Some of you may remember a blog from long ago where I railed against Disney for promising a “create your own fairy” section on their website and not delivering. Well, it’s up now.
Meet Nutmeg Dapplemint, a light-talent fairy that enjoys pumpkin never-muffins and afternoon naps in the sunshine. But then don’t we all?
My family recently lost two pets. Melvin and Max were wonderful cats in their own ways. Max was ornery, loud, and topped the scales at 20 lbs in his healthier days. He could slice you up like swiss cheese while purring at you, unless you were my mother, for whom he had a devotion that is rarely seen in a cat. I think he fancied himself the husband and my father the pet. I recall my dad telling me once that he returned home from work late and found my mom asleep and Max stretched out beside her on my dad’s side of the bed. When Dad tried to move him, Max growled at him.
So I’m kind of on a Regency era kick. My friend Jenny has a collection of films made from Jane Austen’s books, and upon hearing that I’d never seen Pride and Prejudice set out to correct this grievous oversight. Well, you know me; I’m a sucker for anything with pretty costumes and I ate it up, all 5 hours of it. Now I’ve seen all the movies in her collection several times over and I’m working on the books.
On Tuesday, while on my way out to Dixon to visit a client -- I love calling my previous employer my client -- I cruised by a coffee shop. I had the files I’d be delivering stashed away in a Baby Einstein CD case clipped to Luke’s diaper bag. I was armed with teething toys, drool cloths, and diapers, with my ever-present co-worker (read: boss) fidgeting in his car seat.
My house is the only house on the street with its Christmas lights still on. It is not the only house with the lights still up, mind you. It was a very festive neighborhood at Christmastime and if you look extra careful as you drive by in the evening, you’ll see those strings of darkened lights still hanging from the eaves of every other house. But now everyone is pretending they’ve gotten it together and proceeded into the new year by leaving them off. I celebrate my procrastination. At least I’m honest about it.
Turn your lights on.
I walk into my first pointe class last night with brand new, shiny shoes and no idea how to put them on. I change my clothes and start warming up bare-foot while class-mates around me don their shoes. These girls can dance circles around me on flat; I’m embarrassed to ask for help. One girl, a friend of mine, is sitting in the corner sewing on ribbons by hand.
My instructor quickly picks me out of the group and sits me down, expertly wrapping up my feet in elastic and ribbons. My new shoes are still stiff. They don’t bend with my arches and I can’t feel the floor.
I’m experimenting around here. Call it Spring Cleaning... in January. See, here’s the thing. I’ve always been very proud to hand code my site. Archaic though it might be, it keeps some basic html fresh in mind and forces me to actually learn how to use things like cascading style sheets rather than letting some formatted blog do the dirty work for me. And most canned templates make me cringe. So I’m a perfectionist and control freak. Duly noted.
Your results:
You are Wonder Woman
You are a beautiful princess
with great strength of character.
It was holly jolly Christmas around here. At least it was mellow and pleasant. We attended a few parties and visited with family. I took every opportunity to drink spiced apple cider before it goes out of season, and I got myself a kiss under the mistletoe.
"Slip these on."
I've been dancing for about 4 years now. I started ballet because I thought it might help me turn better when swing dancing. I haven't donned my Bleyers in a year now, I bet, but I've worn through half a dozen pairs of ballet slippers since then.
"How are they? Pleé. Can you flatten your toes?"
