Bianca's Beach Band Shack, an entrepreneurial enterprise

For a month now, Bianca's been planning which business she's going to open for her school's mall. Everyone in the fourth grade had to come up with his or her own business plan, set up shop, and parents were invited today to come and shop!

Bianca used a bunch of mussel shells she collected two years ago on our vacation to Maine and created little musical instruments--Sea Shell String-a-lings (which she added little rubber bands to them so they you can pluck to make music) and Mussel Maracas (which she filled up with beads and superglued together). I thought it was brilliant.

She started off pretty optimistic with the prices she was asking. It didn't take long, though, for her to realize she'd have to lower her prices if Bianca's Beach Band Shack was going to be a successful enterprise (see scratched-out prices on photo below).

The parents were given free money, and I was able to shop and shop. I bought some instruments from Bianca but also bought some book marks, flower hair clips (which Bianca bought also, which is evident in the photo), rock animals, candy, a hand-crocheted scarf. Every time I turned around, teachers were giving me more money to spend. I wish shopping at Southtowne Mall were more like this.

What a fun way to teach children about starting a business!

Witches Brew

Portia's preschool did a Witches Brew etiquette luncheon instead of a typical Halloween party this year. They were supposed to wear their best dresses rather than a costume. They had a five-course meal and Portia was escorted to her seat by a gentleman.

They used fine china.

Portia tried a pickle and says she liked it, although she wouldn't eat one for me at home.

They drank out of goblets.

Portia loved the chocolate-covered strawberry and she will eat those for me at home.

Here's Portia's cute preschool class.

I love my Portia!

Bianca's Trophy

On Friday, Bianca came home from her chess tournament with a trophy for first place of all the fourth graders. She was so happy.

Piano Challenge #3: Serenade by Franz Schubert

The next song in the piano book I'm trying to conquer is Serenade by Franz Schubert. I really like this song. About a year ago, when I went to see "Young Victoria," this is the song that was played throughout the movie because Schubert was Prince Albert's favorite composer. I loved the movie because it's a clean, sweet story of true love in marriage. I even bought the DVD for both my mom and my mother-in-law for Mother's Day last year. I enjoyed learning to play this song.

There is a part near the end where I pretty much botch a couple measures but I'm hoping if you watch that you'll lose interest by that time.

Another interesting note: A couple months ago, Bianca's piano teacher told her that she tends to lock her fingers when she's playing. I realized I have the same problem. It's pretty apparent in this video. I don't know how to undo this since I've been locking my fingers my entire life.

Fire

When I was a kid returning home from a family summer vacation, I was always shocked as we rounded the curve of our street that our house was still standing there. A fire hadn't burned it down. I don't know why I felt it was miraculous that my room was still where it should be, and my things (although not put away) were where they should be.

This September, the day after we arrived in Florida for a Quigley family reunion vacation, Eric received this picture on his phone from his friend Tim who was taking care of our animals:

He asked if we wanted him to grab anything out of our house for us. We laughed. Then a couple minutes later, I started to panic. There really was a fire in Herriman and we were hundreds of miles away. We stayed up most of the night watching the progression of the fire as it made its way over the mountain near my house online and talking to our neighbors on Facebook. More neighborhoods and streets were evacuated each time. It was coming closer and closer. Most of the people on our street evacuated, although it wasn't a mandatory evacuation like most of the other streets nearby.

I began to think how relieved I was we weren't there (so we didn't have to try to find a place to stay or breathe in that smokey air), all the while feeling helpless that I couldn't save the things I most wanted to keep from burning. This put a lot of things in perspective for me. The things I most wanted safe were photos of Miranda that I could never, ever get back. And our musical instruments--especially Bianca's cheap viola from China that she's completely attached to and her much more expensive cello. Our pets of course. I told Eric to ask Tim if he wouldn't mind grabbing my books for me (all 500-700 hundred of them, I'm not even sure how many there are). Of course the books are replaceable. And I wouldn't even mind rebuilding our house. In fact, in a way, I thought that'd be kind of fun.

I couldn't sleep most of the night. Around 2 a.m., I saw an update on ksl.com that said fifteen houses in Herriman had already burned and the fire was still going strong. The next morning, the news said it was only three had burned. A miracle really.

And when I saw photos of the mountain all black and so, so close to houses, I agree that it was a miracle that more houses hadn't burned. I'm sure a lot of prayers had been issued forth that night. I know my own were mingled in amongst the others. The wind had turned and headed the other direction, which if you know Herriman, you know that's really rare.

The next morning, we got up and watched the news online some more, then got ready and headed to Disneyworld. It was strange to be hundreds of miles away in a place where we were supposed to be having fun, all the while thinking of my home by the minute and wondering if everything would be as it should when I returned. In some ways, I kind of wished I could have been out in the yard with the neighbors watching the fire creep over the mountain and be nearby to grab those things that were most important to me. But then again, I had what was most important to me within my grasp.

As we pulled up to our house a week later, there it was, as it should be. Upon entering, I was relieved to see everything in its place. The air smelled a little smokey; there was some ash in crevices on the front porch and the garage. But I was home and this time, it really was a miracle that it was still standing there.

Who wore it better?

I still can't decide if Jillyboo or Tigger should wear the turtle costume. What's your vote? (Then I'll do a percentage just like they do in the magazines.)

Rambling on about what other people think v. what I think

Eric has told me for the past eleven years that we've been married that I care too much about what other people think. I try to consciously make decisions every day that matter to me only, and not about what someone else might think, but I have to admit I'm having a very difficult time with this.

I mean, if you really think about it, if I honestly didn't care what anyone else thinks, I guess there'd be no reason to get dressed every day. I really could stay in my pajamas to drop Portia off at preschool or I guess make-up would completely be history. I know there's a fine balance here in wanting myself to look presentable (for me, I suppose, or for whom really?) and not wanting people to think I'm a total slob. But there we go back to caring about what other people think.

Last week when I was so conflicted about Bianca's performance on piano in front of all those important piano people, one of my friends made the comment on Facebook that as long as I knew Bianca could play that song well, then what did it matter if she messed up in front of all those other people? But really, isn't it human to want to be accepted and respected by other people? Then caring what they think is clearly important. Can't I want other people to think "Wow, that little girl is pretty good on the piano!" And is it for my glory or for hers that I don't want to see her fail? Is it really wrong to want other people to notice?

I'm trying to get to a point in my own personal writing where I want to write for me and me only--that way, my love for writing isn't hinged upon the sale of my novel or for success of the monetary kind. It has to be for me. But why do writers slave away in a lonesome room? It's the most solitary thing we can do in which we're trying to relate to other people. After all, don't writers want other people to enjoy their work? I finally feel like I've reached a point where I honestly don't mind if I never publish anything I write. I'll keep writing because it gives me purpose and makes me feel creative and smart, even if it is only for myself. But let's face it: Even without ever publishing, I still want the people in my writing group to like and relate to what I'm writing about. And then am I just lazy if I write novel after novel and don't put it out there because I don't want to be rejected over and over?

I know I could go in circles about this for hours. But I really am trying to find the right balance of wanting to care less what other people think and do things for myself, but where is the right balance? When will I figure this out?

On Sunday, after five days of letting Bianca just not play Fur Elise, I took out my video camera and I asked her if she would play it for me. She sat there in her comfortable pajamas, on my humble upright piano, and she played slowly and carefully and beautifully and so relaxed, and I knew she could do it. So why did I want to tape it to prove that she could do it? And why do I want to post it now just so that I am reaffirmed that she could have done it like this all along--and who am I really trying to prove this to?

I know life is a whole learning experience and I'm still learning every single day.