forshadow

Mando player spend his sunday afternoons at the hospital, he's been racking up the service hours for a few years now, and recently I've started to tag along.

Today I had a glimpse into the future. Mando and I have had a lot of discussions about family life, and how we want to create ours in the midst of medical school and a residency. It's the number one question he grills the doctors he shadows with, and the different responses are surprising and sometimes discourageing.

Just now a darling woman with a girl on her hip, and two skipping beside her, came in to meet doctor dad. He was in scrubs and on the phone with a nurse while the two skippers played in the large revolving doors at the enterance, their spring time dresses reflected an easy breezy carefree life 4 and 6 years olds lead. Mom had a different look, tired, pregnant, but happy still.

Dad got off the phone and appologized to his wife for taking the call, then he cheerfully asked the girls how church was, to which he got a short and sweet repremand, "it was great Dad, but you weren't there huh?!"

I wonder how we're going to do it sometimes. Mando wants to be the doctor dad who makes it home for dinner, and still has time to play in the backyard... and if that means less hours in the hospital, resulting in less money, that's fine. But the truth is, you don't pick your hours during residency, you're a slave, and the hours are harsh.

I was talking with the irish one on the team, and she mentioned that she basically didn't have a dad growing up. That was comforting. hmmm.

I start to wonder where I'm going to fit in this equation, how moms do anything really, the closer I get the more amazed I am by the moms all around me, and the more aprehensive I become in trying to fill the shoes that surely await.

repetition

Mando player and I have a new study/time managment program thanks to that famous eiline girl. Basically I use it for scripture, and mando uses the system for scriptures, mcat prep, and for practicing.

I've heard the same mandolin run 36 times now, come on get over the phrase, move on, this time? nope, this time... my ears sit with a vague sense of tension, hoping for the melody to move on.. oh there, he finally did it, tension released, until 12 seconds later he runs into a new tricky run in the same solo set, and he's repeating, again, and again.

It's like a record that keeps hitting funny bumps, and plays it over and over, until it's satisfied, or can skip over the little hic-up.

I picked Jeanettes brain recently. WE talked all about her children, and her role in their musical lives. oh man, I know it's coming, sooner than I think, little miniature fiddles and guitars, and the squeaky strings and wrong rythms, ooohhhhh.

Suddenly I can deal with the repetition, at least Mando player is good, like really good :)




The "band" was over the other night... part of their meeting was to discuss band names for their entry into the upcoming fiddle fest, pickle freak, penny brook (both nickle creek knock offs) fell to the final winner, engines of commotion.

I felt like lucy, with my famous ricki recardo husband... I wanted so badly to semak in a add my rhythms on a tambourine, or harmonica. Instead I was content to study in the bedroom, and listen the creative genius flowing from the log cabing room. They can come over any day, I love it.

IN-decision

I wish there was a think pink medicine for the heart wrenching feeling that seems to exude through my body every time the acronym is mentioned.

P.A.C.

I could stay. I could suffer through the thin time that will be mine as it's stretched over a dance team, student teaching, and all the other last minute classes I want to take (ie: children's lit, Anatomy, Aerobics teaching methods). I could dance and get paid for it, and next year that scholarship money will actually go towards tuition since there will be no major tour fees. I could be more of a leader on the team being a third year, and help train up a new flock of boys (we're getting a bazillion new ones)

OR

I could not dance. and be poor-er (maybe) and have time for classes I want to take, suffer through an identity crisis and a loss of every and all friends. I could be pushed to seek new friends, and new niches, maybe I'd finally make friends in my ward, and become a soccer player again (ya, remember that ERIN? I wasn't always a dancer) And I would promise myself NOT to be one of those dead folk dancers who seem to weasel their way back into every activity. I would quit, cold turkey, and have my memories of China to keep me company.

why not do it though, I'll never get this opportunity again, so why not? I'll have to quit when I leave BYU, so I should just do it.

But all those girls who'd rather see me leave, when I'm gone I open up another spot on the team, and more scholarships. In fact, everyone I talk to thinks I'm gone already.... and it bothers me! I never said I was leaving!!!

But maybe I just should, give other people a chance, plus I'll just have time to see what else BYU has to offer.

WORST CASE SCENARIO (S) -

Get a scholarship, decide not to do it. Ed takes money back to the pool, people are ousted monies. I'm hated
or
not dance, regret it for 10 monthes

BEST -
live with whatever I choose very happily



ohhh, ewww, ahhhh. I hate this feeling. Bring on the bismal.