The promised all exciting dance post

First of all, HAPPY FEAST OF ST. THERESE! This is one of my favorite feasts of the whole year. I just love St. Therese, and she's the namesake of my baby girl. :)

Anyway, I can't tell you how much I enjoy this blog, and how much it means to me that people actually read what I write. I enjoy writing, and this blog really serves as a journal for me, it's a real blessing. And I will grant that I post on an odd variety of topics. Catholic stuff, parenting (those aren't so odd) but then you toss in knitting, head covering and belly dance and you have what I like to call an eclectic mix. Anyway, I just felt like mentioning that I appreciate you, my friendly readers.

Because today's post is about belly dance, and I'm sure that some of you really don't care about belly dancing. But you care about me, and that means the world to me. It's important to me, so you listen to me blather on about it. Thank you. :) And let the blathering begin...

Ok. Settle in, this is going to be a long one. This is all so exciting, have I mentioned that yet? And I've been bursting at the seams to talk about it, but held back because nothing was official until very recently. And would you JUST get on with it Tiffany?! Yes, sorry.

So, about a month ago my wonderful dance instructor Claire got in touch with me and another of my classmates. She had very recently been hired for what promised to be a regular monthly gig dancing at a new (and very nice) Mediterranean restaurant in town. The restaurant wanted 2 dancers, each dancing 2 sets (30 minutes total) over a 2 hour time period. She has another professional dancer that she split the first 2 gigs with. She asked my classmate Amy and I if we would be interested in becoming part of the rotation to split the sets with her, she thought we were ready. So, each month she would dance 2 sets and one of us would dance the other 2. We would get paid the going professional rate for our time, and she proposed that the first time we did this, Amy and I split the gig so that we could ease into things. So, she would dance 2 sets, Amy would dance 1 set, and I would dance 1 set.  Were we interested?

In a word, YES. And the funny thing is, when I started belly dancing, I didn't even think I would ever perform in a GROUP at a HAFLA. I just think it's ironic that I spent my 20's slaving away in law school and agonizing over why no boys liked me and here I am in my mid-30's (humor me here), married with 2 kids, and belly dancing in restaurants. *snort* Let me tell you, the 30's situation is much preferable over the 20's, I don't care how how many more lines I have in my skin. Anyway, I digress.

I'm certainly not in this to make money. If you're dancing a professional gig you certainly should be paid (you are working your glittery buns off to earn that money, plus you don't want to undercut the other dancers in the area), and it's nice to have a little something to offset the cost of costumes and lessons. And it's not all about the fun, because believe me, the level of anxiety I feel about this is undermining the fun part right about now. The restaurant is hiring you to entertain their customers, and it's all very business-like. It's not about you, it's about what the restaurant wants.  But what this is to me is just...meaningful on some deep level. I love to dance, always have. Dance is an art form, and it's one way that I can express myself creatively. As an introvert, having this outlet is just priceless. Dancing is doing something that I love, sharing it with other people, and feeling good about myself when I do it. It's not easy for a really shy and often insecure person to feel good about themselves. Dancing bridges that divide for me.

So anyway, back to my story. Amy and I were both interested, so Claire suggested we put together a 15 minute playlist for a set (must include both kicky and slow music) and come in to the studio for a weekend practice session. She didn't have a date yet for the next month, but was cautiously optimistic that a booking for October would come in shortly, and she wanted us to be ready. I was so excited I could hardly stand it.

That week I poured over my iTunes music library. I downloaded some new music (because the, I don't know, *thousand* or so Middle Eastern songs that I already had just weren't enough) and generally obsessed over things. I finally settled on a playlist. It included:

(1) Arabic pop
(2) Slow and swirly veil song
(3) Upbeat sword song
(4) Drum solo
(5) Exit music

I felt proud of myself and patted myself on the back for my efforts. I had researched common order for playlists, where to put the drum piece, etc., and felt happy with my selections.

The Sunday practice session rolled around. I happily arrived at the dance studio with my veil and sword in tow. I don't know what I thought we were going to do. Chat about things, practice some improvisation (because it goes without saying that restaurant dancing is all improvisation; you simply can't plan for a consistent, unimpeded environment enough to have any semblence of a choreography) go over our playlists, glean lots of wisdom from Claire, all of that.

So, we do chat. It was great. All very supportive. We glean lots of wisdom. Then Claire turns to us and says:

"So, who wants to go first?"

Say what?

Amy and I turn to stare at each other, wide-eyed.

"Oh, you mean you want us to put our playlists on and dance for the entire 15 minutes? One *gulp* at a time?"

"Oh yes! I promise, I'm not doing this to torture you. You just really don't want your first time dancing a full 15 minute set to be *at the restaurant*. You want to work out all the kinks now."

Yes, yes I'm sure we do. But I was still unprepared for dancing my entire set in front of Claire and Amy, whose opinions I greatly cherish. This sounded just the weensiest bit intimidating.

Ok, so I was nervous. That would be the worst part. Claire was stressing how exhausting dancing for 15 minutes was, but I've done 3-4 minute solos before, and group numbers that were even longer, so I was confident that I could keep my energy level up for just that much longer. No sweat (pun intended), right?

Herein follows a chronicling of my upbeat entrance (with my dance persona of "Confident, Knows What She's Doing Tiffany" firmly strapped on by necessity. She doesn't actually exist, but no matter) to my swirly veil exit:

(1) Arabic pop - Dry mouthed and nervous, I strut out and begin to dance, happy that I chose an extremely peppy song to start out. I'm feeling quite self-conscious, but upbeat. I know my arms suck, but I really put my hips into it. Halfway though, I start to feel like the song  may never end, but I press on.

(2) Slow and swirly veil song - Retrieve veil from tucked position into my skirt. I'm always a little intimidated about dancing with my veil and I rarely do it because I fear veil-induced disasters involving me becoming sprawled on the floor. But I know props are popular in restaurant work so I trot it out. Good Lord, it's HOT underneath my cutely created veil tent move. I realize that I'm sweating a bit and my veil starts to stick to my skin. I press on.

(3) Upbeat sword song - Veil song ends THANK GOD. I ditch it and grab my sword. I realize that I'm now sweating quite a bit. I balance away, and I'm much more confident with my sword. However, I realize that my energy level has waned significantly.

(4) Drum solo - HIT.A.WALL. Seriously, I'm half dead. I'm so tired I can hardly hit anything remotely resembling a drum accent and a sheen of sweat coats my entire face and upper body.

(5) Exit music - I pluck my veil off the floor and thank God that it's almost over. I swirl off the floor and wonder how I'll summon up the energy to put my coat on let along drive home.

Wow. I was completely unprepared for the mental and physical energy required to dance a solo 15 minute set. I often read about people complaining that hiring a belly dancer to dance 20-30 minutes costs $100-$150 on average. They feel that it's too expensive for such a short time period. Now you know why. And that doesn't even get into all the preparation that the dancer does before the show.

Anyway, I scrape myself off the floor and head back into the main part of the studio to talk to Claire and watch Amy dance. As ever, I loved watching Amy dance and learned so much from her. It was so valuable for us to dance in front of each other like that.

Exhausted, we finally went home with instructions for things to work on in preparation for another practice session the following Sunday. We did this for 3 more Sundays, including our most recent one yesterday. Each week, I could feel myself sweating just a little bit less (although granted, STILL A LOT OF SWEAT) and feeling LESS like I may die of anxiety. Yesterday was our best practice session to date.

So, it's finally official. I'm dancing this coming Saturday evening at the restaurant. My stomach hurts just thinking about it, and I'm biting my nails a lot, but there you have it. I'm excited, really excited. I'm just really, really nervous. My costume is ready. My new shoes look great. I have my playlist all set (dancing a full song with my sword and using my veil as part of the entrance) and I've been practicing my improvising as often as I can.

I hope I don't slip on my veil and sprawl in a very ungraceful fashion out on the tile floor. Because I do step on my veil. A LOT. My sword has yet to fall off my head and clatter to the floor, but yesterday in practice I could see the hilt out of the corner of my eye which is a bad sign, and it didn't feel right on my head for the entire song. *sighs* I'm as ready for this next step in my dancing career as I can be, but that's not exactly a resounding endorsement.

I hope this goes well. As you might expect, I will keep you posted on every detail.

I'm sure you will all be relieved to know....

...that my new dance shoes are out for delivery. :)

*snort*

I love the ability to track packages, I'm a bit neurotic about it. As for why I need new dance shoes, there's a very exciting story that I'll post on Monday. :) I'm sure you're just dying of anticipation.

In other exciting news, my self-patterning snowman sock yarn kit finally shipped! I ordered it back in mid-August, and it was a pre-order, so I knew it would take some time. She said about a month. It's been over a month (not that I'm counting) and I was getting very squirmy about the whole thing. Well happily, my snowmen are on their way from Colorado Springs to me as I type. I'm *dying* to get started on these. Will definitely report back in about this project.

Currently on my needles I have a winter wool cardigan for Anne, and the pair of fall colored anklets that are the replacement for my doomed falling leaves socks. I'm going to get as much done on both of them as I can over the weekend so that I can dive into new projects. It's all very thrilling.

Afternoon obsessions

It's 3 pm. What am I doing?

I just finished working on a document for a presentation I'll give in a few weeks. Thus, I'm obsessively tracking a pair of dance shoes that I ordered that I'd like to practice in this weekend. They started out in Wiles Barre, PA and are now in Philadelphia. That seems backwards to me, but such is the way of things with shipping these days. The tracking page assures me that my shoes are set to be delivered tomorrow, and for its sake, I hope that it's right.

Anyway, I received an email this morning from my friends at Living Faith, that little daily devotional that I have a soft spot for. Over the weekend I'm set to download the new October/November/December issue for my Kindle (also available in print) but I see that they are promoting a new edition just for Advent. 99 Cents for Kindle, what a deal!

Adventures in Henry's room

"Mommy, would you help me set up my army village?"

"Well, sure Sweetie, but only until Daddy needs me to come get Anne from her bath."

"Ok. I'm going to set up the good guys. You can set up the bad guys."

"Ok."

*I frown at the various little army men and start lining them up depending on whether they are standing, kneeling or laying down*

"Um, no Mommy, this guy goes over here."

*CL sees no difference between this and the way I just had him, but whatever*

"Ok Honey."

*resume lining little men up*

"Um, Mommy, no that guy goes like *this*."

Ah ha.

"Actually Mommy, why don't I do this myself?"

The child is just like me. I feel like saying the exact same thing anytime I ask him to do a chore.

Anticipating Advent, and antics in Anne's world

Yesterday when I got home from work, Anne was just awakening from her afternoon nap. Eagerly, I headed upstairs. Is there anything better than the fresh face of your baby/toddler when they first get up from a nap? It's so very kissable.

That is, if your toddler will allow you to kiss her. I knew I was in trouble when I turned on her light to see her face all scrunched up and angry looking. Definitely looked as if she had woken up on the wrong side of the crib. As I headed toward her, she *ran away from me to the other side of her crib.* This is not easy to do in such a small space, but she managed it. When I picked her up, she *kicked* and squirmed. Changing her diaper didn't go much better. I didn't take it personally (she has these "bad afternoon naps" sometimes) but holy smokes.

Shortly thereafter, my mom came over for dinner and got the same treatment. Anne (aka Sassy Pants) refused to let my mom kiss or hold her and THEN was suddenly All About Mommy (naturally, as I was trying to eat) demanding to sit on my lap while I ate and Koala-ing onto me. I really hope this "stage" passes quickly.

In Catholic world, I received a book to review that has me all excited about Advent's approach. I review books for a Catholic journal, and this month they sent me The Little Way of Advent: Meditations in the Spirit of St. Therese of Lisieux by Fr. Gary Caster. I *love* seasonal meditation volumes like this one. I expected this one to be writings of St. Therese to meditate upon each day, but it wasn't like that at all. Instead, the author focuses on St. Therese's devotion to both the infant Jesus and to the Holy Face, and explores how those themes weave their way through the Advent readings (including Sundays in all 3 cycles). Good stuff.

New year of Children't Liturgy, and is there a sock heaven?

This Sunday was the first installment of Children's Liturgy of the Word for the new school year, and the appointed catechist was none other than yours truly. I'll admit to dreading it just a hair, because there had been some challenging weeks leading up to the summer hiatus (Palm Sunday being a "highlight") and I had contemplated resigning from the program in lieu of volunteering for a different ministry.

But alas, here I am, all catechized and about to share with the children again. I prepared my lesson and prayed for the best. And you know, it went well. I had a smaller group (about 10 children) mostly consisting of school aged kids with just 2 squirmy pre-schoolers in the mix. The kids stayed mostly interested (at least the older ones) and I always try to add in interesting and amusing side stories when I can. It was a big relief to have the first week go so well. I'm back on duty in 3 weeks.

In other news, my falling leaves socks are no more. Friday night after dance class, I gleefully pulled them apart and re-balled the yarn. I threw the pattern in the garbage. Emotional gauge based on so much work going out the window?: Total joy. I'm SO relieved to not have to work on them anymore. I cast on for a pair of simple anklets, and life is grand.

Knitting projects gone bad

This hasn't happened in some time, but I'm familiar with this process. It's not pleasant to live through, but we knitters and crocheters all have to do it sometimes.

It goes like this. I'm all excited for a new project. I happily get the yarn and needles or hook out from my stash, along with the pattern. I do a little happy dance. There's nothing quite like the smell and anticipation of new yarn.

I set up my end table with my supplies, and dig in. If I'm being a very good girl, I produce a gauge swatch, although I usually live dangerously rely on previous work as a precise measure of my gauge. I then cast on. Things go well. For a time. Pretty soon, I notice an error.

Now, all crafters make errors. Not all of them take them as personally as I do.  A brave (and sane) crafter can admit that she is not perfect, add or decrease a stitch or what have you to make up for the error, and move on with her life, considering the experience a "design element" that enhances the product's appeal as handmade. Sometimes I can do this. Usually, I can't. It'll just eat away at me, mocking me every time I look at the damn thing. If I feel like I just can't live with it, I'll rip back or start over, making me extremely cranky in the process. If I feel like I can live with it, I'll knit two together and move on, but it will continue to bother me for the lifetime of the project, hence making me cranky anyway. As you can see, this is pretty much a lose/lose.

But on I press, because I just love the looks of the finished object. The picture of it on the pattern, at least. *My* work-in-progress is not really resembling the picture on the pattern but I am determined that I will make it as close a facsimile as possible if it kills me. So I knit on.

Soon, I come to a section in the pattern that I find confusing. I'm a librarian, I'm resourceful, so I go online. I pull up the pattern page on Ravelry, look at the gallery of items that other knitters have made. I read their notes, I take note of any errata. I may even locate the designers web page (stalker) to see if I can glean further information. Then I look at the pattern again while pressing my fingers to my forehead to make my brain work better.

I figure it out. Or, at least I *think* I do. I knit on and it quickly becomes clear that I still have no bloody idea what I'm doing. I may or may not knit backwards so that I can correct the error. But I've figured out the problem, so I'm happy. Now that I got through that problem spot, I'll be able to complete the project.

Until I hit the wall again. There's more frantic Ravelry consultation, more forehead pressing, perhaps an ibuprofen popped. There will almost certainly be swearing. There will be angry stuffing away of my project and firm handling of the yarn.

I HATE the project, but I'm not willing to give up yet. After all the time I've invested, I want my freaking pair of leaf socks. Oops, we've ventured over from the hypothetical into the reality, but there you have it. My leaf socks and I are at an impasse. It's charts confounded me, my center leaf is all jacked up, but STILL I thought I could make it work. I mastered the smaller leaves, and even though the edges of the instep are all loose and wonky, my leaves looked decent. I continued to knit them, slogging away with my cable needle and a bad attitude because I *really* wanted those socks.

Until I hit the heel. The heel, my friends, is my undoing. I've knit many socks, but all from the cuff down. These are from the toe up, and hopefully not all toe-up socks are this awful, but the heel of my falling leaves sock looks like a small testy animal chewed it up and spit it out. It's AWFUL. And STILL I did not abandon the project, because I'm such a glutton for punishment.

Until I rejoined in the round for the leg. I have to then continue the pattern all the way around, and you know what? I HATE THE PATTERN. The thought of cabling another one of those stupid little leaves depresses me and makes me want to break my wood double pointed needles out of spite just so that I have an excuse not to work on them anymore. And this is just sock #1! Casting on for another one of those fiddly toes again?! Navigating the center leaf chart again which took all my concentration and an advanced degree just to figure out the numerous charted symbol combinations?!

UGH. No sir. This is supposed to be *enjoyable* and *relaxing*. My sock is still stuffed intact inside my knitting bag, but I have a feeling that it's going to go to the big yarn pile in the sky this weekend. Clearly, I need a new pattern. I love the yarn, and I want socks made from it, so why torture myself? I should love the socks, not want to dismantle them piece by piece just to see them suffer.

I'm feeling porky about the whole thing. I need a happy knitting project to cleanse my palate. Perhaps crochet, just to switch things up. But the falling leaves are about to fall right back into a yarn ball. So sad for them.

Anne's world: 16 months edition

Anne is just a little firecracker these days and is clearly the most social person in the entire family. She has a sassy little personality in a small body, but everyone knows what's on her mind, let me tell you. Let's flip through a tour of Anne's abilities these days...

Things that Anne can climb:

(1) Every table in the house.

(2) It goes without saying, the stairs, at rapid fire speed.

(3) The walls (if provided with a boost from an accommodating piece of furniture).

She will dance to:

(1) All music on my Workout playlist, and most Middle Eastern music.

(2) The paging "beep beep beep!" on our cordless phone unit.

(3) Her white noise machine "heartbeat" setting.

She is morally opposed to:

(1) Sitting in her high chair to eat.

(2) Laying in a prone position on the changing table.

(3) Keeping socks on her feet.

She will often protest:

(1) Sitting on your lap for any length of time.

(2) Eating the thing that was perfectly palatable to her a few days prior.

(3) Wearing pants.

When angered, she is likely to:

(1) Scream.

(2) Kick.

(3) Slap her toy puppy dog.

This morning I was feeling particularly vulnerable after a long night of Anne wakefulness and refusal to go back to sleep. As I prepared to leave for work, Mike was vacuuming the upstairs, so I popped Anne into her crib with a few toys so she would be safe until Mike finished up. He turned off the vacuum to say goodbye to me. As I leaned into his very welcome hug, I hear him say over my shoulder:

"Anne! Get your leg off of that crib rail!"

Sweet mother of God. She's *already* trying to climb out of her crib?! Anybody know of a good crib roof thing?!

For the first time in months, last night I...

...used my CROCK POT!

I know that most normal people wouldn't get this excited about using a slow cooker, but what can I say? I love using my crock pot. And I only use it when the weather is cold. It's just not summery to use the crock pot. This is partially because we don't have air conditioning in our kitchen and thus it heats up with just the slightest provocation in the summer. But it just screams "Fall!" to me to use the crock pot. So I busted it out for the first time last night.

I put some chicken in there with carrots in a cream of chicken soup mixture. SO good. The meat gets so tender and the vegetables so soft. Boil some water for pasta, and voila! Instant meal.

I love coming home and smelling the dinner cooking. I love how easy it is to have everything ready before I even leave work. Easy, easy, easy.

And the weather is finally cooperating. We're actually *above* average this month for rainfall. The grass is green again! It feels damp and chilly. Love it.

My new winter hat is nearly done. I'm on the final round of the decreased entrelac rectangles. Query: does anybody know how to graft live stitches onto a selvedge edge? My YouTube searching is only bringing up Kitchener stitch results, which isn't what I need. I think I can finagle something loosely based on Kitchener, but I don't know what the heck I'm doing, so looking for a little guidance. After this, I embark on a pair of mittens, plus start gift knitting!

Mike and I are set to watch a movie tonight after the kids go to bed, and I want to also work on my falling leaf sock. This sock is quite an investment. I've already been working on it for a month, and this is only sock #1. I think I feel a case of Second Sock Syndrome coming on. I don't think socks should take this long, but maybe it's just me and my slow chart reading skills. These better be extra cozy when I'm done with them.

Parent orientation night

So last night I dragged a comb through my hair, added some blusher, and hoped I looked alive enough to head to parent orientation night at Henry's school.

I was running late, and so hustled in right before his teacher started. I had to do the quick loop around the room to find Hank's desk, and then wedge  myself onto his little chair. Right away, I got a good feeling from his teacher. And that's the thing with our experience with this school. At his old school, every time we went there, I left feeling:

"I just...don't know about this."

Whereas here, I always feel:

*happy beam*

It's just so warm and friendly at his new school, and I feel like they place importance on the right things. Catholic values, strong language arts, math, science, and social studies curriculum, and good old-fashioned penmanship. At the other school, there were lots of district policies on everything from nutrition to pretend play that we had to be made aware of and plenty of emphasis on state testing scores. 

Right away in Hank's classroom, I felt happy. Crucifix on the wall, pictures of saints pinned up, it felt very Catholic and nurturing. His teacher was super friendly, very jovial and happy-go-lucky. She's been teaching a long time, although she's new to Hank's school. She had a quick presentation, and then everybody started talking amongst themselves.

Immediately, the mother next to me started chatting with me. I had noticed that she was chatty during the teachers' presentation; definitely a question asker. :) But very nice.

"So. Samantha comes home every day and just talks and talks about Henry."

Ah ha. I knew there was more to Hank's school story than met the eye:

"Hi Honey! How was school today?!"

"Fine."

"What did you do today?"

"Nothing."

"Didn't you have..."

"Nothing."

So see. Little girls talk to him. This we hear nothing about. Anyway, we continue with the chatty mom:

"Oh yes, she tells me about Henry all the time. She seems to really like it here."

As we were talking, I noticed that little Samantha's desk had a sparkly Barbie pencil case neatly tucked into her desk, whereas Henry's plain plastic one was already broken. Some things are really predictable.

Anyway, I chatted with this mom for a bit more. Turns out they are Presbyterian, not Catholic, but they didn't like her previous public school, and are very happy that they switched. I learned all sorts of interesting details about all this. I think that there are quite a few people around here who are non-Catholic but use the Catholic schools. I'm always interested to learn their story.

Before I left, I checked out Henry's art work up on the wall and signed up for a parent/teacher conference next month. He had an adorable entry into the class project of writing a sentence that begins with "I am special because..." Henry's indicated that he was special "because God made me." An adorable, pious answer. Somehow I'm thinking he didn't come up with this answer all on his own, but it's precious all the same.