Busy, busy, busy

We were going like bees this weekend. First, John came home early Thursday and we drilled. Oh did we drill. About 10 holes in concrete ceilings. Let's take a moment for you to be grateful for the fact that you don't have concrete ceilings (or metal window frames).


By the time I got home from my three-hour ethics training that night (it's so wonderful to pay for the privilege of attending a total snoozefest training just to keep a certification that I am not even using right now, but I digress), he had "installed" our new track lighting. We still need to fix the cord and cover it and paint the cover, but once all that is done, I think it's going to be a major improvement. We're still pondering whether we should shell out to add an extra outlet behind the couch. Unfortunately, the only outlet back there operates off a light switch, which is great for turning plug-in lights on and off, but less convenient for things like computers. We'd have to run the new outlet from the one in Evelyn's room, several feet down the wall, so I think it might be more than we could handle on our own. Opinions? How difficult is a task like this (when you're not just putting a new outlet in right next to the old one)?


Saturday, I met a friend, her husband, and baby from Boston and rode the Roosevelt Island tram. I love walking half a mile south to ride a tram used in filming a hit movie (Spiderman - the scene at the end, tramful of kids in one hand and Kirsten Dunst in the other . . . ). Afterwards, we moseyed over to FAO Schwarz and then to Bloomingdales (which has a nice lounge area in the ladies room on the fourth floor - good spot for nursing, although you have to walk through the entire lingerie section to get there). John and Evelyn met us at the end so the two girls could get acquainted. This also allowed John to finally install the closet doors in our front hall while Evelyn napped. Yay!


I think Evelyn was jealous of L's nice cozy stroller. Our Phil and Ted's has a flat, so she was in the Maclaren for lots of long walks over the weekend. Not quite as good for napping.


Saturday afternoon, John had meetings with Elder Maynes, then priesthood leadership session of stake conference, then the adult session. Evelyn and I joined him for the adult session, and she did great, considering the fact that bedtime is usually 7:30. The next day, we all attended the general session at 10, where Evelyn completely refused to nap, compounding her sleep deprivation. Luckily we sat by a constant source of amusement - a little girl two years older who loves babies. All things considered, we came out of it pretty well.


After a nap, we headed out to show Daddy Evelyn's new swinging skills . . .





. . . and for some pope-watching. The Pontiff's residence is on 72nd between 5th and Madison, the cause of many detours this weekend since the whole block was shut off and I walk through the park at 72nd street to get to the west side for things like music class and stake conference. We never actually saw him. The closest we got was Sunday afternoon, when we saw his car inside the barriers (apparently, we came by right after he left on our way to stake conference Sunday morning).


I've lived in the city for six years and have not seen a visiting dignitary get anything like the level of security he had. The block between 5th and Madison was shut off the whole time he was here, but when he was actually coming or going, they shut off all the way over to Park Avenue, and then shut off portions of Madison, 5th, Park, and 71st and 73rd streets. John was skeptical when I said the security level was definitely higher than that of the president. He asked a police officer manning one of the intersections, "Who has higher security, the pope or the president." "The pope." Without missing a beat. "He's more powerful, you know. At least, I think so."


This last part of his comment sort of encapsulates the mood in New York this weekend. I had no idea so many people in Manhattan were religious, but the air held a certain level of excitement and awe rarely found here. When Evelyn and I walked by Sunday morning, people were crowding the corners, singing and even playing instruments (I heard trumpets, specifically). Others were much less open, like the young police officer who wasn't shouting praise, but took the opportunity when offered to let a stranger know he believes.

I applaud any person who can bring out the spiritual side of so many. But, if only they knew. An actual prophet drove these streets a few short years ago. With very little fanfare, comparatively speaking. And the purest truth shared this past weekend came from a pulpit over by Lincoln Center, before a crowd much smaller than the 60,000 golden ticket holders gathered at Yankee Stadium Sunday afternoon.