The Type

Dance is the hidden language of the soul 

~Martha Graham

This time of year

when I hear lovely

bits and refrains of

the Nutcracker Ballet

I find myself wishing

that I could find an

adult ballet class 

nearby and channel

my inner Sugar Plum

Fairy.

As a child I never had

ballet lessons or dipped

my toes into this 

magical

world.

When I was grown

I asked my mom why

this was and she simply

replied, You didn't seem

like the ballet type.

{I guess she didn't see

my inner Sugar Plum trying

to burst forth!}

Naturally, when I had a 

little girl of my own

I was determined that

she would have the lessons

that I did not.

So, at three and a half,

she donned her first

leotard and ballet shoes

and off we went to

dance school.

She enjoyed all of it ~

The camaraderie,

the giggles,

the music

the different positions, 

steps and pirouettes...

The studio had a door

with a tiny window,

so the parents had to

take turns peeking in

to admire our budding

ballerinas.  

They were so cute!

One day I received a

phone call from the

instructor.  She said there

was a PROBLEM with

my daughter.  Surprised,

I asked her to elaborate.

Apparently, my little

dancer liked to create

her own dance steps....

And the other girls liked

them, too....and followed

her lead, rather than

 the teacher's.

She wasn't amused.

The teacher requested

 permission to give my

 wee one a time out

when this happened.

image courtesy of
 http://saltedtears.wordpress.com/


My response: The teacher

could time herself out ~

We wouldn't be back.  

What a kill-joy!

My girl did pick up

dancing, again, at the

end of kindergarten and

took lessons through

the third grade.  She

eventually lost interest

when she discovered

horses.

{Darn it.}

A few years ago I was

taking a cycling class at

a nearby gym.  One day

I entered the studio and

heard someone say

There's our ballerina, now.

Oooh...a ballerina?

I looked back at the

door to see if I

could catch a glimpse.

Laughing, my fellow

spinners shared their

secret:  that was their

nickname for.....ME!

{Mom, I guess I am the

ballet type, after all.}

But I still need to find

that class.....

Did you take dance

 lessons as a child?

Or, did you wish 

that you had?  

Grab a cup of tea

and let's talk; I'd

love to hear 

your

story.

xx 

Suzanne

[Images 1-9 from Flickr.

Click on the images

for attribution.

Images 10 & 11

Google images.]

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Posted in childhood , dance , dreams

When I Grow Up

Mr. Privet and I

stole a few days away

from our busy lives

this week and headed

off to a pleasant

desert town that barely

hints at the changing season.

My family has been

visiting this place for

years to recharge and

play and just....be.

My parents were our

generous hosts and

we enjoyed hiking

and dining and shopping

and spending time 

together and apart.

Maybe it's because

we are all growing older,

but several conversations

turned to actuarial tables

and life expectancy......

Which got me to thinking

how in one decade ~

the blink of an eye ~

I will go from a

noise-filled home

where you are

always running out

of milk

and sometimes,

patience....

To an AARP card

arriving in the mailbox ~

Just me

a husband

a dog

no noise.

The thing that

scares me about

growing older

isn't aches and pains

gray hair

wrinkles

extra pounds....

It isn't

forgetfulness

hearing loss

reading glasses

It's the

grouchiness

impatience

self-centeredness

and judgement

that I've seen

in some older people

who, all grown up,

are neither having

fun nor are particularly

fun to be around.

The first time we

came here, with

our kids {and without

their grandparents}

we were shocked at

the hostile way in

which were treated.

If they break anything,

you pay for it. {In

a gift shop.}

I'm trying to take

a nap!  {Yelled from a

biddy whose cabana

was near the only pool

where children were

allowed to swim at

this hotel.}

I remember when

children ate at home

and parents went to

restaurants alone.

You'd think we were

at a really exclusive

place when that last

comment was said 

loudly ~ for our benefit.

We were at I-Hop.

Our kids, ages seven

and three and a half then, 

while not perfect angels, 

were never out of control

or crazy in public.  These

bitter old folks had

managed to make what

should have been a

cheerful meal something 

we wanted to rush through

so we could leave.

And then they came along.

A couple in their 80's.

We braced ourselves

for more lethal comments.

Instead, their friendly

faces smiled as they asked

us if we were enjoying

our breakfast....And where

could they find shoes

like my sons in their

size?!

My little guy had the

shoes that light up

when you walk, and 

they had noticed

them when we

strolled in.

Suddenly, we felt

welcome.  And warm.

And special.

I have never forgotten

the way that couple

made us feel. I remember

thinking I want to be like

you when I grow up!

Today I'd like to dedicate

my Friday Flowers to this 

lovely couple and to all

the others like them in this

world, who take the time

to share a kind word....and

who haven't forgotten what

it's like to either BE a child

or to have one.

Too many people grow up.

That's the real trouble with the world,

too many people grow up.  They

forget.  They don't remember what

it's like to be 12 years old.  They

patronize, they treat children as

inferiors.  Well, I won't do that.

~ Walt Disney

xx

Suzanne

PS:  I'm linking up with Laura and

Melissa for Friday Flowers....Be sure

to pop over and say hello!

[images:  All Google images

except 9, 12-14 flickr {click for attribution}

and flowers from Privet and Holly]

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Posted in childhood , travel

Simply Mine

In my last post

I asked you to

share the memory of

the best summer

of your life.

And,

you did……

in oh so many

sweet and heartfelt

ways.

Thank you!

Many of you asked

me to share how

I answered the

same question

when I sent

my response to

Harper Collins,

back in July.

For you I share

the rest of the story.

It’s not glamorous

or adventurous

or romantic.

I’m still not sure

why I chose it….

But, it’s mine.

My answer to:

Do you remember the

best summer of your life?

It was the ‘70’s and my dad had a job

transfer to a small town called St. Helens, Oregon.

I was ten years old and going into the fifth grade.

This was back in the days when a corporate

move meant they took care of everything!

Until our new house was "closed,"

The Company put us up at a motel in St. Helens

called The Village Inn.  It had soda machines

and a swimming pool.  My younger brother

and I thought that we were in heaven! 
 

We had two adjoining rooms and one of them

had a kitchenette, but we usually ate dinner

at the Village Inn's own restaurant.

  

On Sundays, we also ate breakfast out, and

my favorite thing to order was the strawberry

waffle....A gigantic Belgian waffle piled high

with lovely Oregon strawberries

and mounds of whipped cream! 

Going out to eat in those days was  a HUGE treat

and we really felt like we were living it up! 

My folks were 32 and 33 and I can remember them

drinking Boone's Farm wines {they had just come out}

and looking so young and happy. 

The Village Inn allowed pets and we had our two

dogs staying with us ~ and they were happy, too!

When the house was ready and we moved in,

there was a girl my age on one side of us

and a boy my brother's age on the other.  

We were off and running within the first day!

My dad was transferred, again, the next summer,

so it was our one and only in St. Helens.

But, it was the best summer of my life {so far}!

 

Thank you.

For sharing my memories…

And caring enough

to

ask.

I hope your week

is off to a great start!

Stay tuned for a

fun giveaway later in

the week!!!

 

[images: flickr {click for attribution}

except 2 & 7 ~ google images]

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Posted in childhood , memories , summer