All Dolled Up With No Place to Dance

I know, I get it. I missed Saturday and I missed Monday, but I have excuses, I promise. I was home this weekend, and on Saturday my mother and cousin and I did a crazy amount of shopping and went to the lovely baby shower of Amanda over at AmandaMedlin.com: she is amazing, please please go give her a ring (on her blog)! Then, yesterday, I was passed out most of the day with some sort of Autumn allergies dealio. But I'm doing it now: are you still mad?

Now, to the body. I honestly couldn't think of what to write, but I am sitting and watching Dancing With the Stars right now... so I figured I would write about my love of the physical-musical art. There aren't many people that would peg me for a dancer - I am too tall, and, now, too fat - but I grew up with a peculiar love for the stuff. This love is what my mom credits my potty-training to, in fact. I started early-ish, at the age of two, and went for ten years. I quit for the sake of burnout and fear of embarrassing myself while learning to cartwheel and handstand for the competition team - I had a gymnastics coach tell me I was too long and would only make a muck of it, all flailing arms and kicking legs.
     I loved dance, and I still do, though. Every time I watch someone else perform poetry-in-motion I can't help but stiffen up with yearning - and a fair bit of jealousy, too. Now, my little niece is looking at taking dance classes: at about the same age I was when I started. Needless to say I am excited for her to share a love of mine, for us to have yet another way of connecting. One of my earliest memories is starting dance class, and before even dancing, my teacher would come around the class with her sparkly hat and a fairy wand and sprinkle our feet with fairy dust. I imagined I could fly and from then on, held a firm belief in my fae-dom (the magic is lost now, after about a decade of no sparkle space). Once we moved to Alabama, I found one of the most supportive dance instructors/schools, that I think exists - even if the girls could be harsh and competitive. I want to take the opportunity here to thank Robin Stapleton, Brenda Johnson, and Corky Bell Dance, Alabaster (they have since expanded), and send that gratitude into the open space of the interwebs.
     Thanks for listening, guys. I can't wait to see if I will ever dance again, or if I am just destined to support my wonderful niece if she takes up the addiction, and I promise to tell y'all all about. Here's a little treat for ya: