Our week and seven pictures.

This past week has had its fill of headaches, stomach aches and other aches in all sorts of dastardly places but I dare say we might, just might, be emerging from the depths of sickdom ready to take on a new week of welldom. Isn't it so fun to add dom to the ending of everything? It reminds me of that snootsworth phase I went through, only dom is much more quaint, I think.

On several occasions during all the moping around in my pajamas, though, Clara would bring me my shoes because she'd had it with all that moping business. Isn't that just so puppy-like? And when she brings me my shoes it's her way of saying she'd love to go stroll around outside—or else. Really, she was the only one who managed to keep it classy all week long.
























Oooh, but we did enjoy one perk this week. On Friday Tom Thomas and I went on a real-life, bona fide date. Mmm-hmmm. I actually had to Google it to remember what a real-life, bona fide date even means. Anyway, we went to a concert up at University of Utah honoring Tom's great grandfather, Thomas Evans Giles. Which, if you can't tell, happens to be the very name that Tom Thomas owns. See how that works? And as we learned while there—Tom Thomas has a lot to live up to.

Quick poll—Do you think these two dashing fellows look alike? Yes or no.

Thomas Evans Giles was the music department chair of University of Utah for several decades and made the music department what it is today. He studied music in Europe and moved back to Utah after. It is speculated that, at the time, he knew more about opera than anyone else out west. And his grandfather was Thomas Davis Giles, also known as the "blind harpist," who has been mentioned in conference a time or two. (Read: here. It's a lovely talk.) Oh, and Tom has another Giles ancestor who was a then world-renowned cyclist. Sheesh. My ancestors really need to step it up. (Don't think about the logic of that sentence.)

Anyway, the concert was excellent and we had fantastic seats. Seats where you had a perfect view of the pianists' fingers flying across the keys, which is something to marvel over, really. Then the symphony and choir ended with "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" (this exact version) and I got goosie bumps. Goosie bumps times a million. Speaking of a million, Tom got to meet about a million (I'm rounding up) of his Giles relatives that he never even knew existed.

Which brings us to today, I guess. Remember that one time I talked about Clara going to nursery? And doing great? And I hoped it wasn't beginner's luck? Yeah. Me too. Turns out—it was beginner's luck. This was evidenced by the screaming that went echoing through the church hallways around 11 a.m. when I deserted her to attend Young Women's. There's nothing better at making you feel like an awesome person when from halfway across the church building you can hear your child—from behind closed doors—wailing her little head off. I'm not joking—my daughter has got a set of lungs on her. Maybe we'll put her in opera? So then Tom took over and joined her in nursery but by church's end she still hadn't quite recovered and every five minutes or so she'd tear up again just thinking about it—the horror of it all. And once we got home she found her beloved blanket and flopped herself down on it, sprawled out just like real-life bona fide grown-ups crash on their beds after a particularly bad day. It was tragic and cute and sad and hilarious all wrapped up into one big toddler burrito.

And that, I believe, concludes the week's highlights. But indeed, I shall shower this here blog with more pictures because it's within my power to do so.

I believe it was at this exact moment that Clara realized her hands were freezing.

What became of our dear, dear Mike Wazowski? Well, Tom pawned him off to the deacon in our ward who stopped by for fast offerings today. (And by "the" deacon, I mean our ward has one, and only one deacon...) He couldn't have been happier. And I couldn't have been happier.