Help me make it through the ... day!

I got off a little easy last Wednesday night's class/rehearsal, using my birthday as an excuse to not push quite so hard. Again, I'd already put in a day at the (dysfunctional) firm, followed by teaching two ballet classes, followed by 20 minutes of trying to squeeze my car into the nearest available space to Loyola University -- no small feat, since ongoing street repairs have sorely limited how close anyone can park, and I wanted to do so within a relatively close distance, so that when I left a little early (I was thinking ahead), I could do so without fearing for my life and limb as I walked back to my car.

We had a somewhat skeletal crew. Most dancers arrived late due to parking issues. John, our managing director, is in Africa, and Cheryl gave character class as more and more company members began arriving. We then did some Hungarian port de bras in center, after which they began the highly athletic Romanian suite. At this point, I opted to sit in front instead and watch and take/give notes. There will be time enough for me to put myself through the wringer on this dance in weeks to come. After that, I resumed rehearsing with the troupe during the Paso Doble, and at about 9:10, said my goodbyes, stating quite plainly that I wanted nothing more for my birthday at that point but some time to visit with myself and just chill. I did not arrive home until a little after 10, had a glass of wine, watched a little TV, and then to sleep.

It has been three years in a row that I've had pretty much of a non-birthday. That began to hit me the following night, and I think that from now on, I need to at least just take the day off. It felt so ... overlooked, despite emailed and snail mailed well wishes. It just seemed like something was missing, but at the same time, I do feel fortunate that I was able enough to rehearse with my former dance company at this stage in my life, so maybe it wasn't quite so uneventful after all.

Tomorrow -- traveling across the lake to teach two classes of pre-schoolers followed by a couple hours of break, and then 3-hour rehearsal. Give me strength.

Not just another Saturday night

Ohhhhhh. Worn out.

Traveled across the lake. Taught two classes of rambunctious pre-school ballerinas, with an assistant that had not yet awakened. One of my students , a 4-year-old who'd had a melt down on the first day, came with a homemade card and bravely announced in front of the class that she wanted to "apologize." I accepted her apology and her card, and pronounced her very brave. I mean, doesn't everyone feel a melt down happening their first day anywhere?

That was followed by ballet barre after which I walked several sizzling hot blocks to Whole Foods where an employee lied to me about the spicy soy chicken, pronouncing it the same as the "real thing." Well, it was the real thing if you like cold rubber with barbeque sauce. I demanded a refund after several unsuccessful attempts to consume what was supposed to be a power lunch. Do they not realize that some of their shoppers are actually pretty good cooks in their own right? For shame. The vegetable "slaw" was only marginally better. Note to self: Bring Saturday lunch with me next week, in insulated lunch bag.

I went to Encore (the Symphony 2nd hand boutique) to drop off a donation and ended up getting a couple of skirts for work (a job that seems to be on the tenuous side these days).

Now -- on to dance company class and rehearsal. I tidied up, applied makeup, fixed my hair, and got myself completely in the mood to take on an hour of character class warmup followed by rehearsal.

This requires sooooo much to bring on Saturdays (in addition to my teaching stuff). An assortment of dance footwear, tights, skirts, tops, warmers, bottled water, snacks -- ay yay! I had a relatively decent warmup barre, considering that I've never really mastered character barre, but my attitude is different this time around. I am very comfortable in my own skin, silently pronouncing my favorite mantra: Each at his own pace.

So, we did what seemed to be Mexican line dancing in the center, before moving on to rehearsing some Flamenco (toreador enactment), and some Romanian (huff, puff). All very difficult and all very stamina dependent. I'm not quite there yet. I was about 5-10 minutes short of the requisite lung power I require for 3 hours of this -- but all in all, not a disaster. Natalia, our resident Russian, looked wonderful, despite being on antibiotics, steroids and Benadryl, for a terrible reaction to a wasp bite. Beautiful dancer.

John, our managing director, is off to Africa this week on business for his day job. We shall all carry on without him. I told him not to bring back any Ebola (ha ha big joke).

I better lose some weight from all of this. If not, I'll be mightily you know what. Dinner is tilapia, onions, broccoli and a little wine, while watching Patrick Swayze and his wife dance in "One Last Dance." I wish I had the energy to venture out for a little fun. Yeah, like that's gonna happen. I'm lucky I can sit up long enough to type this.

But-- I've made it through one week. Stay tuned. (Patrick, this one's for you ...)

And so it begins ...

I felt so incredibly sad upon Patrick Swayze's passing. I think if there is anyone I would love to have partnered me -- when I actually was performing -- it would have been him, hands down. The last time I did perform was some 14 years ago. I'd had cancer myself, and had already retired from the dance company several months prior to my diagnosis. But when a lead dancer was injured and I was asked if I felt up to pitching in, I foolishly agreed to do so. I wanted to show everyone I was okay. I was doing relatively well-- as a lay person -- but not as a dancer, and it was unwise to put that kind of stress on my still healing body, all to show everyone I was going to be okay after all.

Patrick's passing occurred at a point where I've been having a pretty tough time of it myself, although not in any way noticeable to passers-by. I won't dwell on any of that tonight, except to say that since May 2008, I've been dealing with a far greater challenge -- both medically and financially - than cancer presented to me. On top of that(and largely because of that), I've been working a disproportionate number of hours at my "bread and butter" job when I yearn to spend far more time in various creative ventures.

What that means is that to make room for it all, I am overextended. I love teaching my pre-school ballerinas. And I love writing features for the local magazine. But due to the exponential nature of post-Katrina expenses which include a home mortgage that is topsy turvy, along with noncovered/ongoing/astronomical medical costs, I now work the lion's share of my day in a dysfunctional setting. It is purgatory. Actually, that's being kind. It's hell, except that I believe in some degree of optimism, and since hell is eternal, I don't dare really assign it that status. To do that would put me over the edge.

And since I don't want to go over the edge, I've decided to put one more thing on my crowded plate: to return to the dance company. I don't know if I can do it. I don't know how long I can do it. I don't know if they will even find me of value to them. But, I seem to be pulled in that insane direction at the moment, and so it is.

Last night, I returned home at 11:17 p.m., after a 3-hour commute to/from New Orleans, 7 hours at the aforementioned dysfuntional setting, 2 hours of ballet teaching, and 3 hours of class/rehearsal. I deliriously poached myself a salmon steak, had a glass of wine, watched a bit of Masterpiece Theater on DVD, and collapsed into bed. I awoke 6-1/2 hours later, wondering who/where I was, and sporting quite an array of angry bruises. Somehow, I pulled it together -- breakfast, commuting, working at the purgatorial firm, and finding my way back home, wishing tomorrow were Saturday instead of Friday. Then again, since the next rehearsal is Saturday, maybe I just wish there were an 8th day of the week I could insert as a mental/physical/spiritual health day.

Am I crazy? Very likely so. But, hear this: "There is a bit of insanity in dancing that does everybody a great deal of good."