Okay! Do NOT ask me to play opening and closing for the stake music fireside, then say "I assume you'll need to do prelude and after too" instead of asking, then call me and say "since you're playing anyway, will you accompany this other woman singing" if it's not actually a music fireside. I have reasons why I do not attend singles firesides, and I do not appreciate being blindsided that way. Upside is, I will not feel even slightly guilty for telling you no for the rest of my life. Good job!

To say nothing of the ongoing argument with the woman I accompanied. She was convinced my copy of the song was a different arrangement than hers. Which, no. Exact same one. And saying "I really think it's just a little bit different" over and over does not make you right, honey. I promise.

I miss you, Kamille. I wish you were still in my ward.

I have mixed feelings about our choir concerts last night and Friday night. They were magnificent - the best we've ever done, I think. Our guest artist was Jenny Oaks Baker, who is an unbelievably talented musician, and we rose to the occasion. I feel blessed to have been part of that experience, frankly.

But we're losing our director, and those were his last. I had thought he was going to do our Easter and Summer concerts too, finish out the season, but something apparently changed and he couldn't finish out. He's a wonderful director and it won't be the same without him. We'll all miss him. The associate director will miss him the most, of course - she's known him for years, was at the Y in the music program too, and has worked closely with him here - but we'll all miss him. We don't know who will replace him, either. I don't think the board has any idea yet.

And the hits keep coming.

We're going to lose my great-aunt's Steinway grand.

She earned a doctorate in piano performance from the University of Utah. Her parents bought that piano in the 30's. She played it and cherished it every single day for over seventy years. As she aged and lost dexterity, she didn't play as often, but she still played and still loved her piano.

Last year she told my mother that my grandfather, her brother, had threatened to take it away from her. The day she died, he called someone in town to ask how to get it appraised. He and his new wife have gone through so much money and have bought so much crap that he's in an obscene amount of debt and still looking for more ways to get more money to spend. He's going to sell her piano. If one of us wanted to keep it, we would have to buy it from him. No one has space for a grand piano, either. I knew it was impossible, but I wanted that piano so much.

We're going to lose it. It's more than my own selfish desire to have it - it's a family heirloom. It was the one thing Ruth cherished above everything else she ever owned. And we're going lose it.