Darling, will you please cleave my delicata?
Gourd, I mean. Summer squash, that is. I can't do it myself. It is too hard.
To my question Am I out of my gourd? he responds, and oh dear S you make me blush:
Ma petite calebasse -- You are indeed out of your gourd. I have been wanting to tell you this for a while, but I am afraid that I am also out of my gourd. Maybe it means that you have drunk everything that was in the gourd, your gourd would be said to be "out." It could also have the art historical ithyphallic interpretation. It can ALWAYS have that interpretation. Very scholarly too, ahem.
He started school today. I am very happy about it.
Last night. Soft cricket song rising from the ditches brimming with cattails and sweet pea vetch. The moon waxed big and full round, a pale yellow orb suspended above the dusky blue hills in the horizon as I drove to meet three other dancers for practice last night.
Our dance is not a simple one, and probably works best as a solo performance. We're doing it in a quartet. The choreography complicates itself with hand motions and precision steps, and with four bodies of four different sizes, ages, abilities, and shapes, it is difficult to coordinate.
Two of us have been dancing for years, Lo and I teach dance classes, and we have performed enough to feel comfortable and unconcerned about possible problems. The other two dancers in our group are new at dancing, just learning some of the motions with this choreography. We often stop to review the timing, we often stop to clarify the motion. It is time consuming, and I can only hope it will be a rewarding experience.
We have simplified some parts in the choreography; there are two sections with an inverse turn, almost a barrel turn, and it's just not possible to get us all turning with the necessary lean, side to side, in synchronicity. It has transformed into a simple paddle turn, which looks dramatic enough with all of us spinning the same direction.
I can't say we look great, I can't say we're going to captivate the audience, I can't say it's all that fun, but it will be interesting. And it is an experience.
I've danced more than five hours in the past two days, and last night I could feel it in my legs, that tightening, a dull ache of joint and muscle tiredness. Tonight my dance instructor begins her technique classes, Wednesday begins her choreography classes, Thursday I have a work-out date with JJ, and Saturday morning I teach dance for two hours. A body in motion stays in motion, until it is exhausted, maybe.
Sleep came sweetly last night, a long and dreamy nocturne.
Gourd, I mean. Summer squash, that is. I can't do it myself. It is too hard.
To my question Am I out of my gourd? he responds, and oh dear S you make me blush:
Ma petite calebasse -- You are indeed out of your gourd. I have been wanting to tell you this for a while, but I am afraid that I am also out of my gourd. Maybe it means that you have drunk everything that was in the gourd, your gourd would be said to be "out." It could also have the art historical ithyphallic interpretation. It can ALWAYS have that interpretation. Very scholarly too, ahem.
He started school today. I am very happy about it.
Last night. Soft cricket song rising from the ditches brimming with cattails and sweet pea vetch. The moon waxed big and full round, a pale yellow orb suspended above the dusky blue hills in the horizon as I drove to meet three other dancers for practice last night.
Our dance is not a simple one, and probably works best as a solo performance. We're doing it in a quartet. The choreography complicates itself with hand motions and precision steps, and with four bodies of four different sizes, ages, abilities, and shapes, it is difficult to coordinate.
Two of us have been dancing for years, Lo and I teach dance classes, and we have performed enough to feel comfortable and unconcerned about possible problems. The other two dancers in our group are new at dancing, just learning some of the motions with this choreography. We often stop to review the timing, we often stop to clarify the motion. It is time consuming, and I can only hope it will be a rewarding experience.
We have simplified some parts in the choreography; there are two sections with an inverse turn, almost a barrel turn, and it's just not possible to get us all turning with the necessary lean, side to side, in synchronicity. It has transformed into a simple paddle turn, which looks dramatic enough with all of us spinning the same direction.
I can't say we look great, I can't say we're going to captivate the audience, I can't say it's all that fun, but it will be interesting. And it is an experience.
I've danced more than five hours in the past two days, and last night I could feel it in my legs, that tightening, a dull ache of joint and muscle tiredness. Tonight my dance instructor begins her technique classes, Wednesday begins her choreography classes, Thursday I have a work-out date with JJ, and Saturday morning I teach dance for two hours. A body in motion stays in motion, until it is exhausted, maybe.
Sleep came sweetly last night, a long and dreamy nocturne.
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