My Apple-cheese (apologies)

It’s that time of the year again. I’m perpetually cranky, in pain and sleepy. I habitually ditch people, have to leave school at the latest by 6 and sleep no earlier than 12 thanks to heavy dinners at 10.30. Yes, my friends, it’s dance show season and again, I am knee deep in it. Every year I wrestle with whether I can devote the time and energy necessary to be a part of a production but inevitably I always end up dancing. Now, I’m not complaining. Anyone who knows me well knows that there are only a few things in the world I love more than dance. I make the choice to be at rehearsal weeknights and weekends but it has occurred to me that the people I love most don’t! They don’t volunteer to have me occupied everyday of the week, or bark at them when they ask me if I want to eat after rehearsal or even come home too tired to maintain a conversation. So to all of you who sacrifice your sanity for the sake of being around me, my most heartfelt thanks. The only way I can think of repaying you is by making you come to the show because at least then you can see the product of my social constipation.

Caught in the Act

If you are trying to tell a lie, this is where you call it quits:

Someone says:
just wanted to make sure you got my text message last week
Someone says:
sorry i should have called you to follow up
Someone says:
it went straight to voice mail the first time i called
Someone says:
and i figured you might be like me and never check your voice mail
Pari says:
i don’t have text messaging….or voice mail.

Dig up stupid!

The Year of the Potato

It’s really late to have a post entitled “New Year’s Resolutions” seeing how it’s almost February, although I could just say that in my country new years is on February first and thanks to Canada’s need to be as politically correct as our bland character will allow us to be, no one would ever call me out on it. But I don’t need to do that because I hate resolutions! They set you up for failure and I find that by December I don’t even remember why I made those resolutions in the first place. Last year for example, one of my resolutions was to take care of my gross dancer’s feet. What came out of that was a brief preoccupation with a Doctor Scholl’s foot spa and the accompanying realization that without callouses on my gross feet, dancing is like voluntary torture.

A Flood of Epic Proportions

I woke up this morning to my mom yelling at me about water. At any other time of day I probably would have understood what she was saying rather than grouchily replying “Okay, bye”. When I finally did get out of bed (thanks to the repair guy knocking the house down) I realized what all the commotion was about: our house was flooded! Water streaming from the potted lights and the vents, there were even a few inches of accumulated water on the basement floor. I went up to the kitchen because I thought I would be safe from it there but the source of the flood was in the laundry room. The whole floor was wet, even the washing machine was filled with water. I won’t go into details about squeegeeing the carpet dry but suffice it to say that cold water on your feet in the morning is better than a cup of joe (especially for me seeing as how I hate coffee).

Today I’m finishing part two of my life plan. You know when you ask a child what they want to be when they grow up, they tell you they want to be a fire fighter, a teacher or an astronaut. My list sounds suspiciously similar. What d’you mean I can’t be a school teacher, a lawyer, a policy person AND the head of an award winning dance school?! I have to pick one?!

Pressure, pushin’ down on me!

The first post in my much anticipated (not) blog and I have very little to say other than I’m so pleased to finally be able to subject the masses to my narcissistic rambling and that I now have something to show for my procrastination.

PS: Thanks Bean for the url!