Can the weekend really be over? It's been kind of a surreal day, so I felt the need to touch base with... virtual reality? I don't know.

First of all, I spend my Sunday mornings corrupting the minds of youth. That's right, I'm a Sunday School teacher. Of the most impressionable age - 18 months to 3 years. Whatever you tell them now sticks in there and sticks good. Well, the bits that stick do. We had a long conversation today about Daniel in the lions' den, and the part they liked best was that the mean guys got eaten. That was met with howls of delight and giggles. Love these kids.

But boy do they wear me out. I don't know how mothers do it.

I got a short rest at home and a walk with the dogs, then I went to go facilitate a seminar about how to do genealogical research. It went fine, and the group was visiting over cookies and punch when I was starting to feel like my day needed to be over. I was tired and my social capabilities were being overtaxed. I was frankly wondering how to end the party gracefully so I could go home.

Then someone popped their head in the door and told us President Gordon B. Hinckley had died. The end of an era. I mean, he was 97, but you get used to people who are around giving funny, brilliant advice for your whole life.

Yeah, that cleared the room pretty quick. It wasn't on my list of possible methods, either.

When I got home, I had a message from my oldest brother repeating the news. Good to know our family grapevine is in working order. There was a second message also. A grandmotherly woman I know has decided there's a nice young man she wants me to meet, and wants me to call her to get details.

What a day.