I woke up fairly early Sunday to finish preparing my lesson for Relief Society. My assigned subject was a General Conference talk of which I am not a fan. After sulking about it for a few days, I pulled out the one concept in the talk that I found intriguing and focused my entire lesson around that.
The lesson went well. Good discussions, the class followed the trains of thought that I had designed my questioning to lead them through, and I managed to catch and steer away from the racist/sexist comments I suspected the topic would evoke from some of the more special spirits in the bunch.
The bishop, coming in afterwards search of his wife, caught me at the door on my way out. "Did you teach today?" he asked jovially. "I tell you what, we're going to have to start selling tickets to your lessons soon! Everybody in the ward raves about how good you are."
Which is a very nice thing for him to say.
I spent the rest of my Sunday doing all the tasks I needed to in order to move up to Mountain Town for the week. Despite the almost-end to the speech season (we've still got the banquet to put together), I've hit the point in the musical where I give up all hope for a life outside of school. So I hied me up the mountain last night and settled in for the week. Between the snow forecast (which is minimal but, oh Holy Ullr, would I and the environment love a snow day right about now) and my rapidly-developing chest cold, I'm pretty excited to get back an extra 90 minutes each day, even if it means some long stretches of just me, the Furry Beast, and the mountain critters.