Born Again Dancer

I've loved words as long as I've loved dance, so marrying these loves seems natural in this blog. But my Virgo, perfectionist self would like to offer a disclaimer. I pledge this blog will improve. Which means, it won't be all about me (at least I'll try). Four years ago, when my daughters were infants/toddlers, "mommy blogs" were REALLY taking off. Friends said to me "You should start a blog." My reply: "I'm not self-absorbed enough to amuse anyone with a blog." (Especially about controversies like natural childbirth, bottle or breast, co-sleeping or crib...YAWN.) (And I tried to blog about work. Good night, I got bored fast. That blog effort is around here somewhere ... don't bother, it's boring. I'd delete it but ... well, okay, I'll delete it.) Some very supportive friends are following my new hobby, and I appreciate that they would take even 10 seconds out of their days to read my cheaper-than-therapy journal. Yo...

Sunday evening, May 31, is the occasion for The Red Dress. At Nancy's dance recital, we perform to Benny Goodman Orchestra's famous song "Sing Sing Sing." It's iconic, immensely danceable -- pulsing and fast. According to my dance teacher, Danny Herman, at one point "Sing Sing Sing" was in three different Broadway shows at the same time. To me that affirms its popularity as a Show-Stopping Big Dance Number and its place in the Grammy Hall of Fame. Which I guess is why we get to "close the show" with it -- it's a big sweaty mess of a dance. (I realize that an actual PHOTO of The Red Dress would be appropriate at this point, but I'm not there yet. Sorry.) Being in a dance recital at age 38 was sort of strange. All these adorable little kids -- mostly girls -- are running around in white and blue sequined tutus, sparkly leotards, exotic jewel-toned scarf ensembles. All ages of females changing their costumes in a big, makeshift community d...