Its a cold, but not too cold, but very gray day in mid-February. We've entered the winter doldrums. It had briefly warmed up and when the sun disappeared again (because it is winter, after all), it cast me into a seasonal depression.

I had bullied myself into going to a Relief Society exercise class, so here I was. One and a half hours late, but better late than never. I now proved to myself that it was thing and that people went and that I could too. Partway through doing the stretches for yoga, I noticed someone else who had appeared later than everyone else. She looked not like the other sisters. Her hair over her ears looked shaved, a "punk" look. She, like me, probably didn't know anyone in the room.

Gratefully, Grace gave me a means to talk to her after the yoga music stopped.

"My daughter says you are going to the library too."

And the conversation that followed had nothing to do with the library.

"Oh probably...we have a huge bill there. My eight year old lost books this summer. We're going to use our tax return to pay off bills. I'm so sick of living paycheck to paycehck."

"Makes sense. No better use for a tax return," I quip.

I tune out for a minute because by infant daughter who had been content up till this point in her infant carrier was being rocked and startled by an adventuring new walking baby.

When I tune back in, I hear this woman say, "Death can do that to your routines."

Uh oh, i chose the wrong part of the conversation to tune out,