What a year it has been!

I stumbled upon a quote yesterday that accurately describes how I feel right now:

The days are long, but the years are short.

I think this should be my theme for 2012.

Why not?

I think I might bake a cake today.

That way, I can have my cake, and eat it, too.

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I haven't done a show in two years. The last couple of experiences I had really drained my love for performing (and directing!), and so I decided to take some time off. That little bit of time turned into two years. But now, I am music directing "All Shook Up" for Midvale City and I have to say, "I LOVE IT!!!" I love my cast, I love my production team, I love the music, I love the show...I am in love with this experience! Burnin' Love! It runs July 15 - 22, and if you want to see whats got me snapping my fingers and stomping my feet you should come.

All Shook Up
July 15 -22 7:00 p.m.
Midvale City Park

Biting My Tongue (sort of)

I am very picky about my music. It may look unorganized, but everything has it's place. I've got it divided into piles according to voice part and style. The frequently used books are on the top, less frequently used gravitate towards the bottom. Rarely used music is in a separate place. This system has become a necessity ever since my large, beautiful shelf with all the cubby holes went into storage.

Last night there was an open house of sorts for my father-in-laws birthday. (Happy Birthday!) When I came up this morning, my music was a mess!

My nicely organized and neat piles were askew. The bass music was with the classical books. The tenor books were stacked with the soprano books. Several books were temporarily MIA, including my beloved mezzo books.

Why do people assume that just because it's there they can mess with it? And why do they assume that because it's in piles it doesn't matter where they put it back?

There is a Reason

Last night two members of the Relief Society Presidency came over to visit my mother in law and give her a handout from the visiting teaching luncheon she missed on Saturday. Well, I suppose they came to visit her and happened to have a handout to give me, too.

They come in and one of them said, "Oh look! Stacy's here, too!"

I said, "Who?"

Apparently, she thought my name was Stacy.

I've lived in this ward for 8 1/2 months, and members of the RS Presidency don't know my name. Is it any wonder I feel like I don't belong here? Is it any wonder that I'm incredibly anxious to move?

GOE

Grade of Execution. It matters. It really does. And it begs the question: when it comes to life, what is my grade of execution?

Do I do what I'm supposed to, my required elements, uprightly and fervently? Or do I throw them out there, sticking the landing, but rather leaning my way into it? Do I practice and plan so that I can give the best of myself, or do I rely on sheer talent and luck to pull me through?

I think I need to work more on my grade of execution. Because as I saw last night, it can make all the difference.

Happiness is...Road Construction?

As I was driving down Redwood Road this morning I was unsurprised to see the orange flags, barricades and signs to prevalent in Utah during the spring and summer. What did surprise me was how happy that made me feel. Why would indications of slow traffic and major delays make me happy?

David is a chemical analyst. (I love saying that, people generally don't know how to respond.) And as part of his new job (I love saying that, too!) he does a lot of work with the DMV. In other words, when road construction starts, he gets flooded with new samples to analyze.

Things in my life seem to be working themselves out pretty well right now. After months of waiting, we're going to be looking at houses starting tomorrow *YEA!!!!* and are hoping to find the right one for our family very soon. David has a job that he doesn't dread going to. I have voice students that I love. The kids are doing well at school, and have survived living in Grandma's basement. My children are donating money to our house. We are pulling together as a family to make our lives better. And road construction reminds me of that.

When you're on the roads this spring and frustrated with the signs of orange everywhere, remember that road construction means a better life. It means work. It means happiness. It means hope.