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 ...)