She Dances Each Wednesday...

In A Studio Beneath A Sign That Reads:

Dance in the Direction of Your Dreams.

Of course she does.

When I Dance, You Dance.

This evening I put my headphones on, turned the Ipod up and chopped veggies in preparation for the big soiree tomorrow. With the hubby glued to the Michigan game, I blasted my eardrums and became absorbed in melodies.

Then, her tiny hands wrapped around my legs and I felt Nonie hugging me from below.
Up. She was up. (Not sleeping). Way up. And it was 10pm.

I carried about with my work as she dragged her stool across the kitchen. She placed it in front of the sink, hoisted herself up on it and sat. She was fascinated with my slicing, dicing, peeling, scooping - though I never really looked straight at her - I watched her peripherally. Is that a word? It is now.

I wasn't thinking about vegetables - I was actually thinking about Mom and her halloween birthday.

More specifically I was remembering the card Chris got for her when we were little that had a picture of a lost kid talking to a police officer on the front with the quote,

"Have you seen my mother?"

And on the inside of the card the police officer is scratching his head and saying,

"I don't know, there are so many places she could be hiding."

At some point during all this, I clearly started dancing to the music funneling into my head. And when I'm chopping veggies - boy, can I drop a beat. And so can Nonie.

Nonie, when I Dance, You Dance
(even when you can't hear the music).

And before long I was back to thoughts about Mom and her Halloween Birthday.
With Mom I laugh, hope, cry, learn, complain, love, question, and dream.
With her I explore the "Whys" and the "Hows" and find the strength to believe in the "What ifs".
And my mind raced with memories and highlights, all the times I turn to Mom for the missing piece...

And as I replay my childhood memories I see that:

When I Laugh, She Laughs.
When I Cry, She Cries.
When I Question, She Questions.
When I Dream, She Dreams.

And of course Mom,
When I Dance, You Dance.
Because, you are my music.

Happy Birthday.

The Big Dish Dance.

When there are big, dirty items in my sink - I find it really hard to do the dishes.

I can't seem to get past them.

Big bowls filled with greasy buttery popcorn residue.

Big pans lined with remnants from Pizza Friday.

What to do?

Avoid the sink.

Even though the easier to clean items are peeking from underneath it all.

I avoid the sink.

Avoid.

The.

Sink.

Until I think to myself:

look how big those items are.....

two of them cleaned and I'm more than 1/2 way there....

And suddenly, not-even-reluctantly- I find my dance card is filled.

With a shove of the sleeves and a snag of the suds.

I'm doing the Big Dish Dance.

Done not Perfect

This is they way I like things. It's a simple concept for me. I like projects.

Especially easy ones. One and done. One day that is.

Plans, blueprints, multiple steps, HECK NO. Not for me.

I married someone quite the opposite. Plans, charts, structure, and MEASURING are the only way he can move forward with the household tasks I have in my head. When we bought our house I wanted to paint every room. And I pretty much did, preggers and all I took my paint can and brush and splashed paint all over these walls. It is FAR from perfect. But I did it. And at the end of the day I could say that it is done. And even if it means when I lie in bed at night I look at the jaggedy paint edges, or when in Xavy's room I cringe when someone (heaven forbid) close the door and see the number I did (or didn't do) on the green stripe.
But I came up with a way to get the best of both of us (my ambition and his perfection). I became a demolition expert. I take my clippers and saw and hack away at bushes, then leave the nasty root to be dug up by the root digger fairy guy. I pull up our gross sunroom carpet. First just a corner to see Bri's reaction. Then the whole thing. It was glued down so me and Xave and our hammers pulled for a couple of days. When I removed it and bought the stick down tiles I knew it wasn't a job for me (math, corners...my head would burst). So I set the measurer up to do his handy work.
Thanks goodness for him. Because we went from the smelly cat pee rug to a place where I can do this



It's PERFECT, for the chicken dance, or any other type of dance.