Halloween

(Dan nom-ing a loaf of banana bread from a guy whose computer he fixed.) 

We aren't doing anything spectacular for Halloween, nothing except sitting at home doing homework and hoping trick-or-treater's come by. We aren't dressing up, and we missed the ward Halloween party last Wednesday (because of homework).

We did, however, carve some pumpkins we got at Albertsons.

 Mine is the one in the front! Dan's is the one with all the scars. That's why he picked it.
(I got excited to carve it, as you can see the from the knife sticking up out of mine in the last two photos.)

I learned that you should not wear your Sunday clothes to carve pumpkins.

Once Dan got most of his pumpkin scooped out he grabbed a paring knife and got to work. I didn't know what to do with mine at first. Last year I when I carved my very first pumpkin all by myself I was all cool and carved a kitty on a fence with the moon in the background. This year I decided I didn't need to get all artsy so I went for a scary face.

 Husband-Man's is on the left (he added more scars) and mine is on the right. I'm rather proud.

Happy Halloween!


BONUS! We got one whole trick-or-treater this year! Woohoo!! It was this little girl dressed up in a red skirt, coat, and devil horns, carried by her mom. Mom was the one to do the whole routine- ring the doorbell, say "trick or treat!" and pick a candy. The little girl looked like she was so over it, but mom looked rather happy as she walked away.

NaNoWriMo

Yes, it's that time of year again, where every wanna-be author sits their backside in a chair and cranks out 1,667 words a day for thirty days until they sit back and have a fledgling novel in front of them.


And yes, I'm one of those wanna-be authors.


I've "participated" in National Novel Writing Month for a couple of years, officially and unofficially, but I never really got anywhere. Last year I even cheated and started off the marathon with a three chapter lead, but I still didn't get that many words written. I'll probably cheat again this year... <cough cough>


But here's the deal, it's not about who cheated and who finished and who wrote the best... it's about getting yourself out there, about sitting down and cranking out as many words as you can, as many sentences and paragraphs and pages and chapters as you can, in thirty days. It's a sense of accomplishment. It's a reason to actually do what you've said you're going to do, and that's get a hearty chunk of your imagination down on paper (physically or virtually).


It's almost a sort of release, a way to let your imagination explode with all the ideas that you get between times to actually write something... and for some of us who are busy and have homework up to the ceiling, there's a lot of time for pent-up ideas to bounce around upstairs.


It'll be nice to have some of that brain space back again. I'm so committed! It will be the greatest test of endurance ever! I shall have to maintain my homework AND 1,667 words a day for a solid MONTH! Woohoo!


Dan the Husband Man is so doing this too. We'll be each other's support groups... (Plus he's not in school right now and his job is super not hard, so he'd better finish his story!)


I know my friend Cannwin is considering it... anyone else out there considering or committed or even just tentatively contemplating it?

(PS- I'm tentatively thinking of starting another blog to post sections of my story as well as my progress with NaNoWriMo... Opinions?)

5 Ways to Break Into Your House When You Get Locked Out

Before we get to this important subject, I'd like to talk about my blog in general. If you go back and read the first few posts, you might notice that I tried to go for the "I'm a cute Mormon and I do all kinds of cute crafts and I adore my husband and life is perfect!" (or something along those lines). However, I realised that that is totally not me. Those posts were hard to write! So instead I've started working on just typing stuff that hopefully people like. (PS- I'm not trying to bash cute Mormon mommy blogs. I actually really love reading them! I just can't read them when I'm swamped with homework and I have dirty dishes coming out my ears and I haven't brushed my teeth in three days because then I feel really crappy about my life. I just have a difference of opinion on what can be posted on blogs... which is why I feel no shame in posting rants about things that bother me. )


Here's the problem: The context of my writing has changed, but the blog layout hasn't. Therefore my blog still looks cute and adorable, but the writing isn't always cute and adorable. (I mean, I just told you that I don't brush my teeth for days when I'm drowning in homework.) I came up with only a few options to remedy this problem:
1. Change back to a default template. The problem is that to me, this is boring and amateur... if I can figure out how to put a premade background onto my blog, this option becomes pointless.
2. Look around for another background and use that. I've tried this option. It's more difficult than you think (either that or I don't know how to use Google). All the backgrounds I could find would have made my blog even more cutesy and crafty, or they would have turned my blog into a Myspace profile filled with loud colors and obnoxious things like naked women and fire.
3. Figure out how to make my own blog layout. I've seen this done, and it's rather nice-looking and unique. However, I don't know how to do this. Perhaps I shall have to ask the Husband-Man.



And now, back to our previously-scheduled post...


The other day I walked home from campus only to find the door was locked. Every once in a while I'll plan on coming home earlier than usual for whatever reason (yesterday it was because my visiting teachers were coming) and so we'll leave the door unlocked so I can get in. (The smartest thing to do would be to copy our single house key...) While we were away, however, the maintenance man finally showed up to look at our dishwasher that's been broken for a week. He was very polite, and decided to lock the door for us, which meant I was left on the porch in the bitter weather trying to figure out what to do. So to keep you from having the embarrassment of having the renter people come and let you into your house.


5 Ways to Break Into Your House When You Get Locked Out


1. If your windows are unlocked, the easiest thing to do is to pull the screen out of the window and climb in. However, there is a catch to this (besides not leaving your windows unlocked...): it helps to know how to remove the screen so you can open the window. I am one of the poorly uneducated, and after clawing at the screen in vain I therefore had to resign to waiting for the renter people.


2. Dig a hole into the basement. You know, like in the cartoons, where they dig under the wall and pop up in the house? That totally would have worked. Plus, you'd then have a fabulous outdoor entrance to your cellar/basement. For those of you living in higher levels of apartment complexes, (meaning not the ground floor,) you'll have to try another option.


3. Another option is to pick the lock. This can be done in a variety of ways, including using bobby pins, your super secret mind powers, an actual lockpick set, or dynamite. Pick your poison.


4. Another way is to climb down the chimney... but a lot of houses don't have chimneys. If your option is to come through the roof, however, you could always try sawing a hole in the ceiling. As they say in Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame, "Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission." Your landlord will understand.


5. These things can always be planned for in advance. To make sure that you always will be able to get into your house no matter what, plan for another top-secret entrance somewhere within decent walking distance. Then that entrance will have a special lock that you'll always have the key for (so long as you don't lose it.) Then you won't have to worry about copying house keys, and you can feel like batman or some super top-secret agent every time you enter your house.

Grammatical and Punctuational Errors Ate My Homework

The other day I was innocently working on my Music Literature workbook pages when I came across this:

Do you see it? No? I'll give you a minute...

Do you see it now? That's right. They spelled "questions" wrong. And it's in all capital letters.


I'd like to note that this workbook was part of a set of books that I was forced to spend over $500 on.


If you look back up at the first picture, you'll see they forgot a question mark on the last discussion question, too.


Enraged, I refused to answer the question, and instead spent a minute scanning my other three assigned pages for grammatical and punctuational errors.

 

Yep. It's there too. How hard is it to edit a book for simple things like making sure your questions end with question marks? I bet it would have raised the cost of my books to like $600 so they thought they were doing me a favor by just not doing it.

I was so mad that I posted an angry facebook status and went to bed without answering the questions I edited. I turned it in that way too. This is a junior-level college class! I'm not putting up with that.

Corelle Explosions

 

This is a small Corelle plate. (And my adorable little sister.) You might remember that earlier this year I broke a bowl.


I thought Corelle wasn't supposed to do that? I haven't even had this set for a year! Does the fact that my kitchen floor is tile have a factor in that?

Cookies, NES, and Vacuuming People

I wasn't going to post this because I usually don't post things late at night, but I'm mad at my Music Literature homework so I wrote this to feel better. I'll probably rant about my expensive un-edited textbooks tomorrow.

So in an earlier post I mentioned that I made chocolate chocolate chip cookies with peanut butter chips. You should know that they are A-MAZING!

Dan's even here to tell you that, yes, they are amazing, and he eats at least half a dozen of them a day.

Doesn't that make you want one?


I'm always amazed at how quickly cookies can disappear in this house. In order to concoct this specific type of cookie, I had to make a double batch. This means that instead of having three dozen cookies to be consumed in less than a week, we had about six dozen cookies. Now, logically, one would think that if two people could eat three dozen cookies in one week, six dozen cookies should last two weeks, right?


Wrong. I made these on Sunday. There's about a dozen or so left.


Another thing I want to talk about also involves my goofy husband.
Once upon a time Dan had an old-school Nintendo when he was little. A few months into our marriage, said Nintendo box found a place on top of our Blu-Ray player, and has just sat there. Poor husband wanted to play it, but he couldn't because he didn't have a power cord, and he was too cheap to pay $25 for it on Ebay (I'm totally like that too) so it just sat there, collecting dust. And then last week he found an ad on Craigslist for a guy who was selling his old NES for $25. I wasn't about to crush his hopes and dreams so yesterday he picked it up.

(Man, I really wish I knew how to work this camera...)

You'll never guess what he did for about three hours last night. While I was slaving away over my piano proficiency exam, he was playing Mario. (Notice the laptop discarded behind him. That is a rare sight!)

PS- In case anyone is wondering, I suck at Mario. After dying about a dozen times at the first bad guy, I gave up and took a shower.

And to end this random post, here's a picture of one of my good friends vacuuming her fiance on the porch.

I gave him a haircut once, and last night she asked if she could come over and borrow my hair clippers to give him a haircut herself. The Yockey way is that after a haircut, you vacuum the hair off of you. It makes you (a little) less itchy, and then you don't shed all over everything until you can shower. I highly recommend it. I vacuum Dan after a haircut even though he showers right after I clip his hair. It's awesome.

(If you look closely, she was super nice and used her hand as a shield so the hose didn't leave marks on him. Also, he's not entirely naked. He's just shirtless. His younger brother and I had a good laugh about this potential problem.)

Why Women Feel the Need to Shave Their Legs

I am one of those women who loathes shaving their legs. Or shaving anything. For me, it's an often painful experience if I try to shave both legs all at once. Our apartment's hot water heater can't last that long, apparently, so the end result is painful razorburn and hairy patches where I missed a spot in my rush to get out before the water turned freezing. I've recently learned to shave in halves, so one day I'll shave upper legs, and the next (or later in the day, if I'm feeling ambitious) I'll shave lower legs.


But honestly... who really wants to spend as much time shaving as they do showering? It's so obnoxious! Especially if your leg hair is like mine- thick, dark, and difficult to remove in any other way except a razor. Those DIY wax strips? Didn't do a thing except tear the oil off my skin. (Boy, that was gross.) Nair? Yeah right. I sit in a bathroom smelling like bananas or something for twenty minutes and nothing comes off. There was one hair removal creme I used to use to thin out the hair on my legs so shaving went a little easier, but it wasn't a huge difference. Professional wax? If it worked, who knows how long it would last- plus it costs a bajilliondy dollars or something.

So here's the bigger question- WHY DO WE DO IT??


I'll tell you what caused it: peer pressure. But not just any peer pressure-- peer pressure from men and clothing lines in 1915.


You heard me. Before World War I, the only unsightly hair that women worried about was a little facial hair here and there, and how the hair on their head looked. Then someone from Harper's Bazaar magazine printed this image:

I know, right? Who does that? Next thing women knew, dresses had sheer sleeves or no sleeves at all, and razor companies began putting out razors for women as well as men. It became a huge social thing- if you were popular, if you were in with the times, you shaved your pits so you could dance and swing your arms around and feel free with no armpit hair to weigh you down.


Seriously?


Removing leg hair was a little more difficult to catch on to, partially because they didn't want to give men bad thoughts by drawing attention to their legs, and partially because skirt hems only rose a little in the 20's and then went back to long in the 30's, and as I always thought as an early teenager, 'Why shave when your skirt covers it?' (Plus when I was a teen I had a problem with slicing myself open with the razor. Take a look at the side of your leg where there's a rather large tendon running over the rounded side of your ankle. Take note: that is not a fun place to cut yourself. We're talking at least 3 inch-long cuts.)


However, women succumbed again, ironically to a photo of a gal by the name of Betty Grable, a World War II pinup girl who shamelessly flaunted her flawless legs. Suddenly the idea of not giving men bad thoughts flipped 180 degrees and short shorts and sheer stockings became the next big thing. And if you've ever worn shorts or stockings without shaving your legs, not only is it uncomfortable (with stockings anyways), but it looks rather silly.


So there you have it. Why women shave their legs now. It started out as pressure to shave the pits and turned into the idea that women are supposed to be hairless or something. Don't get me wrong, I like shaved legs. They feel really nice against a good pair of jeans. Still, I can't help but think that a lot of women could save themselves a lot of time if they never knew the difference. Ignorance is bliss sometimes. (And can save you a lot of pain, not to mention the money invested in band-aids and neosporin.) I guess if you ever did want to stop shaving your legs, you could always move to Europe, where the fad of women shaving apparently hasn't caught on yet.

If you want to read the article I found this on, you can go HERE. I found it rather intriquing, and I'm pretty sure it's a legit site. Comment if you know more about the tragedy of women having to shave or if you find a better source if you just feel like posting something.

Why I Chose to be a Bachelor of Arts in Music

(Don't worry, this isn't an essay. This is just... more thoughts. And possibly some ranting.)

Just to quickly finish off the last two blog posts: The snow was gone by morning, and it's been sunny ever since, except for last night when it stormed. It has been getting colder though. And poor plant still seems to have no idea about the imminent freeze that will happen any day now that will most likely destroy all of its eight flowers. (Yes, despite the looming destruction, it continues to flourish. There may be tears shed when it finally succumbs to fall...) Of course, I know nothing about plants, not even the one I managed to keep alive since May, so maybe it's supposed to be doing this...


On other matters, I've been contemplating the consequences of choosing to be a BA in Music. I know, you're sick of my talking about it, but I really feel that this must be addressed, because so far I've been suffering some serious consequences because of it that I really do feel are unnecessary and rather unfair.


Once upon a time I went to college. I started out my college career as a Music Performance major. My first two semesters were in a different state, before I transferred here, and all was fine and wonderful and butterflies and cupcakes. People were impressed with how well I played the trumpet, I had many ambitions that I thought were impossible, and I only practiced an hour a day, five days a week and I was fine. I was in shape because of a rigorous marching band season, and I had my church family.


That's when I met Dan. We fell in love and got married a year later and then I moved up to Southern Idaho so he could finish his schooling and so could I, because during a visit to here I fell in love with the music department. There was a special spirit about the campus and some of the brass faculty had done some of the things I wanted to do. It was amazing! I was excited! Rainbows and puppies and more cupcakes!


And then one day I learned about a third degree that the University offered, called a Bachelor of Arts in Music. (Most colleges offer two, the Performance and Music Education degrees- or if they do offer a BA, then I never knew about it. This University was very nice in telling me that yes, I did have options.) I was instantly charmed by this degree, one that wasn't as time consuming, let me pick some of the classes I wanted to take, let me have a Creative Writing mini-minor, didn't require me to practice 18 hours a week (mostly because I'd already completed three of the four required juried lessons for that major), and by all appearances seemed to be something I could shape and mold to what I wanted to do.

 I couldn't get this potential option out of my mind. It haunted me. It was rainbows and puppies and cupcakes, but with kittens too. I literally thought about this for days- I even cried about it. Finally I made the decision- I was going to switch to the BA. It was the best thing for me, I decided, and would make me so happy. I even talked with the faculty adviser about it, and when he heard what I wanted he said it sounded like the BA was the right thing for me. So I did it. I switched.


I felt awesome. I felt light and free and excited. I had the entire world in my hands. I had the power to decide my college path.

And then the trumpet teacher who was away on sabbatical came back. He pegged me for not practicing, (ok, yeah, I should practice more than twice a week) and then, right at the very end of the semester he told me that he really really really really really really really REALLY wanted me to switch back to the Performance degree. It was the best option. The only way I'd learn. He had it all planned out, all I had to do was make the switch.


I was devastated. My whole future crumbled. I became a worrisome mess that sometimes led to tears. Poor Dan had no clue what to do with me. But then I came up with a plan. One that would work. It had to- I was actually making decisions for myself. I would just talk to him at my audition, and tell him that I wasn't switching but that I wanted to study other music and that I'd try harder to do more research and more listening and more practicing. I would do my best to make a change. (It should be noted that said change would definitely NOT be easy.)

And then this semester started. I had it all planned out. I knew exactly what I wanted to say. (Not that I'd remember it when I went in there...) Then I actually had the audition. (You might remember I wrote about it in THIS blog post.) It wasn't even half the length of the audition of the girl who went before me. I was one of the last of the day, and the instant I said, "I'm sticking with the BA," I saw a little switch click in his head. He was over it. Fine. If I wanted to just be stubborn and not develop my talents, that was fine with him. "I was thinking I could take non-major lessons..." I began, trying to get my foot in the door, trying to make him understand that I wanted to work this out- but then he shot my foot. "I won't have time to teach non-major lessons this semester."


That was it. The end. Nothing could save me now (except switching back to the Performance Degree).


I found out later that not only are there fourteen trumpets in the studio this semester but he's also trying to finish his Doctor in trumpet, so he's super busy. It's not like he glares at me as we pass each other in the hallway or writes me angry emails or anything. I just decided that I wasn't going to work on lessons this semester. That's all. I'll try again next semester... right?


The only problem with this is that I still can't get myself to practice for Symphony Band. Or for anything. At first I just counted it off as laziness, but then, while I was talking to a friend the other day, I realised part of the problem is that I felt lost as a musician. I don't know how to practice. I don't know what to practice. I don't know how to get the music I want to practice. And not only that, but when I saw my trumpet teacher get so turned off by my decision to stick with the BA, something inside me died. Why should I play the trumpet? If he doesn't care, why should I care? If he's not interested in helping me further my talents, then why should I be interested? What is there to love?


Don't get me wrong, I love playing in band. But I'm not getting anywhere. Because I'm not a Performance major I was denied the opportunity to play in Symphony Orchestra (which is my FAVORITE) or Chamber Brass. Perhaps being a BA isn't the reason why I wasn't allowed to remain in orchestra after having been in it for my entire career here thus far, but boy, that's sure what it seems like. I should go in and talk to him about it, but I can't bring myself to do it. (Plus he's never in his office.) All I can remember is that audition day, the day he shut the door in my face.


Now, I know what you're thinking- if this is so heartbreaking, why are you still a BA? All you had to do is say "Yes! I'm switching back!" and you'd be happily playing Mussourgsky right now.


Here's the deal: I like the BA. I like the freedom it grants me. I don't feel weighed down by all the things that they require me to do on top of my normal schoolwork. I have time to sleep and eat and see my husband. I have time to develop sincere and serious interests, such as creative writing and conducting and composition and organ lessons, as well as play my trumpet and become better at it. I like being able to do more than eat, sleep, breath, shower, and clip my toenails with my instrument. I love my instrument, but I also love doing other things away from it. It keeps me sane.


I'm not the only one who has had trouble with this. My aunt also chose the BA, and as a flute player she was turned down from playing in ensembles in college as well. They would be all willing to accept her, but the instant they found out she was a BA, they told her she couldn't play with the group. WHY DO PEOPLE DO THIS? In the professional world, auditions are blind. No one will turn you away if you can play better than the next guy, regardless of what degree you have. The teacher adviser told my class about a guy who was an accountant or something, and he grew up playing the tuba. He wanted to do that too, so he auditioned and got accepted in a major symphony, and he rehearses with them just like any other guy. It doesn't matter what degree you have!


It's extremely frustrating to have to go through this. I figure I'll just rant about it here and there until the end of the semester, at which point I'll probably just revert back into a worrisome and slightly sobby mess. But I honestly have no clue what to do or who to talk to- should I try to talk to my trumpet teacher? Should I just give up and look somewhere else for lessons? Am I just being too irrational in my desires to study orchestral music over specific solos? Am I stupid? What's going on here? If other BA's in the department are having similar troubles, I haven't heard of it.


On a happier note, I made AWESOME cookies the other day. If you read this entire post then I'll give you cookies if you drive up here. They are chocolate chocolate chip cookies with Reeses peanut butter chips thrown in. SO TASTY! Or you can fight Dan for a slice of banana bread.


PS- I'm also thinking of trying to post every day, or every other day. Any thoughts on this, since you probably don't have any advice for my ginormous rant? I mean, if you do that's FANTASTIC, I'll take it- unless your advice is for me to switch back to the Performance major. Then I'll probably punch you or send you spam and hate mail or something.

The Power of Human Emotion

 

(Dan had a long day at church!)

Our bishop was released in church today. He's a really awesome bishop, a great outdoorsman, and strong in the gospel and what he believes. Every year around this time he gave a lesson in Sunday School about winter preparedness and 72 hour kits and food storage and financial smarts. He grew up a farmer, but he's been through a lot and learned some things here and there. He's a fantastic guy.


It was amazing to see the emotion in Sacrament Meeting today as our old bishop and his wife each bore their testimony for us, and to see his old counselors bear their testimonies as well. I actually really like it when men get a little teary-eyed during their testimonies. I like seeing that vulnerable side of them, that part that is so in tune with the Spirit. There were quite a few wonderful testimonies about missing our bishop and welcoming our new bishop.


That sort of led me to think for a few minutes about the power of human emotion. We as humans have a deep sense of love for others, and we develop these intense friendships and bonds with one another. It's more obvious in marriage, but even then it can run deeper than we might imagine as the marriage progresses. Today I saw men who worked together in the Lord's work, men who loved the Lord and felt His Spirit so strongly that the idea of not working together any more brought deep emotion to their faces- to their whole frames. When Bishop got up he told about how he had to rely on his secretaries and counselors to help him remember things, and that without them it might not have run as smoothly as it did. He expressed a deep love of not only those who worked with him but for the entire ward, the people who had been under his charge for the last few years.


It was absolutely amazing.


The new bishop will be just as amazing, I think. His wife bore her testimony before him, and she told us that he was a pretty fearless man- he's been thrown off a bucking bronco and broke his sternum, he's flown planes without a pilot's license, he's done all these crazy things- but he was terrified to become bishop. I think he'll do a great job, though. Bishop left him everything all sorted and organized, and I think the biggest thing will be learning names and faces and getting accustomed to the work.


I love this Gospel with all my heart. I see and hear and feel things that are so wonderful, so personal, and so enriching to me. I hope that, as I overheard one friend say at school, "I [can] put the Gospel in the center of my life, rather than just being a part of it."


(PS- Plant survived the snow!)

 

(Not that you can see the flowers very well. I need to work on my photography skills... of which there are, apparently, none.)

Oh Dear...

Winter was more imminent than I thought.

 

Except this picture doesn't do it justice at all because every time I look outside the flakes are bigger and the grass gets whiter. I imagine everything will be frozen by tomorrow morning.



This is the scary part of the year because even though the weather is starting to get bad people will still drive like maniacs. Every time I crossed the street I stared at the cars, looking for any sign that they weren't going to slow down for me.

I suppose I'll dig out the hats and gloves and my boots... between homework assignments, anyways.

The Looming Winter

It rained a little today, so I looked like a sheepdog by the time I got to one of my classes today. Just enough of a drizzle to make all the frizz[le] pop. The sun's out now, though, as the gangs of birds across the street in the park are reminding everyone (constantly). Those birds are so loud that I'm convinced they're all assembled into gangs to harass each other, like West Side Story or Romeo and Juliet or something...

Anyways, as I think about where we are living and what month it is, I'm forced to think about the fact that any day now- literally- winter could show up at our doorstep.


I've been pretty happy with the weather right now- I wear a light jacket in the morning, and then I'm fine for the rest of the day. However, despite my happiness, I'm reminded of the truth of the weather situation here in southern Idaho by one of my wonderful teachers...


Teacher: "Welcome to class everyone. Those of you who are native to this area know we're on borrowed time. Those of you think this is nice weather... you're just fooling yourselves."
Girl in class: <mumbles> "We'll pay for it in May..."
Me: <thinking> Nooooo! Not May!
Teacher: "Those of you who are praying for snow are welcome to do so. Just remember that you're going to h---."
<Class laughs.>
Teacher: "Haha... just kidding. But seriously, if you're praying for snow, you have to pray for no snow on my driveway. Noooo snow on my driveway. Got it?"


Another person- or thing, rather- that is enjoying the nice weather to the max is poor Plant:

 

Boy, that is not a good picture...

If you look closely you can see that Plant currently has 3 1/2 flowers open and there are a few light green buds that will open within the next few days. Poor Plant has no clue what's coming...

(P.S.- I got this plant for Mother's Wife's Day, and it came in one of those little black plastic things with four individual plants in it. I potted all four- two whites, a purple and a red- but I killed the purple and red the purple and red ones died. I had to pull them out. Oh well... I'm hoping to put snapdragons in the pot next year!)

Winter, winter, winter... Why are you so cold and cruel? And so long?? Siiiighh... At least I have snowboots this year.

PS- LDS Conference was this last weekend. It. Was. Amazing! You can watch (and read soon) the talks at lds.org