um, no.
I have not actually forgotten about this blog, contrary to everything that is obvious and straightforward in this life. In fact, I have felt very guilty about the lack of posting, but then things became kind of a downer for awhile (more family cancer, although we're jazzing it up with the thyroid instead of the breast, my dad is still unemployed, joshua was working 14 hour days and weekends for a while there). Sometimes writing things down is therapeutic and cathartic and then sometimes merely experiencing a difficult situation is enough and to commit it to words just makes it even more raw and jarring.
Still, the 10 week hiatus was a bit much. After all, it is the SUMMER, I'm employed and working a crazy flexible, glorious schedule that allows me time to sun myself, keep up a demanding running schedule, and waste the days away slowly killing brain cells on the InterNet (please see Yahoo! Music Videos and the hilarity that isWill Ferrell).
However, during my blogging break, I have achieved one of my major goals - which is to get my ever-widening tush back in a dance studio before the cellulite starts creeping up my back and into my hair or something equally repulsive. This Thursday, I found myself surrounded by all sorts of dancing goodies, looking for a pair of jazz shoes to purchase for my new Adult Jazz class (please note - i used to make fun of Adult Jazz back when I was underage and flexible and could throw my leg behind my head for fun and then do double pirouettes en pointe) I might be a measly 23 years old, but that is past the typical prime of a professional dancer's life, and I've spent the last 5 years drinking my weight in lattes and cooking pasta. Right now Adult Jazz seems pretty intimidating and I would like to smack my 18-year-old condescending size 6 self in the face.
So, Thursday morning I bought these (in basic black):
and Thursday night I found myself wearing lycra and leather (please also note - not as sexy as it sounds) and attempting to perform all the steps that I once knew in my sleep...tendu, rond de jambe, battement, chassee, chassee, pas de bouree...I did not do anythng embarrassing like fall down or start crying after discovering my complete inability to even jazz walk, but I think the experience can be summed up by saying that it is now Saturday and I am still sore enough to dread things like, I don't know, changing clothes? However, I am also thrilled to pieces that I successfully did most of the combinations, and I have been torturing both Joshua and all my neighbors by practicing my pirouettes in our dining room. I have also convinced roughly half my friends to sign up for dance classes by promising them flat abs and killer calves.
I did not mention that they would also need to stock up on Icy Hot and any product ever marketed to the arthritic geriatric population, because while it is 100% true, I think it's probably a turn-off.
I'm back and stiffer than ever.
