What would Alanis say?

I got on the internet this afternoon to look for the source of a saying I shared in a church conversation today. "Oh, can I quote you on that?" my bishop asked. "Well, it was actually said by someone else first ... one of the Roosevelts ... FDR maybe? ... or was it Winston Churchill?" I asked in response. "I'll find out."

So I got onto the computer for that task, but first I looked up the name of a childhood acquaintance, because she was on my mind. The web had much to offer about her accomplishments, peppered with glamorous pictures and interviews that showcased her wit. I read her Twitter feed and found her fascinating. This got me thinking about other people I knew long ago -- did they also have impressive resumes I could unearth? They did, and I found them. I am happy for their successes, really I am, but all this made me feel a little wistful that not only have I not accomplished what they have, I never considered it. On another day I could say I'm living my dream of raising children, but today this exercise peering into others' lives made me question if my dreams, too, weren't up to snuff.

When I got up from the computer to do something -- please, anything -- else, I remembered my original purpose in sitting at the keyboard. By golly, that Theodore Roosevelt had it right. "Comparison is the thief of joy."

Can-do attitudes

These are the pictures from Emma's staging rehearsal on Thursday, June 18. Her dance was titled "Toulouse-Lautrec" and was a vibrant rendition of the type of scenes the artist created with paint. It's challenging enough for me to focus and take photographs of such a high-energy dance; can you imagine capturing the motion and physicality with brush strokes? Gives me a greater appreciation.

The music was to Offenbach's "Cancan," with special punctuation from those swishy skirts. I loved it! The audience applauded during the middle of the dance when the dancers latch on to their partner's high kick and twirl together. (Not the best photo, but you get the idea.) Emma told me later that the audience's reaction to this move surprised and motivated her all at once. It was exhilarating for her.

Instruction from her teacher.

Emma colored her light pink pointe shoes with a permanent marker to make them black. The process took a few days and seemed a welcome diversion from homework. Then she used a lighter to seal frayed threads. She sewed the new black ribbons on herself.

Here she is in the dressing room at Saturday's matinee performance. I lucked out that my ticket at the far right of the row allowed me to sneak into the room during the break between halves of the performance (while the orchestra set up), and take her picture in full costume. The real luck, however, is that she asked me to come down. It was funny to have someone else sitting in my seat when I returned to the auditorium. Shoo!

Aunt Eryn, Grandma and Aunt Katie came to see the Saturday matinee. Thank you! 

How does THIS come from THIS?

Grandma Shirley came to Emma's staging rehearsal Thursday morning, then stayed the day with us and attended Elise's recital that night with my dad. It was crazy having the girls in different casts. 

 Grandma Hatch, Aunt Katie, Grandma Shirley, Grandpa Jim, Elise.

At Thursday night's recital, high in our balcony seats, I pointed to stage right and whispered in my dad's ear which dancer was Elise -- or at least which one I thought was her. No wait, I said, swinging my arm the other way, she's the one who just fell! Oh, no. I couldn't believe it. Whereas my eyes couldn't confidently pick her out that far away, my mother's heart immediately focused when she stumbled. I was so worried how this would affect her. I wanted to hug her right then. This is a BIG production, with live orchestra and in a college auditorium that seats hundreds. Lots of eyes to see. My beautiful dancer popped right up. Her smile on stage never dimmed.

Even from my high vantage I could see a gleam of silver on the floor. An advanced dancer fell during the next dance -- in the same spot.

To better navigate the stairs, we took some time after the performance ended to let the crowd disperse before we left the balcony. I told my parents that this could be either one of two extremes: that she could brush it off with a laugh, or that it would hurt her deeply. I wasn't sure which would greet us. Elise and I reached the front doors from different angles at the same time. "I want to go home!" she pleaded. She was trying so hard to hold it together. I wrapped her in a hug while she sobbed.

As soon as I broke away a sweet woman in my ward, one of the mothers who carpools with us to ballet, came bearing flowers. She hugged Elise fiercely and said, "The most beautiful part of that dance was seeing you get back up." I'm teary thinking about this two weeks later. I am so grateful to her.

Many other people were kind, just in a slightly more awkward way. "Elise! I didn't even see you fall!" chirped one girl from our neighborhood. Then a woman we don't know lingered near our group. "I don't know what everyone's talking about, you falling," she said loudly. Uh, ok. Elise did her best to be gracious. 

It was Grandpa Jim for the win who said maybe he'd drive back home with Grandma (they came in two trips) and leave his red convertible for Elise. That got her smiling again. Thanks, Dad!

Once home I was in the living room talking to Emma while Elise took a shower. I heard the water stop. Elise opened the door and hollered, "Mom, don't forget to register me for next year's ballet. You have to do it by tonight!" Then the door clicked and we heard water once more, because this announcement came mid-shower! Emma sighed in relief. "She's going to be OK."

Sunday snapshot: Instinct

I wrote this post for the gardening blog where I also play. Take a look! www.backyardfarming.blogspot.com. I'd love to get more readers for the blog. 

My words here are spare, the distillation of grander thoughts. Like a seed at the end of one harvest, I guess, able to sprout into another. Who (whom?) am I kidding? I'm not that deep. Anyway, is it weird to be pleased with a string of words? Thanks for reading.

I'm amazed that seeds can transform from a pebble in a little boy's pocket to food for his tummy.

I'm amazed that a baby robin -- so new out of the nest that it doesn't yet know how to fly -- nevertheless knows how to run, and when that isn't enough, how to puff itself up something fierce to scare off a curious, playful dog.

I'm amazed at these things, and my own instinct is to smile and be grateful for my backyard piece of this beautiful world.

Rehearsing

OK, I'm back. My last post, of social media resignation, was thrown out on a whiff of a whim. It was probably a bad day, a "ready-shoot-aim" kind of day. I know I'm fickle! My blog is now private for a select few, like you.

Since my last post, a friend asked me to help with some writing/blog projects, and I realize that I need lots more regular writing practice. -- hence a reason to continue here. It's still not easy for me but I hope to regain some fluency. I need to flex some communicative muscle (hmm, why does that sound like a disease? ... communication, communicable ... ah, that's why).  See, I need to run through my paces.

In the meantime here are pictures from Elise's ballet staging rehearsal today. I struggled with the manual focus of my lens and was really disappointed that so many shots were blurry, like this one:

I kept thinking, if only this picture were in focus, it would be so beautiful.

It's beautiful anyway because it captures my daughter's radiant smile.

I remarked on the drive home about the constant smile that accompanies her dance movements. Elise giggled. "Yeah, I really worked hard on that for last year's recital. And then I couldn't stop. I'd be at the barre ... and smiling even then!" She thought this was tremendously funny. Plus, she pointed out, if you don't smile when you dance it's too easy for your tongue to roll out.

Elise's dance was called Rubies, after the fiery gemstone. I'm grateful Elise has ballet and violin study as outlets for her willful personality. Music and dance give such beautiful shape to her overflowing emotions. She's a passionate one, our Elise. We sometimes step carefully around her at home, the way you do with an open flame. Yet her capacity to offer warmth is great -- and is, it most be told -- her underlying desire. How I love this girl.

2. Elise got a kick out of this picture with her teacher. "It looks like I'm putting my head down because I did a no-no!"

3. Elise is the farthest on the right facing right.

4. Elise is in the middle.

7,8,9,  Elise is second from right.