Twinkle toes

I've never dreamt of wearing tutus or tie-up shoes. Grace and lithe serenity as befits a ballerina, weren't born with me in nature. I'm much more apt at sports and working in dirt.

I'm almost as flexible though...getting there anyways...

The most dancing I did as a kid was with my sisters to Swan Lake (usually performed in our dress-up tutus...), In the Hall of the Mountain (a song our mother used to get us to do our chores more quickly), and Peter and the Wolf. In my younger years I recall my Daddy leading me in the waltz with my sock-clad feet standing on his snake-skin boots (he used to call me "twinkle-toes"). I was raised on movies like Newsies, Singin' in the Rain, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Meet Me in St. Louis...basically the old musicals with lots of fun dancing scenes.

I've always loved watching dancing. Especially when it looks like the dancer is having the time of their lives. As my taste in media and my view of the world and all of its many cultures has expanded, I have developed a love for actually dancing myself.

In High School I took a ballroom dance class. Rhythm, timing, form all came easily to me (with the younger boys in the class I usually ended up leading...which turned out to be very unhelpful later on as most 'manly' men don't appreciate the help...odd). Then my first couple years of college I went country dancing with my friends and roommates every Wednesday night (this is where me leading proved an annoyance...the line dances were my favorite).

Whilst searching for a fun elective, I stumbled upon African Dance (and gaped). I signed up for it immediately. I took it for three semesters in a row. Every class was enlightening, fun, energetic. The live drummers came to recognize me and I became fast friends with the hippy bunch (is anyone surprised?).

I want to be brown...and wear the black head piece on the left...

I'd always wanted to travel to Africa. Learning about the meanings behind the dances, moving to their ancient rhythm...it all made me feel like I was getting a taste of the rich African culture.

Recently (within the last couple of years) I was exposed to Bollywood. Hailing from India, it also comes from a deeply rooted traditional country. Bright happy colors flying around. Beautiful smiles on faces of the energetic dancers. The dances are exciting and fun with a lot of movement and happenin songs!

Dil Bole Hadippa...one of my favorites...with my favorite actor...

I love trying out the dances and I can usually pick up on the chorus because they repeat the moves but usually the fun parts are on the verses...so it would take much repeating and lots of practice to get those down. I love the colors! They are so bright and happy which makes me happy so of course I want to copy them. My sister, Melissa, and I are now owners of some pretty sweet Indian outfits..(soon to be owning more...straight from India...)...

As a small child I was completely enthralled with the Native Americans. Pocahontas was one of my favorite Disney movies(might have had something to do with the fact I had a HUGE crush on the cute red-headed Thomas). Camille and I used to run around being little Indians...grinding berries to make medicines, making bows and arrows (not very good ones might I add), setting up real live traps for the mean neighbors, once we even rubbed dirt all over our skin so we were darker. The culture of the Native Americans is also rich and ancient and as with the previous groups, dancing means something and can tell stories about the People. 

Awesome. The end.

They look so passionate when they are dancing. I went to a Pow Ow with my roommate and I was just mesmerized! It was so powerful for them. It meant something to them and that touched me.

Riverdance. What the awesome?! It comes from a land of lore and mystery, of enchantment. This form of dance also comes from an long-lived country. The light and carefree music leads the dancers through frivolity and gaiety! Every dance exudes the bubbling laughter of the people or the misty mysterious beauty of their myths.

They look so mysterious and gorgeous. LOVE.

My sister, cousin and uncle all participated in lessons and my sister taught me a little bit. It was so fun and light and lilting...just like their music.

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A word on being cut open

6 am. That's when I have to be there. 

NOT when I have to open my eye lids to a dark world.

NOT when I have to awake myself and arouse my faculties. 

NOT when I have to take a shower to scrub the special antibiotic soap all over my bacteria-ridden body. 

NOT when I have to prepare myself for my doom.

NOT when I have to leave my home to get to the hospital. 

I'm the first 'case.' That's right. The lucky girl that arrives at 6 am. 

6 am. Oh how I haven't missed you. Lucky for me, I get to be knocked out for a couple of hours to make up for it. That's when they cut me open. Yup. Like in the child's game, Operation. 

Tools needed...true story

Only for real. 

Due to many hilarious stories of delirious post-anesthetic behaviors, I'm leaving my phone in the care of my beloved mother who will be sane and drug-free at all times. She will be in possession of the device whilst I am in a drug-induced craziness. Until such a time that I can coherently converse with you lovely peoples.

SO nothing too scandalous if you please. It's my mother who'll be reading them. Just sayin.

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Woe is me...

Many days had passed since my grand adventure. Laughter, good company, and great stories would never fade from my memory. But there is a small amount of remembering that fades with time. Specific wording to a fantastic joke, complete conversations that changed my life, or merely the look on Betsy's face when Jacs told her to change out in the wild...

But wait! Pictures can speak a thousand words. Written travel logs can replace the memory that fades. Pictures of good times, taken in the confines of a cabin in the woods, taken at the top of cliffs, taken in the three hours it took to reach that place, taken on horses and saved to the memory card for later viewing.

Alas, I cannot blog on this wondrous occasion as I do not have the pictures or the travel log to do it with. I am sinking into the depths of despair and woe.

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Skyline

Euphoria. Flying, soaring, tumbling. Other waves crash all around me. But I can fly! I feel the air beneath me as I surge forward. I can almost touch the sky with his billowing clouds and huge blue eyes. Laughing and giggling I swerve away from his tickling fingers.

Dolphins leap and splash all around me as they play. They are a gift from my mother. She sends all sorts of creatures to her little ones. We might get lonely this far away from her.

I come close to my sister waves. We collide and bounce all around each other. Together we build higher and faster. Nothing stands in our way. Ships avoid us. Sea creatures join us.

Oh the power of our unity!

Surging forward, the elation drives me to the heights beyond the clouds. With those around me I feel secure and profoundly strong. I can't help but beam my happiness at the sun sitting up in his universal realm where all the lights play and dance. Sometimes they come and join in our frivolity down on the earth. Alighting on our wings and floating to secret places.

Cliffs. Our most challenging obstacle. At most our force combined can chip off small slivers. Pounding the hard surface of the earth is a grueling task. She is unyielding and stubborn. It is hard on all of us. But it must be done. It is what is required of us. We push and strain against her solid barrier. Some of my brothers and sisters can't make it. Our ranks never dwindle.

Some pull back for a time...

but the rest of us push forward even harder.

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Undertable activities of fun-ness

I live in a land of extreme cold weather. It is Utah. It*s the way it is here. Logan is a college town. I am a college student. Logan and I met. Cold and I don*t like each other. Logan and I are really good friends despite that bad relationship. My apartment isn*t very good at guarding against the cold. With little insulation; thin walls; and leaks in most diverse places; cold doesn*t need to be sneaky to find its way into my humble abode.

However; my roommate and I have done some research. There are ways recently discovered to reduce the effects of chilling (a symptom of cold*s presence). I came down the stairs to find her under the dining table where the heater is. Genius!! I warmed my rice bag and grabbed a blanket to join her underneath the table. 

And thus it commenced...

Pan*s idea not mine...

Ducky!! Yep! Yep! Yep!

This is my lost orphan hair

Besides this we watched fabulous youtube videos; an episode of Lie To Me; and playing on my computer. The best part was...we stayed warm!

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Fire + Men = ?!!!

Midnight approaches and everyone is getting antsy. Food adorns the kitchen counter and none of it has been left untouched. Standing in the kitchen are a few of the men; exchanging funny stories of things that had happened to each of them over the past year. On the kitchen table a riveting game of Picture Dice is commencing and the occupants are raising their voices according to their luck or lack thereof. In the living room in front of the couch four or more dancers jam out to the songs on Just Dance 2; the newest addition to the Wii repertoire; while an unlicensed cameraman takes an unauthorized recording of one particular dancer...! A few people are gathered around the computer playing some extraordinary game I*m sure. My Dad however after waking from a short evening nap; has gone outside to rig up the launching pad.

The clock strikes 12 and everyone scrambles to throw their coats; gloves; scarves; hats; and boots on. The babies and small children are asleep inside and a few stay in to keep warm. But testosterone is pumping and all the men must launch something big and spectacular.

A few bottle rockets fly into the sky and explode with a pop! Drifting down the porch stairs my puppy*s whines reach my ears. I walk out past the halo of light surrounding the house to cover her ears and hold her trembling body close as firework after firework explodes in the air. Reds; golds; and a few blues shower the sky with their brilliant light. My horse paces a frantic burrow in the snow along the far fence; making worried noises with each burst of light.

Silence once again reigns. The show must have ended. I watch as the bystanders march inside.

The proud launchers still buzz a pattern around the remaining fireworks. Some are saved for the next years show; but there are a few of the men that can't leave a firework unfired! One last big firework is sent screaming into the frozen New Year air.

Something just feels off. The men stash the rest of the fireworks in a bag for next year and pick up the burnt out remains of those that were fired. But something was missing. I ponder the events that had just transpired.

No near death experiences this year. All of the illegal Wyoming fireworks had actually ended up in the air as was their purpose. That was it!!! Almost every year of the Crook get together for New Years at least ONE of the airborne fireworks hadn't made it up where it belonged. One year a bottle rocket fell over and shot at almost every group of family members huddled together around the yard. Another year a huge blue firework hadn*t shot out of its canister and had exploded on the ground where everyone was still gathered.

The excitement of those years outweighed the excitement experienced this year. Safety was always a good thing...but you never have stories to tell from those years. Just a thought.

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Mermaid Tears

"I don't know how. I don't know when. But I know something's starting right now. Watch and you'll see. Someday I'll be... part of your...world." I watch enthralled as the beautiful merprincess dramatically poses on the jagged ocean rock, waves splashing in symphony all around her, her red tresses flying in the wind. My young mind longs to be a beautiful, mysterious creature such as she.  The fantasy and the magic in this timeless show, excites my imagination. Visions of being enchanted and turning mermaid, whirl through my brain.

It's bath time tonight. Oh I can't wait. The tub has just the right angle to try what the red-headed mermaid did as she sang to her love on the beach. I wait impatiently as my mom gets my bath going, checking the temperature, and pulling out all of my favorite bath toys. Of course, tonight I will be setting those aside for a much more exciting bath pastime. The tub fills excruciatingly slowly! I have no patience for this tonight. My older sister, Camille, and I have to take baths together. She will probably think that my idea is dumb. She always does because I am the younger sister. Oh well. My imagination cannot be stopped by a mere mortal.

Finally the tub has enough water to get in and start 'bathing.' For a moment my idea is put aside as hair products are lathered into my scalp and I squeeze my eyes shut tight. I don't like getting the suds in my eyes. It hurts. Once our bodies have been scrubbed down and rinsed, we're allowed to play in the soapy water. Perfect! It was just as though it was the crashing ocean waves. I start singing the song from the movie and I slide up the side of the tub like a true mermaid. I can feel my clean hair swirling around my wet shoulders. When I've slithered back into the water, my sister has a look of amazement on her face.

"Let me try!" While I continue to sing the song she slides up and splashes water all over everywhere. It was awesome. She had looked just like Ariel. We took turns singing and splashing up the side of the almost empty tub. Laughing and having a ball, these were good times.

I'm sure that we'll get scolded, but it is too fun to think of that right now.

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