Dance of the Seven Veils

For many years I've wanted to do something. I thought it sounded like fun and was something I'd enjoy doing. I'm almost loathe to admit it, but I don't know why. Belly dancing. I would love to learn to belly dance.

Last night at Sweet Adelines, one of the Divas (the new gals that all started together are called 'Divas' - how appropriate!) had to get up and give a mini-speech about ourselves. One of the girls, K, is a voluptuous woman who is quiet and well-spoken, comes across friendly but a little shy. Do not be fooled! K has a wonderful sense of humor and an easily accessible personality. But most important, she announced last night that she has begun belly dancing classes because "with hips like this, how could I not?"

My feelings exactly!!!! I have a woman's body and I love it. I feel beautiful in it (unless I'm PMS-ing and then I hate everything about it, even my teeth). Why not do something with it that capitalizes on all the strong, feminine beauty and keeps a little rhythm as well? Not to mention, those really cool belts with the little gold coins. Don't know about that bra thingy, though. And how do they keep those belly button jewels from falling out?

I never want to stop learning new and fun things. I believe that not pursuing knowledge and fun is what makes us old. How many people have you seen in their 60s and 70s, vibrant, alive and walking the walk who then retire and lead quiet lives at home, only to watch them turn old and gray, forgetful and fragile? It happens so often that I am convinced it's all about keeping the spirit passionate. And the body. It doesn't have to be forever. It can be just six weeks of learning to twirl your hips. You don't have to go dance in a Greek restaurant and pour ouzo down the throats of leering businessmen. It can be an oil painting class at the local community college (which is also on my list). Or joining an historical re-enactment village during the summer (on my list). Or hiking into the middle of the Grand Canyon (you guessed it).

As far as I know, life only comes around once. I am not going out with a big list of wishes that never got done because I was too busy to twirl my hips.

Irish Eyes Are Smilin'

High Anxiety

Today is a heavy frustration day. Not so much stressful. Just plain ol' frustrating. Frustration at not being able to get my point across. Frustration at my not having slept through the night in over 9 months. Frustrated that I need to get outside and move and play in the sunshine and it's frickin' snowing! (Not anything that'll stick, just enough to piss me off.) A big ol' huge heapin' help o' frustration at taunting myself with things I know I can't have. There's nothin' like a little frustration to go with your frustration.

Everybody experiences frustration. Everybody has had huge frustration to the max days. Some people build and build and build until they explode. Others, like me, build and build and build until they have a core meltdown. Being the emotionally centered being that I am, I am more of a Three Mile Island/Chernobyl kind of accident.

It used to be, when I was feeling those knots and nausea of frustration, I would head to my best friend, Quasimodo. Sometimes with a frosty glass of beer. Also a very good friend of mine. Depending on what time of day and whether there were any fixin's for nachos. I would play and sing for an hour or two. Some of my best songs have been written at times like these.

I'm having difficulty finding a skill that can temporarily replace the aforementioned. And that's frustrating.

I'm sure the whole thing's compounded by cabin fever. Goodness knows my son is getting pretty bored with just Mommy. Perhaps I'm on the way to making friends that can interact with my son as well as me. Perhaps spring is just around the corner and some healthy activity plus a little gardening will be just what the doctor ordered.

Perhaps I should just run up the street to Shaw's and buy their entire supply of Cadbury Eggs. That should fix my wagon but good.

Laughter In The Rain

Number 11 on the list of things I don't like to do:

unload groceries in a torrential thunderstorm.

With paper bags.

I'm thinking I probably ought to invest in a pair of Wellies since Mainers refer to Spring as, simply, 'mud season'.

Here's mud in your eye.

Lazy Day

It's predicted to be back in the 30s again by the end of the week. And today wasn't the balmiest the entire week-end had been. But there was the last few days when I was all Haight-Ashbury-ish and feeling nothing but groovy vibes and love for huggin' trees. It was all (I Feel A Song Comin' On)

Blue Skies, Sunshine
What a day to take a walk in the park.
Ice cream, daydreams
till the sky becomes a blanket of stars.

What a day for pickin' daisies
And lots of red balloons
And what a day for holding hands and
being with you...

Lazy Day
Just right for lovin' away
Lazy Day
Made for a roll in the hay - oops, I mean, stroll in the lane
Baby you and me
And the honey bee
Lazy Day, Lazy Day
Lazy Day for you and me.