It's Showtime!

"And I like you by jingo!" 

-Jimmy Smith (Thoroughly Modern Millie)

March is the month we closed on and moved into our home. It is also a big show month for the Watson family. The week we moved in was Spencer's big week of performances for Thoroughly Modern Millie.

I get all teary eyed when I think about how close Spencer came to not getting to play the lead part in this thoroughly entertaining musical.

It was work to get Spencer into musical theater. You have to audition to even be in musical theater, and they don't normally allow 7th graders into the class. But a little bird told me that Mrs. Land does make exceptions. So we figured out when they were auditioning and got Spence over to the school. He was on the fence over whether to audition right up until the day of.

It came as little surprise when he made it into musical theater. Boys under 15 who can sing and act are a rarity, and I knew Mrs. Land would scoop him right up.

The class didn't show up on his schedule because, remember, 7th graders aren't allowed in the class. Upon trying to make the change to his schedule, we got to work with one very unhelpful counselor. "Yep sorry, the computer won't let me put him in. I guess you could go talk to an administrator or something." Thank you very much for being so helpful. I can see that our tax dollars are being well spent here as you put forth not even a modicum of effort to help my child pursue something that he really has interest and talent in. Or  have I just been laboring under the delusion that that is part of a school counselor's job?

I then chatted with his actual counselor in the halls. His actual counselor is a gem. She represents all that we parents need and wish for in a school counselor. She earns every penny of her paycheck and probably deserves more. I told her, "You don't understand. This kid has talent!" I'm sure that she gets that from every parent. But no you see, my child really does have talent. Rather than rolling her eyes, patting my head, and sending me on my way, she assured me that she would get approval from both the teacher as well as administration on this issue. She called me the next day, and we began the sticky task of trying to wiggle this class into his less than accommodating schedule. We ended up switching him out of honors math and into a more advanced orchestra but were finally able to get his schedule worked out.

One month later, this 7th grader of mine was cast as the leading guy in Thoroughly Modern Millie. And there he is as Jimmy, kissing Miss Millie at the end of the play. He got razzed pretty good over that one. My only word of advice to counselors is to please listen to parents. They know their kids. Please don't allow the inconvenience of approvals and class switching keep you from going through the effort of helping a kid pursue something he actually has a gift in. For some kids that one class may be the only thing keeping them going to school everyday. It may be the one thing keeping their self  esteem intact. 

This kid, on the other hand, seems to have many talents. One thing is for sure. He thrives on the stage. He never complained about the extensive rehearsals. He ate it up.

And so did we, as we watched him tap-dance, ham it up, and belt it out across that stage.

I was impressed with the caliber of this junior high production. Top notch really.

There he is...Jimmy Smith. 

And there's the fan club.

And the doting parents.

And the thoroughly adorable girl who played his Millie. Don't worry, I'll think of a few more ways to use the word thoroughly before this post is through.

You might ask where Spencer got his costume. From his closet. He bought the blazer at a DI in Vernal last September and wears it to school all the time. The fedora was a Christmas present. He added it to his ever-expanding hat collection. The bow tie, we bought for the play, which he was thrilled about because he's always wanted one. He's thoroughly a kid beyond his era. 

As Thoroughly Modern Millie was finishing up at the junior high, Shrek was just getting started at the high school, which means that we pretty much did not see Jess for the first two weeks of March. While most parents were there to watch their child on the stage, we were there to listen to our child beneath the stage.

Layton High doesn't usually use students for their pit. They usually hire professionals. But Jessica was thrilled to have the privilege of being one of the unpaid musicians in the pit this year.

I played in a pit once in high school. I hated it. The music was weird, always nondescript with an indecent number of flats and sharps. I suppose I was one of those cocky violinists who preferred playing the melody over accompanying a bunch of vocalists.

It is obvious that Jessica is a better musician than I ever was and a less cocky person, because she can't get enough of the whole pit experience.

Unlike the rest of the performers in the play, Jessica knew every actor's line and every lyric to every song, because she literally sat at the feet of every performer for every run-through and every performance. The girl could recite the play in her sleep. She knew it...well...thoroughly, to coin a term used not nearly enough in this post. And now the rest of the children walk around the house singing the songs and reciting the lines as they went and looked up the play on Netflix after seeing it live. If I had a quarter for every time I've heard Spence or Sabrina tromp through the house singing "Story of my life!!!" in their Pinocchio voices.

The play was amazing! I was a little skeptical after Layton High lost the great Mr. Ferrin last year. But the new theater teacher seems to be holding her own as she holds the musicals to Ferrin-like quality.

These two characters were Jessica's very favorite, so I had to grab a picture of them though it was strictly forbidden. That poor guy playing Lord Farquaad was in a costume resembling nothing short of a medieval torture device. He and his father created this costume to maintain his shortness throughout the play. The poor kid did the whole production on his knees. I ache just thinking about it. He and Donkey stole the show according to Jessica, but every actor was phenomenal. I look forward to the day Spencer dances across this stage as a performer.

Teresa volunteers for the school musical every year. Have I mentioned before that she is amazing? She elicited my help for taking photographs of audience members who wanted to pay for "professional" shots with members of the cast. This meant that I got to take a shot of her and Kelcey with the stars of the show, no payment necessary. 

I'm kind of sorry that March is over and that there are no more shows on my calendar. It was a thoroughly enjoyable month, and I am excited for future productions...how excited?...THOROUGHLY EXCITED:)

Playing Catch Up

"February days are a marketing gimmick; love happens every day." -Randeep Hooda

Here is a recap of the rest of February. Mostly pictures with few words today. My absolute caught-upness on my blog is a good reflection of just how put together every other aspect of my life is right now.

I spent a lot of time in my half-finished house, pretending that it was finished. There was a complete lack of furniture, but no matter, I just pulled up a piece of plywood and a good book, and I was perfectly content.

Spencer whipped up a batch of cookies for extra credit in his CTE class. "Cooking is fun, Mom," came from his mouth more than once. If only I had his attitude.

We watch very little sports in this family, but never miss the Olympics, especially the opening ceremonies.

Jessica went to her final Sweetheart's dance at Layton High. No this is not her date, but one of her favorite cousins. Evan can't pass Jess in the hall without yelling, "Hey Cous." In the blink of an eye these two came into the world within weeks of one another and will soon be graduating together. Sigh.

This would be her date. It was a rainy blustery day, but made for some cute photos what with the darling umbrellas and all.

It was very convenient that all three couples seemed to have coordinated their attire for the evening. Teresa made Evan's date's dress. This was after she worked a sewing miracle on Jessica's concerto gown. She's amazing!

Jessica's dress was another vintage gem from our new favorite boutique. 

Friends since 7th grade.

Cute Couple!

   

Another cute couple:)

I don't go to pinterest often, but when I do, I'm the best mom ever! Jonah's Lego Valentines box for school.

This kid got himself nominated for best dressed male in the 7th grade. Not many 7th grade boys sport cardigans and blazers at school on a regular basis. He also got a rose or two from some female admirers at the dance. Seems girls like a boy who knows how to dress.

This is us celebrating Valentines Day in our new home, even though it wasn't really our home yet. We almost set up sleeping bags in the front room and just slept there, but restrained ourselves.

What, you may ask, is that thing sitting on the hearth?

That is Sabrina's Valentines gift. She asked for wood models to help her with her drawing, or to provide chuckles as she and Jessica proceeded to pose them in the most hilarious positions. We were tempted to leave this on the hearth for the sub-contractors the next day, but elected not to since Sabrina really liked her present and didn't want it stolen.

Took the kids to Gabor Brothers for the first time. One of those little holes in the wall that is secretly the best Italian food in Layton. This creepy guy that greets guests out front year round is perhaps as popular as the breadsticks.

We stopped by the house one morning to chat with the backsplash guy, and the painters were over doing touch-up. They happened to be touching up the bench in our mudroom, unbeknownst to Jonah. The hispanic gentleman tried to warn Jonah as he sat down to take off his shoes, "Buddy, buddy, buddy!" I believe were the exact words out of his mouth. Jonah's jeans...yet another casualty of the house building process.

It's tradition to make ourselves sick with scones, sweet rolls, and hot chocolate at Sill's after dental appointments. Good ol' Sills Cafe. Another hole in the wall that is some of the best food in town, at some of the best prices. Which is made apparent by the constant wait at the place no matter what time of day you walk into it. It appears that no one in Layton actually works or goes to school. Including us...obviously.

Neil and I took Jessica up to Utah State for a private lesson with the woman who will be her cello professor. She also stayed to observe the orchestra's rehearsal as well as a master class. Neil and I passed the time by doing a session in the Logan Temple.

We listened to Jessica's enthusiasm over a homemade cream soda at The Bluebird, one of Utah's oldest restaurants. I think it's 100 years old this year. It would seem that we eat out a lot. I like food, particularly the variety that I don't have to cook.

Sabrina and Spencer participated in the region solo and ensemble festival with their quartet. As they walked in to play, their adjudicator happened to be none other than the great Richard Marsden, you know, the one who's supposed to be retired? Anyway, after they played, he asked Sabrina if she was Jessica's sister. Sabrina replied that she was, then Spencer chimed in, "I'm Jessica's brother." And the cellist yelled, "I'm Jessica's student." The 2nd violinist announced, "I'm just the friend." Everyone got a chuckle out of that. Mr. Marsden awarded them with a 1 rating. Their connection with Jess may have helped, but according to Mr. Marsden, he would have given them a 1+ if he could have. He was pretty dazzled with Sabrina's playing. That girl is a passionate player.

As I sat in the commons and waited for my musicians to come out, I thought about how many years I've spent in school lobbies and auditoriums waiting for and watching as my children have auditioned for symphonies and played in festivals and concerts. I suppose it is the same for those parents who spend years and hours on bleachers in school gymnasiums. I feel at home in those school auditoriums and music rooms. I will mourn the day I am no longer sitting on a bench waiting for my musician. If I've done my job well enough, hopefully I'll be back in the audience in no time, applauding my grandchildren.

Bad picture, but good evening as Spencer played a viola solo. He scored a 1-. Not bad for a seventh grader. So proud of my kiddos!

Whining Without the Web

"The Internet is becoming the town square for the global village of tomorrow.-Bill Gates

Ah, it feels good to be sitting in front of my computer again. I know that sounds really bad, but you have to understand that I've been without internet for the last week. We had internet. Pretty fast internet at that. All was hunky-dory here at the Watson house as we googled and streamed to our heart's content, until the morning they carefully lowered the final trusses on the Tower of Babel going up next door to us. In an instant our signal was completely wiped out. We called Digis in a panic. They had a technician out the next day. I listened to the poor guy tromp around on my roof for over an hour in a hail storm and a lightning storm. I was worried about the gentleman's safety but equally worried about my lack of internet and consequent disconnection from the rest of the world. You see, I am one of about 50 people in the world without a smart phone. I know. I know. It's appalling. Let's just say that I eagerly anticipated Neil walking through the door each evening, not for his sweet company, but rather for the small electronic device attached to his belt. 

The technician could not locate a single tower. What?!!! Neil frantically called CenturyLink who had previously promised us a whopping 1.5meg speed internet. Apparently that particular employee was misinformed, because I guess we can have any darn speed we want as long as we're willing to pay for it. But it took a week to get someone out here to finally take care of things.

So while the grandiose structure next door climbed to the heavens, we Watsons sat here in our squatty little house unable to pay bills, check grades, or do our taxes. And for heaven's sake, I had no idea what was going on on Facebook or in blog world. Talk about living in isolation. I suppose I could have picked up the phone and called someone, but does anyone even answer the phone these days? I suppose that I could have gone over and knocked on someone's door if I was in need of human interaction, but that would be weird and awkward.

We live in different times, in a different world really. Gone are the days when you used to sit down at the kitchen table to pay bills, large pile of envelopes, book of stamps, and checkbook in hand. We no longer wait patiently in the dark until our children  hand us their midterm report card. I stood in a line every Monday in elementary school with a check in hand waiting for my turn to hand it to sweet Mrs. Okoobo, who would place the check in her metal money box then mark me as paid in her little ledger. These days, I just get a phone call from a disgruntled child informing me that their lunch account has run dry, at which point I hop on the internet and fill every child's account with lunch money. Please don't ask me if I've considered doing my taxes by hand. I might just have to slap you for uttering such an obscenity. Women don't gather on one another's porches anymore to discuss the joys and woes of motherhood and wifehood. 

I found myself getting all panicked. What if all sorts of people had messaged me on Facebook, and they thought I was rudely ignoring them? I was considering turning to the Pony Express or sending a message via homing pigeon to the outside world. Then I remembered that we have a postal system still in full force. I kind of forget about the postal system, especially now that I don't have a mailbox in front of my house. I used to check the mail once a week. Now I check it...never. 

Never fear. All is right with the Worldwide Web, now that it hums smoothly through my home. I feel connected again. I've already checked the weather and my kids' lunch accounts and Facebook several times. Life can go back to normal. If you need to send me a message, feel free to do so. I'll answer you cheerfully and promptly, but don't knock on my door, I won't answer it. And don't call me. I don't answer my phone. Maybe just text me. Ah, it feels good to be out of isolation.

We're In!

No cute quotes or photos today. Just a little note to say that I'm still here. 

We're in…our house that is. Aside from our home not passing inspection and having to tear into a wall, having to start over on the loan process due to a bad appraisal that came in $50,000 under value, our credit card getting hacked, finding out that Neil's driver's license had been expired for three weeks just days before closing on our loan (good thing he has a passport), moving into the home without a fridge, thus living out of a cooler for four days, make that five days, because for some odd reason the delivery guy couldn't find our house, aside from all of that, everything went off without a hitch. 

So here we are attempting to get settled amongst one of the busiest times of the school year. "Mom, do you know where my…?" is the predominant phrase running through the home these days. The predominant response being, "It's in a box somewhere." Eventually everything will find a home. I've decided that not nearly enough crap went to the dump when we moved out of our last house. If there are boxes that have remained unopened come the end of the summer, they're getting chucked.

We live in a construction zone. Being the first completed home on the street means that we get to run a vehicular gauntlet of large Fords, Chevys, cranes, and cement trucks every day. Nothing allows for more inspirational scripture study than the sensation of your home being shaken off its foundation by the next door tractors and backhoes. I am pulled sweetly out of sleep each morning by the melodic echoes of nail guns and dump trucks. It's a lovely sound. It reminds me that I'm here, in my new house. It reminds me that I no longer linger in that wretched place called limbo. It means I'm home. 

It's chaos, but I'm happy. The home is beautiful. Just right for us. We've already begun breaking it in. You know scratching up the wood floor and staining the granite counter tops. Now it's really starting to feel like my house. I look forward to the memories that will begin to nestle themselves within the fibers of this house. 

Finding Her Voice

"When I started learning the cello, I fell in love with the instrument because it seemed like a voice - my voice." 

-Mstislav Rostropovich

Sorry, it seems that I've been absent from the ol' blog world as of late. I really should still be absent as I have a bunch of weird packing to do. You know that kind of packing where you have stuff strewn about all over Grandpa's house, hidden in strange nooks and crannies, and you have zero desire to go hunting for it? That's why I'm here…avoiding the inevitable. It will eventually makes its way from Grandpa's house to our's, whether neatly packed in a box or sloppily chucked into the back of a van, it matters very little. 

So yet another month has come and gone virtually undocumented. This is my meager attempt to make a brief but thorough accounting of what February entailed for the Watson family. Judging by the plethora of photos I have waiting to download, this may not be as brief a post as I thought. I may need to break it up so as not to bore the poor soul reading this. 

Anyway, the month started with a bang. Jessica had scholarship auditions on Saturday and performed a solo with the Davis Youth Symphony on Tuesday. This mom was a nervous wreck. Jessica suffers very little with nerves. I'm guessing that she slept blissfully most nights that week, while I tossed and turned most nights worrying and praying for her. I just wanted her to be happy with her performance. 

For months I've agonized over finding a gown for this special evening. It needed to be long and flowy for optimum cello playing but elegant rather than a big boofy princess cupcake dress. This is a difficult thing to find in Utah. But the blog world is beautiful. As I read a post from one of my favorite local bloggers, I noticed her daughter's beautiful cotillion dress. It was just the sort of dress I was looking for! I messaged this favorite blogger of mine who referred me to a darling little French boutique in Bountiful. Of course it came from a French boutique! Jessica and I made a bee-line for the shop, and Jessica fell head over heels in love with this vintage gown.

It was perfect! But it was too long, a dilemma Jessica rarely finds herself in, and too big in the bodice. Thanks to a grandmother who was up until 11:00 the night before the concert taking in the bodice, and an aunt who took the day of the concert off to painstakingly cut and hem three layers of delicate fabric, Jessica walked out the door looking absolutely stunning. You know what they say, it takes a village to dress a child for her evening in the spotlight.

Jessica did an amazing job. The Haydn Concerto is no joke. You don't have to be a cellist to sense that this is a technically difficult piece. She played it beautifully! 

I faced the great dilemma every camera happy mother faces when her child gets a once in a lifetime opportunity like this. Do I just sit back and enjoy her performance, or do I snap pictures like the paparazzi that I am? I decided to sit back and enjoy. I took one or two shots during and after the performance, but mostly sat back and basked in the beauty that is Haydn and the beauty that is my grown daughter. 

I met Jess in the bathroom with her accompanist after the solo, and we squealed and giggled and hugged. She was relieved to be done and could now enjoy the rest of the concert. 

She told me she might weep during Jupiter, it's such a gorgeous piece of music. I could see what she meant. I was in heaven during the ebbs and flows of the piece.

We had to get a shot of Jess with her fan club.

I don't know if these lovely people truly understand the magnitude of a strong support system in the nurturing of a child. Parents can't do it alone. A two man fan club will suffice, but a 20 man fan club is always better.

She was showered with flowers, which made me happy. The whole house smelled like a flower shop.

Jessica wouldn't have been on that stage if not for the great Richard Marsden. There he sat backstage, recording the whole performance like he always does. He says he's retired, but we all know better. We are ever grateful for his faux retirement, because it means that he continues to inspire budding musicians like Jessica. His influence has been profound. 

This evening was a crowning event for Jessica, and I was proud to share it with her. I'm thrilled that the cello is the voice she chooses to sing with. It's a magnificent voice. 

Well what do you know, I set off to briefly recount the entire month, and I'm spent after documenting one event. Oh man, my wordiness has won out once again. Well stay tuned. I may apprise you of more tomorrow, unless I find myself highly motivated and end up doing something crazy like pack a box or something. 

Don't Drop the Ball, Don't Drop the Ball, Don't Drop the Ball!

"No one is ever quite ready; everyone is always caught off guard. Parenthood chooses you. And you open your eyes, look at what you've got, say "Oh, my gosh," and recognize that of all the balls there ever were, this is the one you should not drop. It's not a question of choice." 

-Marisa de los Santos

All of the kids need lunch money in their accounts. Jessica has an F in her meteorology class which is actually an oceanography class, which doesn't really matter, because she has an F in it. Senioritis? Quite possibly. Jonah didn't get his homework done last night because I was too busy enjoying Shaun White's new haircut and crying over him not getting the gold medal. Spencer has play practice basically every night between now and the middle of March. I'm supposed to sign up to bring treats to one of these practices but can't quite get myself to put my name on one of those calendar squares. Oh, and I'm supposed to go out and buy him a bow-tie for said play.

I need to get onto Amazon and order Saint-Saen's Concerto No. 1 for Jessica. I also need to get a check to her sweet accompanist. Jonah has exactly one month to get his Arrow of Light. Where is that scout book? Last night Jonah asked me if I had purchased Valentines for him to hand out to his class on Friday. My response…"What are we talking about?" Apparently he has to decorate his own shoebox for the Valentine exchange as well. Can I please be done with elementary school now? All of this talk of Valentines brings out the question, "Hey Mom, did you buy us a Valentine gift this year?" To which I respond, "Um, you bet. I'm sure there's some unopened Amazon boxes around here somewhere bearing some sort of holiday surprise. I just need to hunt them down and maybe examine the contents." Insert nervous giggle.

Sabrina just informed me that she is out of any and all deodorant, at home and in her gym locker. I guess she's been rubbing her pits with an empty deodorant container to the point that there is little remaining underarm skin to speak of. You'd think that I would have picked up the deodorant while I was rummaging through the pathetic remnants of what was once a Valentine section at the grocery store, but you would be wrong. You see, I prefer to make multiple trips to the store in a day. 

Jonah's maturation program is today. Oh bother. Can I please be done ruining my children's innocence with stories of hair growing in weird places and birds and bees and other such nonsense? The kid just wants to play Legos. Let him play Legos. Jonah has been laboring under the delusion that the maturation program is a field trip. His older siblings keep reminding him gravely that no, it is not a field trip. 

Good news. We should be ready to close on our house in less than two weeks. Wait. That will be in the middle of Spencer's week of school play performances. And Jessica will be playing in the pit every night for the high school musical that week as well. I think there's some big orientation at the university that week too. At this rate, we may be moved in by the end of June.

I need to get over to the boys prospective new schools and get them registered. I think we have dentist appointments next week. Jonah is supposed to be memorizing his new pieces for a piano festival in a month. Excuse me while I stare blankly into space for a minute. There. I'm back now…but not really.

I'm sitting here in Teresa's old pink bedroom. I'm surrounded by boxes and school papers and tax documents without homes. I think we're locked into an interest rate. I think we've ordered blinds. I think I know where all of the kids are supposed to be tonight. I think I need a warm tub followed by a cold Dr. Pepper. I think someone was crazy when she thought it would be a good idea to move this family in the middle of the school year.

Braving the Canyon for a Scholarship and Some Aggie Ice Cream

"Young people can learn from my example that something can come from nothing. What I have become is the result of my hard efforts." -Joseph Haydn

I suppose that we could call the last five days the pinnacle of Jessica's young musical life. When I started this little eight year old in piano lessons nearly ten years ago, my only aspirations were that she would one day be able to play the hymns. I guess I was never one of those "One day my child will be a proficient!" kind of parents. In fact, I wasn't even hopeful that my kids would gain a great love of music. I suppose I was shooting for mediocrity when it came to raising these kiddos. Which is why this whole week seemed a little surreal to me. I never imagined having a child with enough skill to even be considered for a music scholarship. Sometimes our children break free from the stifling paths of mediocrity that we set for them and fly off into the horizon with their own dreams and aspirations as their guide. If we're lucky enough, they'll drag us parents along for the ride.

Jessica drug us along for the ride up to Logan for her scholarship auditions on Saturday. Her appointment was scheduled for 10:40, and we were encouraged to get there 45 minutes early. I felt like we could leave at 9:00 and be just fine, but Neil insisted we leave at 8:30. That sounded like an awful lot of sitting around to me, but whatever. 

This is Jessica's accompanist. This is the extremely talented woman that the Lord somehow guided from Las Vegas to a home in our ward just a few months before we left it. Speaking of proficients…she plays the violin as well as she plays the piano. In fact, she majored in violin performance and was an invaluable help to Jessica as she counseled her on what the professors may be looking for in a potential music student. We are so grateful to her for setting aside a Saturday to trek up to Logan with us to accompany Jessica.

Stacie followed behind us in her van. As usual, Neil was the inspired one this particular Saturday morning. Somehow none of us got the memo that there would be snow on Saturday morning. In fact, we didn't get the memo until about Roy, at which point we began sliding all over the freeway. I had just called Leslie to get instructions on where the performance building was, because of course our internet was down at 8:00 Saturday morning, and all she got on her end was the screams of a stark-raving lunatic on the other end of the phone. She might have heard an occasional, "Save the cello!" amongst the screams, but I'm not sure. It was touch and go for awhile, but then things kind of cleared up, and we thought we would be ok…until they forced us off the freeway in Perry. What?!!!!

It was at this point that Stacie called us and asked in the kindest of terms, "Where the heck are we?" To which we replied, "I have no idea!" We were heading to Utah State via the old highway. Lovely. The roads on the old highway were covered in snow. We had to take it pretty slow. I was starting to watch the clock with a little trepidation, but we had left in plenty of time. We would still make it on time…then we entered the canyon. It was a white-out! You've got to be kidding me!!!!!

Thankfully Neil was the one driving. We inched along the freeway at about 20 miles per hour, white-knuckled, saying very little. Every once in awhile, Neil would call sweet Stacie, who has spent her whole life in Las Vegas and is experiencing for the first time what we lovingly refer to as "Those Wretched Utah Winters". He would remind her that she might want to shift down so as not to have to push on her brakes as much, since braking could send her sliding all over the freeway. I'm sure this left her feeling all safe and assured inside. We watched as the clock moved closer to Jessica's audition time at an alarming rate. One thing was for sure. We would not be arriving 45 minutes early.

We did make it out of the canyon and into Logan, which was experiencing not so much as a snowflake. Thanks to Leslie's instructions, we found the building no problem. Well ok, there was a tiny problem. We missed the turn originally. Upon stumbling across the Logan cemetery, we clued in that we may no longer be on the Utah State campus, turned around, then found the building no problem.

And what do you know, the three auditions before Jessica had not arrived yet, due to closed down freeways and horrific road conditions in the canyon. Go figure. Perhaps if they had left at an excessively early time like we had, they would have been on time.

Jessica did have enough time to warm-up. We watched from a tiny window in the door backstage as she walked onto that large and foreboding stage and played for an empty auditorium save the four intimidating individuals perched on the front row. She played her Haydn concerto, a Bach cello suite, and an etude. She played beautifully! And then it was over. Six years of painstaking practice, all for ten minutes on the stage, followed by a brief applause and an assurance that she'll get a letter in two weeks.

Poor Jessica had been battling a brutal cold for two days. She walked out of the audition ready to collapse, but not before a photo in front of this gorgeous wall and some infamous Aggie ice cream.

Who knows whether Jessica is scholarship material. I don't know how many prodigies she may be competing against. She's not a prodigy, just a girl fiercely loyal to her instrument and to her music, a girl who got where she is from hard effort. What I do know is that she has exceeded any hopes and dreams I had for her at this age. Whether Utah State is willing to throw her any money or not, Jessica will probably be wearing this t-shirt in just a few short months. Yep, I can see her frequenting this little ice cream shop after a long day in the practice rooms, cello in hand, concertos running through her head. This mama blinks slowly and sighs deeply at the thought.

By the way, we made it home safe and sound. We bypassed the canyon and took the long way home. Aside from an unexpected stop sign in Fielding that almost brought the front of Stacie's van into the back of ours, with the cello smashed in between, we drove home without incident. Jessica got home, did not pass go, did not collect two hundred dollars, just went right to bed. Haydn and a head-cold will do that to you.