Having missed several weeks of writing now, I can sum most of our time up with a single adjective: dull. Not that we haven't enjoyed the time. Most of our time, though, was taken up with normal tasks that don't merit mention. The 24th of July is a holiday in Utah, so we celebrated by leaving the state. The Tetons were beautiful, the water in the lake was warm, the boat was thoroughly enjoyed, and we even managed to sing a few primary songs about pioneers in the morning. All in all, a successful trip.
After returning home, the next week passed in something of a blur. Oh, I forgot that we also picked up a copy of the last Harry Potter. I finished 15 hours later, and Andrew about a day and a half after that. I don't think we were very much fun during that time, and after finishing, we twiddled our thumbs until someone else finished and we could talk about it. I was probably the worst. Even my grandmother, who had stuck her nose in the air about Harry Potter, conceded that Rowling had done a good job with the last book. Now we're all in semi-mourning for the series.
Cassandra came and visited us the week before last, and our apartment was a disaster. It's never been quite that bad before or since. Let me explain. A cousin of mine is moving, and had a sofa and chair she wanted to give us, and we were more than happy to oblige. We picked up the truck to move the sofa Thursday night, but as we pulled up to our apartment, it started to rain. And it rained, and rained, and . . . you get the point. Great storm, with cool lightning. Needless to say, we didn't pick up the sofa that night. The next morning, we had to pick up the sofa, drop it off at our house, drop the truck off in Alpine, and make it to BYU by 10. By the time we got the sofa in, we just dropped it in the front entry and ran back to the car. So, when Cassandra came, the sofa hadn't magically moved, nor had the bed we had brought the night before. Everything is now put away, and it actually looks quite nice. Plus, the sofa is really comfortable. Hooray for hand-me-downs!
Last Sunday we sang in church. Doesn't sound to bad, does it? And it wasn't. But coincidences have a way of making fools of us all. Thursday night came, and we still didn't have a piece to sing for Sunday. We went down to my parents house to browse through her music collection, and picked out a piece at random. It was nice, and so we tried singing it. Miraculously, since neither Andrew or I have great solo voices, the piece sounded fabulous. There was only one copy, but no big deal! We live five minutes away from Day Murray Music, the source for 90% of the music owned by the church. Saturday, we made it down, only to find that the piece was permanently out of print. After trying to call the publisher and getting no response, we made a copy to be later destroyed. So Sunday came, and even more amazingly, we sounded good performing. It might be the only time I've ever been happy with my musical performance. Bad idea. Since then we've been the musical 'go-to' couple, on top of our other musical callings – primary, priesthood, and now backup organists. Just so you understand, let me describe next week to you. I'm doing the music for primary. My pianist is out of town, and his only suggestion of someone to play the piano in primary was Andrew. Then, during sharing time, we're off to Relief Society to sing for the teacher's lesson. Then Andrew's playing the organ in Sacrament Meeting. And we're speaking. We had to turn down the duet for the ward court of honor, since it's when Andrew's getting knee surgery. They think we're much better than we really are, and are going to be sadly disillusioned.
This Sunday, we had my brothers court of honor, and in keeping with our current plans, we sang with my mother and brother. It was ok. One other moment is worthy of mention. As the eagles' nest was assembled, they were standing in the same gazebo Andrew and I stood in when we were married. My grandpa, presenting the eagle, gestured to the eagles' nest and asked Spencer to join. My 11-year old brother blurts out, "It looks more like a cage than a nest". How true, how true. Almost immediately afterwards, Sam got up and ran around the "cage" and proclaimed that he was an eagle now, too. And that's why we like Sam.
Well, I apologize for the length of the letter. I seem to have made up for three letters in this one. Don't worry. I doubt it will happen again. Andrew's busy with finals, I didn't' get eaten alive in Primary last week, and I'm sure we'll make it through somehow.
Rebecca (and Andrew, in spirit)
