Mumbling Madly

Josh and I were scalvaging (that’s “salvage” and “scavenge” meshed together) for coupon books on the CSU campus and stumbled across this bright piece of paper. I don’t really have to comment here, the hilarity is pretty obvious.

Last night we were pummeled with storms.
I made myself a stiff pineapple vodka and whipped up some food. Than Josh and I started to watch the Olympics, but grew bored with track and field semi-finals and switched to Most Extreme Elimnation Challenge on Spike TV. I don’t know if this is something to fess up to or not, but I LOVE that show…it’s seriously my favorite thing on cable these days. It’s…well, you know Mystery Science Fiction 3000 where they comment over the old movies? It’s like that, only they’re dubbing over an asian game show involving crazy stunts for prizes. I’ve learned that this is a much better show when you watch it with someone else. It’s embarressing to be alone and guffawing out loud.
It’s funny how, with the weekend just ahead, the stress of this week doesn’t seems so bad. I thought I was going to lose it on Wednesday. How does one sustain the energy necessary to do the following:
1. Roll around the floor with 3-5 yr. olds while successfully speaking their kiddie jargon.
2. Jump around teaching theater to 14-16 yr olds. Again, this involved trying to crack the code and speak their language.
3. Sell leotards and tights–while successfully upholding our return policies. (C’mon people, tights are like underwear, you just can’t return them).
4. Rehearse a dance show, while running it, owning it, directing it, and finding some gosh darn creativity within it.
5. Teach modern dance (more rolling around), to akward pre-teens who can’t organize their left foot from their right.
6. Next week, we add rehearsals for Winter’s Tale to the mix.
I CAN DO THIS…I did all of this last year. Sure, it was hard and I had a brand new marriage to work on…but I did it. I can do it again…really.

I hate the first week of school.
OK, so I work at a Gymplex and I didn’t even THINK about how the Olympics would affect enrollment….let me tell you, every kid and their parents are thinking they’re the next Paul Hamm. So enrollment is HUGE this year, and the folks are also thinking: Why not dance? Let’s throw dance in there too! So I’m getting all these kids and I’m struggling but hanging in there and today I got: THE SISTERS. Yeah, three sisters, each a year apart (So, three kids under the age of FOUR). I cannot stress what a bad idea it is to put three sisters into the same dance class–two is usually too many. First of all, they have an entire political structure set up within the three of them: Oldest is the residing dictator, youngest is the demure pion, and the MIDDLE ONE IS CRAZY. Read: Anarchy. So, here I am trying to teach the other five children and the three sisters are freaking out all over the place. Let’s call them Sue, Lou, and Poo. Sue is the oldest, and she wants to do all the talking for all the other two. I don’t allow it, until I realize considering how incoherant the other two are, it’s not a bad idea. The middle one’s full name is Louella but if you call her that she’ll scream and cry. Appearantly she’s very offended by her full name. Lou is also sensitive to ribbons (ie the ones on her shoes), elastic (same), and focusing on one thing past a certain point. NO ATTENTION SPAN what so ever. Geezus Christ. So that leaves me with this hideous, whining, wailing, child who I had to order out of the room TWICE for throwing a full-on tantrum. Now, Poo, the youngest is surprisingly coherant (although “she doesn’t talk much” according to the mother) and even though I don’t allow 2 yr olds in the class, she slipped by. She did fairly well, but her sisters still insisted on picking her up and throwing her around the room occasionally. What the crap? “Put her down!” I must have yelled three or four times. “I’m sure she’s very capable of walking.”
Meanwhile, the other kids are getting impatient and bored with The Three Sisters. There’s nothing funnier than watching a four year old get pissed at her peers. I can practically see the sigh of disgust escaping the lips of the other five girls. It was a mess…and I had to use my Mean Dance Teacher voice, and I hate that. (It’s usually combined with a severe clapping of the hands, which startles them with its force: CLAP! This is a technique I first starting using with my cat, who knew it worked with children?).
So now I’m thinking: Where’s my bourbon? Where’s my sanity? I think I lost it somewhere at the beginning of the week.

I have to say, it was nice to have some time to sit back and watch the Olympics last night. That Paul Hamm, what a stallion! I think it’s funny, because I used to have a vegetarian girlfriend who’s last name was Hamm but she pronounced it like the meat, not all accenty “Homm” style. I became extremely involved when the crowd started booing the scores of the sexy gymnast from Russian. (Can you tell I have a thing for biceps going on here?) WOW! Such drama. Up until last night, the Olympics have been this mystical thing I keep forgetting to watch. I’ll be in a bar and I’ll look up and see Women’s High Beam on the big screen TV–CRAP, I should really watch this. It’s history in the making. And than I’ll down my bourbon on ice and forget to even pay attention. (Now that the college kids are back in town there are some truly, fabulous, drink specials available).
Meanwhile, Josh’s parents are moving to Kansas City, Missouri (Ugh) and they’re cleaning out their house. They dropped off a box of Josh’s stuff, including a journal dating back from the time he spent in Brazil ( 8 years ago!). I’ve never known Josh to write in a journal, but he was certainly motivated back than. (I’m the one that has the angsty sprial notebook covered with stickers and band tickets taped to the inside cover). I was kind of worried he might read something that might reveal he made a mistake in marrying me, or something equally life-shattering. You never know what you’ll find reading old stuff…but a lot of the times it just makes one feel wierd. (Like: Woah. Was I really that insecure?).
Last night I began another semester of teaching ballet. Yup, another round.
Classic Moment: I was organizing the kids by their birthdays. I have a pair of twins shouting at me about how they have the SAME birthday, who’s going FIRST? And so I actually said, “Well, who came out first?” Hopefully that didn’t sound too graphic.

We got lost in the Pearl District (the formerly sketchy, dangerous, China Town we all grew up avoiding has now turned into a trendy hipster spot). There are actually four people in this picture, Josh is looming on the right.

This is Josh’s last semester of college (dear God, we HOPE so). I’ve known Josh since I was 19 and he was 20…back than he had just dropped out for the first (second?) time. Granted, every time he dropped out he was moving on to bigger and better things. In fact, if he hadn’t dropped out the third (fourth?) time and ran off to Summit County to be a snowboard bum, I would not have followed him from Seattle to the Land of Snow. There was a lot more allure for me to run away to the mountains back then…and he had a great place. But still, I’ve only known the man to be working on his degree….what will it be like when he’s finally finished?
In other news, after taking a week long (much needed) break, getting back to The L Project was fantastic. Yeah, there are some humps to work out. Yeah, I maybe, probably, lost one of three male dancers to the police force. (This is largely due to the riots that occured in my neighborhood last week. Yeah I know: RIOTS, WHAT THE HELL?). But, overall, the project is going well. Below are some pics I took last night.

This is Mariah, my brother’s girlfriend. We’re posing outside the tea house at the Japanese Garden. (I totally loved her pink duds). We used to visit the gardens often when I was a kid, but I never appreciated it the way I did this last time. Perhaps it’s because now, more than ever, I need a little Zen Garden in my life.