Cinderella and Snow White... because boys don't wear pink.

H20

2012-01-11T08:50:00.002-07:00

The human body is what, like 60% water? It's in the blood, bones, brain, and - well - pretty much everything. And it's pretty important to keep it that way.

So why do I hate drinking it so much?

It's not just that I don't like drinking water. I'm rarely thirsty. I drink almost no soda, little milk, and only the occasional glass of kool-aide. And, unless I really think about it, no water.

Lately, though, I've found three obnoxious reasons to try to do better about staying hydrated.

The first, and most pathetic: wrinkles.

When I was 20, newly married, and working at Coldwell Banker, an older coworker of mine used to come and put a piece of tape between my eyebrows. She wanted me to learn to stop furrowing my brow, because she knew someday I'd hate the wrinkles. I didn't learn, and sure enough now at 30, the wrinkles are there whether I'm actively furrowing or not.

But I've discovered a secret. Imagine the hard edges of the dishrag that has been sitting in the sink for a few days, then add water. Thankfully, my forehead wrinkles seem to respond similarly. I wish I didn't have to display my dehydration on my forehead, but at least staying hydrated seems to smooth things out a bit.

The second, and most typical: headaches.

People always say staying hydrated helps with headaches. I wish it wasn't true. But it is. And although it's much easier for me to just pop a few Ibuprofen, it's much better for me to grab a glass of water. But I don't have to like it.

The third, and most worrisome: my voice.

I was sick for about a half of a day in November. I lost my voice completely for several days, but despite its gone-ness, I still had to teach, and I still had to conduct my Dickens Festival rehearsals. I pushed too hard. It mostly came back, but it was still raspy and was catching on certain notes near my break. I figured I just needed to make it through to Christmas break and that a full week off would work like magic.

And it did! I came back to school with my voice 100% for the first time in 6 weeks. Monday was great. Tuesday was great. But halfway through Wednesday, it started catching again, and by Thursday, the notes in my break were weak and nearly non-existent. The advice of my vocal friends seems to be unanimous: hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.

So I am drinking like crazy. But since my body doesn't seem to send me normal signals, like thirst, I've pretty much scheduled it into my day.

-One full waterbottle after morning workout
-A full bottle before I leave for school
-A full bottle on the drive to school
-A full bottle during my prep time
-A full bottle before I leave school
-A glass with dinner
-At least one glass between dinner and bed

That's 170 flippin' ounces, people (when I meet the goal, but I'd say most days I manage closer to 120). For a girl who often makes it through the day on 12. And trust me, that has its disadvantages. Like needing to pee between every single class I teach. And there's that annoying water taste. Not sure I'll get used to that.

And then, of course, there's the question if all this water focus is really worth it. (I ask, as I sit here drinking water bottle #2 of the day.) I've a headache this morning, and my voice still isn't working right.

At least it's smoothing out my wrinkles!

We Didn't Start the Fi-ya!

2012-01-08T07:29:00.000-07:00

Billy Joel is awesome. If you don't agree, I'm not sure we can be friends anymore.

My dad raised me on the Storm Front cassette. I am pretty sure my sisters and I wore that thing out choreographing dances to its many great songs. So of course when I saw a Storm Front CD floating around my dad's house, I "borrowed" it for awhile. It's one of the only CD's in my car, so it gets put it on long drives when we lose access to every radio station worth listening to. And it gets put in when Alex really wants to listen to a CD, which is fairly often.

Alex's to-preschool song used to be "Trashin' the Camp" from Tarzan. But I damaged the CD compilation on which it was featured. But I'm proud to announce he has a new favorite, and I pretty much beam with pride when I hear his husky little voice rockin' out to "We Didn't Start the Fire." It's the way he really kicks the second syllable of fire. Ya know... fi-ya. Love it.

I have to admit, there are some questionable lyrics, and I'll need to do a bit of explaining as the kids catch more of the lists. I'm hoping they don't hear individually definable words for awhile, especially not in the "British politician sex..." line. And "JFK, blown away, what else do I have to say?" will probably need to be explained sooner than later. That one's pretty catch-able. But, considering the kids also love Ke$ha... yeah.

I've loved tthe "fi-ya" song for as long as I can remember. A year ago for Christmas, I bought my dad a Billy Joel songbook, and Lisa and I sat at the piano and tried to sing it. Wow, there are a lot of words. And I don't know what half of them refer to.

If I taught some sort of high school or college level American history course, I think I'd do a whole "We Didn't Start the Fire" unit where each of the students would choose three contrasting topics from the song and present on them. For example one celebrity, one politician, and one work of art. One foreign event, one development, one sports figure.

You don't actually have to do the research, but I'm curious. Which three would you pick?

Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnnie Ray,South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio,Joe McCarthy, Richard Nixon, Studebaker, televisionNorth Korea, South Korea, Marilyn Monroe,Rosenbergs, H-bomb, Sugar Ray, PanmunjomBrando, "The King and I" and "The Catcher in the Rye"Eisenhower, vaccine, England's got a new queen,Marciano, Liberace, Santayana goodbyeJoseph Stalin, Malenkov, Nasser and ProkofievRockefeller, Campanella, Communist Bloc,Roy Hn, Juan Peron, Toscanini, dacron,Dien Bien Phu falls, "Rock Around the Clock"Einstein, James Dean, Brooklyn's got a winning team,Davy Crockett, Peter Pan, Elvis Presley, Disneyland,Bardot, Budapest, Alabama, Krushchev,Princess Grace, "Peyton Place", trouble in the SuezLittle Rock, Pasternak, Mickey Mantle, Kerouac,Sputnik, Chou En-Lai, "Bridge on the River Kwai"Lebanon, Charlse de Gaulle, California baseball,Starkweather, homicide, children of thalidomide,Buddy Holly, "Ben Hur", space monkey, Mafia,Hula hoops, Castro, Edsel is a no-go,U-2, Syngman Rhee, payola and Kennedy,Chubby Checker, "Psycho", Belgians in the Congo,Hemingway, Eichmann, "Stranger in a Strange Land"Dylan, Berlin, Bay of Pigs invasion,"Lawrence of Arabia", British Beatlemania,Ole Miss, John Glenn, Liston beats Patterson,Pope Paul, Malcolm X, British politician sex,JFK, blown away, what else do I have to say?Birth control, Ho Chi Minh, Richard Nixon back again,Moonshot, Woodstock, Watergate, punk rock,Begin, Reagan, Palestine, terror on the airline,Ayatollah's in Iran, Russians in Afghanistan,"Wheel of Fortune", Sally Ride, heavy metal suicide,Foreign debts, homeless vets, AIDS, crack, Bernie Goetz,Hypodermics on the shores, China's under martial law,Rock and roll, cola wars, I can't take it anymore.
My three (because they sound interesting, but I have no idea what any of them are)1. Children of thalidomide2. Chubby Checker3. "Peyton Place"
And my other curiosity/challenge:
The original song was written about events between 1949 and 1989 - forty years of history.  It's crazy to me that another 23 years have gone by since then.  If you wrote a few new lines, what would they include?
C'mon, you know you want to play!

Scream Like a Girl

2012-01-06T16:36:00.001-07:00

Lest I allow my blog to become a receptacle for the negativity I've felt at 10 pm on each of my most recent UoP Tuesday nights, I've not shared my school adventures lately. Let's just say I'm having issues with this teacher and leave it at that. The good news, though, is that I like my classmates a lot. And although I get teased a lot (for talking too fast, too much, being bossy, and being an overachiever), the intent is never malicious, and I know how to interpret the teases as compliments.

I've fallen easily back into my old UoP routine with respect to the homework. That is, I put in just enough effort to achieve the desired results of my own personal rubric. In order to consider the assignment a success, I must:

- Get an A (a perfect score is even better)
- Learn something (if I don't feel I'm learning from the curriculum, I try to challenge myself by learning something new in PowerPoint or Photoshop when I design the presentations)
- Turn in work I can be proud to put my name on

I'm betting this is why they call me an overachiever, but each facet is equally important to me. I got my bachelor's with a 4.0, and I'm really trying to match that achievement. The $1000+ bucks per class really should give me the chance to actually learn something. And it's important to me that people who meet Andrea Fife know she does quality work.

I wish I could add:

- Know I've done my personal best.

But my work would rarely meet that standard, and honestly, moderation in all things really does apply to my schoolwork. I'm willing to put in the time to meet my own standards, but perfection would just be going too far.

Anyhow, this week, every person in the class gets to give a 10 minute presentation on Gender Roles. We all have to answer the same 5 questions, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be in for a boring and repetitive 90 minutes of presentations on Tuesday. So of course, I'm trying to be a bit different.

I've been mentally formatting my presentation all week, thinking of interesting personal tidbits to use to set mine apart. Thankfully, I need look no further than Alex, who supplied me, unprompted, with the announcement that, "Mom, I was going to scream like a girl. But then I didn't. I screamed like a boy."

And then, of course, there are the pictures of him dressed up as blue-dress-wearing princesses at Kaitlyn's house. (Apparently he and the other little boy there insist on wearing only the blue or red princess dresses, like Cinderella or Snow White.)

Picture to come. I promise.

I wish that was the only homework I had this week. Still to go is a 2450 to 3500 word paper on an observation I did today, requiring all sorts of crazy details regarding developmental theorists and details regarding physical, cognitive, language, moral, and social development. Yeah.

Knowing my constant shortage of proverbial stones, I took careful aim and threw this particular one in the direction of a preschool I've wanted to observe anyway. I scoped out the potential future educational environment for Mr. Expressive Language Delay (Dylan) and gathered the data to write the dumb paper. Score. An added plus? I bought pizza and interviewed the preschool owner/teacher (also known as my friend Alicia) while our kids played. Maybe that stone actually hit three birds!

Unfortunately the paper isn't going to write itself. Fortunately (*rolls eyes to indicate a facetious tone of voice*) Kirk's mom invited him on a mother/son date tonight, and he's dealing at a casino party tomorrow night. Alone on both Friday and Saturday night, I suppose I'll have nothing better to do than put in the minimally required amount of work to churn out a half-decent paper.

I'm hoping it goes well. If not, I'll probably have to scream, and having been imprinted to do so through media and social conditioning, I'll probably scream like a girl.

No Badge

2011-12-31T20:36:00.002-07:00

If I had known there'd be a badge to earn for making my GoodReads goal, maybe I'd have worked a little harder. I set the goal to read 52 books in 2011, and I fell pitifully short at only 32. But when I set that goal, I hadn't exactly planned on Oklahoma, Joseph, Willy Wonka Jr., Into the Woods, I Wanna Be on Broadway, and The Dickens Festival.

Still, I don't like not reaching my goals, and I hate knowing that I could have earned a badge.

And didn't.

Yes, I fell 20 books short of my goal. But in looking back, I easily jotted down a quick list of 20 real-life friends I've made through theater this year. 20 people who will be a part of my 2012, not just a part of the list of books I read in 2011. And the best part is that this list could have been at least 40 people longer if I included all those whose company I enjoyed, whose talents I learned from, and whose selves I sat across from during after-show parties. I'm hoping I don't offend by not including those 40, but here is my self-awarded badge: 20 new people who enriched my life beyond the theater in 2011. Thanks for a great year!

(Listed in alphabetical order)

Adam, whose level-headedness got me through many a backstage freakout, and to whom I was conversing when I missed my first entrance ever.

Arlee, "Ellen" to my "Vivienne", date to every show Kirk doesn't want to see, and awesome example of how to be true to oneself.

Arvid Bryce, who forgave me for thinking he was two different people, who somehow gets away with calling me "woman," and part of the new Killer Bunnies gang.

Curtis, the first guy to drop me this year and a great friend to turn to on FaceBook if I can't sleep. And if he ever has $50...

Evan, my 15-year old boyfriend. "Hey, you know what the best thing is about twenty-nine year old girlfriends? There's twenty of them."

Jamie, who I knew, but didn't know, who has the guts to say the stuff I think in my head, and whose belt I'll idolize until my dying day. Affectionately known by another name I won't write on my blog. :)

Jeremy, who helped me transition back into theater by sitting next to me at the first Oklahoma rehearsal and who seems to be able to sense when I'm feeling lonely and hits me up with a "Hey, beautiful," text.

Jonathan, who can quote RocketMan and who made Into the Woods the experience of a lifetime. Little girl Andrea and little boy Jonathan would definitely have been best friends.

Luke, whose friendship prompted my husband to tease me incessantly about being a teenage girl and with whom I shared the experience of four straight shows.

Mariah, who I occasionally passed in the hallways of The Empress and now get to pass in the hallways of my home.

Matt & Torri, who I met when they were Matt. And Torri. But whom I hope will become a part of my personal life forevermore to be referred to as Matt AND Torri.

Megan, whose blog entertains me nearly as much as the in-the-flesh Megan did during Into the Woods and whose talent and passion for theater will continue to awe and inspire me.

Nanny, who had decided years ago not to like me but finally gave up this year, who brought me a keychain from France, and who is also affectionately known by a non-blog-appropriate nickname. :)

Rosie, who I've known since 4th grade but who reentered my life when I saw her name on an audition form for Joseph, and with whom I intend to maintain a face-to-face friendship henceforth.

Perry, whose presence extends from cast-mate to student to babysitter to Killer Bunnies gang to friend and whose nickname, "SecrePerry," will likely never fade.

Sarah, whose family jumped off the computer screen and into real life when her girls auditioned for the Dickens Festival and with whom I'm hoping to be able to have a "real" friendship.

Sasha, without whom I'd never have gotten kicked out of my own neighborhood park and whom I figure will remain a constant part of my theatrical landscape.

Shawna, who went from "lady at the front desk" at work to a real live person through our Dickens Festival interactions and whose friendship I can consider the first I've made at work.

Skyler, who I've started referring to as "my pet Skyler," because it's just hard to explain, with whom I can discuss music theory, and who innately gets me, a pretty tough thing to do.

Am I still a bit sad about the badge? You bet. But I wouldn't trade these 20 for books any day.

But my book goal for 2012? I think I'll go with a more reasonable 40 books so I have plenty of time to spend with my friends.

Jam Packed

2011-12-29T08:53:00.000-07:00

This is the start of Day 4 in Mesa, Arizona, and it feels like we've been here for weeks. Even though there have been days when I didn't get dressed until well after dinner, it seems like we've just packed so much into our trip. Still, most of it isn't story-worth; most of my stories would end with, "I guess you just had to be there."

Even these two clips will probably mean a lot more to me than they will to anyone else, and after watching them, you may be inclined to turn your head to the right and think, "huh?"

So I'll offer a little back story.

My grandparents moved into a new house this year, and we've never visited them in their new home. So it came as a surprise that they have a swimming pool. Had we come in summer, I'd have been thrilled, but in December all I saw was, "Great, now we can't let the kids play unsupervised in the backyard." That was soon followed by Alex's constant desire to go swimming. "Fine," I finally said. "Dip that kid in the pool and let him see how cold it is so I don't have to hear about it anymore." Done and done.

Until the next day. Sunny day. Warm day.

"Fine, go put shorts on and dip your toes in the pool."

"Okay, take your shirts off so you can reach your arms down in, too."

"Fine, this offer is for today only. You can pretend your shorts are swimming trunks and get as wet as you want..."

And then I heard Adam as he ran past me, "Watch out, Mom, I'm jumping in."

Adam doesn't do that kind of stuff. I didn't know spontaneity was anywhere in his personality, and he has traditionally had very few showings of dare devilishness. He came out sputtering and cold, but I was proud of him.

"Go dare Uncle Jack to jump in the pool," I suggested. He disappeared to the front yard where a basketball game was in progress. He soon reappeared, Uncle Jack behind him, and he excitedly told me, "Uncle Jack said he'll jump in if you'll stay in for 10 seconds."

"Well, I bet you can do 10 seconds. You'd better get back in."

Jack looked up. "Not if he'll do 10 seconds. If you'll do 10 seconds. I heard tell him to dare me. I think you have to earn it."

I thought for a bit, deciding if it was worth it. Not wanting to get my hair wet, I offered 10 seconds up to my shoulders in exchange for his jumping in, completely submerged. In retrospect, he got the better end of the deal.

Dylan didn't need to be dared. He enjoyed this cold pool far more than he enjoyed the comfortably warm ones this summer. His little feet were red from the cold, but he still just kept squealing in delight and begging me to take him further in the water.

Adam tried to dare Brett. It didn't take. And then, knowing that Brett hates the idea that he's older than me (and we both turned 30 this year), I decided to motivate him with, "What? Did Brett get old and boring while he's been in Georgia?" It didn't take long for him to jump in.

There's no thermometer, so we don't know how cold it actually was, but we're estimating probably mid 40's. Cold. We were unsuccessful in tempting anyone else, but for those of us who jumped in, that bitter cold will be an Arizona memory we won't soon forget!

And just for fun, a video of a little trained monkey named Dylan, trained to set up the targets and retrieve arrows so Uncle Jack and Grandpa can just sit back and shoot their handcrafted crossbows which Grandma purchased at the Dickens Festival.

We've got 3 whole days left here, and I can't wait to see what else we'll do!

Merry Christmas

2011-12-24T14:53:00.004-07:00

'Tis the night before Christmas,
Fine. Mid-afternoon,
And ready or not,
Christmas day will come soon!

The presents are wrapped,
And blog-pictures taken
I thought I might share them,
But I was mistaken.

The family's impatient
With visits to make,
Christmas is starting,
I can't make them wait!

Thankfully pictures
And rhymes don't expire.
For now, from this post
I should probably retire.

My last parting thought
As I head out the door,
"Merry Christmas to all!"
And soon, I'll blog more.

Pre-Christmas Fun

2011-12-23T14:21:00.002-07:00

A friend of mine took this quiz and posted her results. Ever curious, I had to find out which Christmas movie would fit me.

Drum roll, please?

"Living your life as an eternal optimist, you’re a sap forSanta, Christmas cookies, carols, and, well, just everything about the holidays. Even stale ribbon candy. Hey, it was fresh and tasty once. Why focus on the negative? All you really want is to see everyonelaughing and smiling—and you often go to great lengths to ensure thathappens. ‘Tis the season to be jolly!"

It's always fun to have the quiz results seem to fit, although I feel I've had little time this year for merriment. Still, I truly am a sap for it all. I love buying, wrapping, baking, giving, gathering, singing... and yeah, I'd totally eat stale candy.

If I don't venture back to the blog before then, Merry Christmas!

Classroom High: Tools

2011-12-14T09:16:00.002-07:00

A short thought from last night's class:

When you go to a hardware store to buy a drill, you really aren't there because you need a drill. You are there because you need a hole; the drill is just a tool.

It's Not Over Yet...

2011-12-13T08:06:00.001-07:00

This year's Dickens Festival is one I'll likely never forget. I'm going to get it out of the way up front that if you haven't come yet, you should. The shows are great and the Festival itself really is a lot of fun. (Father Christmas, roasted chestnuts, unique Christmas gifts...) But it's not the great shows or the fun festival that I'll remember this year.

It's the people.

I feel so blessed to have worked with so many people to whom I have a personal connection. Katie Nielsen, for example, who I call Katie Hall every time I try to talk about her, because she was Katie Hall for the years I was her piano teacher, for the dinners I ate at her house, and in the pictures I have of her in 10-years-ago scrapbooks.

JJ, who now goes by Jacqueline, since she too has gotten married in the years I've known her. She gave me my first shot in theater, allowing me to learn how to set and run lights, then asking me to assistant direct, and now giving me my first shot as full-blown director.

Sarah, an old roommate whose blog I've stalked for the last few years, who did far more than lend her Adam- and Alex-aged girls to the production, signing up for multiple nights of the less-than-fun job we call "Orphan Wrangling," and who kindly thought to send me pictures I'd have taken myself if I ever had the time.

Our #2's - a potentially dangerous combination

Shawna, who has worked at the front desk at my school for far longer than I've been teaching there, but about whom I could have told very little. Not only are her four children in the cast, but she's volunteering as a "Head Wrangler," and she's even donated her husband to the cause. I have to say, he's been the hit of the show for many of the orphans.

A line of orphans waiting to be spun by the tireless Vince (who wasn't even on Orphan duty that day)

The families in my stake who have, often without warning and always without complaint, taken Adam and Alex home when I still needed to stay.

My sister-in-law, Marie, who brings her son, volunteers, looks out for my kids, and never gets her feelings hurt when I often don't even managed to say hello.

My pet Skyler. This one could be a whole blog post here. He's been my sounding board, my complaint box, my M&M supplier, an extra uncle to my kids and the fixer of all crisis, not to mention the two most important titles, Assistant Director and friend. Seriously, Skyler, I don't know how I'll do it next year without you.

Skyler - exceeding his duties as Assistant Director

And my mom. The only thing more amazing than her talent and experience was the focus she put into making sure she did nothing but support my efforts in my first job as Director. If I had been worried about the reversed dynamic, I need not have been. It has been amazing to have someone as strong as her in my corner.

The Wrigley family, Rick, Richard, my dad, the Koop family, the Christensen family, the Lowry Girls and the Jensen boys who all came back from last year and were so central to our cast.

Gary and sons who can't help but bring everything they've got to the show. (They get credit for our 12 foot tall Christmas Future.)

Arlee, Travis, David, the Whatcotts, Adam, Madi, Whitney, Greysen, Kylie and Hollie who've all worked with me "somewheres before," and chose to work with me again.

My NPA kids who willingly signed up for more Mrs. Casdorph and Mrs. Fife.

And the small handful who I've just gotten to know for the first time: Megan, Celeste, Amber, Nick, Lindsey, Bethany, and a few orphans.

So yes, I want you to come see the Dickens Festival, because the shows are great. But really, I want you to come meet the rest of my family.

Come see us this Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at the Utah State Fairpark. Entrance to the Festival plus $5 parking gets you in to both shows. Evenings at 6pm and 8pm, and Saturday matinees at 1pm and 3pm.

Should Be...

2011-12-05T23:20:00.001-07:00

I should be using these precious moments to sleep. I may get little of that this week. But I'd just be so ungrateful if I didn't take a minute to say thanks for today.

I should be supremely stressed from the day I've had. But I'm really not. So many things went "wrong" today, but each time, somebody rallied around me and turned "wrong" into difficult, "difficult" into bearable, and sometimes even "bearable" into fun.

When I found out I'd have no picnic tables for my orphans, the Draper Arts Council sprang to my rescue even accommodating my crazy schedule.

When I found out the truck would be delayed and we'd only have two hours to unload it, several of my high school boys agreed to come help.

When I found out the truck wasn't even on it's way, no one yelled at me for wasting their time.

When my phone died, my wonderful husband drove my charger to me.

When we had to scramble to cancel costume fittings and call a rehearsal instead, Megan made phone calls to every member of the cast.

When I was worried about getting food to eat, Juliet brought me delicious potatoes and cheese.

When I needed that extra something to get me through the night, Skyler braved a shady gas station to get me my favorite fix: plain m&m's.

When I stressed out finding out I'm not allowed to miss class tomorrow night, my mom helped me come up with a plan to accomplish it all.

When I lost my keys - just like I said I would - Madi and Whitney and Greysen and Kylie helped me keep a sense of humor while I looked for - and thankfully found - them.

When I had to keep running rehearsal, Wendy offered my tired kids a ride home.

When I changed the schedule on him again and again and again, Randy Rich showed up at the fairgrounds for the third time today and didn't even blame me.

When I was worried that our stand-in props would now need to serve as the real deal, my dad came and fixed them up for me.

When the orphans were just too much too handle, Marie and Sarah and Shawna stepped in without being asked just to help where help was so obviously needed.

When my chapped lips became too much of a distraction for me to handle, Julie lent me her chapstick.

When I should have felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders, my friends came to my rescue. I could never have survived a day like today without that incredible network of support.

Tomorrow might not be any better. So I really should be sleeping. Thanks in advance to all those who will help me survive the next two weeks.

Classroom High: Discovery

2011-11-29T22:12:00.001-07:00

I'm betting that for the next twenty months, there will be a new weekly feature on my blog titled "Andrea's Attempt to Come Down from the Classroom High." I just love learning. The flow of ideas, the discussion of point and counterpoint, and the opportunity to excel get me all pumped up, and even though it is after 10:00 and I should be exhausted from four hours of class, here I am recapping the second night of my masters program.

For me, tonight was all about self-discovery. I discovered some things I didn't know about myself. Re-discovered things I'd forgotten. Was called out on things I'd maybe not like everybody to know about me just yet.

1. I talk really fast. I know this. You probably all know this. This was an issue all throughout my undergrad work at the University of Phoenix, because the coursework calls for a ton of presentations. On the feedback forms, my peers constantly commented that I talk too fast. I don't know how I forgot about this, but tonight after my first group presentation of the program, the professor opened it up for critique. One girl's hand flew up. "You did a really great job of presenting the information, but you just talk so fast. I honestly just can't listen that fast, and I kept getting lost."

2. I agree with a perennialist philosophy of education. That basically means that I think if you teach a kid to think, he can master any concept. Therefore, I think that teaching thinking is at the core of a teacher's responsibility. Guess what? In a class of 11 students, I am the only perennialist.

3. I may possibly be an elitist. This one is a hard pill for me to swallow. I attended private school K-8 (with the exception of an aforementioned terrible 7th grade year at Midvale Middle School in the the ALPS program), and I've spent my entire life trying to make sure that I am not a private school snob. But based on my perennialistic educational philosophies and the fact that I also tend to agree more with Plato's idealism and Aristotle's realism than with the other general philosophies, all signs indicate that I am an elitist.

4. I have listening comprehension skills below that of a first grader. Again, I know this. If you looked at my SAT scores through grade school, you'd see a clear pattern indicating this is not my strong suit. If you know my dad or brother, you'll also know it's a bit of an inherited trait. But boy did I feel pretty stupid when after listening to the presentation of a story as it would be taught to a first grade class and being asked to hold up my picture of a bale of hay each time the story mentioned hay, I could not answer the simplest of questions. "Why did [crap... I forgot the stupid bear's name. Did I mention certain Casdorph's are also known for their short term memories?] get to go on a hay ride?" No clue. "When did [bear] go on a hay ride." I looked at the visual aide and deduced from the night sky complete with harvest moon that the answer must be "at night." I even vocalized said answer. Guess what the correct answer was? "Friday."

5. I blush deeply when I feel the spotlight on me. After discovering I am the only perennialist in the class, the professor moved on to the elements of perennialism in the classroom. Her PowerPoint slide read, "Education prepares you for life. You don't have to find it relevant or interesting." She paused and then asked the class if they'd heard me say something like that earlier in the evening. Sure enough, in my portion of our group presentation just before asking the class to sing a drill, I explained that they don't have to like music, but they did have to participate. She then called attention to the bottom of the slide and pointed out that in a perennialist view, the teacher's role is to "engage students in discussions that require analysis and evaluation of ideas." She then pointed out that the activity portion of our group project (designed by me and taken straight from the lesson plan I am teaching to my 4th graders tomorrow) was precisely an analysis of our subject matter (form in music), and that of all the groups, ours was the only one which evaluated the student's learning and gave them instantaneous feedback. I could not have provided a more textbook example of my education philosophy, and it was honestly a bit uncomfortable.

6. The other education philosophies aren't nearly as dumb as I originally thought. After listening to my teammate Ben describe how, at the Title 1 schools where he teaches, his philosophy of Behavioral Constructivism is essential, I was able to gain an appreciation for others' points of view. As he put it, if you can't keep a kid out of a gang, it really doesn't matter how much math he knows.

I have a feeling that this entire masters program will provide plenty of opportunities for introspection and hopefully plenty of nights where I need to unload an over-stimulated mind before bed. I bet you didn't know you were all going to school with me!

Buried Treasure

2011-11-26T08:42:00.001-07:00

Perhaps this post is best started with the announcement that the revolving doors of the Fife household have once again accepted house guests. This time around, we're landlords, with paying renters making use of our extra bedroom and sharing the guest bathroom. Lee and Mariah, thus far, are no trouble at all to have around, and we anticipate no trouble in the future.

A side effect of moving aside to share with others is an increased need to evaluate and re-vamp the storage areas of the house. Closets, garage, living room ottomans, all needed a big makeover. It was one of those it-gets-worse-before-it-gets-better projects, and for about two days, my house looked like Hurricane Katrina had come through.

But the game room closet now appropriately houses sewing and craft supplies, the downstairs shelves have been reorganized so that I can easily see which clothes will next fit Adam, Alex, or Dylan. There's a specific box for Easter stuff, the guest bathroom stuff is tucked away, and the shelves are moved the 18" to the left that Kirk has wanted to do for years. My music is now upstairs in the living room storage ottomans, within a few steps from the piano as it should be. The dust is settling, and I feel inner peace of knowing there's a place for everything (though I rarely take that statement to the next step; just knowing there's a place is good enough for me).

The best part of the journey was that, though I am not a "keeper of stuff," I found several buried treasures through my journey.

From the ottomans (and I have no idea how it got there):

A letter from my mom - I am certain one of those Trek-inspired letters, but a great letter nonetheless. My favorite excerpts:

"Your countless hours of practice on the piano have really paid off. Do you remember when you first began I used to tell you that you needed to learn to play well enough to be of service to the church? Well we could not begin to count the hours of service that you've already given, and I'm sure that you will continue to serve the Lord with your music for the rest of your life."

"I'm glad that you've always been a happy and busy daughter of God. Continue to participate in everything and to encourage those around you, and the Lord will continue to bless you for your efforts."

From a back corner of the game room closet:

Kirk's notes in his planner outlining how to get to my house to pick me up for our first date. Be sure to read the long house story to understand the significance.

A birthday card from my then-friend now-brother-in-law Brett Larsen, sent from his mission for my 20th birthday. I can't really seem to choose a favorite excerpt, so here goes:

"Dear Andrea,

Well, this card isn't the same as it was in the store, somebody must have switched cards with me while I was paying for it. The more I read it the stupider it gets, so I'm going to quit reading it and start writing. Sound good to you. Good. Well, you are no longer a teenager. It sucks huh, I wouldn't know cause I haven't even made it to the teen years mentally yet. But I've been told it sucks. Yes I'm in a weird mood. Why, you ask? Well, I don't know. Maybe cause the guy we live with is a little weird, he woke us up at 4:00 in the morning watering the cement right underneath our open bedroom window. Maybe cause I just saw a drop dead gorgeous girl at the store and I couldn't even flirt with her. Maybe cause I got a shot in my Butt yesterday and it has hurt to sit down ever since. (I could give you more details on that, but I'll spare you!! Ok maybe I'm just plain weird. Wait a second, this is your birthday card, not mine, on to you. Well, I haven't seen you in a year, so I don't have a whole lot to really busy you about. And your married, so I don't want to peeve your husband by making up some story. And I can't even celebrate your birthday with you cause you happen to be quite far away from me at the time. So I guess that all I can really do is tell you to Have a Happy Birthday! and I'll be there in spirit. And another thing I can do is quit rambling to you can you can have your birthday make out session. No not with me, you're married, that's a sin. Take care. Elder Larsen."

Chuck-E-Cheese pictures were Kirk wasn't even in the same picture as me. That one brings a self-explanatory smile.

Heartfelt Christmas cards from my generally emotionally unavailable sister Michelle, specifically outlining what a great husband I have.

From the Storage Room:

I located my old quadruple combination scriptures and decided that since Adam's reading has vastly improved, it's probably time for him to take real scriptures to church. Cleaning them out for him, I came across a fun reminder from at least 12 years ago. Those of you who've known me that long will enjoy it.

No, I'm not a keeper of stuff, but it was fun to find these items hidden among my years of accumulation. I'm glad I kept them if only to rediscover them yesterday, scan them in, blog about them...

and throw them away.

How a Fife Says Thanks

2011-11-25T11:08:00.001-07:00

I've blogged before about the reasons why I love being a Casdorph. But the best thing about getting married is that you get to be a part of an entirely new family, often one different from yours. In my case, very different. So it is with a bit of a disclaimer that I post the pictures of why it is so great to be a Fife. I say now, scroll down at your own risk.

First, though, I'll post a few nice pictures of the family together for Thanksgiving. Mom Fife made a wonderful meal, and Mark and Rachel's deviled eggs were a bit tangier than usual - just the way I like them. I ate too much jello (thanks Marie) and way too many rolls (par for the course). While the big boys watched football and the little boys played in the yard, I enjoyed casual conversation and kept my nose in a book. All in all, it was a perfect holiday.

Aunt Marie and Aunt Heather spoiled Dylan, cuddling him whenever possible, and Aunt "Ri" sang through "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" several times. I'm grateful to have sisters-in-law whose children are far past the cuddly-needy stage D is in and who enjoy picking up some of my slack.

But the defining moment of the day was catching Heather red-handed with my camera, and then scrolling through to see this:

Thankfully, these are not what they look like. Touch your shoulder and look at the crease of your elbow. Go ahead... do it...

Yeah, she convinced her husband, my mother-in-law, and Aunt "Ri" to model their elbow butts for my camera.

Nice.

And that is how a Fife says thanks.

My Little Corner of Geek

2011-11-23T08:15:00.001-07:00

I'd like to think everybody has that thing they get all geeked up about. Star Wars, Twilight, Harry Potter. World of Warcraft. For me, it's a fictional place called Pern.

I was hooked on Pern when, in 6th grade, we read the first book in a trilogy, Dragonsong. The main character, Menolly, was the daughter of a craftsman in the Fishcrafthall. Her true passion and talent, however, was for music. When she sliced her hand gutting fish, her mother - an expert healer - purposely stitched it up incorrectly to prevent Menolly from becoming a harper (musician).

Menolly lives on a planet called Pern, where the biggest threat to life comes in the form of Thread, which falls from the sky like rain and kills any living thing it touches. The only thing which can kill Thread is flame, and the most effective warriors against it are dragons. Each dragon has a rider on whom they've impressed, or bonded telepathically. The political structure of the Weyrs (groups of dragons and their riders) is as ornate as it is interesting, as is the manner in which the Weyrs fit into the overall structure of Pern.

Each citizen of Pern belongs either to a Weyr, to a Hold, or to a Crafthall. Each Hold (somewhat like a city) has its own Lord, or governing official. The Holds pay a tithe to the Weyrs for protection from Thread. The Crafthalls train professionals in areas such as harpers, fishers, farmers, miners, and printers. These craftsmen are then assigned to various Holds to carry out the duties which they've learned. The Hold supports the craftsmen in their area.

There are over 25 books set on Pern in various periods of the planet's history. I've read them all, many more than once. Even now as I think of it, I am a bit mentally lost on Pern. I remember characters like Moretta who risked her life to go back in time to bring forward several Weyrs to save Pern when Thread unexpectedly returns. That I remember any detail at all is a testament to how much I love these books. Ask me the name of the characters of the book I finished earlier this week, and I likely can't tell you.

So why am I getting my geek on today? Anne McCaffrey, my favorite author of all time and creator of Pern, passed away at the age of 85. It's just kind of weird. I never really thought of her as a person before. Just a name to spout in answer to the frequently asked question.

In tribute, I am going to read a book of hers that I've not yet read, The Ship Who Sang. It isn't a Pern book, so I've not yet come across it. But I owe to Anne McCaffrey my early love of science fiction and fantasy, and I want to do something to honor her legacy.

Thank you, Anne McCaffrey, for creating my little corner of geek.

**Update**
Such a geek am I that I'm worried those of you not familiar with Pern will think the things on the cover of Dragonsong with Menolly are dragons. They aren't. They're firelizzards. Just sayin'.

A Tale of Three Cities

2011-11-22T07:40:00.001-07:00

Over the last two weekends, I have seen no less than 5 musicals. While I thoroughly enjoyed the Empress Theatre's Forever Plaid and a stake production of Joseph..., it was the three high school musicals to which I was looking most forward. Never having been to a production at any of these schools, I had no idea what to expect - which was half the fun! I was surprised in mostly good ways by three productions at three schools in three different cities.

Bye Bye Birdie
School: Cottonwood High School
Who I Know: Adam Wilkins, Director
My Date: Some cute guy I met named Kirk

The Good:
Cottonwood used a very talented, quite large, live orchestra. The live overture, played from an actual orchestra pit, added that extra something that just puts you in the mood for a great show. Kirk said he'd never seen people clap for the overture; I commented that maybe he's never seen them deserve it.

The set incorporated stairs and platforms to give great places for its 80+ cast. The varying levels added texture to both the blocking and choreography, especially in large group numbers.

Areas for Improvement:
Sadly, the choreography was largely non-existent. Even Kirk picked up on it, jokingly impersonating the choreographer, "Ok... we're going to bounce. And then... we're going to bounce this way." Bye Bye Birdie, like most musicals, relies on production numbers to keep the audience awake. This one didn't succeed.

I was also somewhat unimpressed by the vocal direction. Harmonies, when present, were frequently out of tune. Many of the leads seem to have been cast in parts outside their vocal range. Surprisingly, despite their large cast, chorus numbers were very difficult to hear.

The sound system did nothing to add to the show; many microphones sounded like they were in a tunnel, and several others worked only intermittently.

Summary:
I enjoyed many of the characters portrayed on stage, and Conrad Birdie had a very nice voice. Overall, however, there was little I could grab onto and just love. I left feeling like the show did not reach its potential.

West Side Story
School: Granger High School
Who I Know: Luke Johnson (Student Director), JJ Freeman, Cameron Sellers, Gum Marco, Denton Gno, Jamie Munson, Jeremy Gidney
My Date: Tess Fife (mother-in-law who happens to work at Granger)

The Good:
The choreography for West Side Story was imaginative and told the story well. The movement was consistent with the mood and style of each piece, although there were many instances where I wished a bit more time had been spent in making the moves precise.

I loved the way Granger used lighting to influence the mood. I found out after the fact that my friend Cameron actually designed the lighting. The set, comprised of many large turning flats, worked well, and the scene changes were completed efficiently.

Areas for Improvement:
Granger's sound system was not much better than Cottonwood's, with mics frequently not working. I recognize there is little the schools can do to fix this, but it still brings down the overall quality of the show.

The girl playing Maria did not quite have the upper range for the role, and her high notes frequently came across as shrill and piercing.

Summary:
What Granger did best was to capture the mood of a hard-to-tell story. Although there were technical things I would have changed, the cast helped me to feel this story. I was very impressed by the girl who played Anita, and I thoroughly enjoyed the majority of the male leads. All in all, this was a very good production.

Guys and Dolls
School: Cyprus High School
Who I Know: Roy Nichols III, Evan Brown, Tane' Glaus, Dustin Hamp, Warren Tharp, Caleb Aston, Perry Whitehair, Arvid Bryce Johnson, Aleea Brunson
My Date(s): Arlee Heslop, Skyler Bluemel-Fife, Adam Fife (for the first act)

The Good:
Harmonies that were in tune. Microphones that worked. A chorus that I could hear. Clean, creative choreography. Leads cast in appropriate vocal ranges (mostly). Perfect costumes. Amazing set/set changes. Impressive detail in the characterization. You name it, I pretty much loved it.

Adelaide was amazing. The two guys who play Nathan Detroit's buddies were AMAZING. The actors had been trained to hold the end pose of their song while the audience clapped. And - let me tell you - the audience clapped. I swear "Luck be a Lady" almost got a standing ovation. I'd have stood if someone else did.

Areas for Improvement:
I still didn't love the leading lady here. Across all three schools, the range of the ingenue seemed to be just beyond the range of the girl cast to play her.

Although I loved Roy Nichols III in the role of Sky Masterson, sometimes I wished he didn't lay on the character voice so thick. In the moments where Sky's honesty should have shown through, the character voice (especially in his singing), made me feel a bit detached from the emotion. I do wonder, though, if I'd have picked up on that if I didn't know Roy.

Summary:
Guys and Dolls was a great, high-energy end to my High School Musical weekend. Even though the show was nearly 3 hours long, I never felt the energy lag. I really couldn't have asked for more from this great production.

I am sad I missed Alta's Crazy for You, where I could have supported a few other friends and seen Susan DeMill's choreography. I'm thinking that with my involvement with youth in the area, this pre-Thanksgiving musical tour may become a bit of a tradition for me. Thanks to the great shows I saw, I am already looking forward to next year.

Follow by Email

2011-11-21T16:07:00.000-07:00

Okay, this post is going to sound super egotistical. Oh well.

For the last quite a while, I've had Facebook set to import my blogs as notes. Many of you have been reading and commenting that way, and I've really enjoyed reaching an audience outside the actual blogosphere. Sadly, that feature is going away tomorrow. Although I write my blog for me, both as a family history and as a method of relaxation, it kind of makes my day when you guys read it.

So, if you got here from a Facebook note, do me a favor and click on the link to see the original post. I've added a new feature to my actual blog, "Subscribe by email." If you don't want to have to actually visit my blog, but you still want to read my stories, that's a pretty good way of doing it. You'll get the full text of the blog plus pictures sent straight to your inbox, no extra clicking involved.

If you want to make sure you don't miss any of my craziness (falling into ice cream), the kids' antics and updates, my occasional rants, and my obnoxious opinions, head over there and subscribe.

Yep. Egotistical. Oh well.

Process

2011-11-20T08:56:00.000-07:00

"I put my pants on just like everyone else... one leg at a time."

Eating a bowl of cereal isn't like eating an Oreo or a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. It's one of those things that most people just do the same way. Put cereal and milk in the bowl. Eat it. Period.

Of course, there are exceptions. When eating Marshmallow Mateys (seriously... who actually buys Lucky Charms?) many of us probably save the marshmallows for last. As kids, my sisters and I used to try to guess the number of pieces in a bowl of Honey Buzzers (HoneyComb...) and then count each piece as we ate. Sure, I'll occasionally eat my Fruity O's by color; who doesn't?

But still, the process is the same. You just eat the cereal. Then, if you're a milk drinker, you drink the milk.

Not Dylan. On a personal mission to challenge anything considered conventional, he developed his own process early on. He drinks the milk first, then eats the cereal. On particularly thirsty mornings, he demands that I refill the milk in his bowl, and he'll drink two or three helpings before touching the cereal. I think it's weird. I think it is adorable. I think it is perfect, and I hope he never stops.

What could be more fun than sitting around as a family talking to Dylan's new wife and having her comment on how weird it is that he drinks the milk first?

But I imagine he'll outgrow it, and all I will have left is this blog to remind me of his own little process.

Doin' What Comes Naturally

2011-11-18T08:41:00.001-07:00

I'm thinking that just like baby boys seem to be born with an innate knowledge that cars say, "Vroom," girls may come to earth already knowing how to draw a heart and put their initial plus the initial of the boy they like. Or maybe its environmentally perpetuated. Either way, it apparently starts as early as first grade.

Dear Adam,
Thanks you for being my friend cuz I dont get to play with friends at reses som tims. remember that we hat to do this (picture of lines crossing) with are fengers I want to play with you on tuesday askce awer Moms that maybe that we cood play. Shood we be best friends for ever. If you can play on tuesday at my hows or your hows. we will still have fun still and I howp that you can send a card back I would love it if you send a card back. to Adam from Brooklyn Love Adam.

Personally, I think Brooklyn has great taste. My first crush was a similarly brown-haired, green-eyed boy named Ben Gunderson. Of course, I was in the third grade, not the first, and he and my best friend Becky were boyfriend and girlfriend, so I certainly never wrote him a love note. I do think I developed a type clear back then, though, since - looking back - many of my crushes followed that dark-haired theme, and I even wound up marrying a brown-haired, green-eyed boy.

I encouraged Adam to send a card back.

"Why?"

"So Brooklyn's feelings don't get hurt. She worked really hard on this card, and she wants to know if you want to be her best friend. You should probably at least answer her question. Do you want to be her best friend?"

"Sure."

Apparently another thing boys do naturally: form one word responses to the outpouring of a girl's heart.

I provided a piece of purple paper and then left the issue alone. This morning, he said, "Oh, Mom... remember that card I need to write for that girl? I should either do that today or Monday." I seized the opportunity and helped him spell his answer while I hovered in this distance, unloading the dishwasher.

Certainly not as wordy as hers, he got straight to the issues. He'd like to play. He's grateful for the card. No commitments to "best" friendship or usage of the word "love," but he did include a picture and his phone number.

And so it begins.

Making it Official

2011-11-15T17:25:00.001-07:00

I'm back to beating the proverbial dead horse again, but this time with some official information. After the pediatrician-recommended Speech and Language Pathology Evaluation, Dylan has a diagnosis, and we have a sort of a plan.

The results of the "receptive" part of the assessment rank Dylan at an age equivalent of about 2 years 4 months, actually slightly ahead of his actual 2 years 1 month. Just shows that, like I always tell people, Dylan can understand everything I say.

But on the "expressive" portion, he ranked in the 1st percentile with an age equivalent of 1 year 0 months. He's a complete year "behind."

Thankfully, however, there is no cause for concern. The therapist feels he will talk when he's ready; right now he sees no need for it. In the meantime (which may be a long time), we've been encouraged to take several specific actions to help him gain confidence:

- Parallel talk: we're supposed to let him direct the play, and we label the crap out of everything he does, constantly repeating nouns and verbs until we've annoyed even ourselves.

- Expansion: we get to mimic every noise he makes, giving him confidence in the sounds he's capable of and encouraging him to try out new ones.

Things we're supposed to avoid:

- Pressuring him to talk: if we ask questions, they should be ones he can answer non-verbally. We can ask things like, "Where's Dylan's nose?" because he can just point to it and receive affirmation. I also have to stop trying to get him to repeat me. For now, we just just repeat him.

- Descriptive words: when we label, we're supposed to stick to simple ideas like "dog." Once he starts to make a sound that resembles "dog," we can expand to things like, "Yes! Dog. Black dog."

After just a few days of sticking to the plan, he's already started to make a lot more noise. That's all it is right now - noise. But realizing that he's basically a 1 year old in the expressive communication department will help me to be patient when he can't tell me why he's crying. The therapist said that he should start to learn new consonants and sounds over the next 4 to 6 months, and that as long as he does that, we have no reasons to worry.

We've trained Adam on the plan, and he took to it immediately. You can see him in this clip modeling both the parallel talk and the expansion.

I did have to laugh when a new family acquaintance told me, "Yeah, you're little one doesn't talk to me much," assuming Dylan was just being shy around a new face.

"No," I assured him. "He just doesn't talk at all."

I'm still looking forward to the day when say, "Why did I ever wish he would talk..."

America, Our Home

2011-11-11T12:19:00.001-07:00

Apparently I should have gone back and read last year's post from Veterans Day. Perhaps then I would have better prepared myself to be choking back tears as I attempted to lead my students in their prepared songs. My traditionally cold-hearted self just can't seem to adjust to the feelings of patriotism, pride, and reverence that a heartfelt performance of a patriotic song can inspire.

It doesn't even seem to matter to me what song. Looking out at a sea of students singing "The Star Spangled Banner," watching hands on hearts and eyes on the flag, but seeing also that they aren't just going through the motions. Listening to my first graders sing the horribly-high-for-them rendition of "America the Beautiful," watching the third grade proudly wave flags through "You're a Grand Old Flag," and beaming with pride as the 6th grade delivered the lesser-known "Children of Today." Add to the emotion the fact that I lost my voice weeks ago and just can't seem to get it back, I definitely mouthed more words today than I sang.

But the part I'm learning to look forward to is hearing the words from the students. For example:

"Veterans may not have x-ray vision, super strengths, or the ability to fly, but they have what matters. They possess the values that ensure our country remains free." Yep. Chills even as I type it.

"The cost of war can be so extreme that some veterans are unable to tell their own stories."

"Freedom is not free. Its cost is time, courage, and love."

Of course I am proud to be an American. But on days like today, I am proud to get to interact with this new and rising generation at a school which values and emphasizes patriotism.

These guys aren't my music students anymore; they are Navigator Pointe Academy's 7th grade choir. I'm not going to pretend that their notes are perfect; they aren't. But they stood to sing today, facing a stage full of veterans, and delivered words that I knew they meant. I couldn't help but be touched.

"America, our home, America, our land,
Our hearts fill with pride as humbly we stand.
We honor our flag, the red, white and blue.
America, there is no greater land, no land like you.

America, our home, oh, you have been blessed.
There's bounty untold. You've given your best.
A beautiful land where dreams can come true,
America, there is no greater land, no land like you."

Ice Cream in my Hair

2011-11-10T07:23:00.001-07:00

You know those crime dramas that start zoomed in on a picture of the body and then step backward in time to tell the story? Well picture this:

I'm lying flat on my back, semi-deliriously doing some combination of laughing and crying, with ice cream smeared across the left side of my neck and through my hair. My mother is rushing toward me, looking very worried, and asking if I am okay. And despite the throbbing pain in my left shin and both knees, I got up slowly to start to assess the damage.

No, this is not some flashback of a childhood memory. This happened last night at approximately 6:55 pm.

40 MINUTES BEFORE THE EVENT

I was sitting at the counter, preparing a few final details for my Dickens Festival rehearsal, when my cell phone rang. It was Skyler. "Hey, I've talked myself into going and getting a shake. So what kind do you want? I'm at Arctic Circle." After the rundown on available ice cream flavors and mix-ins, I settled on vanilla ice cream with cookie dough and brownies, and got back to work.

Skyler arrived at my house, shake in hand, ready to carpool to rehearsal. I gathered my things: binder, ipod, charger, camera - all in the rolling briefcase issued to me by the Dickens Festival, computer and power cord in my laptop backpack - along for the ride tonight because my mom needed to borrow it.

I gathered my coat and keys and headed to the car. During the 17 minute drive, I enjoyed approximately 3/4 of my shake while discussing the day's events with Skyler. (Tragedy of the missionaries who were recently killed, whether or not we believe in ghosts, faith verses science and how to balance the two...) We arrived at the Utah State Fairgrounds 12 minutes before seven and were mutually surprised to see my mom there already.

7 MINUTES BEFORE THE EVENT

"You actually get here on time when you take the right roads," my mom said as she got out of her car. I walked around to the back of mine and lifted the hatch to see not two bags side by side, but only my laptop case.

"Oh no," I said, followed by an audible sigh. I walked around to check the interior of the car, knowing I would not see the all-important briefcase.

"What are you missing?" my mom asked. Skyler replied for me, "Her bag with all the rehearsal stuff..."

"My iPod, my script," I started.

"The key..." Skyler finished.

The key. Crap.

After a quick discussion, it was decided that my mom would try to find a security person to let us in while I called Kirk to see if he'd rescue me, like usual. After I hung up the phone, Skyler started to walk toward the back fence. I remembered we'd had a discussion about how we thought it was probably possible to break in through the back door of the building. "Genius," I said, as I hurried to catch up.

1 MINUTE BEFORE THE EVENT

"I'm just coming with you to make sure you don't get raped," I joked as we walked from the semi-lit parking lot into the dark area behind the fairground's Pioneer building.

"You know what's kinda not funny about that?" Skyler asked. "This week on the U campus, there's been a groper. Yeah, he groped two different women, so there's been alerts going out and all sorts of stuff."

"Crazy!" I replied as we reached the back doors. One firm tug and the doors came right open. Relieved that my cast would at least not be stuck outside in the cold, I hurried - shake in hand - to enter the building and open the front doors.

5 SECONDS BEFORE THE EVENT

While the front doors were clearly visible across the room ahead of me, the divisive space was incredibly dark. I plunged confidently ahead into the darkness:

Had I been able to see, I would have seen this:

A raised metal lip to the door frame. A large wooden box placed directly in the entryway...

THE EVENT

I went down. Hard. And thanks to a combination of shake-in-hand and my personal lack of self-preservation skills, I had no hands to catch myself with. I fell hard, first onto my knees and then completely forward practically onto my face. And then I realized I was no longer holding my shake. My assumption is that I fell on it, causing the 1/4 which was left to spray out in a forward trajectory. My hair, worn down and curly, interrupted its trajectory and absorbed a respectable amount of ice cream. I lay face down on the floor, trying to collect myself, while Skyler laughed at me. Out loud.

POST-EVENT

"Are you okay," he finally asked, through his chuckles.

"I don't really know," I laughed/cried. "It hurts really bad. Can you try to turn on the lights?"

As he headed toward the breaker box, my phone rang. It was Kirk, calling to clarify my request for him to bring my bag. I answered with a laugh/cry, and his tone instantly changed. "Honey, are you okay? What happened?" Still face down on the ground, I explained I was fine and had just fallen. He said from my tone he had thought something was seriously wrong. We wrapped up our conversation, and then my mom called.

"Skyler and I broke in," I laugh-cried.

"I saw that," she responded. "Are you going to come open the front doors?"

"Well, I kind of fell," I continued. "And it hurts really bad."

I rolled over onto my back and started to assess the damage - ice cream first. Skyler went to get me some paper towels to try to get the mess out of my hair and then went to open the doors.

Apparently my tone had really worried my mom, too, because when Skyler opened the front doors, my mom hurried to my side with that efficiently worried style moms have when their children are in need. The edge of my pain had finally subsided enough that I felt ready to stand up. Plus my mom looked way more worried than was necessary; I figured I'd better ease her tension.

I stood and pulled up a pant-leg. Nasty goose egg and abrasions on my left shin just at ankle level? Check. Knees tender to the touch but not showing any signs of bruising - yet? Check. Ice cream smeared across my cheek and neck? Check. Cast members who'd seen the last few moments (starting with the ice cream evaluation)? Check.

A great story to tell to next year's cast?

Check.

But do I have a picture to immortalize on the blog? Nope. My camera was in the missing bag.

Pathological Liar

2011-11-09T09:31:00.000-07:00

On Sunday as Alex passed the Primary President and was not able to put a penny in the jar for bringing his scriptures, he informed her, "My scriptures were stolen."

As has become customary for the adults in primary, she glanced up at me for verification. I shook my head no.

Adam's turn came, and he also had to pass by without putting in a penny. The president asked, "Oh, were your scriptures stolen, too?" I spoke up, and as the only people left in the room were the teachers and presidency, I explained, "No. I only have one pathological liar."

Everyone laughed, knowing I was exaggerating a bit. Alex's babysitter chimed in with, "He's not a liar. He just has such a huge imagination." And it is so true.

There was the day when he explained to Kirk that he had not stolen a piece of chocolate cake and eaten it in his bedroom. What appeared to be chocolate crumbs was - in fact - "brown sugar bugs" which had infested his bedroom.

The time two summers ago when we stopped by for a visit at Grandma's school, and when the time came to leave, we couldn't find his shoes anywhere. According to him, they'd been taken up in a rocket.

Sure, a lot of kids tell stories. They do it to avoid getting in trouble. They imagine during play. But the difference with Alex is that his imagination is so vivid, I think he actually believes the stories he tells.

This morning he found a toy frog in the hall. "Mom," he said, "I wished for two things. A skateboard and a frog." And he's convinced those wishes came true, because someone left a skateboard in our garage, and he found a frog this morning. The thing is, though, I know he found the things first, invented the story about the wish, and now completely believes that if he wishes for something it will come true.

In my recent scripture study, I came across Alma 18:22. "And he knows all the thoughts and intents of the heart; for by his hand were they all created from the beginning."

I find the conjunctions and pronouns in this verse very interesting, because they leave the idea up to interpretation. Does our Heavenly Father know the intents of our heart because He created us? Does our Heavenly Father know the intents of our heart because He created the thoughts and intents? Or are the statements not as linked as that would suggest. Perhaps the conjunction "for" was intended more as a fancy "and." A statement that Heavenly Father knows our thoughts followed by a statement that He created us?

I'm curious because, as a parent, I feel like I have special insight into the thoughts and intents of my children's hearts because I created my children. They are a part of me, so I get them in a way I think no one else can. I kind of like the idea that the reason Heavenly Father knows the thoughts and intents of my heart is because He created me; He gets me in a way no one else can.

While Alex may at times seem like a pathological liar, ready to create a story that ensures his removal from any trouble, I know it stems from his ability to create a world and believe it is real. I believe our loving Heavenly Father can see similarly redeeming qualities in the choices we make. I believe this ability comes not because He is God, but because He is the Father.

And because I'm the mother of a bundle of imagination, I'm probably in for years of sorting out the intents of his heart.

***UPDATE***

As I clicked the button to publish and shut down the page to help Alex look for the projector remote, Alex and I had the following conversation.

X: Maybe Daddy took it.
M: Daddy didn't take it. I used it this morning after he left.
X: Then it was a ghost. Ghost-es are real. And I heard a sound like it was a ghost. So a ghost must have come down and took it.
(Pause as we continued to look for the remote.)
X: (Muttering to himself throughout the basement) Totally, totally real.

Self-Motivated... Sorta

2011-11-08T08:05:00.000-07:00

Long before we even got married, Kirk and I talked about piano lessons. I'm sure it was tucked somewhere into a discussion about whether or not we would force our children to do something they didn't like. The result was a list of things we'd certainly encourage (football, performing) and one item we'd force: piano.

I also knew all along that I would not be playing the role of piano teacher in this journey. My mom taught me for a brief period of time before our constant battle resulted in me taking lessons from my Aunt Dawna. Even that wasn't enough separation for me, however. Aunt Dawna was an excellent teacher. She expected me to practice and got after me when I didn't, and sadly, that hurt the familial relationship I may otherwise have had with her. I mean, who wants to see their piano teacher at family parties?

My personal rule is that piano lessons start after the child is able to read. With Adam's leaps-and-bounds progress on that front in school this year, I knew it was time to find a teacher. But apprehension about the practicing fight coupled with indecision as to who to hire as a teacher helped me drag my feet.

It was actually Kirk's frequent suggestions, "Don't you think it's time to get Adam started on piano?" or "We really need to find Adam a piano teacher," which motivated me to get my act together. Alex's preschool teacher also teaches piano, and since I've been thrilled with her teaching style for preschool, it seemed she'd be a good fit. We had to wait a couple weeks for an opening, but he's officially been a piano student for 3 weeks.

I attended the first lesson so I could get a feel for her style. Having been a piano teacher myself, I didn't want to push my way on him at home; I would rather support her way. I was impressed. For one, she really loves teaching piano. (Insert image of me shaking my head here, because that's a concept I just can't quite grasp.) Her rewards system, while a bit complicated, rewards practicing and allows the students both instant and delayed gratification through the issuing of tickets which can be saved up and exchanged for prizes.

I thought adding piano lessons into the mix would be a big headache and a constant battle. Not so. On weekdays, he simply practices the moment he walks through the door. On weekends, he'd probably have yet to practice because I can't seem to remember it's a part of the new routine. But a great phenomenon has happened. Adam is self-motivated to practice (sorta... I assume the tickets affect that motivation), and he'll suddenly realize, "Oh, Mom... I need to practice the piano."

We're changing lessons from Thursdays to Tuesdays this week, meaning he had two fewer opportunities to practice this week. Before school this morning, he quickly ate his breakfast and packed his bag so he'd have extra time to practice. He seems to look forward to the lessons, remembering to pack his piano folder in his school bag so I can drop him off on the way home. He has his flashcards down, and while his hand placement and timing leave something to be desired, he's only three weeks in.

I love hearing him say, "Oh, Mom... this is my favorite song." I'm adjusting to not being able to leave my own piano music out on the stand all the time, and I love that my piano gets played at least once every day. I'm still anticipating a fight down the road, but for now I'm grateful to see this in my home:

3 Little Dalmatians

2011-11-06T10:24:00.002-07:00

"Fifteen! Fifteen puppies! How marvellous! How marvellous, how perfectly… Ugh! The devil take it! They’re mongrels… no spots! No spots at all! What a horrid little white rat. Ugh!" -- Cruella DeVille

Like dalmatians, it takes my kids a while to get their spots. Kirk noticed that Dylan has finally gotten his first freckles, and I figured it would be fun to note the freckle progression. So here it is: a close up of three little noses, slightly freckled, moderately freckled, and densely freckled, each boy on his way to full-fledged Dalmatian!

Dylan

Alex

Adam

Twinkle

2011-11-04T08:42:00.000-06:00

It seems that for every word D doesn't say, I'm more than willing to fill in the silence. Sorry if it seems like I'm beating a dead horse here, but it's just kind of the big thing in our lives right now. We get reports from his sitters about what words he tried out that day (apparently he says "woof" and "weeeeee"), and even Adam and Alex are constantly trying to get him to say stuff.

So when we were at Walmart the other day, and I heard a faint, "Gwee-ko, gwee-ko" come from the shopping cart, I was more than a little shocked. Sure enough, Dylan was trying to sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.

I'd have preferred a more useful word. Maybe like "more," or "drink," or even "no." But if "twinkle" is the word he wants to say, I'll take it. If singing is the only way to get him to talk, he's come to the right house. And, I have to admit, his little voice is absolutely adorable.

Back in the Day

2011-11-01T08:11:00.000-06:00

When I was asked to answer several questions about myself as a Junior High student (for a teacher spotlight board at the school), I was understandably reluctant. Junior High was not a great time for me, and the questions seemed to highlight my weaknesses. I considered prettying up the answers, but then decided that an accurate representation of one who struggled through that time might be just what the students would like to read. So I answered honestly.

I knew I'd made the right decision when my boss thanked me for my spotlight paper and said she thought many of the students would appreciate hearing my answers.

I got my paper back today and decided to share that same honesty here so that someday perhaps my own struggling Junior High kids might see that it wasn't all roses for Mom, either.

So here it is, an expose' of Andrea, the Junior High version.

1. I enjoyed reading, and my favorite genre was fantasy. Anne McCaffrey was my favorite author then, and she is still my favorite now.

2. I disliked "busy work." I struggled to complete assignments when I did not see a clear purpose.

3. It is hard to say what my teachers thought of me. I attended three different schools for Junior High, and the different teachers at each school probably thought different things. The teachers I liked probably thought I was hard-working and smart. The ones I didn't like probably thought I talked a lot.

4. My favorite subjects were math and choir. Although I have always loved reading, literature, and English, I did not really enjoy these classes in Junior High.

5. My grades were good, but they were not as high as they could have been if I had worked hard to do my very best work.

6. My best friend varied year to year as I changed schools, but the best friend I made in 9th grade was my best friend all through High School. The rest of my friends were people who had similar interests and values. I met them either through school or through my church activities.

7. I struggled a bit with honesty. I wanted everyone to think I was smart and talented, but I didn't always work hard enough to be as good as I wanted to be. I learned some difficult lessons during Junior High about being honest with myself, my parents, and my friends.

8. My parents thought I was capable of anything I put my mind to, and I think they were frequently frustrated when I chose not to do my best work.

9. My dream was to become a writer. I even rode across the country on a bus to get to a summer Journalism camp. Although my dreams changed, I still enjoy writing and do it as much as I can.

Moves Like Jagger

2011-10-31T11:52:00.000-06:00

Overplayed?

Yep.

The musical equivalent of a cow with diction?

Yep.

Catchy?

Yep.

Sung by the super-attractive Maroon 5 front man Adam Levine?

Yep.

Still, the song would likely have gone the way of so many catchy here-today-gone-tomorrow hits.

Except that on the way home from the Fife Family Halloween Party the other night, the song came on the radio, and we heard Dylan - little non-verbal, barely ever makes a noise Dylan - singing.

Just in case he ever becomes a famous musician someday, I thought I'd better document that someday when we say, "He sang before he was even talking," we mean it absolutely literally.

It was, of course, better in the car. Spontaneously adorable. But I helped him re-create it for posterity. To try to get him in the mood, I YouTube'd the video. He was so excited about showing me his "moves like Jagger" that it was a bit tricky to get him to sing again. But here it is. At least sorta. Hopefully enough for me to never forget the first time I really heard his little voice.

Surprise!

2011-10-28T09:26:00.001-06:00

Officially 20 days old, this story could easily have ended up in my mental archives of "things I meant to blog about." But I came across this picture, and just had to share.

You know in "Scene It" where they zoom in on a picture, and slowly pan out, and you have to guess what it's from? Well, here's the zoomed in shot, and I'll just have to describe what you can't see in this picture.

The brown blob in the bottom right is me in a brown hoodie. I've just flopped my upper body down onto the counter trying to recover from serious shock. The orange blob and set of hands belongs to Perry, the cause of my intense distress. The soda bottles... well, I didn't notice them until after the "moment."

Now back up to 5:00 on the evening of October 8th. I'd been in Draper at a rehearsal for the youth review and was exhausted. But we'd been working hard on our basement, and the mudding and taping had just been finished, so I'd planned to spend the evening priming. Not wanting to do it alone, I'd enlisted the help of friends Perry and Skyler to come over, paint, and watch The Sing Off. I texted Kirk to see if there would be enough dinner for Perry and Skyler, to which he strangely replied, "Yeah, I guess. But meet me at the park at the top of the neighborhood for dinner."

Weird on so many levels:

1. Kirk doesn't do picnics without serious begging from me.

2. We have a park 2 doors down... why would he be at the top of the neighborhood.

I texted back with an ok, but told him I'd be stopping off at home first to change my clothes. "No," came back a somewhat whiny reply, "I just really miss you."

Weird again. Kirk and I aren't really like that. But whatever.

I hurried home, hurried to the park, and enjoyed a picnic dinner with the family. While there, however, I got a text from Skyler saying he'd just come over after dinner. And one from Perry wondering where the park was - to which I replied - but he never showed up.

We walked home. I gathered all the half-full soda cans, entered the house, and started to set them on the counter. All of the sudden, a tall flash of orange popped up from behind my counter.

There are several versions to the next part of the story.

1. Skyler says I screamed. Shrieked really. I doubt that. I'm not much a screamer.

2. Perry says I did make noise, but more of a loud gasp.

3. I know for positive that I jumped, nearly spilling the assorted soda cans.

The orange was too close for me to clearly see whose head might be at it's top. When I finally processed that it was Perry, I was just all sorts of confused. I turned around and saw my friend Arlee in the living room. What?! Finally, it dawned on me: a surprise birthday party. Two weeks late because, as Kirk pointed out, I am too busy and there was no earlier night when he could plan one for me.

It literally took minutes for me to calm down from the shock, but as I did, I was grateful for the friends whom Kirk and Skyler had invited over. We played some games, checked out the new projector (which Kirk had just installed) and ate cake.

Just days after Kirk and Skyler had set the plan into motion, I told Skyler all about how much fun it would be to have a surprise party, but that Kirk would never do something like that. Well, I sure was surprised!

Transitions

2011-10-27T09:03:00.002-06:00

It's a bit of a buzz word in the teaching world, and in that element, I think I'm pretty good at it. I get 25 minutes to teach each of my classes, and in that time we generally move from a review or warm up to a new concept and on to a song. I like to think my transitions are quick and seamless, just a normal part of the routine.

At home, however, I find transitions a lot harder to deal with, and I currently find myself smack dab in the middle of a pretty big one.

We've moved each of our boys downstairs into their own room at age 2. As the date approached to move Dylan, I started to think about what that really means for our family. We've never cleared out the "nursery" for any reason other than to welcome a new baby. This time, we're making room for a guest room. And while I am confident in our decision to call our family "done," it's been easy to slip into a "this is the last time I'll..." mentality.

I have two pictures of Mary and her son Jesus Christ which hang in the nursery - now guest room. I bought the first when Adam was an infant. I felt touched by the scripture, "But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart." I have changed countless diapers under this gentle reminder of a mother's love.

The second was a gift from my Dad last Christmas. It was actually intended for my sister, but when my mom unwrapped an identical gift, and I spent several minutes gushing about how much I loved it and how it would look so nice in my nursery (honestly, I was just praising my mom's gift), but parents quietly conferred, switched the tags on two Christmas gifts, and I unwrapped my own copy. Mary with an Alex-aged Jesus, asleep on her lap.

I feel I'm entering a new phase. Leaving behind the bearing of the children and focusing on the rearing of the children. The teaching of the children. I'm moving forward, but I still find a thing or two which causes me to pause to look over my shoulder.

A tiny hospital band from the day Alex was born. Adam's favorite stuffed animal from his days in the nursery. Small blankets and tiny socks put away for the last time.

Thankfully, when I turn my head forward again, I have plenty to keep my focus. For example, one little big boy sure does love his new room.

I may not be the best as these major transitions, but they're going to happen whether I like them or not. Thankfully, there's little time to stop and look backwards when there's so much ahead to enjoy.

Back to School

2011-10-26T09:43:00.000-06:00

I finished up the last of my coursework for my bachelors degree in 2006 and have not been a student in a classroom since. I think that accounts for the nerves as I pulled in to the familiar parking lot to begin yet another degree program at the good old University of Phoenix.

I expected to be welcomed by the familiar smell of Wriggles, the deli housed on the bottom floor of the office building. I'm guessing Wriggles must sell more coffee now, because the smell I anticipated wasn't there.

I walked up to the t.v. monitor to check for my classroom listing. The interface has changed, and I waited through a bunch of nonsense info while trying not to be distracted by the news ticker running along the bottom. The screen finally showed my room: 208.

Up the familiar elevator, through the familiar halls, seated at the familiar tables. Computer plugged into new (and convenient) plugs attached to the tables. No more fighting over wall outlets and tripping over cords. Way to go, UoP.

Small talk with the professor. Small talk with the students. Nervous jokes about student teaching, nervous jokes about student loans. Wondering what I've gotten myself into.

I looked around the room during the introductions phase, wondering who I'd like to scope out to be in my group. Missing Kim Best, Mike Little, and Tyler Healy - quite possibly the best group members ever to exist at the UoP.

I talked a lot... like normal. I worried to myself that our little inside joke about how I talk too much and everybody hates me might just end up being true. There's only 9 people in my class, and it's pretty easy to be too opinionated in such a small group.

One woman in my class is a Challenger kindergarten teacher who, despite working there for many years, completely disagrees with Challenger's methods. I am completely a product of Challenger's methods. Buckling in to see how that goes...

We talked about the Praxis and observation hours and how to submit logs and assignments and...

Man, I wish I was back in my marketing bachelor's program. I finished that with a 4.0. Not so sure if that's gonna happen this time around.

We ended class early, and I don't have to go back for a month. (UoP Alumni get to skip the COMM class.) I've decided that break is a great time for taking the Praxis 1.

I wanted adventures, right? Well, here I come!

Another Closing Night

2011-10-18T08:42:00.000-06:00

As I sit here listening to Alex sing, "Go, go, go 'Jovess' you know what they say... Go, go, go Jo... Go, go, go Jo...," I'm contemplating all the shows I've closed this year. Way more than I'd have thought humanly possible. Probably more than was healthy.

I was reluctant to take on this last show. It fell into what was supposed to have been my 6 week break. But its terms - including working with the incredibly talented Bruce Craven - were just too good to pass up. And that was before I knew I'd be allowed to put together a dream team of the most talented teenage boys I know and help them perform some of the best written-for-guys Broadway out there.

As I watched "my boys" from the audience last night, I felt such a literal swelling of pride. I'm closer to some of the kids than others. Some bridge the age gap, and I consider them friends. To others, I'm more like a mentor, to some strictly a director, and to some even a teacher at school. (But Perry, if you ever call me "mom" again...)

Yes, I call them "my boys." But last night, my real boys were there with me, too. One of my favorite moments of the night was taking my sons backstage to visit "the boys." Almost immediately, Alex was scooped up onto Warren's shoulders. Perry was offering to hold Dylan, and Adam was intently watching Luke do his homework.

I had to pry my sons away to go sit in the audience. When Roy's wig fell off during Gaston, Alex loudly announced, "That's not Gaston, mom... that's your friend!" And when I went out to tell the boys what a great performance they'd had, there they were, posed as always waiting for someone to take a picture, Alex front and center. "Guys, do you want me to move Alex?" "No!" came the immediate response. "He's so cute."

"My boys" might be a little loud. Stupid sometimes. Totally girl-crazy. Hungry all the time. Sometimes I may feel like an awkward cross between babysitter/mom/director/friend and not know whether to scold or join in the shenanigans. Kirk may roll his eyes when a quartet of teenage boys comes and climbs into bed with him. I may find myself giving out advice one moment and being picked up and carried down the hall in the next. And I love every minute.

Yeah, the show's over. But "boys," you're welcome in my home anytime. Why? Because if my sons grow up to be like any one of you, I'll be as proud as a mother could be.

D's Big Day

2011-10-17T15:52:00.000-06:00

It's hard not to compare the kids when they reach big milestones. I have a pretty good memory of what Adam and Alex could each do when they turned two, and it's pretty easy to see that Dylan isn't there yet.

He's smaller; we often refer to him as our little runt. But that makes it easier to still carry him around when he needs it.

He's a whole lot quieter and doesn't talk yet. That makes every grunt and growl momentous.

But I often remind myself that it isn't about how he stacks up against the other two. It's his little life, a fact he set out to prove by being born a redhead. He isn't Adam or Alex. He's just Dylan, and I wouldn't have him any other way.

To celebrate his big day (now 10 days ago...), Kirk and I planned to take him to the zoo all by himself. What we planned meant just without his brothers. Thanks to the weather, what he got was all. by. himself. We literally saw two other families at the zoo. D got front row viewing for each of the animals, and with no other background noise to fight against, we could hear his all his excited little squeaks. We could let him down to wander at his own pace. We could let him take his time to cautiously approach the snoring elephant.

Despite the rain and cold - two of my least favorite things - the day was perfect.

Taking a picture with his phone. I can't believe that my little non-verbal 2 year old knows that phones are for taking pictures with.

Listening intently to Daddy.

Happy to have a new stuffed tiger as a birthday present.

His party was still a bit in the future, but we wanted to let the other boys in on the celebration, so I grabbed a leftover cupcake from a friend's earlier party, and stuck in two candles. D had no idea what to do with them. After some coaching, he blew them out. And he was hooked. I re-lit them and let him blow them out four more times.

Happy Birthday to our Dyl-Pickle, our Arma-Dylo, our Orangutan, our Little Runt, Big D, Little D, Baby, Dyl, and of course, to Dylan.

Before Forty

2011-09-28T08:00:00.000-06:00

It shouldn't bother me to turn 30, but I'm not going to lie. It kind of does. I think that's mostly because 20 was so incredibly great. I got married 6 weeks before that birthday, and I spent the following 10 years doing the greatest stuff I've ever done. I mean, at 20-something, I gave birth. Three times. I played both of my dream roles. I graduated with a bachelors degree and a 4.0. I shared literally countless hours at one table or another playing games with Kirk (and many other friends). I gained two brothers-in-law. I bought a house. And the list just goes on. I mean, the 20's - or at least my 20's - were pretty exciting. Decisions to make. Adventures to choose. What if it literally doesn't get better than that?

In some ways, I feel like the choices are done. I have the husband, the kids, the degree, the job, the house, the theatrical opportunities. My groundwork is all laid. And that's great. But...

I love the journey. I'm not so great at destinations. I love the rehearsals and actually get bored by performing. I'm so into the process that I often don't even think about the results. And I'm a bit bothered by the thought of a decade of destination.

So here it is - my great plan to make sure I can look back at my 30's and see more than laundry and stages and students and dinner and routine. In the order in which the ideas came to me, my "40 BY 40" list:

1. Read the "missionary library"

2. Take our family on a cruise

3. Buy a motorcycle or a convertible

4. Go skydiving

5. See a musical on Broadway

6. Get a masters degree in education

7. Take a photography class

8. Take a tap class / learn the time steps

9. Learn more about autism

10. Do work in each of the Utah temples

11. Make a childhood photo book for both me and Kirk

12. Write my personal history through age 18

13. Audition at Hale, Centerpointe, Pioneer, and Desert Star Theaters

14. Go to a show at Tuacahn

15. Cook a turkey

16. Memorize the 100 scripture mastery scriptures

17. Learn to repel

18. Write a musical

19. Read "The Chronicles of Narnia"

20. Plan a Nelson/Norris family reunion

21. Make missionary and armed forces plaques for the boys' rooms

22. Have a $0 balance on all credit cards

23. Get a passport

24. Go skiing

25. Complete and submit foster care forms

26. Learn three classical piano pieces (well)

27. Learn to play a new instrument

28. Take golf lessons

29. Learn to make/use fondant

30. Create a physical representation of our Scottish ancestry

31. Take a trip to visit Steph

32. Sing Karaoke - for real

33. Start a used book collection

34. Start mission funds for the boys

35. Go to an art gallery

36. Buy an un-crappy camping trailer

37. See a TMJ specialist

38. Xeriscape the front yard

39. Do something really cool for Kirk

40. Make a good recording of Grandma Casdorph's "Annie and Willy's Prayer"

Some may be easy. Some I planned to do anyway. Some I've always talked about doing. And, knowing me, some probably will just remain dreams. But with my groundwork laid and my foundation sure, I'm ready to rock my 30's!

Alex's 15 Minutes

2011-09-26T07:52:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was the Primary Program, a day I was looking forward to with a bit of pride. Alex had been asked to reprise a talk he'd given earlier in the year, and we'd dusted off the visual aides and rehearsed the memorization all week. Knowing he always does better with an audience, I knew the focus issues we experienced at home would mostly work themselves out, and he'd do a great job.

His big moment came, and he had no problems stepping up to the podium to do his thing. I had to fight him to get him to stand an inch or two away from the mic knowing that projection would not be an issue. He started out strong and got the anticipated chuckle from his carefully enunciated "Huntoh Oak Way" as he described where to find his "Earth house." [His little husky voice is just adorable, and I've gotten used to the way adults respond when he says grown up type stuff.]

He even made it through the murky 2 stanzas that really have no visual aides, stopping only once to pick at the microphone with his finger, distracted as usual. The bishopric got a kick out of my words, "Alex, honey... focus," and he returned to the talk with zeal.

We were into the home stretch with, "I planted a seed of faith, you see; it turned into a great big tree." [Read: "gweat..big..twee" with hugely expressive brown eyes.]

And then...

"Burrrp."

Breath-holding silence from the congregation.

Huge smile on Alex's face as he turns to me and kind of shrugs his shoulders.

Exhalation and laughter from the congregation.

Whispered , unapologetic phrase to me that only I understood, "I just bweaved in and out."

Me attempting to encourage him to excuse himself but barely being able to speak through my attempts at not laughing.

Bishopric and primary president chuckling to themselves, only encouraging the laughter I'm desperately trying to contain.

"Excuse me."

A beaming smile on the face of a little boy who loves nothing more than attention.

A deep breath from both boy and mom.

"Wepentence takes a wot of steps; I'll go wight up..." And he finished strong, and I couldn't have been more pwoud... I mean proud. Sure, for the rest of the congregation, the burp kind of trumped the talk, but for this proud mommy, it was the recovery that takes the cake.

Go, Go, Jo!

2011-09-24T08:17:00.000-06:00

Kirk saw "Joseph" for the first time last night.

Okay, not really, but that is a long-standing joke of ours stemming from the fact that he always forgets he saw my sister perform at the Narrator in Joseph a couple summers ago.

He's seen it that time, and he saw me perform in it just a couple of months ago. But when he saw that it was playing at Hale, he really wanted to go see it there, citing his usual reason, "I really want to see what they do with it on their stage."

Reluctantly, I agreed that we'd see it. And then I procrastinated and it was sold out. But they added more shows, and I got us tickets to last night's 10pm showing. [Sidenote: who goes to a musical at 10pm? Craziness.]

Moments in, I decided that it was like I was seeing "Joseph" for the first time.

As I mentioned, I was in the show just a few months ago. And I think we put on a pretty awesome show! But, realistically, it was not even in the same league as this production. Here's why:

THE NARRATOR: I've been told the story many times by great narrators. But this narrator didn't tell it. She taught it. She was a little older, and at intermission I told Kirk that I didn't think she was the best narrator I've heard vocally but that she more than made up for it with her storytelling skills. I guess she was just getting warmed up or something (or it was a 10pm show!) because in the 2nd act, this woman was incredible. At the end of "Pharaoh's Story," she held the final note ("star") for what seemed like an eternity, with all the control and intonation I could ever ask for, holding out her vibrato until the last possible second, and then she smiled, nodded her head, and stamped her foot as if to say, "Yes, I am that awesome." And she was.

JOSEPH: We had a great Joseph in our show. We saw a great Joseph in Idaho a couple of years ago. But this guy was hands down the best male vocalist I have seen in any show ever. He changed up the melody lines a lot, which normally would have bugged me, but as Randy Jackson would say, "He could sing the phone book and make it sound good." I'm not sure if he didn't have much of a lower range or if his upper was just so great that he prefers to stay there, but he often flipped the melody up at the ends of phrases, and it worked. And I would be remiss if I didn't mention that the guy was cut. Six pack, pecks, nice arms - the works.

ENSEMBLE: I honestly felt the ensemble was just one step above my Draper cast. I'm accutely aware of the harmonies in each song having taught them recently, and these guys nailed every single one. Not a spot in the show was "dumbed down," and not a note was out of tune. There was one moment in one song where I felt the balance was a little off (too much backup and not enough melody), but even that was just personal preference. Props to Mike Weaver and Luke Johnson (Butler and Baker from my Draper cast), though, because I preferred their duet to their Hale counterparts.

LIGHTING: Here is where Hale absolutely blew us out of the water. There were so many moments where I just looked at Kirk as if to say, "Really? Did they really just do that?" And at one point I leaned over with a bit of a dejected look and said, "It's not fair. The rest of us just can't even compete. We just don't have the resources. It's not fair." There were stairs that lit up as Pharaoh stepped on each one, a la "Billy Jean." The rotating stage was covered in translucent panels which could be lit up in various colors to reflect the mood of the song. And - here's the kicker - I was impressed when Joseph came out for the megamix in a gorgeous white and silver coat. And then it lit up. LIT UP! With led lights. And as if that wasn't enough... they changed colors! Really? Really?!

Not only did I thoroughly enjoy myself, but I also think I learned a couple of things that will make me a better director and choreographer.

MUSIC: This cast took a lot of liberties with melodies. I think as a music director, I can learn that it is okay to be a bit creative. I tend to want to teach the show exactly as it is on paper, and this limits my casts. I'm going to try to look at music direction as a creative position, not just a teaching position.

CHOREOGRAPHY: Simple can be awesome. Our Draper choreography was SO much harder than this stuff. And I didn't care. The choreography was clean, and it supported and told the story. Much of it was accomplished with hand movements. I'm going to remember that sometimes footwork gets in the way of the story.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I didn't love Pharoah. But after all the other stuff, I kind of forgot.

All in all, it was worth the money, worth the time, and worth the staying up so darn late. I'm glad Kirk wanted to see "Joseph" for the first time. But I may never see it again; I'm pretty sure it would be a disappointment.

Because I Can

2011-09-20T07:20:00.001-06:00

"What are you going to do with these pictures," the photographer [Evette of Bella Photography] asked me.

"I don't know," I responded. "I'm just going to have them."

Maybe I'll print a few. Maybe not. There was never really an end goal in sight.

The thought came to me last summer after I had worked really hard to lose some Dylan weight.

I wonder if I can fit into my wedding dress?

And then the thought expanded.

Next year is my 10th anniversary. Wouldn't it be fun to put my dress back and have the bridals I chose not to do back then taken now?

Well, guess what? It was fun. And now I have pretty pictures of me in my wedding dress, even if it was 10 years later. What will I do with them?

Blog them.

And then store them on my external hard drive.

And be glad I took the time to do something just because I can.

You Are Also Right

2011-09-15T15:47:00.003-06:00

Today, I'm going to go somewhere I rarely go: politics.

In Fiddler on the Roof, the learned man Perchik says to Tevye, "He is right, and he is right? They cannot both be right." After a brief pause for consideration, Tevye responds, "You are also right."

This interchange pretty accurately describes my feelings about politics. Put me in a room with two divisively opposite opinions, and I will no doubt see validity in both arguments.

I like to think it's not that I can't form my own opinions. If you know me at all, you'll know I have plenty of those. But when it comes to politics, the issues transcend my personal opinions as decisions and policies affect such a diverse population. I often struggle to reconcile what feels right to me as what would be right for the whole.

I'd make a terrible politician. I like the philosophy behind it all; politics makes for such interesting discussions. But when it came down to actual decision-making and implementation, I'd just run the other way.

Unable to do much more than nod my head in understanding and agreement, I tend to shy away from political debates. But as I read the post of a friend on Facebook (and the resulting comments), the topic struck a common chord with a book I just finished, Cry, the Beloved Country.

Set in apartheid South Africa, the book dealt with many issues surrounding the governing white people and the native blacks who made up the labor force. A prevalent discussion was the benefits verses risks associated with educating the labor force. The arguments for and against were framed by what would be best for the white citizens. The main argument for education included a reduced crime rate and an increase in production. Arguments against included the possibility of an uprising.

With that as my mental backdrop, I processed the political discussion differently than I might have otherwise. I still came to no decisive conclusions, but I'm currently stuck in the mental process. But it isn't really the issue (should states offer in-state tuition to children of illegal immigrants) which I found most interesting. Instead, it is the perspective from which we view the issue.

Option 1: How does it affect me?
- Why should I have to pay for their education?
- If I pay for their education, I am potentially reducing the crime rate making my state safer.
- I would rather pay for their education than their prison cell or deportation.
- It is in the best interest of our church [The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints] to have its people better educated and better able to support themselves.

Option 2: How does it affect them?
- (No supporting evidence from Facebook)

And a sidenote: Should there be a me and a them, or is it feasible to achieve some us?

And a derivative question: Should government concern itself at all with overall humanity and charity, or is it an entity created to simply protect its own?

I'm stuck. Standing on a fence looking down at two beautiful pastures. One where we can all walk around with Christlike charity. One where the law is the law, and it protects the most honest and hardworking of us. I'd like to live in both, but at my core, I don't think it is possible in our imperfect world.

And so who is right?

He is right, and he is right, and whatever comments you may have, you are also right.

Memory Space

2011-09-11T10:21:00.000-06:00

To say I don't care about things would be inaccurate.

But when the world or the nation or even a community is affected by some large scale event, while I intellectually comprehend the ramifications and am rationally concerned about the people affected, I rarely feel anything. Unless my daily routine is affected by a tragedy, it is rare that I am able to connect with any sort of emotion. I frequently joke about how cold-hearted I am, and - in truth - it takes a lot to penetrate through to that central core of my being.

Like the rest of the country, I remember where I was on 09-11-01. I even remember feeling on that day. However, that feeling was probably most accurately described as "shock." I think I also felt a grand sense of loss due to the absolute enormity of American lives affected. But because of the way I process things, that feeling was short-lived, replaced almost immediately with rationality and distant concern.

In the weeks leading up to today, then, I've felt a bit like an outsider. Normal people feel something on a day like today, and I knew I just wouldn't.

In a seemingly unrelated event, I was also reluctant to go watch a friend of mine sing with the Utah Symphony Chorus. Knowing my apathy toward classical music, he said via text, "I'd invite you to my concert, but you'd consider it 'boring music,' so I won't invite you." I told him to give me the info and I would seriously think about it. I decided that the importance of supporting him overrode the dislike of classical music, and I would go. He was able to arrange two free tickets for me, and so I invited my good friend Arlee (my new concert/show date; we've been to 4 together in the last few months) to go with me.

In a few spare moments, I decided to see if I could find anything out about the concert. Poking around online I discovered it was to be a 9-11 Memorial Concert featuring an original composition by John Adams which had been commissioned to be played at a memorial concert the year following the attacks. Then I started to remember a few of the details Skyler had told me about the piece, and I actually started to get really excited about going.

In all aspects of life, the more educated I am about a subject, the more enjoyable I find it. Knowing something about the history of a football team or player makes even football seem more interesting. So when we arrived, I looked specifically for the displays the website had mentioned which would explain John Adam's The Transmigration of Souls.

My anticipation built.

A few quotes by composer John Adams:

"I want to avoid words like 'requiem' or 'memorial' when describing this piece because they too easily suggest conventions that this piece doesn't share. If pressed, I'd probably call the piece a 'memory space.' It's a place where you can go and be alone with your thoughts and emotions."

"I was touched by the fact that when people are deeply in shock over the sudden loss of a family member, they don't express themselves in fancy language. They don't start sprouting sonnets or highfalutin verse. They speak in the most simple of terms. When we say 'words fail,' we really mean it."

He also described how, in watching footage of the day, he was overwhelmed by the papers floating down from the two towers. He felt - in their overwhelming numbers - that they represented the totality, the scope of the loss.

Arlee and I entered the concert hall and sat, continuing our discussions of literature and musical theater and education. At last, the lights dimmed and the concert was to start. An announcement was made:

"To honor the heroes and in memory of the victims of the attacks of September 11, 2001, we ask that you refrain from applauding during the first half of this evening's program, including Maestro Thierry Fischer's entrance. Thank you for observing this as a moment of silence."

The Maestro entered. Papers ruffled, patrons fidgeted, but slowly that noise dimmed and it seemed no breath was even drawn. A pre-recorded tape began to play.

Footsteps.
Sirens.
Sounds of the shuffle that is New York City.

And then a voice:

"Missing.

Missing.

Missing."

And then the voice began to read names. Names such as:

"Missing:
John Florio.

Missing:
Christina Flannery.

Missing."

The choir, getting their note from an "A" embedded in a siren call, added their voices to the tape. The symphony began to play. The haunting melodies and discordant harmonies blended and wove and rose and fell and circled around the tape, and in the quiet moments, I could hear:

"Missing.
Domingo Benilda.

Missing.
Kevin D. Marlo.

Missing."

The Madeleine Choir School provided a childrens chorus whose tone and talent could not be beat. Their pure voices provided an intense contrast to the thicker, more developed voices of the Utah Symphony Chorus (USC). The two choirs together sang words taken from "the words scribbled on posters at Ground Zero by families searching for and mourning their loved ones."

Words like:
Jeff was my uncle.
She looks so full of life in that picture.
I loved him from the start.

And it was beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful.

And then the children's choir sang:
The daughter says: He was the apple of my father's eye.

And the USC men sang:
The father says: I am so full of grief. My heart is absolutely shattered.

And the choirs took turns singing:
The young man says: He was tall, extremely good looking, and girls never talked to me when he was around.
The neighbor says: She had a voice like an angel, and she shared it with everyone, in good times and bad.

And the women sang:
The mother says: He used to call me every day. I'm just waiting.

And that phrase hung in the air. "I'm just waiting." And I felt something. A deep, raw, honest emotion connected to this huge event.

They continued:
The lover says: Tomorrow will be three months, yet it feels like yesterday since I saw your beautiful face, saying, "Love you to the moon and back, forever."

And I thought about how Kirk's cousin said something very similar at the funeral of her sister.

They continued:
The man's wife says: I loved him from the start...

And then the volume and intensity and dissonance increased as the choir repeated:

I wanted to dig him out. I know just where he is.
I wanted to dig him out.
I wanted to dig him out.
I wanted to dig him out.
I know just where he is.

And I didn't just feel something. It wasn't a small crack in the defenses around my heart. Now, ten years later, I finally broke down the whole and total loss into its component parts. To the mother. To the sister. The daughter. The friend. The neighbor. The uncle. The grandfather.

And the piece began to descend from its cresendo, fading back into the sounds of the New York streets and the voice:

"Missing.
John J. Lennon.

Missing.
Jorge Luis Leon.

Missing."

And the choir sang:
My sister.
My brother.
My daughter.
My son.
Best friend to many.
I love you.

And the Maestro held up his baton and the audience held its breath and the tape faded and no one dared move and even though the house was sold out we were not a group, but individuals lost in a memory space.

Today, as we as a country reflect, if you struggle to feel, you may wish you join me in this incredible space John Adams created:

Part 1 of 3 - Listen to the street sounds of NY

Part 2 of 3 - @ 3:09 - "The sister says:"

Part 3 of 3 - @5:00 - sounds fading to silence

Being a Casdorph

2011-09-09T14:42:00.003-06:00

Why I love being a Casdorph:

I walked outside my parents house to grab something from the car, and there I met two boys wearing hearing protection and riding the scissor lift (which is on a slightly slanted trailer) upwards as quickly as it would go.

And my only question, delivered straight to Adam's ear as I held one ear muff away from his ear, was,

"Do you have permission?"

The Pink Stuff

2011-09-07T18:01:00.000-06:00

Alex, describing what he learned in school today:

"Well, there's the bones, and then there's the pink stuff what helps you bweave."

"Lungs?" I asked.

"Yeah," he responded, eyes huge with amazement. "How did you know?"

"I went to school, too," I said.

"Well," he continued, "when your lungs aren't working right, you cough." (He pauses to legitimately cough, a side effect of his asthma which is flared up at the moment.)

"See, I coughed," he commented. "So my pink stuff isn't working very well."

Only a few minutes later, he started singing a song under his breath about bones. "Did you learn that song at school?" I asked.

"Nope. I just made it up. It is from my song bwain. I have lots of bwains. There's my Wii games bwain, and my 'we have a Ben 10 game' bwain."

Maybe the reason he hasn't managed to eat his dinner yet is because he's just too full of creativity.

Best Buddies

2011-09-01T12:05:00.000-06:00

I mentioned it yesterday, but I was just as thrilled when these two new best buds continued to play side by side all morning. Okay, maybe it is a bit annoying that they've figured out how to go through my linen closet to get into my bedroom when I tried to lock them out. Perhaps I'm concerned that my two trouble-makers have joined forces and managed to escape downstairs with a whole container of cookies yesterday. And their closer proximity was definitely instrumental in Dylan's fingers getting closed in the back door this morning.

But to see Alex offer a hug and a kiss to a sobbing redhead? To watch said redhead (who shares nothing) offer one headphone, completely unprompted? To see them sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with no screaming, whining, or disgusted grunting involved?

So worth it.

First Impressions

2011-08-31T14:50:00.000-06:00

Adam waited anxiously as all his friends went back to school. His new school, Navigator Pointe Academy - where I teach, did not start until yesterday. Depending on the day he was apprehensive, excited, nervous, or grouchy with me for expecting him to change schools. Thankfully, on the big day, he was just excited. "Mom, I'm not scared or nervous or anything!" he announced to me as I did his hair. He was also careful to point out just how daddy had taught him to line up his belt with his pants.

I saw him twice during the day. I passed him once in the hall, and he smiled an adorably full-faced smile but dutifully remained quiet. His class visited the music room, and I was very proud that he did not loudly announce that Mrs. Fife is his mom.

Apparently he also passed Grandma Casdorph in the hall. She must be cooler than me, because he did say, "Hi, Grandma," to which she replied, "Hi, buddy. But remember, there's zero conversation in the halls."

After school, upon careful questioning, he reported the following:

Favorite part of the day: "Recess"

Favorite part of the day besides recess: "Lunch"

Favorite part of the day in the classroom: "Mo-om, lunch was in our classroom."

He also mentioned that he didn't have many friends. "At this school, I only had five friends. At my old school, I had like ten friends." But it wasn't in a complaining format. He simply stated it as observation. I encouraged him to give it a few weeks.

As for Alex, I explained to him that while Adam was gone, he would get to be the big brother. He exclaimed, "You mean I get to play whatever games I want to?"

And Dylan has taken to following Alex around like a shadow. I am loving this, because until this time, I wasn't sure Dylan knew Alex existed for any purpose other than to be screamed at. This morning when Alex was pouting with his back against the door, Dylan turned around and backed himself up so his little back would be against the door, too.

And for me? I love being the first person to see Adam after school. Even if I am technically still at work, I can take a second to greet him and get his stories when they are fresh on his mind. And we get the drive home as just the two of us.

So first impressions of first grade? I'd say favorable!

Back to the Routine

2011-08-28T20:19:00.000-06:00

Some people thrive on routine while others feel constrained or bored. I feel like a routine gives me structure which acts as a launching pad, something I can control to allow me more time and space to be creative. But it is a love-hate relationship to be sure.

I have many self-directed routines. For example, I make muffins every Monday, cinnamon rolls and sausage every Tuesday, etc. I don't have to think when I first get out of a bed - and that is beautiful.

But ask me to remember to wear my seatbelt? Yeah, not going to happen.

I can only start new routines on Mondays. So if I get the idea on a Wednesday that it is time to start working out again, I have to wait until Monday rolls around. And if I miss on Monday, the whole week is shot.

With all the craziness I've been involved in this summer, my routines have largely gone out the window. I have survived crisis to crisis, knowing all the while that I was not functioning at top efficiency. And yet, I functioned. I survived. I even got some stuff done.

And now that I am facing the start of a new school year, I have to decide if it is time to "routine up" again. Can I survive without the rigor of a personal schedule with workout, meal, shower, etc. all carefully laid out and pinned to a certain time? Can I wake up each morning and loosely prioritize the day, moving from task to task with a go-with-the-flow efficiency?

I doubt it.

School starts Tuesday. I guess it is time to think about what I can realistically fit in between school drop offs and work and kids and meals. Time to evaluate how early I can get out of bed and still have energy to teach and dance and not snap at the kids. Time to buckle down and just do what needs to be done.

Here we go.

Different Is Good

2011-08-26T12:34:00.000-06:00

Every summer, the sun turns the last 3 inches of my hair a light golden brown, many shades lighter than my roots, and I end up looking like I used to dye my hair and just let it grow out awkwardly. And so, at the beginning of most school years, I spend $3 on grocery store hair color and match the ends to the roots. In adventurous years, I sometimes go darker than natural. But this year, I finally got up the guts to do what I've always wanted to do. Red.

I had planned to choose a very safe, very brown auburn. But I took Kirk to the store with me, and he urged me to be a little more daring and try this one, titled "bright auburn." I took one look and thought I'd end up looking like Ariel.

I went ahead, though, and colored it. It turned out a gorgeous color, definitely the brownest red could possibly be, and I LOVED it. Then I washed it, and it faded. You could barely tell I'd even done anything. I read the box again and noticed that it said for hair longer than shoulder length, you might need two bottles. Thinking the color didn't take due to a lack of saturation, I tried one more time.

It took.

And I felt like Ariel.

But Kirk assures me that it looks good, and after convincing him to take a few pictures, I think I'm liking it. (It looks a little more kool-aide red in person.)

Well, it's fun, and it's spunky, and it's different. In this case, I've decided different is good.

Equal Parts

2011-08-24T13:41:00.000-06:00

If I had equal parts of imagination and follow-through, I'd be rich.

At least, I think so. Then again, I am kind of full of myself.

I'd have patented and sold my late-night idea of a formula dispenser (of which my brother even designed a 3-d model).

I would run an after school center where kids would come for private music lessons, homework help, personal tutoring, theater groups, competite sports, and exercise programs. And it would be funded largely through grants so the kids who really needed it would have access.

I would be making gobs of money as the account manager of high-profile ad campaigns. I'd work on the top floor of a downtown skyscraper, and I'd eat lunch at the corner bistro with my coworkers.

The laundry at my house would always be clean, folded, and put away. I'd make healthy dinners which we'd all eat together. We'd actually be able to have a dinner table conversation, because the kids would be so well disciplined, they'd just want to be respectful.

Someone, somewhere would be performing my acclaimed, hit Broadway musical, based on Billy Joel's Leningrad. I'd go further into that one, but it just exposes how far my imagination can run.

These are the kinds of thoughts that occupy my brain when nothing else demands it's attention.

When driving, for example. Subconscious thought handles the speedometer and the don't-run-into-the-car-in-front-of-you, and I disappear mentally into these lands of fantasy.

Mopping, mowing the lawn, shaving my legs... these are all activities I can do while my brain wanders.

Sometimes I wonder if all this wandering is a sign of discontentment with my current lot. That wonder is always immediately dispelled, however, because I love everything I am doing right now. The job. The extra-curriculars. The kids. The husband. The house. The ward. The calling. The neighborhood. The friends. It is all great!

What does it all mean, then, my inclination to wander? I think it just means that there are so many ways I could be happy. How lucky am I to have the dreams and the skills that if I ever decided to add the missing incredient (hard work), I could actually do most of the things I listed. It's a mantra we always teach to young kids, but it's one I've always believed: I can be anything I want to be.

So, if I had equal parts imagination and follow through, sure... maybe I could be rich. I feel pretty blessed, though, that even without the follow through, I'm pretty darn happy.

Changed My Life

2011-08-21T17:57:00.000-06:00

It wasn't until April 15th, 2009 that I was even aware that a little boy (Jonathan) in Adam's primary class was autistic. I'd seen him sit on his mother's lap (she was their teacher) during singing time, but in a class of Sunbeams, that was certainly no red flag. But when I received an email from his grandmother thanking me for a small kindness Adam naturally showed, I became more aware (and tried to be more understanding) of the unique challenges of that particular primary class.

The following December, I was approached by the primary president who asked if I'd be willing to move to the 4 year old class for the following year. Informed that the class would be split based on the large number of kids, I easily answered, "Sure, as long as Adam is in the other class." It was that first Sunday in a class of four year olds and with a new team teacher (Jonathan's mom) when I really got a chance to see how amazing both Jonathan and his mother are.

Through the course of our year together, Kristal never had a problem keeping the attention of our fidgety class while never taking her eyes fully off Jonathan. The amount of energy she used during every minute of primary was such an example to me. Thankfully, Jonathan and I hit it off immediately. Although he's non-verbal, he communicated pretty clearly to me with just a look of his eyes which said, "I'm really smart. In fact, sometimes, I'm probably smarter than you. Wanna see what I can get away with?"

So I got down on my knees and put my hands gently on his shoulders and looked right back. "Yes, Jonathan. You are really smart. Really, really, smart. I'm pretty sure you'll be a lot smarter than me someday. But for today, you are 4 years old. So I get to be the boss. Go ahead and try. Wanna see what I won't let you get away with?"

I watched Kristal all year, and took my turns with Jonathan while she taught (and carefully supervised me through the corner of her eye). When the time came to reassign teachers for the next year, I thought and prayed and talked with the primary presidency, and I was given the opportunity to continue with Jonathan - without Kristal - for the next year.

It has been a challenging year. Our class is huge and full of my son and his gaggle of Type A personality friends. Only 2 of our horde are girls, and coming from an estrogen-challenged household, I struggle to relate to their more emotional nature. We have three teachers in order to accommodate the need to occasionally take Jonathan out and still have two teachers in the room. While two of us have been constant from the start, we've had no less than four people in that third slot. We've tried several methods of organizing our class, some of which have fallen just short of disastrous nightmare.

I've had good days and bad days. After discussing with Jonathan's parents that I was afraid that our constant changing of teachers was causing Jonathan some undue anxiety, I discussed with the primary presidency a plan to restructure our class in such a way that I could be exclusively with Jonathan. The next week, I arrived at church refreshed and ready. The primary president pulled me out of class to let me know we were getting another new teacher, and that she and I would alternate weeks being with Jonathan. I tried to be okay with it. Then I went and hid myself in a classroom and bawled.

That's when I realized something. Somewhere between April 15th, 2009 and now, my life changed forever. I have had the unique opportunity to befriend - no - to love an incredibly little boy named Jonathan. His parents are right there and always doing what is best for him, and still I melted down at the thought of asking him to continue to feel anxiety about switching teachers each week.

The primary presidency reconsidered, and I've been given until the end of September as Jonathan's personal buddy. At that point, I'm being transitioned out so that I can teach a different class next year. Which is good. (Imagine me nodding my head decidedly.) In the meantime, I'm working to re-establish a routine since our crazy year has been anything but conducive to an ideal environment for Jonathan.

As such, I expected a "bad" day today. That smart little 4 year old is now an even smarter little 6 year old who has figured out that if he doesn't want to be in class, all he has to do is make lots of noise. I talked to his parents who agreed that I probably needed to tough it out and get through some noise to establish that he stays in class unless there's a really good reason to leave. I prepared the other teachers and the class that Jonathan might make some noise today, but that we could all help each other out by paying attention to the teacher. And I hunkered down, expecting a fight.

The secretary in the primary presidency is a special education teacher at one of the local elementaries, and she has been an incredible resource for me. Knowing that with the start of school tomorrow, Jonathan was probably extra excited today, she stopped by to say that if I needed a break today to let her know.

Two Important Sidenotes:

1. Jonathan doesn't like my hair curly. When I do wear it that way, he pulls it in a non-malicious way that just seems like he's trying to straighten out the curls.

2. Jonathan is a runner. One must be constantly on guard, and even at that, Jonathan gets away at least once or twice per Sunday. If I'm lucky, I get to him before he leaves the room or reaches the piano. When I'm not, I end up literally chasing him down the halls of the church. I wear flats a lot.

Well, today we'd made it 20 minutes in when Jonathan decided that pulling my hair (already straight today) was a fun experiment in cause and effect. "When I pull Sis. Fife's hair, she seems to get instantly frustrated. That's kinda fun." So I gladly took Sis. Okerlund up on her offer. She took him to help deliver roles to the other classes, and I didn't see him for 10 minutes or so. And then he ran into the room, with the primary president and Sis. Okerlund following behind. Neither of them reached him before he opened the accordian doors to the baptismal font. And I just laughed as poor, significantly pregnant Sis. Okerlund looked at me and said, "I'm not as fast as I used to be. Wow. That was borderline disastrous!"

I know I shouldn't feel triumphant about a moment like that. But for all the times Jonathan has reached the bass notes of the piano or grabbed a handful of name sticks or slammed the door or turned off the lights or... before I could catch him, it was SO nice to see someone else just a little too late.

The best moment, however, was in speaking with Jonathan's dad after church. With the exception of one battle-of-wills over a different teacher's watch (which I wouldn't let Jonathan take down to it's component parts - a favorite activity of his), we had a very calm class time. The one battle was scream inducing, however, and unknown to me, his dad had come to observe though the window. "I came to check on him," he said, "and I saw that you clearly had it under control. I didn't interfere, because I wanted to make sure Jonathan understands that there is a chain of command."

My countdown to the end of September has begun. As in I only get 5 more weeks with Jonathan. I thought of that as I held him on my lap today, quietly singing the ABC's to calm him down. I thought of that today as he stood on a chair with his arms wrapped around my neck. I thought of that today as I projected myself several years down the road to when he is inches taller than me.

Jonathan has changed my life.

That's Good

2011-08-19T14:29:00.002-06:00

A friend of mine recently wrote a blog about a family camping trip in a style derived from "a picture book titled That's Good! That's Bad! where the events flipflop between fortunate fun and an unfortunate twist. One moment good. Immediately followed up with one moment bad. Then back to another moment good!" Since reading her post, I seem to naturally frame life's unexpected surprises in a "that's good; that's bad" sort of light.

An email back from my boss to let me know what my teaching schedule will be next year.
That's good.
Realizing that schedule will not work for the babysitter.
That's bad.

Getting to keep the 6th grade music classes this year.
That's good.
Adding the 1st grade classes.
That's... (well, I'm trying to be positive.)

Being informed I will be getting a $2 per hour raise because of my "grueling schedule."
That's good.
Said grueling schedule (1 class, lunch, then 6 straight classes with barely time to pee).
That's - scary.

Getting to be Adam's music teacher.
That's good.
Having to be Adam's music teacher.
That's bad.

Knowing I have time to process and organize and figure out and plan because school doesn't start until August 30th?
That's just plain awesome.

Boy Pile

2011-08-12T15:15:00.001-06:00

I often think of the old "My Buddy" commercials when I watch my boys play:

"My Buddy, My Buddy, Wherever I go, he goes.

My Buddy, My Buddy, I’ll teach him everything that I know.

My Buddy and me, Like to climb up a tree.

My buddy and me, We're the best friends that could be.

My Buddy, My Buddy, My Buddy and Me!"

Lately, if one boy piles on top of mom or dad, suddenly, we have a whole pile of boys.

Although much of what he does is inspired by older brothers, Dylan is definitely forging his own dare-devilish path. Where Adam was naturally scared of everything and Alex possessed equal parts courage and sense, Dylan is 100% fearless. What started out as a game of sliding down my legs turned into a game of diving headfirst off the bed with no mom-shaped safety net.

Listen closely and you can hear Kirk encouraging him to dive. Yeah. We're that kind of parents. I have dibs on Dylan breaking the first bone.

I Wish...

2011-08-04T15:41:00.000-06:00

I wish I had time to post a better blog about this. But for any of you familiar with Sondheim, the song is hilarious. And any of you who haven't already been pestered to death by my facebook posts, come see me in INTO THE WOODS, tonight, Friday, Saturday, and Monday.

Airbending

2011-07-25T09:00:00.001-06:00

Last summer in Garden Valley the kids were exposed to the cartoon version of The Last Airbender. They were instantly hooked, and I was instantly worried about them trying things like firebending on our camping trips.

As we headed into winter, airbending was mostly forgotten.

Until we saw the movie.

If I thought they liked airbending before, it was nothing like the post-movie version, complete with meditation and all. Adam and his cousin Mason were pretty dedicated to their craft, but nobody can bend quite like Alex (who, if I correctly recall, was technically waterbending).

Arma-Dyl-O

2011-07-24T10:17:00.011-06:00

Alex has been into nicknames lately. In fact, this morning Kirk said to Alex, "Hey, Al... do you remember the nickname you called me last night?"

Al's face lit up. "Yep... Toby."

"Toby?" I questioned.

Kirk told me that last night Alex looked right at him and said, "Daddy, I'm going to call you Toby. It's not your name. But it's your nickname."

Well, Alex also recently coined a new nickname for Dylan, one which may replace Dyl-Pickle.

In honor of the new nickname, here are some pictures of our very own Arma"dyl"o.

I may have posted this one already. This plate, covered in syrup, is hanging from his hair.

Our final trip to the Discovery Gateway Children's Museum before our passes expired.

Suit up!

And a bonus pic of all my boys in suits.

The Brother I Never Had

2011-07-23T10:03:00.000-06:00

Yeah, I know... I really do have a brother. But with twelve years between us, (I got married the day before he got baptized) we don't have a ton of shared brother/sister experiences. We share a lot of similar interests, and we've been friends our whole lives. If I want an interesting discussion, a partner in creativity, or a game rival, I'll go straight to him. But this post isn't about him.

This one is about the brother I didn't have. That brother who teased and picked on but quietly protected me. Who called me names but was also the first one there if I needed him. Who I had every reason to love and hate at the same time.

Who knew that when my sister married Skye, I'd be getting just that brother?

He doesn't call me Andrea. In fact, I am listed as "Fatty" in his cell phone, and the ringtone he set for me is, "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead." He has - on more than one occassion - tackled me and pinned me to the ground until I scream. But he also ends phone conversations with, "I love you," and I know he means it.

I'm proud of him for working hard at his job in Boise and providing for his family. But I hate that he lives there and not here. It was so fun to see him during their brief visit in June. Especially when I discovered that he'd let Michelle's friend paint his toenails, and they were the exact color mine were painted.

Oh, and did I mention he can do backflips? (But I apparently can't get a decent picture of one. He tried 3 times, and all I got was "take-off" and "landing" pics.)

Skye and I were meant to be brother and sister. Thanks, Michelle, for marrying him!

All Together

2011-07-22T09:34:00.006-06:00

Growing up, I never thought much about how great it was to have all my family in one place. But now that my sisters have both moved away, it's a rare treat I've learned to look forward to. We see Lisa at least once a year, and we usually see Michelle a few times, but seeing them simultaneously is truly rare.

Brett and Lisa were here for 8 days in June, and Skye and Michelle managed to join us for about 36 hours of that time. We had time for a bit of volleyball (but I was sick as a dog and didn't play, and Lisa had hurt her wrist).

Michelle, Mom, Kirk, Jack, (Chris - practically family), Dad, Brett, Skye

After the whole family sang in my ward on Sunday, everyone came over for our favorite family pasttime, games. I think we laughed as hard as we played, and we were able to send Brett and Lisa back to the airport knowing we'd had some great time together.

At Leatherby's Celebrating Adam's Report Card

"Thriller"

Trying to prove to Jack that the girls part was NOT easier... the girls are just better!

Advancement

2011-07-21T09:45:00.003-06:00

When we made the decision to enroll Alex at "Shayla's Preschool" instead of "Jacque's Preschool," where we sent Adam, it was with the intention that he'd do his 3 year old preschool at the neighborhood school so we could save a bit of money and so I wouldn't have to drive 15 minutes for preschool. Then we'd transfer him to the "big school" for his pre-K year. There will be no transfer. "Shayla's Preschool" has been everything I could ask for in a preschool, especially for a kid like Alex. Shayla sings with them all the time, and Alex has come home knowing countless facts hidden in songs. It doesn't hurt that he gets to go to preschool with his friends in Sunbeams, either.

Shayla held an advancement ceremony for the kids who will be entering the pre-K class next year, and it was fun to see the songs they'd learned. I was such a proud mommy when Shayla sent home a note asking Alex to do 2 speaking parts, since she figured he'd be one of the most confident in front of a microphone. I got too wrapped up in the program, though, and only videotaped one:

I can't believe how big my little Al is getting!

And I'm sure that in no time, his advancements will be an even bigger deal, like Uncle Jack, who just graduated from high school.

When our cousin, Brenda, asked Jack where he'd be going to college, he said, "The Rose Hulman Institute of Technology." He explained that he'll be studying engineering at this particular school in Indiana.

She asked, "Oh, so is it pretty highly rated?"

Jack, not being one to toot his own horn, non-chalantly continued, "Yeah... on most lists it's rated... number one."

Thanks, Jack, for setting your goals high and for achieving them. You are a great example to the three little boys who look up to you.

The Award for Best Film Goes to...

2011-07-20T09:13:00.005-06:00

Back when I actually used to do stuff with my kids, we had a jar called the "Activity Jar" with prompts for things we could do together. One such activity was to make a movie.

I had Adam start by drawing a storyboard, an activity he took much more seriously than I expected. I explained that as the director, he'd be in charge of the costuming and everything, and he drew costumes and props right into his pictures.

Adam's movie was fun to shoot, and I was excited to move on to Alex's. But my "excited Mommy" voice quickly turned to an "annoyed Mommy" voice when he wasn't using the camera correctly. Once things really got rolling, though, we still had a pretty good time.

Frozen in Time

2011-07-18T09:11:00.000-06:00

The other day, I was talking to my mom about how Adam has always been partial to Kirk and Alex has always leaned more toward me, but that we didn't yet know if Dylan had a preference. She smiled and said, "Well, Kirk can have Adam, and you can have Alex, and I'll just take Dylan." Of course Grandma loves them all, but Dylan has always been more cuddly and has not yet joined team "Uncle Jack," so he makes his Grandma feel a little bit more special.

One Friday when I went out to work for my dad, Grandma was out front sitting on the swing and preparing her Sunday School lesson. I went and sat Dylan beside her, and there he sat for nearly an hour, content to just... be.

I love a truly candid picture - one that the subjects had no idea was being taken. And I love that the special bond between Grandma and Dylan is now frozen in time.

One of Many

2011-07-17T08:42:00.000-06:00

One of the many pies I have had my fingers in lately came to a close two weekends ago. My stake put on a patriotic celebration we called "Freedoms," and I was lucky enough to be heavily involved. In addition to singing with the stake adult choir, I got to direct the stake youth choir, and I had 10 awesome youth who allowed me to turn them into a show choir - risers, choreography, and all! I spent my afternoons hanging out with them for an hour an a half each day for about 2 1/2 weeks, and I 'm telling you, their performance was awesome!

I've also been working with 4 amazingly talented young men, ranging from sophomores to seniors at Cyprus High this year. I wrote them an arrangement of "From a Distance," and I didn't go easy on them. The video below is (sadly) not their best run through, but many of moments of it are awesome. It has been great to get to know some of the youth of our stake and see both their talents and dedication.

Adam and Alex were in the show, too, as a part of the Primary Chorus (which thankfully, I didn't have to direct). Alex did as Alex does and stole the show when he tried to put down his picture of the redwood forests and discovered (and announced... loudly) that it could fly. And Adam actually sang. And did all the actions. And didn't look like he hated it. Success all around.

But as with any show, the best part about it is that it is DONE!

The Cool Girl

2011-07-16T08:39:00.045-06:00

I remember well my 16th birthday party. My best friend Emilee and I had birthdays 6 weeks apart, and so we chose to throw a joint bash 3 weeks after hers and 3 weeks before mine. That landed us on a Friday night one week into our Junior year of high school. We made all the plans and tried to get out invites but without Facebook or texting (I know, I'm old...) we had to do it the old fashioned way. We made our plans, got food, decorated, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And no one came. For hours.

It turns out that Emilee and I, oblivious to the importance of high school sports, scheduled our party at the same time as a football game, and all our friends had gone to the game instead.

Finally, after the game, people started to trickle over. But no one had actually read the invitations, which said to bring swimming suits because it was a swimming party.

Eventually some of our friends just decided to swim in their clothes, and it turned out to be a really fun party. But I was still scarred, and to this day, I am really nervous to throw a party.

But as I got a few weekends into the 5 week long run of Oklahoma! and started to become friends with my castmates, I got the idea to invite everybody over for pancakes and games one night after the show. I was ridiculously nervous about asking them. We were such an odd assortment of ages, me being older than almost everyone in the cast, and even though we got along great at the theatre, would we be able to extend that beyond?

I got up the courage, and I sent out the FB invite (ah, technology, thank you!) and...

They came!

Backstage, I never had a shortage of friends for me to beat at games. I especially loved our "Totally Insane Card Game" tournament. See my name there with the winning score?

And a couple weekends later when I suggested playing at the park after the show, they came then, too.

*Sidenote: Sorry to anyone in our neighborhood who may have been disturbed by the noise, and especially to whoever called the cops on us. I was trying to keep them quiet, but Sasha just screams really loud! It was pretty entertaining, though, when the cops asked us how old we all were, and I spoke up first, "Twenty-nine." I assured the cops that I'd make sure everyone got home, and when they asked me where exactly home was, I told them I owned the house two doors down.

Even if I had to wait until I was 29, it was nice to feel like the cool girl.

Overload

2011-07-15T08:23:00.000-06:00

People have been asking me lately how I am keeping up with everything. The answer is simple. I'm not.

Now, don't take any of this as complaining. I am loving everything I am doing right now, and I chose to do it all at once. But I am tired. I am relying on a wonderful husband to cook and clean. I do miss spending time with my family, relaxing in front of the tv at night, and sleeping. And I am ridiculously behind on blogging.

This has never happened to me before.

So now, because of my overload, I get to overload all of you as you try to keep up with the posts about to hit this here blog. [I will write them all today, but they will post one a day for the next little while, because I am a bit OCD about not having more than one blog post per day.]

Some Stories

2011-07-06T17:50:00.000-06:00

Some stories just beg to be told. And probably retold. Possibly even included in a funeral eulogy.

This is one of those.

As in, "Remember that time when Dad hit Alex with a package of lit firecrackers?"

There we sat, three generations of aunts, cousins, grandkids, parents, enjoying lighthearted conversation, when the air seems to simultaneously explode with light, sound, and Alex crying. Just as a firecracker explodes on my pinky toe, I realize that somehow, our circle has just been breached by lit fireworks, and look - immediately - in the direction of my father.

He is running and apologizing and scooping up Alex before most of us even realize what is going on. I still don't know exactly what happened other than he was "just intending to have it go off a little behind us to scare everyone," and that the fuse was "shorter than I expected," and "as soon as I threw it, I thought, 'Oh...no!'"

I figured all he needed was one of my all-too-often-used "Really, Dad?" looks, but my mom gave him more than that. My cousin Brenda asked, "Judging by the way your mom reacted, it seems like things like this have happened before." And I just shook my head and explained that sometimes the patriarch of our family doesn't think things all the way through, and yes, things like this have happened before.

Everyone was fine, and luckily it was Alex, who recoveres much quicker than Adam.

The best part was that when I texted Lisa and Michelle, I got back to very different answers to my text.

Me: "So Dad just hit Alex with a package of firecrackers. Wish you were here."

Michelle: "Ha ha... that sounds like fun. Miss you guys."

Lisa: "Lit ones? Why?"

Thanks, Dad, for a memorable 4th!

Begging to be Discussed

2011-07-01T17:17:00.000-06:00

As part of a commitment to read more "classic" literature (as in something somebody else said was of some sort of worth, as opposed to reading whatever cover catches my eye as I briskly walk through the library) I ended up with George Orwell's 1984 on my Sony eReader. Since one of my favorite fictional topics is different governmental and societal structures, I was in philosophical heaven. Normally, this would mean lots of introspection until I closed the back cover, and then I'd move on.

But with this book, I was instantly possessed by the desire to discuss it. Not in "big idea" ways, but to pick apart key sentences and ask for other's opinions and interpretations. To apply them to other factions of life. To state my fascination and have someone disagree with me.

I bookmarked page after page, wanting to remember what I wanted to discuss. I'm terrible with follow through, though, and I figured I'd soon forget all about it. Two books later, and -- not so.

So I typed a list of my favorite passages and saved it for later reflection, and I figure that whenever a philosophical mood strikes me, I can choose one and have at it on my blog. It's my blog, right? And I always say I write it to write it, not necessarily to have it read. So, self-indulgent as it may be, here goes:

"The book fascinated him, or more exactly it reassured him. In a sense it told him nothing that was new, but that was part of the attraction. It said what he would have said, if it had been possible for him to set his scattered thoughts in order. It was the product of a mind similar to his own, but enormously more powerful, more systematic, less fear-ridden. The best books, he perceived, are those that tell you what you know already."

I just can't agree with this statement, no matter how hard I try to think of an example of a book I've read and loved that would support the theory. The closest I can come is to say that the best books are those that support what you already believe. Supporting this theory would be my dad or brother in law reading a Glenn Beck book, a hopeless romantic reading a happy-ending love story, a conspiracy theorist reading, well, 1984. I suppose a Latter Day Saint reading The Work and the Glory or Jesus the Christ.

But I don't even really believe that.

To me, the best books are those that tell you what you are unlikely to have thought of on your own. In this way, they give you a different perspective on an issue. Quite likely, you will read them, process them, and become more convicted in the knowledge and beliefs you already had. Or, in the case of books where philosophy is of no concern, you will have expanded your capacity of thought, making you more capable of a higher level of thinking in the future.

The best books make you think.

Primary Talks

2011-06-27T17:03:00.000-06:00

I think there are many reasons why Heavenly Father's church includes opportunities for tiny children to stand up in front of their peers and give a prepared talk. Primary is the training grounds for these littlest church members, a safe place for them to nurture their little testimonies. Standing up and delivering a talk, just like the speakers in Sacrament meeting prepares them to take the next step, being a youth speaker in Sacrament meeting. It also develops their self-confidence in standing in front of a group which can prepare them for a wide variety of leadership and teaching callings in the church. But at the core of all these reasons is the reason I believe any of us are asked to speak in church: to increase our knowledge and testimony.

I am a big fan of memorization. Yes, I know that to simply regurtitate memorized facts does not equate understanding a concept. But I think it is a start. Yes, it is better for our children to understand the messages in the Primary songs, but knowing their words can certainly be a foundation for concepts like faith, following the prophet, and reading the scriptures.

And so, my kids memorize their Primary talks. I write them, but I really focus on using words they can understand so hopefully they are getting more than just a fight with mom out of the experience. Because, let's face it, Primary talk = fight with mom.

I remember oh so clearly the Saturday before talk-day with my mom's frustration coming out in statements like, "It's not that hard if you just pay attention." Or, "Can't you just hold still and focus on this so we can just. be. done." And then my frustration would come out in the form of tears. I vowed not to let that happen with my kids. "I'll make sure their talks are written a week in advance, and we'll work on them little by little at bedtime so it is not a frustrating experience." Yeah... I broke that vow.

Despite the fight and frustration, my kids are really good memorizers, and really confident little talk-givers, and I am always excited when they come home with the assignment. I was a little less excited this month, though, when they were assigned talks 2 weeks apart and with the same topic: "How can the 4th Article of Faith help you return to your heavenly home?"

I racked my brain for a creative idea for Adam's talk, and I loved the pirate allegory I finally invented. And I was so proud when his sweet little delivery moved a member of the primary presidency to tears. How could I possibly write another talk on the same darn topic? Somehow I managed, and I'm proud of Alex's "two homes" talk, which he will get to give again as part of the Primary Program in the fall. Hopefully the next time the talk fairy comes our way, Adam will be ready to start writing his own.

Be sure to look at the eyes in these videos. Each boy was recovering from a cold the day he gave his talk. You can see it in their exhausted little eyes. And I need to remember to stay outside the reach of the video camera. You can see the left-over frustration in my eyes in Alex's video.

How To Get The Part You Really Want

2011-06-23T09:19:00.000-06:00

I'm apologizing right up front. This is going to get long. There's just a lot of back story and detail and... well, here goes.

Maybe I should start with that I love Into the Woods. A lot of musical theater people do, but I loved Into the Woods long before I loved musicals at all. I remember when we lived in Kearns (so I was younger than 11), a member of our ward lent us a VHS copy of the Broadway movie with Burnadette Peters. We watched it with my parents once. Mom made us fastforward through that part of the 2nd act. I looked up words like "deleterious." I watched the 1st act over and over and over again with my sisters almost every weekend. I memorized the "greens song." I marvelled at the witch's costume change at the end of the 1st act. My parents started quoting the show in every day conversation.

Sidenote: Just yesterday, my sister closed on a house and got her broken car fixed. When she told my dad, he said, with perfect ITW inflection, "You've the house and the car..." (a "We've the cow and the cape" reference, if you didn't get it.)

I don't know how many times, when one of us was whining, my mom said, "The cow is gone... get it back... GET IT BACK!" Or, when he'd done something a little insensitive, my dad resorted to, "I was raised to be charming, not sincere." When something had gone wrong but there was really nothing anyone could do to make the situation better, "Worrying... will do you no good."

As fun as the jokes still are, my mom used the show to point out some really great principles. I know one of her favorite songs is "Children Will Listen," and, as a school teacher and mother, she has always used her own example as a force for good. And the overall theme, that it's your choices - not your wishes - which determine your destiny ("Some of us don't like the way you've been telling it...") is a lesson I intend to pass on to my own children.

Anyway... I love Into the Woods. Once I started actually doing musicals, Into the Woods became a "dream show" for me with two "dream roles."

Someday, I want to play the Baker's Wife. Her song about how the end justifies the beans has always always humored me, and let's face it... she gets to kiss a prince. Someday, hopefully, I will get that chance.

But right now, I want to play Little Red Riding Hood. Self-centered, spunky, likes to eat, just barely thoughtful enough to not be completely annoying... yep, that's a role I can relate to. And since she is one of the two "kids" in the show (generally played by youngish looking adults), I feel like my years to be able to play that role are coming to an end.

So when I heard Taylorsville Arts Council is putting on Into the Woods this summer, I sent Kirk a text.

Me: "So... Taylorsville is doing Into the Woods."
Kirk: "And..."
Me: "And I need you to tell me, 'No, you can't audition. You've already done two shows this year.'"
Kirk: "But it's Into the Woods. You know I'll support you if you choose to audition."

We decided I would audition, but that I would only do the show if they offered Little Red.

So audition, I did. I was really sick, and it didn't go well. But I made callbacks and was feeling better and ready to redeem myself. And redeem myself, I did. Callbacks went great (a long part of the story which I will spare you) but I resigned myself to the fact that I likely wouldn't get Little Red.

And then I didn't get called at all. Weird.

Whatever. I guess I didn't make it. I really didn't have time anyway...

Then Tuesday I got a call. Apparently they fired the director on Friday, hired a new director on Monday, and needed to reaudition.

I'm not sure why exactly, but I decided not to reaudition. Maybe I just didn't want to deal with the letdown again. I wasn't all that impressed by the first auditions, and I was kind of excited about having my nights in July free, and it just seemed ok to not audition. I'd already tried, right?

So I told Kirk about the phonecall and about my decision, and he looked at me like I was crazy. "But it's Into the Woods..." he said, as he proceeded to convince me to reaudition after all. He had an answer for my every insecurity, and even Adam jumped on the bandwagon and lent his support to the idea of me going for it.

So yesterday, I got all dressed up, again. I curled my hair and fretted about making sure I looked no older than 23 - tops, again. I practiced my song, drove to the auditions, walked nervously up the stairs, again.

And here's where the real story begins:

HOW TO GET THE PART YOU REALLY WANT

(even if you have to beg for it)

I had intended to show up at the start of auditions, be one of the first to sing, and leave. But when I got there ten minutes later than I'd planned, the room was full of what appeared to be anxious auditioners. I found out that apparently the audition accompanist wasn't there, so auditions hadn't even started. Seeing an opportunity to offer my services (and maybe set myself apart a bit), I walked into the audition room, introduced myself, and asked if they'd like for me to play for the auditions. Relieved, they accepted my offer.

I sat at the piano and played for the first auditioner. At the risk of sounding conceited, I will tell you: I am an awesome audition accompanist. I sight read ridiculously well, and I'm familiar with enough musical theater that it's pretty rare for someone to bring me something I've never heard. Even when they do, (my favorite unknown of last night was "Lost in the Wilderness" from Children of Eden) I do just fine. So, of course, my piano playing impressed the director and production staff. In fact, it impressed the accompanist (who arrived as I was playing the first song) so much that he begged to not have to play after me, and I ended up playing for the remainder of auditions.

When the room had finally cleared and I was the only auditioner left, I looked to the accompanist and said, "So are you going to play for me?" He shook his head no, explained that he didn't want to mess up my audition, and announced, "I think she should play for herself."

Normally this is a bad idea, but I had developed enough rapport with the director to know I could pull it off. I turned the piano so she could see my face, stood while I played, and nailed my audition song. ("My New Philosophy" from You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown)

The director looked at me and said, "I love you. Just so you know, I'm going to cast you in this show. I don't know as what, but I am going to cast you."

I smiled, took a deep breath, and responded, "Thank you so much. But just so you know, if you offer me anything other than Little Red, I will turn you down."

Shocked, she answered, "But Little Red isn't even that great of a part. Why that part?"

I explained all my reasons: I've always wanted to play Little Red, I'm 29 [insert shocked reactions here] and can only play Little Red for so much longer, I really don't have time to do a show right now and no other part or other play would be worth it.

She said, "I'm sorry, but you're just too skinny for Little Red. I've always imagined Little Red as a cute, chunky little brat."

"I understand that, but Little Red doesn't have to be skinny! Skinny girls eat, too!" I answered.

"I know," she said. "I get that, but..."

"I can convince you," I said.

"Okay... convince me."

"Okay... give me the score." And I grabbed the piano vocal score and accompanied myself on Little Red's solo, "I Know Things Now." I put all sorts of character into it. She stopped me after only one verse.

"Okay," she started. "Now do it in cut time."

So I did it twice as fast. More frenzied. More confused. Less pensive. She let me finish all the way to the end. She looked at me in a way that let me know she was so. close.

"I can skip!" I said. She'd had some of the earlier auditioners skip. Without waiting for permission, I stepped from around the piano, skipped across the room with all sorts of snotty little girl attitude, stopped, turned, gathered up all my snottiness again, and skipped back.

Everyone else in the room looked at the director as if to say, "See... she can do this. So what if she's skinny!"

The director responded with, "Well, she certainly does skip like a bitch." (Apparently another quality she sees in Little Red.)

"Yes!" I said. "I can definitely pull that off."

Pause.

"You play the piano really well."

"Thank you."

"If we do end up casting you, do you think you can kind of half-and-half it and help us out on piano some."

At this point, I'm practically on my knees with my hands clasped in front of me. "If you give me Little Red, I will do anything you want."

"Okay. You're Little Red."

Maybe it's a little weird to be excited about a part I begged for. But I am. If I hadn't begged, she'd still have cast me. She loved me. But I would have missed out on playing a dream role just because I'm skinny.

Best audition ever? "Possible. Very, very possible."

Full-Sized Person

2011-06-20T20:54:00.000-06:00

On Friday night I got a text from my bishop's daughter, a piano student and babysitter of mine. Her family owns four horses and had a ride planned for the next day, but they were one rider short. She asked if I'd like to go.

Um... of course!

I thought it was a little weird that of all the possible people, I was the one who got the invite, but I decided not to over-analyze and just be grateful.

On Saturday, I found out why. My bishop explained to me that the horse I'd be riding, a 25 year old Arabian named Sabelle, still has a lot of spirit, but she just "can't handle a full-sized person anymore."

So apparently, when his teenage daughter wasn't able to go on the ride, they thought of all the snack-sized people they knew, and my name was at the top of the list.

Self portrait of me and Sabelle

Whatever the reason, I'm glad I was able to go. We left at 7 am, and since I was filling in for the daughter, I got to do all the work. I opened and closed gate after gate after gate as we picked up the horse trailer and then 2 horses from the pasture and 2 horses from the barn. I learned how to brush and bridle. And finally we started off onto the mountain trails.

It was gorgeous! All the beauty of a hike without the actual walking. And then I realized that without the walking, there really was little to do. Sabelle dutifully followed the tail of the horse in front of her. I longed to gallop her, at least a bit. Then I thought how nice it might be to read while I rode, realizing I'm really no good at holding still.

Our view for much of the morning: the tail of another horse

Finally, Sabelle got her wish of being the lead horse, and the whole experience changed. Although we were still following the planned trail, there was nothing but views ahead of us, and any momentary boredom I may have experienced earlier subsided. I still had that call for adventure - of wanting to go faster, or off the trail, or...

Out in front, enjoying uninhibited views

When the ride came to an end, I wasn't really ready to dismount. The morning had been warm and still and peaceful in a way I'm not sure I've ever experienced. And I knew I had all that gate opening and closing ahead of me as we put the horses away. My bishop commented that now that I have all the gates figured out, I'll have to come riding again. I laughed and said, "Plus I fit the horse," to which he commented that I now passed all the requirements.

Of course, now I seriously owe Kirk, since he got to spend the morning fighting with the boys about cleaning the basement...

New Reasoning Skills

2011-06-15T18:57:00.000-06:00

It used to be that Adam was the one to try to reason his way around things. Alex has generally preferred to just scream or hit or bat his eyelashes to get his way. (Charming, right?)

Not so anymore.

After being told he couldn't have anymore garlic bread until he finished the manicotti on his plate, I saw him over at the pan of bread.

Alex: "I just can't stop myself from getting one of these. I just can't."

Me: "Well, you'd better stop yourself until you've finished that food on your plate."

Alex: "Well, my 'bwain' is just making me do it."

Me: "Then your brain is going to end up in the corner."

Alex: "Well, then you'd have to take my 'bwain' out of my head, and you can't do that."

Me: "No, I'm pretty sure your whole self would just end up in the corner."

Round 1 - point to Mommy

But I'm pretty sure there are MANY more rounds to come.

Why I Love My Family

2011-06-11T12:56:00.000-06:00

I could say I love singing with my family, and that would be completely true. With both my sisters and their husbands in town this weekend, we're getting together to sing in my ward. With the 6 original Casdorphs plus two brothers-in-law, we have a perfect double quartet. Since getting everyone together is so rare, we decided to do a quick recording. I'm not going to vouch for the recording quality or balance since it was just done with a small recording box with an internal mic. But sitting in the middle of the group playing and singing soprano, I got to hear the voices all around me, and it was the best seat in the house.

But that's not why I love my family.

Midway through our hour long rehearsal session, my dad stopped us and said, "I'm sorry. It's just... this verse would sound so great with a Cockney accent. I just can't stop myself from doing it." Curious, I took the bait and asked him to demonstrate. My mom rolled her eyes at me as if to say, "Really, Andrea... you are encouraging this?" And so I took it one step further and asked if we could try it just for fun. Michelle really enjoyed it, too, so after we recorded the serious version, I just had to share the middle of the song, My Fair Lady style.

That's why I love my family.

A Few Good Reasons to Come See "Joseph"

2011-06-10T09:21:00.001-06:00

Okay, I get that it's probably the most overdone show in the valley, and you've probably already seen it a million times. But this production of "Joseph" packs a bit more punch than your average show.

Susan DeMill, the director and choreographer, is seriously one of the most talented ladies I have ever met, and it shows in the high-energy dancing throughout. I have never danced the way I've been required to dance for this show!

The costumes, reportedly created for Cougarettes by a woman who didn't understand the word "budget," are truly amazing. I get to wear 7! And we're not talking just dresses, here. Arm bands, gloves, collars, hats, a wig... we're talking the works.

Musically, I've gotten to work with some incredibly talented people including a the 11 teenagers we cast to make up our "Go Go Girls" who handle some of the more complex female harmonies throughout the show. And they are amazing!

The cast overall has a fun personality aided by the fact that there are 3 married couples, 1 bro/sis, 2 brothers, and TONS of lifelong friends. For me this includes Chris Kennedy (who I've known since he was shorter than me) and my best friend from elementary, Rosie {Simmons} Skinner.

And - tickets are only $7 which is a great price for such a quality show. Check out the fun pictures I've included below, and then buy your tickets at draperartscouncil.org.

Not sure why I look so confused, but here is my regular "wife" costume.

We call this one "Gangster"

Go Go Go Joseph!

My stress out moment of the night - "Pharaoh Story"

"Cowboy" (with my cute "husband" and AWESOME 1st tenor, Mike)

And missing from my pictures thus far are "Calypso" and "Megamix" - yes there are more! I would love to see you and your families in the audience!

For Posterity

2011-06-08T15:50:00.000-06:00

I thought recently about this video I made once for a class at the University of Phoenix. It isn't funny. Or interesting. But it was awesome for that class, and I dug it out the other day. After watching it, I decided I'd put it up on the blog just in case I lose the DVD. After all, it is possibly the only record of me pregnant with Adam since I didn't really take any pictures.

Like I said. It's pretty boring. But I didn't want to lose it. So here it is.

A Few of My Favorite Things

2011-06-06T14:59:00.000-06:00

I recently fell asleep a short way into The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, but before my eyelids betrayed me, I appreciated Reepicheep's comment on his abundance of words. I can't find the exact quote, so I'll just have to slaughter it through paraphrase. "I'll stop talking when I run out of things to say." (Really, it was so much more eloquent than that.)

Kirk would argue that I, however, often continue talking long past that point. So today, I'll let several cute pictures of certain adorable redhead in my house speak mostly for themselves.

I love the "is this okay, mom?" eyes.

Mean old Uncle Jack flipped Dylan in the face with a rubber band. Yeah.

"Big Bunny" has become Dylan's best friend

Acceptable Laundry

Eating treats provided by Bradley, Dylan's best friend at Joseph rehearsals.

No questioning or apologetic eyes, here. This one is more of a "Hey, Mom!" look.

Patiently waiting for the rolls to cook.

This Summer

2011-06-05T10:23:00.000-06:00

This summer might be a little different than our last several. Usually our free time is dedicated to "living in the dirt," but for a combination of reasons including gas prices and busy schedules, the camping bug has not really bitten me this year.

Instead, we are taking full advantage of our Salt Lake County Pass of all Passes, and despite the weather, have already been to Raging Waters twice. The first day we tried out a few slides, but thanks to 60 degree weather mostly stayed in the heated wave pool. Yesterday we explored a bit more of the park, spending time in the kids area and trying out a few more of the adventurous slides. We packed our lunch (peanut butter and honey) and took a break to eat when the kids started to get whiny.

Each of the boys showed a preference for a certain activity yesterday. Adam was determined to cross the rope. Alex spent the day talking the ears off the lifeguards, a perfect audience since they aren't allowed to leave their posts. Dylan avoided getting more than his toes wet.

I was perfectly content to hang with the kids or lay by the pool and read. Dylan was perfectly content to provide me with a bit of shade. Kirk didn't get to the slides too much yesterday but did at least test out the pink ones for us.

Kirk did talk me into trying a few of the more exciting slides before the season really gets into full swing and the lines get long. The "Roller Coaster" was probably the best waterslide I've ever been on.

The only problem is that I don't quite weigh enough to make the slide work as designed. They were actually gathering data yesterday trying to figure out the weight at which people were guaranteed to make it over the hump. Apparently it is a weight higher than mine, because on each of my 3 times on the slide, I made it approximately 2 feet from the summit and had to claw my way to the top.

Luckily there's a pretty awesome slide next to it which allows you to pretty much free-fall, so I can spend my summer getting my thrills on the green slide. I won't be doing the yellow slide anymore.

The only thing missing from our fun-in-the-sun was some friends. So if any of you are Pass of All Passes holders, let's go together... soon!

Wolfpack Theory of Male Relationships

2011-06-01T14:17:00.000-06:00

The first time I noticed a wolfpack was when I was 16. I met Chris Vassel in acapella choir, and later when his friends Jason Staples and Nick Miller joined the choir (because they heard there were cute girls), I became lunch-table friends with them, too. The fourth member, Topher Affleck, was known by all of the choir girls, considering he made Madrigals as a Sophomore.

The thing about a wolfpack, though, is that it can be hard to spot within the walls of high school. Sure, they probably have some classes together and sit at the same lunch table. But with girlfriends and other friends milling around, the boundaries may be hard to spot. But on a typical school day, when that final bell rings, the wolfpacks will head straight to their dens.

For that first wolfpack, the den was Nick Miller's game room. While Topher played "Legend of Zelda" on the left-most TV screen, Jason watched Simpsons reruns on the center screen, and Nick and Chris would have some old-school game going on the Super Nintendo. I found their tight-knit friendship interesting and felt, as I ended up dating Nick, that I was in reality dating them all.

I didn't realize until later that this 4 to 5 guy wolfpack is really a pretty common occurrence. When I met Kirk, his childhood stories were full of tales of his own pack. (Kirk, his brother Mark, Spencer, Joe, and James.) During Oklahoma, I met some guys currently in high school and was quickly able to identify the members of their packs, and - being the mom of 3 potential wolfpack members - I started to really think about my theory.

Here's what I discovered. Guys tend to make friendships of conveniece. I think it goes basically like this: "Whose houses can I walk to from my house?" And those four to five guys become best friends. And then, because guys don't fight and hold grudges like girls do, there's never any reason for them to STOP being friends. So unless they move, they are friends with the same guys from elementary through high school.

Not so for girls.

Girls tend more towards a "best friend," and for many, that "best friend" changes every few years. Girls choose their friends based on compatibility an interests, and - because of fights or just growing apart - choose new friends when necessary.

The only sad thing I've noticed is that, because the wolfpack is a friendship of convenience, it doesn't often last past high school. Sure, the friends keep in touch, but the bond doesn't seem to be as emotionally strong as that of a girl with her "best friend." Kirk's pack disbanded long ago, and the Nick/Topher/Chris/Jason pack - although still loosely bound - is definitely not the 4-for-the-price-of-1 group they once were.

The funniest thing for me is that I can already see Adam forming a bit of a wolfpack. He may be too young for this to be the one that sticks, but I can easily see the kids he's friends with now being the groomsmen at his wedding. It makes me grateful as a mom to live in a neighborhood full of active LDS families so the chances of Adam's wolfpack being a good influence are higher.

Kirk thinks Alex will be accepted as a member of Adam's pack. I think he is kind of hoping for that since he and his brother were in the same pack. I'm just hoping for our house to be the den, so I can keep a close eye on my little wolves. Trust me, I'm taking notes from Nick's mom since she so successfully created an enviroment where the pack felt welcome.

Video games - Check
Space where the boys can hang out - Check
Trampoline and basketball hoop (ideally right next to each other) - Someday...
Snacks - Yeah, I'm saving up

Wiggin' Out

2011-05-29T14:46:00.001-06:00

Things I've learned {so far} from my Joseph wig:

- If I ever envied women with lots of hair, I no longer do. After combing out tangles, blow drying forever and feeling completely useless with a curling iron, I'll take my blow-dried-and-curled-in-under-ten-minutes coif any day.

- Maybe there's a reason why I'm the only girl in our family:

And then, of course, let the shameless self-promotion begin:

It really is going to be an incredible show in a gorgeous venue. I get to dance my heart out in no less than 6 costumes, and I've also been the music director, too. There are only 5 performances, so put it on your calendar now. {If you blink, it will be July, and you will have missed it!}

Electric Slide

2011-05-26T15:09:00.000-06:00

My body hurts. Today I have danced a total of 4 1/2 hours of the Electric Slide. Thankfully, it was a 2 hour block followed by an hour and a half break followed by a 2 1/2 hour block. Thankfully, my students LOVED it, especially the fact that I dressed up and brought them accessories, too. My reward came in the form of students who walked away saying, "That was the best part of field day," students who danced on the playground or at the "otter pop" station, teachers who stopped to watch me as they walked by, and many comments regarding my endless supply of energy.

My favorite moment was probably when an 8th grade student asked me, "Mrs. Fife... why are you wearing a headband?" I paused a moment to give him a quizzical look. "A headband, JD? Really?" I asked as I proceeded to point out my purple hoop earrings, florescent sweatbands, blue eyeshadow, side ponytail, etc.

I also loved it when the classroom teachers joined in the fun. I had my first slip-up of the year (funny that it was on the last day) and accidentally called Mrs. Casdorph "mom" in front of her class. But she was wearing her belt weird, and I had to call her out on it!

And - while I really do love my elementary kids - I had the MOST fun with the group of 7th and 8th graders who chose dancing over the other offered field day activities. They quickly mastered the Electric Slide, so I taught them a bit of The Hustle, and then they mastered some of the choreography I've learned at Joseph rehearsals. Those are the kids in the pictures.

I really do hope we've started a new Navigator Pointe tradition, and I'm already looking forward to dressing up in a cowgirl get-up for next year. I think some "Boot Scootin' Boogie" is definitely in order.

Play Ball

2011-05-24T09:06:00.000-06:00

While I’ve been busy at Joseph rehearsals, Kirk has been busy coaching both of the older boys’ baseball teams.

They’ve been playing over at the Magna Recreation Center, which – by the way – has gorgeous mountain views for one who is easily distracted.

I made it to 15 minutes of one of Alex’s games (and then had to hurry to rehearsal). That was enough for me to truly appreciate the challenge Kirk has taken on in coaching these 4 and 5 year olds.

Adam’s games worked better with my schedule, and I made it to 1 ½. The second game I attended was called when thunder and lightning started. Of course, then I had to explain to Adam that thunder can’t hurt him. “If I yelled really loud, would it hurt your arm?” I asked him. He processed for a minute, shrugged, and apparently conquered his fear of thunder.

But keeping track of Dylan on the sidelines is just as big of a job as coaching...

I don't think Kirk will ever coach 2 teams simultaneously again, but he says he didn't mind coaching the older team. We'll see if Coach Dad shows up for another season.

Agency

2011-05-11T15:54:00.000-06:00

On Mother's Day we received the horrible news that one of Kirk's cousins had been found in her bed, dead, after an apparent drug overdose. Kirk is not particularly close with his extended family, so I did not know her well. But the loss of any life, especially one so close to mine in age, certainly gives me reason to pause and reflect.

She left behind a little girl, and of course, we discussed the added sadness of having died on Mother's Day. When someone commented, "I can't believe she would do that on Mother's Day," I took the opportunity to comment on her agency, explaining that I believe she gave up her free agency when she chose drugs. Even though she had been through rehab more than once, she could never quite regain that agency she'd lost. No mother would choose to leave her child motherless on any day - holiday or not. And I firmly believe that on that day, in that moment, the choice was no longer hers to make.

I also believe that our loving Heavenly Father understands the point at which she gave up her agency, and I believe she will be judged only for the decisions she made up to that point. Not to say there aren't consequences; her death is evidence of that. But despite the choices she made, I know she has been received into the spirit world and that the pain she must have suffered on earth which led her to those choices has finally been removed.

Many family members have posted "RIP" on Facebook, and I've thought a lot about those simple three words. "Rest in peace." There are many left behind who will miss her terribly and who will undoubtably need time to heal. But Feather's soul has been delivered to her Heavenly Father, and I truly pray that she may rest in peace at last.

Dreams Explained

2011-05-09T09:58:00.000-06:00

I vaguely remember waking up at midnight last night to tell Kirk that one of my recurring dreams which usually ends badly (with me dying) didn't. I'm not one for omens, but I'll tell you this... it sure felt good to not die.

I can't clearly remember the circumstances of the standard version of the dream, I just know the ending involves me hanging from the rail of one of those roller-coasters where the seats are suspended beneath the track. The overall path of the track resembles Lagoon's Colossus, and I am somehow riding it just by holding on.

Interestingly, this isn't scary to me. But as I ride along the left side of the track, a roller-coaster car comes speeding toward me. It isn't sharing my track, but I can tell its track is coming dangerously close to mine. I switch to the right side of the track, further from the oncoming car. I maneuver my body as effectively as possible to avoid collision. I watch, panic building, as the car quickly approaches. I can tell that despite my efforts, the car will not miss me. I am acutely aware that I am about to die. And I do.

Having had this dream before and knowing so well the ultimate ending, I found myself last night, again suspended from the roller-coaster track. Only this time, I wasn't alone. While I held on to the track with my right arm, I held Dylan tightly against my left side. Before I could even see the oncoming car, my heart began to race.

I consciously knew that this was the part where I normally switched to the right side of the track, trying to give the car more space. But with one arm around Dylan, I couldn't switch sides. And with one arm on the track, I couldn't switch Dylan to the safer side. I felt ill, knowing the way the dream always ends.

I watched. I waited. I was terrified, sick, and tense, and there was nothing I could do to protect my baby. The car came into my sight. Although it was racing toward us, it took forever to finally come within feet of us. I felt my body brace for the worst, and then...

It missed us.

My relief, at least as intense as my fear, woke me up.

I whispered a few unintelligible words to Kirk about how a train that usually kills me didn't this time. When he tried to make order out of my nonsense, I told him to ask me about it in the morning, and I'd probably be able to explain it better.

I suppose I could wonder at what the dream means, and maybe some of you will have ideas. But I think I'll just hug my little red-head a little tighter and thank my Heavenly Father that he is mine.

A New Punchline

2011-05-08T21:58:00.001-06:00

Kirk just connected his iPod to the computer and, after commenting that he listens to the musicals on his iPod a lot, challenged me to guess his most played song. A few musicals ran through my mind, but I couldn't nail it down to a specific song. I copped out and went with his favorite artist, Garth Brooks. While we both doubt the validity of the most played song "Prologue" (Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat), we got a good laugh that the first non-musical or movie-musical song on the list, "The River" (Garth Brooks) didn't appear until #65.

An often quoted joke around here is, "Do you wanna know how I know you're gay?" I know the punchline, "Because you listen to Coldplay," only from hearing Kirk and my bro-in-law Skye deliver it.

Backstage at Oklahoma! performances, I mentioned jokingly to the guys once that my husband is 40% gay. They laughed as I explained that what I really meant was that he's comfortable enough with who he is to be comfortable with everyone else the way they are, and that sometimes that results in funny scenarios in which he ends up kissing my male friends, rubbing the inner thigh of his mission companions, or grabbing the behinds of unsuspecting males who were just going for a standard, three-pats-on-the-back, I'm-not-gay hug.

Well, the new joke - for me at least - may just be, "Do you wanna know how I know you're gay?"

"Because the top 10 most played songs on your iPod playlist are:

1. Prologue - Joseph
2. Agony - Into the Woods
3. Into the Fire - Scarlet Pimpernel
4. I'm All Alone - Monty Python and the Holy Grail
5. Another Pyramid - Aida
6. Sherry - Jersey Boys
7. Freedom's Child - The Civil War
8. Little Bird, Little Bird - Man of LaMancha
9. The I Love Song - 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee
10. There's a Fine, Fine Line - Avenue Q

At least I can take pride in his good taste in musicals!

Mother's Day Bonus

2011-05-07T16:17:00.000-06:00

I'm breaking my own personal one-post-per-day rule, so be sure to scroll down for pics of my Mother's Day Pedicure...

Though not an official Mother's Day gift to me, this video documents a moment I'll always treasure and had to record just in case it never happens again. As I was practicing some choreography for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Adam said, "Mommy, I want to dance with you!" I spend the next 20 minutes teaching him choreography from the show and enjoying every minute. My favorite is when he tries to lift me (and he really thinks he's doing it right). I also love his little arms on the "Cowboy Skip."

Mother's Day Pedicure

2011-05-07T15:09:00.000-06:00

Not to say a real pedicure in a real salon wouldn't have been awesome, but I am more than satisfied by the male nail technicians in my own private backyard salon.

My favorite part was watching them choose from the basket of colors. OCD Adam chose varying hues of pink, all of which were sparkly. Who-ever-knows-what-is-going-on-in-that-head Alex chose brown, pink, blood red, blue, and purple. Adam meticulously painted, using the brush to carefully paint from nail bed to tip, coloring outside of the lines only on the smallest toes. Alex painted in swirls and x's and back-and-forth motions all the while tenderly holding my toes still.

The end result is ten toes each painted a different color, and a pedicure I can proudly wear as evidence of how much my boys love their mommy! No expensive salons for me!

Tired Eyes

2011-05-05T09:06:00.001-06:00

A photograph is a funny thing, capturing a moment and freezing it in time. Great photography captures the moment in an artistic and interesting way, but despite the skill of the photographer, it simply cannot capture what was not there.

Admittedly, I've taken on a little too much lately, and I am looking forward to life slowing down a bit. While I have loved learning and performing Oklahoma! and have actually made some great friends in the cast, I'm excited it will be over after only 6 more performances. I am probably loving Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat even more, but the intense rehearsal schedule and the cross-valley drive to the Draper amphitheater is truly exhausting.

It's no wonder, then, that despite my biggest smiles, the pictures taken recently have betrayed me. I look at myself, and all I see is tired eyes. In the candid, everyday photos, this doesn't bother me one bit. In fact, I like the accurate representation of those moments in which I truly was just tired.

But I am a bit disappointed in myself for not faking it a little better when we recently had our family pictures taken. I was so excited about our clothes and the location (the Ogden Train Depot), and Jami Stensrud of Life in Moments Photography always does such a great job for us. But it was a little cold, and the kids were uncooperative and grouchy, and... well, I can just see it in my eyes.

I always have this idea in my head of the perfect family picture being a picture that looks like we are the perfect family. I guess this time around, I'll just have to be happy with a perfect picture of my imperfect (but boy do I sure love them all) family.

(I am really happy with all these updated headshots, though!)

Steppin' Out with my Baby

2011-04-28T11:14:00.000-06:00

With one brother gone to a zoo field trip, the other dropped off at school, and a wonderfully sunny morning, Dylan and I decided it was the perfect morning for some one-on-one time at the park. Somehow we managed to find the park vacant, a rare occurrence since its completion last fall.

Now that he's walking, Dylan has this newfound sense of independence, and his own little opinions get stronger every day. Sometimes that results in a bit of a tantrum, like when he wanted to turn right but I wanted him to turn left:

He's also bound and determined to be able to do everything the big boys can do:

Including slide down the slides, which sometimes works and sometimes doesn't (in the bark after sliding too quickly):

The Spirit of Easter

2011-04-25T10:54:00.002-06:00

After I posted on Facebook about my new Easter dress, one friend commented that his wife had recently explained to him that wearing a new dress to church is the true meaning of Easter. I am so grateful that even though my dress truly was adorable, {insert ego here} wearing it was not the highlight of my day.

Here are the moments worth remembering.

[BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS]
As part of our ward choir Easter program, I asked the children of the ward choir members to help us out with one song. As nearly 20 primary aged children gathered together on the stage, I was struck with just how dedicated my ward choir is to leave these littles for an hour each week to dedicate their time and talents to bringing the spirit to our meetings. And then they began to sing their little hearts out:

Blest be the tie that binds our hearts in Christian love,
The fellowship of kindred minds is like to to that above.

I'm not generally the outwardly emotional type, but as they started, I immediately choked up. I mouthed their lyrics to them, unable to sing through the spirit I was feeling.

Thanks, kiddos, for bringing the Spirit to my holiday.

[BECAUSE IT'S EASTER TODAY]
Over a breakfast of Apple Spice Pancakes brought by the Easter bunny, we discussed the atonement, Heavenly Father's plan, repentance, and the reasons we celebrate Easter. When we got to primary and were led through an explanation of the 3rd Article of Faith, Alex kept chiming in with, "That's because it's Easter today," whenever they mentioned something like "atonement" or "so we can say sorry." I was so proud to see that he'd understood and remembered what we talked about.

[SUIT UP]
I know I've said it before, but with our lack of little girls around here, I always look forward to Easter suits and ties. This year was no exception. I was a little bugged, though, that the Easter Bunny brought suits the boys still need to grow into, so I spent time Sunday morning hemming the pants.

Alex suggested taking some "rock star" pictures with their new sunglasses, too, and I'm glad he did since those turned out to be some of my favorites.

[TROUBLE WITH BEES]
I made the family head out to the front yard for some Easter clothes pictures, because my cute little redhead is impossible to photograph in indoor lighting. As I was crouched down to take a picture of all the boys, a bee landed on my shoulder. I have what Kirk calls in irrational fear of bees. Rational or not, my fear is very real and nearly debilitating. I froze, trying hard not to set a bad example for the kids, but I was terrified.

"What do I do?" I asked Kirk.

"Just shrug your shoulder," he suggested.

I willed my shoulder to shrug, but I could not make it happen. "I can't!" I said. "At least take a picture of how ridiculous I look," I said as I used the opposite arm to begin passing the camera.

Just then, another bee flew right by my head. I lost it. I jumped up and started running across my lawn, which would have been fine if I was not wearing adorable stilettos. As my heels sunk into the grass with each step, I could feel myself losing my balance but could not right the situation. I fell on my knees in the grass and started laughing.

But the damage was done. Adam was terrified and began several minutes of crying/begging to go inside. I did not get good pictures of the boys with their dad or with me, and we finally just called it.

{I do love this one of me and D, though...}

I finally coaxed Adam back outside to take a few pictures of Kirk and me.

"How many is a few?" he queried.

Normally a pretty good photographer, he cut off heads in most pictures and often did not wait until we were ready. I did get two decent pictures, though, my favorite being the one where I'm smiling because, just before taking the picture, Adam said, "Pickle juice!"

[THIS IS THE BEST EASTER EVER]
On route from Fife grandparents to Casdorph grandparents, Adam explained to me all the reasons why this was the best Easter ever, one of which included getting to see all his grandparents. We talked about how lucky his is to have so much family so close, and it was great to see him so grateful.

{Kids at the annual Easter hunt at G.ma and G.pa Fife's house. Alex and Dylan were in the little kids group, but once Dylan found a sucker, he was happy to sit on the steps and eat.}

{Adam got moved up to the big kids division this year, and he was SO proud!}

I also enjoyed watching him read signs during the drive. He read words like "exit" and "Carmax," which seemed right on level. Then his face scrunched up with concentration, and he announced, "Toyota? Mom, I skwear (someday maybe he'll learn how to pronounce 'swear') I've seen that word before!" I'm betting he recognized the logo, but it was still pretty funny.

[UH OH]
Dylan only says one word: "Uh oh." After discovering he could squeeze the hardboiled eggs until they cracked, he labeled the eggs, "Uh oh." He also spent the morning's egg hunt rearranging Adam's o.c.d. arrangement of eggs. ("Mom I have an 'awesome' row, a 'hair' row, and a 'bald' row.")

[COMIC ALIEN CHASING FLICK]
To end the day, we spent time with my family including Michelle who came down to see my show and hang out for Easter. We played one of our favorite word guessing games, Buzz Word. Often, the inflection of the clue makes a big difference for the guessers, and when my mom read the clue, "comic alien chasing flick," my dad interpreted it as a funny alien chasing someone named Flick. As we laughed about an alien chasing Flick from "A Bugs Life" and threw in a few Flicka jokes, I was grateful to have a family who loves spending time together. And, by the way, the comic {pause} alien chasing {pause} flick was "Men in Black."

[BOYS AND THEIR DADDY]
Oh, and if you've made it all this way, scroll back through all the pics and compare the squinty, smiley eyes of all my boys including Kirk. Like father, like son{s}.