“Jenny, get you ass out here.”
I’m standing in front of my neighbor’s house holding a black garment bag. I’m wearing a flaming red knee length chiffon dress with a black leather corset and there is a tree branch decked out in red and silver berries that appears to be eating my head.
“Why? I look more ridiculous than you do,” Jenny called through the crack in the door. I can see the flash and fluff of feathers as she’s shouldering her gear.
I showed up to ballet tonight having forgotten my leotard and with only two left shoes in my dance bag. Does that just lay my day right out there for you?
I might have bailed but a particularly awesome teacher was subbing and I had rearranged my whole family’s schedule so I could be there. Also, I spent the bulk of the day writing JavaScript which is a little like looking at the world from the wrong end of a telescope. I wanted to move, and not through a for loop, you know?
So frack it. I danced anyway. Best class I’ve had in two weeks.
You may have heard me mention (or curse or lament) the status of my long overdue Invisibility Shawl, which I began last summer. The shawl pattern was for the light airy sort of thing that would be perfect to wrap around bare shoulders for a evening dress, and some time towards late fall or early winter of last year, while I was safely entrenched in the Great Christmas Sock Project of 2010, I vowed to wear that shawl to the ballet in the coming season.
The break room at my office is always amply stocked with snacks. As I passed through one day, my eyes caught on a big tub of mixed nuts. In my head, I heard the echo of my dance instructor’s voice, at the barre for tondues. “Cashews!” she cried. “I want to see those feet look like cashews!”
I approached the tub of nuts, unscrewed the lid, and poured a small heap into my palm. I popped a pecan into my mouth. I prodded the nuts around in my hand until I came upon a cashew. I contemplated the cashew while I chewed. I popped in a macadamia nut. Still thinking about the cashew.
Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please...
I’m thirty-one years old, a mother of one. I started ballet lessons eight years ago.
And today...
For the first time in my life...
I did the splits.
Old dog.
New trick.
T-minus ten days until Christmas. We sloshed through rain and mud yesterday to acquire a Christmas tree. I’m dreaming of a wet Christmas. Luke and I decorated the tree last night while Shawn and Ana made tacos. It smells like home.
Okay, bad joke of the day...
While warming up during ballet class last night, my instructor was discussing a rather contemporary piece of choreography with another adult student. My instructor looked around at the class compliment that evening which had an uncharacteristically large amount of twelve-year olds. Looking pointedly at the younger members of the class my instructor says to my friend, “Sorry, but I don’t think we can do the weird stuff tonight.”
I’m working on a fairy costume for Halloween. Sort of Renaissance-ish. White chemise, strapless crocheted corset (yes, really, and it’s a whole story in itself), flowered circlet, that sort of thing. I was describing the costume to a friend of mine who said, “I know exactly what you’re going for. Sounds like an Arthur Rackham fairy.”
“Who?”
“Oh, he was an illustrator. Drew a lot of fairies. Midsummer Night’s Dream, that sort of thing.”
Well, god bless google.
Putting my kid’s destructive tendencies to good use..
Breaking in the Shoes from swingbug on Vimeo.
