Gabrielle and Raine Got Sealed

This is my second attempt at this post. Something went wrong last time, and my post failed to save--and then disappeared entirely. Completely gone. I couldn't find it in my history, and not one bit of it got saved in draft form. I spent a lot of time on it, and it was really late at night when I realized that all my efforts had disappeared into the mystical digital void. I believe that the only reason I did not pitch a very hefty fit and throw my laptop across the room was because I was listening to this newest ear addiction.



Listen to it with good headphones on.

Now buckle up, buttercup. Here we go again.

Last weekend, Gabrielle and Raine got sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. They are a very happy couple, and I am thrilled that my kind, intelligent, gentle daughter, who is the Queen of Witty Puns, chose a kind, intelligent, gentle young man who happens to think that her puns are very witty indeed.

The happy couple. They are well suited to each other, and I am very happy Raine is part of our family.

A marriage and sealing calls for a reception, and in our case, there were two: one here in our little burg, and one in Utah Valley, where Raine's family lives.

We held the first reception in my in-laws' back garden on Friday evening (the couple were sealed in the morning). It was so much better than trying to make a large church gym look like a wooded glen, or a tent, or the inside of a barn, or whatever crazy theme the bride has concocted in her matrimonially addled head. When they were handing out party-planning abilities in heaven, I accidentally stood in the pizza-and-a-movie-at-home line. Twice. I'd almost rather get sucker-punched in the mouth than plan and execute another reception, which is probably a bad thing when you end up giving birth to four daughters, am I right? The back garden just seemed more intimate. No basketball hoops, for one thing. Plus, nature can do the decorating when you're outside on a lovely day.

Or so I naively thought.

One does not simply tell my mother-in-law, "I'm not bothering with decorations for the reception, and we'll just serve root beer floats." Nor does one mention that same sentiment to one of the neighborhood friends who recently married off a daughter, who then mentions it to several other neighborhood friends who have also recently married off daughters. And my MIL just encouraged them.

Gabrielle herself did not care about decorations. She literally said to me, "I don't care about decorations. I don't know why you would worry about decorations. The important thing is that we're married and sealed." I wholeheartedly agree. But tell that to a British woman who has definite ideas about tradition--wedding tradition in particular. And I say this with all the love I have in my heart for her: she is a stubborn determined woman, bless her cotton socks.

Before I could say "my reception nightmare has begun," these well-meaning friends brought over yards and yards (and yards) of navy blue and red swathes of organza, battery-operated candles and lanterns by the dozen, extra tables, chair covers and sashes, boxes and bags of silk flowers and greenery, planter hooks, and more. I looked at the mountain of decorations these good women had lent me and sat down for a very long time to get over my sense of overwhelm.

One friend, Sam, who has two storage units full to the brim with wedding and party decor just because she absolutely loves decorating for parties, swept through the backyard to give me some suggestions. "I would put a really big flower arrangement here under the trees," she said, casually gesturing. "Just get a box and start shoving flowers and greenery in. It will look great!"She seemed so confident that it could be done that I hated to correct her assumption that I was the one who could do it.

We all find what we are made of when our backs are against the wall, er, fence. Dear reader, I am happy to inform you that after a sweaty mental hour or so, I attempted the flower arrangement. I was alone at the time. I was afraid. But I did it.

This is not a great picture of the final product, but I did manage to get it moved to the right spot and dress up the base before guests arrived the next day. It looked amazing. I also insisted that my family members, on an individual basis, tell me how amazing it looked. I think some of them actually did think it looked amazing--at least, that's what I'm going to tell myself.

To slightly shorten this long story, I'll just tell you that MIL and I managed to attach sixty-seven yards of blue organza to the fence and dress it up with big red bows. The chairs got covered and sashed, the food tent got more organza swags, clusters of flickering candles were nestled into the mulch around the tree trunks, and a set of incredibly generous women made and donated a slew of treats. Linnea, my friend and health coach, insisted on putting together some deliciously colorful fruit and vegetable platters. Others brought brownies, cupcakes, cookies, and more brownies. We had bought boxes of vanilla ice-cream, though we didn't even get through one box. The food tables groaned under their mouth-watering burden.

These are my pictures. They are amateur. There are no achingly beautiful close-ups of particular decorations, and I used no filters (mainly because the idea of using filters never occurs to me). These are not Insta-worthy in any way. Between you and me, I think that all the time and worry spent on the decorations was mostly a wasted effort. Who needs organza swags when you have that view?

Gabrielle and Raine got a bench at the end of the garden so they could sit down in between greeting the guests. 

Ladies and gentlemen, that's sixty-seven yards of organza right there. Imagine how fun it was to wrestle that wad all the way down the fence on a windy day. 

Treats my health coach does not approve of.

Treats my health coach put together. These fruit and vegetable platters thrilled everyone, including me. I ate a lot of orange bell pepper slices and snow peas. Yum.

Bonnie, one of my my in-laws' dogs, was Little Gary's best friend as long as he had a plate of goodies on his lap.

Nathan, Sian, and my grandson Tyler (who just learned how to crawl!). 

We accidentally ended up in casual dress for the reception. We all fully meant to set up and then run home and change, but it didn't happen in time. Who cares? We didn't. We were comfortable. Most of our guests also came in casual clothing.

The second reception was on Saturday afternoon at Raine's parents home. They were smart and didn't bother with any decorations, and they bought Costco sheet cakes and used the leftover food from Friday. I enjoyed not having to stress about anything other than showing up. It was a great party, and I made new friends amongst their friends and neighbors. Raine's parents adore Gabrielle, and my daughter is very lucky to have married into such a good family.

That's my report. It was better the first time, but I guess you'll never know now. Stupid computers. Anyway, I was so glad when it was all over, though I absolutely loved escorting my darling daughter through the temple. Right after they got married in Las Vegas, she developed an upper respiratory infection that took a sharp turn into serious pneumonia. It took her a few weeks to recover (and I spent a few days with her so Raine could go to work), but she got well enough in time that she could get sealed to her eternal companion. That's the important part. That's what I truly loved seeing.

And now, good night. I stayed up way too late again.

Wherein Gabrielle and Raine (Sort Of) Elope

A thing happened three weeks ago--the event that I alluded to a couple posts ago. I'm ready to talk about it.

On the morning that Husband and I were scheduled to help Sian and Nathan move, I got a call, early. It was Gabrielle.

"Mom," she said, "I'm sorry to wake you up, but I have some news. Raine and I have talked about it, and we've decided to get married today. I'm just calling to get your take on this."

She caught me completely off-guard, both sleepy and flabbergasted. It seemed sudden, of course, because it was sudden. They hadn't even been dating all that long when they got engaged, and now they were running off to Las Vegas to get married?

After I got my brain caught up on the situation, she told me how they'd arrived at this stunning decision to (sort of) elope.

They'd been going through the process of trying to land a lease on an apartment or condo and figuring out how to blend their lives together. They did get the condo they wanted, and then they were wishing they were already married so they could just move in together and set up house, since there was no doubt that their relationship was going to last. Why prolong the engagement? Why wait? And that's when Gabrielle told Raine that they should get married that day. Gabrielle, my daughter who used to spend a good twenty minutes agonizing in front of the candy products trying to make a decision; Gabrielle, who has never enjoyed having to make impulse decisions even about smaller things. Gabrielle was the one who suggested it, and she meant it.

So, being the spiritual kids they are, they decided to pray about it, and both of them felt very strongly that this was what they were supposed to do. Gabrielle even felt an urgency about it that she's never felt about any other decision before.

So at the point she called me, she was driving alone to her house to pack while Raine sorted out the marriage license and scheduled a marriage ceremony at a little wedding chapel near The Strip. She wanted to know what my impressions were, and she also wanted to know if running off to get a civil wedding in Las Vegas would negatively affect their ability to get sealed in the Salt Lake temple in June.

And just to clarify: no, they are not "in trouble." There has been no violation of the law of chastity.

We talked for a while as she drove (she had me on speaker and was not holding her phone, just so you know), and I asked her all kinds of questions so I could gauge if she was being coerced or if she was being totally and crazily impulsive and would regret this later on. I liked the fact that she was alone so I could get a more honest reaction from her.

Weirdly, as we talked, I felt very strongly that this was what they were supposed to do. Gabrielle's never been rebellious, and we've always had a very close relationship where she has always been able to talk to me about anything. For some reason, these kids were not supposed to wait. And when the Lord tells you to do a thing, you do it, even if you sometimes don't know exactly why.

We want to raise our kids to be able to make good decisions on their own, and we want our kids to know when they are being guided by the Holy Spirit, no? But we often try and thwart them when we don't agree completely with their decisions, which can undermine their confidence in their ability to receive personal revelation. Kids need both the victories and the defeats so that they can hone their decision-making capabilities. I've tried to be careful not to impose my own ideas on my older children as they try to make important decisions or burden them with the stress of conventional expectations (which are generally based only on culture or tradition and not on gospel principles) so that they could gain confidence in their abilities to pray for and hear the guidance of the Spirit. This was a big test for me, however, to stay true to that parenting philosophy. Marriage is not on the same par as choosing a treat from the store. This is serious, serious stuff.

But yes, I did feel the Spirit telling me it was okay--more than okay, even. Necessary. And thanks to the recently changed Church policy, Gabrielle and Raine don't have to wait an entire year to get sealed if they chose to have a civil wedding first. So, armed with spiritual peace and the knowledge that they can quickly be sealed together for time and all eternity, I gave Gabrielle my blessing.

Husband was a slightly harder sell, though we are on the same page about helping our kids gain spiritual confidence. He also eventually felt spiritual confirmation. And I'm not saying that I immediately gained emotional equilibrium about the whole thing, despite the fact that I was comforted by the Spirit. I was still off-balance all day. I spent quite a bit of time crying as we drove down to help Nathan and Sian move, images of little Gabrielle as a baby and a toddler and a tween running through my head.

For there was no putting that move off. Nathan and Sian had to be moved that weekend or they would face serious financial repercussions. I spent the day alternating between taking care of my darling grandson and texting and calling Gabrielle about what was going on in their bid to get everything set up for a wedding in under twenty-four hours.

In the end, Nathan and Sian got moved and Gabrielle and Raine got married. We couldn't be in Las Vegas, but I wasn't angry about it. I was sad, yes, but that sadness has turned only to joy as I watch my second daughter and her loving, attentive, righteous man of a husband set up house and meld as a couple. Husband and I weren't conventional in our love story, either, and I've never regretted that. When you do what the Lord tells you, you never regret it, even if others don't understand.

And I must mention how fun it is to hang out with my two married daughters and their wonderful husbands, which we've done as we've all rallied to get Gabrielle's and Raine's third-floor walk-up condo furnished (oy! the carrying of heavy things!). All a mother wants is for her kids to be truly happy, and both of my oldest daughters have chosen wisely and well in their marriage partners. I'm a happy mama.

Facebook Posts That Weren't

I made beef samosas on Friday. I just got the urge. It took me five hours and I made everything from scratch, including the dough,  but they were delicious. Sometimes I just have to prove to myself that I can still cook.

I'm increasingly craving dirt. I find myself wanting to lick rocks covered in dried mud. The smell of wet cement makes me a little crazy. I find myself daydreaming about enjoying a mouthful of mud before I realize how wrong that thought is. Time to get a good iron supplement, as I must be getting pica again.

I ran into one of my preschoolers today at the library and he was shocked. Most of the preschoolers think I live on the bus.

Husband bought a dryer for $20. After he took it apart, cleaned out all the lint, and replaced the drum rollers, it works like new. I'm always impressed by how much Husband can do. After twenty-five years of marriage, he still astonishes me with his ability to figure things out.

Summer Fast Approaches

Two weeks ago, I got to entertain my darling grandson while Husband helped Nathan and Sian move all their stuff from their one-bedroom apartment to a two-bedroom apartment in the same complex.

He finally wore himself out and had a wee nap.

I love my grandson so very much. I love his happy smile when he sees me and his babbling attempts to talk and his insatiable curiosity. He's so much like Sian was when she was a baby.

I had a grand time, but Husband was an exhausted noodle by the time all the moving was done. Carrying all the heavy stuff down one long stairway and then up another long stairway was no picnic, and it took hours to get everything moved and the old apartment cleaned. "Where did all this stuff come from?" Sian asked more than once. Yes, my girl, we all wonder how that happens.

After we'd finished the move, Husband and I stopped by the thrift store in Provo to look around. I texted Gabrielle and asked her if she wanted us to be on the lookout for any types of furniture she and her fiance will need for their condo, which they have secured. "Everything!" she texted back.

I sent her a picture of the most awesomely awful chaise lounge I've ever seen.

Gabrielle declined. Shame. But it was as uncomfortable as it is ugly, so it's probably for the best.

More things happened that weekend. Huge things. Things I'm still reeling from. I'll probably share those soon in another post. I have to order my thoughts first.

With the school year coming to a close, Elannah is experiencing the bitter-sweet pang of all the last times she'll do things in high school. We attended her last choir concert last week. She's been in the Show Choir for three of the four years she's been in high school, and she's absolutely loved it. Here she is doing the tap choreography she and her friend (ex-boyfriend) came up with for "Mississippi Mud," their last number (for some reason, I can't seem to embed the video).

She also graduated from seminary, a four-year Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saint religious education program high school students can take either during the school day (in Utah, at least), or early in the morning before school (most of the rest of the country. I attended early-morning seminary at 6:30 every morning for four years when I went to high school).

Elannah with her Nanna and Grampy (my in-laws) after the seminary graduation ceremony

She's a clown.

She graduates from high school on Friday. She and her best friend (the blonde girl standing next to her in the video) are singing a duet at the graduation ceremony, so I'll try to remember to record that.

The plan at the moment is for her to save money (she's currently working at the local movie theater), go to England in the summer with Sophia and visit all their aunts, uncles, and cousins, and then apply for a job at the same company where Gabrielle (and Raine) and Sophia work. Then she and Sophia will be roommates, which is something they are both really excited about. Gabrielle was going to be roommates with both of them, but she definitely upset that plan when she went and got herself engaged, haha. Elannah will save money for either a mission (which I'm pushing for) or to start school at Dixie. Whatever happens, she's determined not to get stuck in our little burg for the rest of her life.

Little Gary is graduating from sixth grade and heading into junior high school. Poor kid. He has no real concept of the pain the next two years will bring as he's dumped into a teeming petri dish of children old enough to be completely obnoxious and terribly mean and too young to realize how stupid they are. As one of the youngest kids in his class--and not precociously mature for his age--Little Gary's innate optimism and good nature are going to be sorely tested. I weep quietly for him, though I haven't told him how much I dread what's coming for him. On the outside, I've remained enthusiastic and supportive; on the inside, I harbor all the same fears for him that I had when I was a junior high student.

I'm driving the school bus until tomorrow. While my preschool kids finished last week, I still have some elementary kids from the behavior units that I pick up at the end of the day, so we'll do that through tomorrow. The garage has me subbing on another bus, as well, though I've had two days this week where I didn't have to get up early and drive a bus. I wasn't sure what to do with myself. I did creative things, like playing the piano and crocheting new pattern motifs, but I better figure out a schedule or I'm going to end up wasting my entire summer.

Another of My Babies Is Getting Married!

I am pleased to announce the engagement of my daughter, Gabrielle, to a lovely young man named Raine.

The short story: they worked together for nearly a year and developed a solid friendship before they started dating. They're getting married in late June in the Salt Lake temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Gabrielle is 22, and Raine is 24.

Read below for exhaustive details.

Nearly ten months ago, I had a very strong feeling that I needed to tell Gabrielle something that God wanted her to know. It was such a specific thing that I was a little reluctant to say anything at all, but the feeling of urgency wouldn't go away. I fully believe parents can receive revelation for their children when needed, so I decided I'd wait for the right time and see how to fit it in to the conversation.

I had the opportunity to tell her a couple days later when we all gathered at the hospital to visit Sian and Nathan after the birth of our tiny, premature grandson. As we were leaving the hospital, Gabrielle got teary, so I pulled her aside for a little mother-daughter chat. She was struggling with knowing what her next move in life was. She'd had so many bad experiences with dating, but she felt ready to move on to the next phase of life as a wife and mother, and she didn't know what she was supposed to be doing despite her consistent prayers.

It was the perfect moment. I told her what the Lord had prompted me to say, which was that if she moved out of the house where she was then living, she would meet the man she was going to marry. I was nervous because that was a very specific promise, but I had to have faith that I was telling her the right thing. She immediately cheered up and told me that I had validated the answer she felt she'd received as she had prayed.

Soon after, she moved into the house where Sophia had rented a room (how that happened is also a testament to how the Lord knows what you need exactly when you need it). And, little did she know, she almost immediately met the man who would be her future fiance'. 

Raine is also an employee at the company where Gabrielle and Sophia work. He and Gabrielle don't work in the same unit, but the company is small enough that they knew of each other and began to develop a friendship. Ten months ago, Gabrielle was not ready to date. Had he asked her out then (and he was seriously thinking about it), she would have said no. But their friendship grew, and a few weeks ago, they realized they had so much in common and so enjoyed each others' company that they should date. While Gabrielle did have moments of strong anxiety due to her past experiences, we had some excellent phone conversations, and I was able to help her talk out her worries and figure out what was normal anxiety and what was unreasonable worry. She had forgotten what I told her ten months ago, and when I reminded her, she immediately felt a great deal of relief.

Saturday night, I got home from a meeting to find the two of them in my living room with Husband, Elannah, and the boys. After hugs and introductions, Gabrielle flashed the plain white-gold band on her left hand (no gemstones, just the way she likes it) and announced that she and Raine were engaged. She's so happy, and that makes me so happy. And as we got to know Raine over the course of the evening, I can see why she's so happy. They fit very well together. They have similar career and life goals and share a strong faith. He loves kids (which is very important to me as a grandmother!), and he's intelligent, funny, and outgoing--just like Gabrielle. He obviously respects our daughter, and she respects him. 

They're planning a late June wedding in the Salt Lake temple. Oy! That's pretty quick, but Raine's family had already planned a big family trip to Hawaii in July, so they decided to use that as their honeymoon. It's a good thing that they aren't interested in an elaborate reception because we don't have time to plan one of those.

So now my second daughter is going to be a Mrs., and I'm just so grateful that she will be as happy as Sian. My mother's heart wants only that her children be truly happy with their chosen mates and produce as many grandchildren as possible for my sake.  

A New Massage Chair!

Elannah wanted me to go with her to the store to check out the Easter candy sales. I knew that was a bad idea, but I went anyway. And I bought some Dove chocolate. Not the best, certainly, and I prefer 90% dark Lindt chocolate these days, but whatever. I'm on vacation for one more day.

I have to take exception to this, though:

I don't even know where to begin with this message. I won't go into a nerdy rant about it (you're welcome), but Dove's message generator needs a tweak to its algorithm. I hate to think some human came up with that.


Now that that's out of my system, here's a picture of last Friday's lunch:

I don't usually take photos of my meals, but, guys, it's fish-and-chips (for me) and pie-and-chips (for Husband)! Also note the squeezie bottle of malt vinegar, the chip-shop-worthy curry sauce on Husband's plate, and my glass of apple and black currant squash. The only thing missing is brown sauce.

Here's the story of Friday: Husband found an amazing deal on a top-of-the-line massage chair that was barely used. He's used our crappy but serviceable massage chair nearly every day for the last couple years, but this one is a Rolls Royce to our Pinto.

Hubby made an appointment to go pick up the chair from the sellers on Friday, a day we had off work because of Easter break. The sellers live way up north, near the Idaho border, so we planned on a little road trip, just him and me. As the Little Taste of Britain restaurant is located in Layton, Utah, which was on the way, we decided to go there for lunch. They do a really decent British chip shop lunch, and I was craving some battered cod.

When we got to Layton, something happened. I won't tell you all the details because you don't want to know all the details. The gist of it is that I had an apocalypse-level female experience. Thanks, peri-menopause!

That catastrophe took a bit of time to sort out, but once things were handled, we headed to lunch.

The restaurant has a little store where you can buy British things, so Husband bought a bottle of Robinson's apple and blackcurrant squash (it's a sweet syrup you dilute with water) because I love it. It always takes me back to the winter I spent in Loughborough, Leicestershire, England, where my mission companion and I drank it hot because we were so dang cold all the time. He also bought a Flake chocolate to split, for dessert.

As we were getting ready to leave, Husband ran into one of his work colleagues. She had come up to the restaurant from our little burg because her husband, who is Scottish, required Iron Bru soda at the party they were throwing, so she bought a couple cases and happened to be there just when we were. Small world. But I don't know why anyone would want to drink Iron Bru except the Scottish. They like nasty stuff like that, haggis being another fine example.

We got back on the road and wended our way through Cache Valley to Smithfield, near Logan. If I was going to move somewhere else in Utah, I'd move to Cache Valley. It is one of the most beautiful places on earth. It flourishes in spring especially. (But no one can be responsible for flourishing spring itself. You cannot flourish anything, though you can cause something to flourish, though the entire season of spring is not a thing a human could necessarily cause to flourish. Argh. Sorry. Just couldn't leave that alone after all.)

We found the house, and the very nice homeowner let us in to look at the chair. Husband tried it out, and yes, it is a seriously great massage chair. I didn't try it out because I have a bad history with massage chairs. They tend to screw up my back, and then I'm in pain for days. Irony.

The next problem was how to get it out to the van. The chair, which must weigh several hundred pounds, had been assembled in the homeowner's bedroom and hadn't been moved in the six years they'd owned it. Plus, it had been assembled by company representatives. She had no idea how to disassemble it and no idea of how we were going to move it. It was too wide to get through the doorway, so some disassembly was going to be necessary.

Husband is a smart cookie, fortunately, and he's pretty handy with an Allen wrench. He figured out how the arms could safely be removed, which allowed us to get the chair through the door and outside.

When I say we got the chair through the door and outside, you cannot possibly imagine the amount of straining and sweating that went into that. My legs and arms were noodly by the time we got to the driveway. I sat and panted like a dog for a while, recovering my strength and trying not to black out. We managed to hoist it into the van by a Herculean effort on all our parts, and then Husband and I were off on the road back home.

When we got back home, we didn't relish the idea of manhandling that chair out of the van, into the house, and up the stairs to our second-story bedroom. Husband asked Sophia (who visits just about every weekend) to call her boyfriend the physical trainer to come and help. Meanwhile, I, Husband, and my FIL got the chair out of the van. FIL was just saying, "I can't believe how strong you are!" to me when I felt my back go out: a searing spasm of muscles, a sure knowledge of even more pain to come. I managed to croak out that we needed to set the chair down, and then I also managed not to drop my side and crush someone's foot. And then, ow!

I sat, grimacing, on the couch while the the men slowly and painfully pulled and pushed the behemoth up the stairs.

It sits now in our bedroom, and it has become well-loved by every member of the household--including me. It has this function where you can go to a zero-gravity reclining position, turn on the heat and air compression program, and then sit for 15 minutes of massage bliss with no rollers. Between that and the foam roller I've been using, my back is almost completely back to normal.

Five Generations

It finally happened.

The stars aligned: no one was sick, schedules were open, and the weather was okay for driving. The whole family got together to celebrate all the birthdays we'd missed for Elannah, Gabrielle, my dad, one of my brothers, and one of my sisters.

For the first time since Tyler was born nine months ago, we had all five generations together. Therefore, it was imperative that we take a picture.

From left to right: Tyler's great-great grandma, his great-grandma, his grandma, his mommy, and his cute wi'l self.

Also, Elannah went to her senior prom. For some reason, her high school always holds prom on Fridays, and since this is Utah, the kids have this all-day date tradition. This means that a lot of kids are absent from school on the day of prom. I don't care if my senior misses a day of school. By this point, I'm sick of school myself. I think I've had senioritis since I was a sophomore, and it just never went away.

This year, however, prom also coincided with the State One-Act Play competitions, which created a problem for Elannah and some of her drama friends. The competition was held in Cedar City, Utah, which is a good five hour drive from where we live. But I love a road trip, so I took the day off work and left early in the morning to pick up Elannah and a couple of her friends after they had performed their play, then turned around and drove all the way back. The girls did their hair and makeup in the car, and we still got back in time for them to have their pictures done. They missed the day-date, but they still went to dinner and the dance, which is always held at the Utah State Capitol building. Swanky!

Elannah's date was her friend Sho, the Japanese foreign exchange student, and they teamed up with a bunch of their other friends.

Wouldn't it be funny if the photographer had taken one of these poses with the boys?

Anyway, they had a lovely time at prom, and the one-act play won first place at State. That's a real feather in Elannah's ex-boyfriend's cap, as he was the playwright (not that he really needs his head swelled any larger). He's been accepted into the University of Utah's prestigious drama program as a freshman in the fall. I'm secretly glad that Elannah has no interest in pursuing acting as a profession or as an educational career.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Also, after a grueling twelve-hour push, I finally, finally finished the line edit on the manuscript today. Not only did my client need the editing finished so she could meet her publishing deadlines, but I did not want to head into the Easter break with that still hanging over my head. What a relief. To celebrate, I've only edited this post four times instead of five. I'm sure I've missed something, but I don't care.