Go For It

Jacob wants to attend a summer program for dance. If you're serious about your dance, this appears to be someone non-negotiable. Okay. We can do that.

Turns out, audition season starts right-the-immediate-hell-after-New-Years. Or, more importantly, hot on the heels of Nutcracker season. So that's like surviving a typhoon only to head straight into tornado country. It's probably not that bad once you already know the rhythm, but if you're new, it's exhausting, confusing, a little stressful, and rather expensive.

Learning about this process is like trying to get a straight answer out of Lindsay Bluth. I don't know how they know these things, or where they learned about them. Other people do seem to know where they want to go; we only know that there are places to go. We've researched and read, we've checked FAQs and found ballet blogs and websites. It's all still clear as mud.

"Where does Jacob want to go?"

"Somewhere that'll take him ... You know, I'm glad you asked. Which programs are good?"

"It depends on the child."

"Uh ... It's Jacob. You've met him. Where would you recommend?"

"It depends on what he wants."

"Okay, he would love to find X,Y,Z."

"It really depends on the program."

"Okay, we'd like A, B, C."

"It'll really depend on the instructor."

Huh? I've put in nearly 100 hours researching this, and I am no closer to having a clue what I'm doing now than I was in December.

Also, I realize it's terribly gauche to talk about money, but I'll be honest, if I had a spare $4K-$9K lying around, we'd be doing something Very Different at the moment than working every spare minute, driving on bald tires. So, in my world, that's a thing. And it's a thing that really must be discussed before commitments can be made. (We found several places that will allow students to apply for scholarships after they've auditioned, been accepted, committed to attending the program, and paid a $500 non-refundable deposit. Clearly, those are not schools that would be a good fit for us. So, I guess I have learned at least something so far.)

He's only been dancing for a year, so he's not highly competitive. We get that. However, you don't get any better if you don't push yourself and try. At least, that seems to be his approach. Bless him. So, there were two auditions this weekend in Atlanta. But I worked all day Saturday, Z is in New Mexico, and the Volvo is still on lockdown because it can't be trusted not to kill people. That leaves one vehicle, which really needed to be with John, at home, in case the Littles blew something up or jumped off the roof, or ... I don't know. I mean, they're actually the least likely to ever do anything dangerous, but I'd rather they have guidance and a ride to the ER on hand and never need it than for them to need it and not have it. So. There we were. A willing and eager student and no way to get to Atlanta.

I ran through the moms-of-boys at the school, and nobody I had contact information for was going. (Which, really, ought to have been a clue that this was going to be a gnarly couple of auditions, but have I mentioned we're new here?) So I started poking the few moms-of-girls I have contact info for. A dear, sweet friend offered him a place to stay in Atlanta and a ride to auditions (or we could have even Ubered), so he only needed to get TO Atlanta. Again, nobody was going.

Then I found one. She and her daughter were leaving that day, right after lunch. Could he make it in time?

Yes, yes he could. (NOW we're in familiar territory! If I know how to make something happen, I can make it happen in record time. That's one of my gifts. Thank you, Lord!) We made a mad dash around town to get his photos printed, snag fresh t-shirts, and switch out a pair of tights. (I'd bought him a replacement pair last week, thinking I was so on the ball -- but no, Body Wrappers tights are sized VERY differently than Capezio. So differently. That was awkward.) Pointe Dancewear, in Madison, however, is the most magnificent place to get dance gear. I am very thankful for them.

Home to pack, and they were off.

He did it. I don't know how he did. I plied him with questions (like I do) and he refused to talk about it until he's eaten and slept (like he does). All he was willing to say was, "Turns out those are the two hardest programs out there." Oh. Oops. I'll probably hear more this week.

Regardless of what the schools thought of him, though, he now has two auditions under his belt. He's not completely new at this. He knows a little better what to expect. He knows what he can do. He knows what they want. He has some better ideas, now, and that's so good.

So now we know a little more than we did before. See? We're learning!

Be encouraged!

~ Dy

I Had A Plan

It was a good plan, too. James brought the Volvo over Thursday. I was going to take it for the other two new tires, a general check up, and a run through the car wash.

Then I started it up.

I didn't even know it had a light that says that! 😱

So, that's a big, fat Nope. I got out of the car and gave thanks that he was home, because that car wasn't going anywhere like that.

A friend came last night and helped him troubleshoot it. The part will be in Monday. Nobody died. Hallelujah!

We figured in the meantime, he could bike, but it turns out he needs a new bike tire, too. 😕 At least that's a quick fix and I can pick up a new tube on the way home from work in the morning.

So, the new plan is to just keep replacing things that are broken until we eventually get all caught up. That, too, is a good plan.

Be encouraged!

~ Dy

A Weird Week of Provision and Panic

James called Sunday morning to say he'd be late for church. He'd blown a tire about a mile away. He was fine, which was all I cared about. The rest, we can handle. (We're all vaguely surprised those tires haven't all imploded before now. I knew they were bad, but I'll admit that I haven't paid attention to the vehicle maintenance. This is the first time I've even looked at our tires outside of the one crazy tire on the Highlander that we had to replace earlier in the month.) Blessedly, we've been budgeting, and I've been able to work, so it wasn't a problem to say we could get a new tire. I had an inkling there was no spare (there wasn't - oy!) so I slipped out of church to pick him up and just go get a new tire. When I arrived it was obvious the rim was also shot. Okay, we've got this, right?

So, this week, I learned that you can't just go to Walmart, or even National Tire & Battery, and buy a wheel on the spot. I could have sworn that I'd seen rims for sale in stores before ... But the world has moved on. This is going to be one of my Old Lady Stories. "When I was a child ..." (*waves cane*) Also, it's a '92, so that meant we had to find a junk yard that was open on Sundays and would have a car we could cannibalize. We found one that's open, but they didn't have a single Volvo on the lot. So, we went back, gathered his things, and he left a note (which I didn't see until Tuesday, when we were able to get back to it). Since it's a crappy car parked in a swanky greenbelt parking lot, this was probably a wise course of action:

We spent Sunday evening looking online for wheels at junk yards. The boys thought it would be kind of awesome to buy one really swanky gold colored alloy wheel, preferably with a spinning component. They thought it would be a delightful bit of absurdity against the stock Volvo caps, the missing trim piece on one door, and the mismatched door handle on another. While I appreciate their sense of aesthetics (and humor), I wasn't going to steal grocery money for lolz. I found one in Birmingham (just a plain Jane, stock steel wheel), and confirmed that they still had it.

(As a side note, if you're looking for a market that needs either data entry skills or could use some kind of useful software, junk yard inventories are notoriously out of sync with what's in the yard. So, if you have a superpower and are looking for a place to use it, give that some thought. You could make millions.)

We kicked Jacob off early at ballet, then realized we still wouldn't make it before they closed, so I called to let them know that I wouldn't be able to make it before they closed for the day and I'd just come in the morning. The guy very graciously said to come on down. He said he'd be there whenever I got there, that it wasn't a problem, wasn't an imposition, just come on down. No, really, he'd wait for us. Okay, then. The Littles and I drove down.

87 miles.

He wasn't there. Nobody was there. Nobody answered the phone. I even tried the lock on the gate. And I laid on the horn.

We took a deep breath, then turned around and drove back. It was an awesome (if somewhat forced) exercise in living out every stupid thing I tell the children -- about extending grace, about looking for the positive, about trusting in God's provision, about how we can choose to make a situation better or worse by how we respond to it. But we did it, and we had a really lovely ride down and back.

The next morning, we did this whole Cirque du Soleil level choreography that involved me leaving at 6:30 in the morning to drive 174 miles round trip, get tires mounted and balanced, and get to the Volvo, while the boys spent the morning switching cars and making a dozen relays with John's car so that everyone could get where they needed to be. I went ahead and got two wheels while I was down there so that he'll have a spare in the future, and we hopefully don't have to make that drive again soon. The kids grabbed clothes for me (we had tickets to see a play that day at noon), James picked up everyone from their respective activities, and we all converged on the parking lot where the Volvo sat, looking sketchy and abandoned.

The boys put the two new tires on. The back end is now raised visibly, and it looks like a custom lift job on a crappy car. It's kind of hilarious, if you can get past the mortification aspect. James saw the new tires in the back of the Highlander and was convinced I'd bought the wrong size. "These will never fit on the Volvo!"

No, Love, it's the same size tire, this is just what it looks like with tread. Jacob asked how that happens (which is a completely sane question). "Well, this is 130K miles on 60K-mile tires. Don't do this. Do better than your father and I do, okay? That's the goal."

Of course, that's kind of the goal of everything. Do better than we do. Be more diligent than we were. Be more engaged that we were. Extend grace more readily than we did. Walk more closely with God than we did. And maintain your cars better than we do. Of course, we don't just stick that out there and leave them to their own devices. They have support, resources, and encouragement. And they're doing it.

I told them all that because of who they are -- their willingness to step into the gap and help out, the fact that they can be trusted to look out for each other, the way they are willing to learn and to engage, they took what could have been a total nightmare situation and turned it into nothing more than a mild inconvenience that was easily surmountable. That's alchemy, right there. They wouldn't high five me in the parking lot, but that totally would have been appropriate.

And so, tomorrow, two more new tires (I'm terrified the front two are going to blow just from the added pressure of having the bigger ones on the back.) Thankfully, the weather is nice, James can bike to work and to school. We can give him a lift if he needs one. So, all is well, and we are slowly attending to all the things that clearly need it, one harrowing (yet encouraging) thing on the list at a time.

Sometimes, when things are overwhelming, they can also be encouraging. And that's a good thing.

Be encouraged! (And check your tires!)

~ Dy

Oh! Oh, my!

There are times that I half-jokingly say that I'm really not qualified for this job. Then there are times that I am just humbled and awed that anybody ever leaves me in charge of anything, and I mean it wholeheartedly. I really thought I'd know more by now.

But something I realized -- fully realized, in my heart of hearts -- this week, is that it truly is enough to do what's been set before you. Do it well. Do it diligently. Let the rest sort itself out. I have a wonderful ability to see the overarching themes of things, to see the whole picture, and that's great. It lets me grasp new ideas quickly. It lets me bring an idea to fruition in a moment. It can be a lot of fun. But it also means that when things are wonky or askew, I see all the things that are wrong, and I want to fixthemallrightnow. I can't. But that doesn't stop me from trying to.

The thing is, though, I expend so much energy in trying to find that one, brilliant maneuver that will do it all (fix it all, finance it all, repair it all, build it all) in one fell swoop that I tend to forget to do what's right in front of me. I see it. I recognize that it's good. But it doesn't seem like ENOUGH. I feel compelled to find that magic bullet, that extra hour in the day, that superhuman strength to lift not just a car, but an entire train. In my efforts to find this elusive big gun, I end up neglecting the things that are legitimately within my scope of influence.

I also end up diminishing my understanding of just how powerful one word, one task, one job can be.

It seems silly when I put it like that, doesn't it? And yet, if we were to meander back through the years, we'd see time after time that I got hit by stress paralysis, fretting about things that were outside my purview, yet letting the things within my purview fall through the cracks.

This isn't new information. I haven't stumbled upon some hidden brilliance. Mother Theresa got it. Ghandi got it. The Bible is absolutely full of advice right along those lines. The painful irony is that I've even spent the better part of two decades telling the children about this. Do what you know to do, and ask for help with the rest. You can only control your own actions, so do your best with what you have to do right now. You don't have to fix everything, but you do need to take care of your own things. Gosh. It goes on. It's embarrassing, really. I should know better.

But I am learning, so that's good. And it's working, which is also good. When you tend to what's in front of you, and do it diligently, you free up the rest of the world to get on with what it needs to do. You have the bandwidth to see how things move together, and to see how the interconnectedness of everything is at play.

And you can know that it will be okay. You may not know how. You may not know when. But you can trust that it will be.

Be encouraged!

~ Dy

The Birthday Outing

So, it was 11 degrees on Em's birthday. Not inside, obviously, (thankfully) but just knowing it's that cold has an impact. We didn't even get dressed until noon. So, the manicure and the lunch with the boys will have to wait.

BUT, we did go out that day, and we fed her little heart.

First, we went to Anthropologie. I don't shop there. Mainly, because I have very little money. And I have to explain what I've done with it, which would be very hard to do if I spent the entire grocery budget on a throw pillow and a new coffee mug. However, I knew that it would satisfy an aspect of her heart to just BE in that environment. To see things that were designed with an aesthetic that she appreciates. To touch fabrics you don't find at Target or Kohl's, and to peer into designs that are inspired by something bigger than things close to home. To be inspired by what can be done when you have a vision.

We were there for an hour and a half, folks. An hour and a half in a tiny store, and she was not bored for a second. She was awed, and she was thrilled, and she was just quietly enthralled. I followed her around, letting her explain everything to me.

"Mom, feel this bead pattern, now feel this one. See how they feel different?" (For the record, no. My hands are calloused and I hadn't thawed out from the walk to the store yet. But I listened, and smiled, because she was showing me how she experiences the world.)

"Oh, look how they get different results with different knots. Also, they used knots. That's brilliant."

"Ohhhhh, squeeze this. Just grab it in your hands. Isn't that fantastic?"

"We need to find out where you can get this fabric and make one of these."

"Did you touch that plate? You should. It's amazing."

She comes to a dead stop. "Sniff, right here. Do you smell that? What is that?" So we sniffed around and couldn't find the source. We asked an employee to help us find it. She couldn't, either. We have no idea what we were smelling, but it was Stop You In Your Tracks lovely.

Then, we headed to Justice, where she got what I can only describe as her Tween Uniform.

It's adorable. Blessedly, they have a lot of decent, cute stuff this year. It's not an Anthropologie wardrobe, but it works. The ladies who work there were so kind and fun. They made the visit enjoyable. She got a water bottle that the boys won't steal and lose. She got some leggings and some t-shirts. We laughed and poked around. It was a very different vibe, but just as fun.

And now, she is 12. Gosh.

I haven't said it in a while, because (obviously) they aren't babies anymore, but still ...

Kiss those babies!

~ Dy

And in other news ...

I want to share cute selfies, but they don't exist in my world. My lazy eyelid is getting lazier by the minute (I swear it tried to sneak a bon bon and watch soap operas the other day), and if this keeps up, I'm going to be a walking Picasso piece in about five years. However, ignore that, and I love the picture for several reasons, and those are worth sharing. One, that shirt. I love that shirt.

When the whole cancer thing came up, I had the best cadre of friends to lend support. Some of them were gentle and sincere and somber. These are the people who remind you not to say s**** it and go out in a blaze of tequila-infused glory, but to stay the steady course. God, in His infinite wisdom, gave me several of those. Good call, Lord. I am so thankful for them. Some of them listened. Some of them helped. Some of them sent me inappropriate memes and jokes (both because laughter is the best medicine, and because my tribe is mainly comprised of those who survive through macabre humor), and got me a theme song and a t-shirt! If you need a theme song and don't have one (and you aren't too concerned about having an appropriate theme song, or are, perhaps, just a sucker for Hugh Laurie doing accents), may I suggest this one, by the incomparable Fry and Laurie. Make someone a shirt. It's unique and wonderful and totally worth taking the time to do. The shirt says on the front, "I'm singin' the song, Orrin!" and on the back, it says, "Kickin' Ass". Pick the sayings or phrases that mean something to the person you're supporting. They'll appreciate it for ages. I can't wear this shirt and not smile. Or feel like a big, goofy badass. Truly. It's too big for me now (hallelujah!) but I'm keeping it.

Two, hair. My hair is growing back, and even though my diffuser suffered a mysterious and violent heat-related death a couple weeks ago (so I'm so frizzy most days) (also, it's not that mysterious - I suspect children), I am still thankful to have hair again. I loved having it short -- it gave me a sense of my own strength and reminded me that we're not our outward decorations -- both good lessons. But the regrowing process is also healing and cathartic.

Three, that is a body that is still cancer free. I'm on the books as two years clear, now (which I don't totally get, because it wasn't until my Spring '16 scan that everything was gone-gone, but whatever, I'll take it). The only labs that aren't gorgeous are the ones the Rituxan knocked askew, and Dr. M says those take YEARS (yes, you can hear him speak in all caps when he says it) to recover.

I've still got a monster kidney stone (unrelated, but it goes on the to do list), and I've still got to get the port removed. Probably ought to get on that last bit before I decide to just do it, myself. (I kid. Z, if you're reading this, I'm kidding! Honest!)

And so, that's a load off. There's always increasing static in your head as you near a scan date. It just ramps up, and up, until you think of running to Mexico, or Portugal, or India to see if you can get away from it. But you can't, and so you don't. The only way through the noise is through the process. But good heck, that waiting time is so tense. I'm glad it's over for a while, and anxious to put all that mental wiggle room back to wandering around in circles trying to remember what I was doing.

Be encouraged!

~ Dy

Birthday Ideas

I've accidentally published this post twice without meaning to because the pads of my hands keep bumping the little track pad on my laptop, tabbing me all over the place, one spot of which seems to be the Publish button. I need a little pad protector to put on it so that I can type without having to worry about my fat hands engaging that pad. (James would say I need to install Linux, which has a two-second delay before the thing activates, or something like that. I am almost there ...)

Anyway, with Em's birthday coming up, I started pestering her for ideas back in August. Because that's how you have to do with the gentle thinkers. You can't just hit them up at Costco the day of and say, "What do you want to do today? Sky's the limit!" They freeze, and you end up buying them an .89 bladder buster and a 30-roll pack of paper towels. I learned this the hard way.

After much mulling and thinking (seriously - it was January before she got back to me on most of this), she decided she'd like to get her ears pierced, get a manicure (she's hoping this will help her not bite her nails), go to lunch with the boys, and redo her room.

So, we started putting a plan in action. She got her ears pierced this weekend.

I've no clue on the manicure, and haven't had the bandwidth to track that down, but I'll do that today. Lunch with the boys will be at the 88. That's where they eat. It's what they do. It's their thing. It's also the only place in town you can get spicy squid, which is Very Important to Jase. (And? All this time, I had no idea they had a website. That's so cool!)

Her room is functional, but it's a mash-up of Stuff Her Brothers Didn't Want, Stuff She's Duct Taped or Sewn, and then things that usually began with, "Oh, crap, you probably need sheets (shelves, hangers, etc.), don't you?" So, it's functional, but other than the constant craft debris littering the floor, you'd never guess anyone lived there on purpose. She wanted to fix that.

She's been going through it, fixing up what she can with what we had on hand (this isn't as sad as it sounds - we have a lot on hand) and making a list of what she'll need. She's been making little changes, such as snagging a mint green sheet from the linen closet to go with her pink bedding, hanging lights above the window shades, adding pastels here and there, hanging drawings on the walls.

She asked if we can paint her bookshelf white with pink, yellow and blue distressed spots. (I said yes before I realized we were actually going to have Winter this year. We have to paint in the garage or outside, so she may be able to do that for Easter. Or Memorial Day. It's not happening on her actual birthday, though.)

Last week, she asked if she could "do something about that sad brown lamp shade". Of course. Good thing she'd asked for "virtually unlimited duct tape" and "gel pens of my very own" for Christmas! It's the gift that keeps on giving.

I only recently realized that what she really asked for for her birthday was to be left alone to craft. LOL! Clever girl. So that's what we shall do for her birthday - give her glue and stay out of the way. It's how she knows she's loved.

Be encouraged!
~ Dy

You Beautiful People!

This week has been so encouraging.

A friend is applying for a position that would be practically perfect - both for her, and for the organization. I'm so excited and hopeful for her!

The boys have gushed and gushed about their classes and instructors. I'm so appreciative that they talk to me.

One of the boys has demonstrated that he can, in fact, get his shizzle done when a ride is on the line. I'm, um, so glad he can catch on!

A friend has been on fire lately with thoughtful things and being her typical loving, encouraging self.

People all over the place are helping each other out, sharing what they have, doing good things to skew their worlds for the better. That's very encouraging.

Z is making plow discs in his spare time. I love that he's using his creative energies!

We got snow! It was a lame snow, but it was snow. Didn't stick and the roads are clear, so that's like getting a double bonus of appreciation.

What's been encouraging in your world this week?

Be encouraged (or encouraging)!

~ Dy

The nice thing about getting old ...

... Is that I can finally get my test results same day as the test. Until then, however, I have to wait a week to hear how it went. Nothing big, just the routine PET scan. If this one's clear, I don't have to go back for two years! If it's not clear, I'll have to take a deep breath and just try again. Either way, we won't know until next week.

Fortunately, the rest of the day was busy enough that I didn't have time to dwell on it.

My favorite part of the day, though, was coming home to find James and Jacob playing Mario Kart together, absolutely howling with laughter. What a fantastic greeting!

It's super late, now, and I'm exhausted-but-wired.

I think I'll take a book and see if I can fall asleep in the middle of a sentence. It's my favorite way to wrap up a day!

Be encouraged!

~ Dy

Self Care Through the Ages

I kind of miss childhood, when you could go for a week accumulating the dirt and grime of childhood adventures and still go out in public. (This might be why I enjoy backpacking so much.) Believing with all the faith in the world that playing in the creek totally counted as having bathed, and since your friends were just upstream, catching crawdads, they didn't mind. Or notice.

Mmm. Gross. But yeah.

Still, there you have it. Childhood. Adults were tasked with pointing out when it was time for a bath, and that was fine. That was plenty. You ate what someone else prepared. You didn't really have to think about self care much, if at all.

There are other seasons in life that are reflected in various self-care routines:
Adolescence - the first time your body just up and starts doing weird things on its own, and the frantic scramble to get a grip on that before everything mutates beyond recognition.

Young Adulthood - general awareness that nutrition ought to be a thing, but there's booze. And resilience. So a lot of self care at this point goes into recovery, looking good, and sucking it up.

Marriage - sometimes this is a good stage - there's not only bathing, but some thought goes into meals and routines. It's like having a clue. I know I didn't have a strong clue, and I wasn't good at most of it, but at least there was an attempt.

New Motherhood, Mother-of-Toddlers - these last two being very distinct stages identified mainly by the type of food that's stuck to your shirt and speed with which loud sounds will snap you out of a dead sleep. That was a crazy time. A friend is watching a little one this week and she posted from the bathroom, where she was trying pee in peace. It was hilarious and precious, but I got tired just remembering those days. I let my kids stay up late and eat candy as a thank you for not still being two years old. Because dang. It's a miracle everyone got through that without too many scars or staph or who knows what.

Then there's your 30's. Possibly the first time many of us can take a breath and really think about how we care for ourselves since we last got a grip on the acne and hormones of adolescence ... also the first time we're horrified to realize acne is still a thing past adolescence ... But at this point, you're aware that you need to nourish your body, your soul, your mind. There's a lot to do to really take care of one's self. But it's doable. It's pretty cool.

You'd think by the 40's and 50's, we'd have a routine down pat and not have anything left to figure out. But, no. The body, she is a'changing, and will continue to just up and do weird things on its own. So our care often needs to change with it. But how much do we really think about it?

If you're like me, perhaps you think about it, make a kick butt list of Things You Can Do to Improve Your Situation, and then make another cup of coffee and go back to work doing Something Else, entirely. I've got a great list for 2018 (and no coffee this morning, because PET scan). But if you need some encouragement and practical suggestions, go read Melissa's latest post on When Life Gets Off Track. She gets it. And she knows what she's doing.

Be encouraged!

~ Dy

New Terms, New Plans

Sometimes, these kids are so my kids. Jacob got on it over Christmas break and did all the school work he didn't get done during the fall. This included reading Aeschylus' trilogy, and getting through two of the three Oedipus plays. He got half way through Antigone, but didn't wrap it up before ballet started back up (so that may not be finished until Easter, now). He even pulled off some great note taking and good discussion. I do get it, and I empathize. But there's a reason I don't have a degree yet. (Aside from the whole, "Oh! I know! Let's have children!" thing.) Now, though, if he could only do that, spread out over the term, I could probably relax and breathe a little. When you're in college, you don't get to complete your work and turn it in after finals week  ... Maybe I should have James take him out for coffee and a little brotherly Come to Jesus about timeliness?

Meanwhile, everyone's new semesters have begun!

John's back at it, and this is going to be a pivotal term for him. In order to qualify for the Paramedic program that starts in the Summer term, he's got to nail this one with a good score, even from the Russian judge. Not just doing what he needs to do to pass the National Registry exam in June, but he's got to pass this Bio 201 class. He had to get a waiver from the Dean and the Dual Enrollment coordinator to take it while still in high school, and he had to promise the Dean that he's not going to try to hold down a job while juggling clinicals and this course. So. No pressure, there. Go get it, kiddo! You can do this!

I hate having so much on the line for a 17yo, but he's braced for it and looking forward to it. It seems ... dumb to discourage a young person from taking on a challenge he's looking forward to, so I'm in Smile-Nod-and-Feed mode. I think he can do it. And if it doesn't work, he'll be better off for the effort and we'll make a Plan B. This is how life works, right? The key is to keep moving, keep learning, and not give up.

James came in the other day and announced he'd added a macroeconomics class to his schedule for the Spring. "It sounded fun." He and I have very different ideas about what a fun semester looks like. But again, he's doing what he loves and braced for the challenge. He wants to graduate as quickly as possible so he can get hired on full time where he is. He's happy, productive, and headed in a good direction. I can't complain. I can get a little queasy, but I can't actually complain.

Now, to convince Jacob to actually do some work between now and Cinderella ... right? Wish me luck!

Be encouraged!

~ Dy