P o c k e t CT

CP: Can you see me when we are this close?
CT: Yes, perfectly
pause
Well actually there are two of you at the moment, but I can see both of you perfectly.

CP: What was your favorite moment from yesterday?
CT: The light streaming in from the windows like it does in Grand Central Station, looking down on the sea of joyful people, all spinning and surrounded by the music. Dancing at the beginning before it got so crowded and dusty.

This is all the dust in the flash of the photo. Most of this dust took up residence in my eyes, nose and throat making my voice change to whiskey town variety. The above conversation was one octave lower than normal and occurred while I was making pancakes. I had slept late, was still wearing a bathrobe (mom’s) and have knots in the back of my hair that you can’t see here.

I have figured out how to make whole wheat pancakes that do not come out like hockey pucks and am giving you the how to.

Feeds 2 people who are hungry after a big day of dancing.

1C whole wheat flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
mix
3 eggs (yes three)
a squirt of honey
7/8 C milk
2 Tbl lemon juice

I like to cook them almost plate sized and in a cast iron pan, top with butter and maple syrup. I’m a New Englander so don’t you dare put maple flavored corn syrup on them, ok? OK

This weekend was a very physical one. I danced Friday and Saturday night. Both nights had excellent music and the dancing was so wonderful. I sat out a bit but only after I had exhausted myself. I went walking up a little mountain in NH in very bad shoes but with the very good company of Christopher and three of his Canadian friends that were superlative lovely. One cooed every time she saw a Subaru which in Vermont is with some frequency. They were all charming and fun. What a way to make a weekend stellar hanging out with new wonderful people.

On Sunday I went to a yoga class with a bonus extra 45 minutes to the usual 75 minute class. The class was packed with people back to school around here and I got totally caught up in the energy. I forgot to take it easy for the long haul; feeling solid and in good form. I was able to balance in bound half moon for more than a half a second, maybe even a whole second. I tried side crow for the first time only flopping a little trying to jump back from it. I was able to get my hands on my toe in a king pigeon pose something only in my furthest thoughts but I felt like what the hell and my teacher assisted contacting my three limbs and laughed when I couldn’t tell that it was in fact my toes I was clutching. “Oh you can do this Christine” he states in such soothing confidence that I try. He is awesome.

Completely blissed out I drive to Jan’s to help her with phase 1 of the big Jan-Katy move which is to get Jan’s stuff out of her house, out of her storage unit and locked up in the UHaul until she can move in the next day. That is like playing tetris to get it all fitting and fun. Then rush home to make some food and off to the Dawn Dance in Brattleboro. I am not even contemplating doing the whole thing which is 8pm to 7am. I did the first band with exuberance and the second for only a few dances. Here is a picture of me waltzing with a man who likely regretted accepting me as a partner; I step on his feet no less than 15 times. Tired? Maybe.

Thoroughly wiped out I knitted while sitting on the floor watching Christopher give massages and chatting with people until Adam emerged from the dance floor to head home. I tuck myself into bed just after 4:30am and am asleep in under a nanosecond.

At 8am my neighbor Zeke decides to play with his rifle. A shot goes off every twenty minutes or so, loud enough to damage eardrums and perfectly timed so I can not get to sleep again. I wake grumbling about fucking guns, fucking neighbors and why didn’t I set up coffee before I left.

When coffee is half done a truck pulls into the driveway and it is a wood delivery. I come up to the truck and help chuck the wood into the pile. The sun is warm and the red oak is fragrant and dry. I haven’t worn my work gloves for a long time and I submit to the rhythm of the tossing. My goal is to throw it so that it lands on the top and sends a small avalanche of logs down the far side. Another goal is to not hit Adam who is stacking as we throw. The sound of the logs hitting, the chatter of the men, the ease of the work and I am hypnotized to the point that I am surprised when it is done.

Part II of the Jan move is up next and we unload the truck all happens pretty quick and we leave her to disassemble the mountain of boxes we have transported and reassemble the furniture.

Wow time for ice cream and a nap don’t you think? I thought so too.

This past weekend I signed up to Iron Dance. I wasn’t going to actually sign up just do the five contra dances required but Jan signed me up last Sunday and made me official. She actually didn’t sign me up so much as change me from “Jan’s Friend” to my name. What is this Iron Dancing? Is it like and Iron Man Competition? Is it like Iron Chef with folk music? Or is it like Ironing your hair while twirling?

Iron Dancing is to do five nights of contra dancing which include the Dawn Dance in Brattleboro VT. Jan and I decided to car pool for the lot of this. First up is Heathen Creek in the Scout House Concord, MA. The music was out of this world lovely. As full as I have seen this place with four lines. I start the dance with my neighbor Adam who decides he loves the floor, adores the band and celebrates by spinning me into the stone age, or maybe the Iron Age is more appropriate here. Friday was delicious. The band was Les Z Boys and had a flirtatious fiddler and a piano man with a howl that can make you just pop out of your skin with glee. That night I was popping out of my skin with a different cause, couldn’t possibly dance like that and left after break. Saturday was a two band loveliness that started you off with a pick up band and then finished you off panting and happy with Crowfoot. I danced and danced. Sunday morning was yoga and then an intention to bake treats for the night which turned into speed planting the tomatoes and going to pick up Jan two hours late. We drive up to Vermont, take a walk in AgentY’s forbidden mushroom patch, have dinner at the Brattleboro Coop and are ready to Dawn Dance.
Well sort of
Frankly I wasn’t much in the mood for dancing, my back is feeling cranky. One more too tall man yanking me around and I will be laying on the floor moaning, and not in a good way. But then it starts and the band is wonderful, the sound is good (it is a difficult space) the floor isn’t as sticky as I remember and it isn’t crowded (yet.) I try to dance three and sit out one. I try to stay hydrated. It seems like almost everyone I have ever enjoyed dancing with is here and smiling. I start sitting out more happy to be lounging on the stairs eating brownies (thanks Will) listening to the music and watching people interact. As the night gets late the band changes to a mini version of Big Bandemonium I am reinvigorated with the brass section, dance for an hour. I sit on the stairs watching people interact. Two people are talking with each other she is leaning and looking toward him, he is looking straight ahead and is noticeably upright. I analyze the body language until something else distracts me. As it is getting later the crowd is getting younger, the dancing sloppy and distracted. There is a people puddle of cuddling by the elevator, I hear there is amazing singing downstairs, everywhere you turn there are people bathed in the beauty of the music and the combined energy of the place; that energy is dwindling and hanging on into the early morning hours. I last until four and as I leave I see the first bit of morning twilight, thinking of the crepuscular creatures awakening for a romp.

Monday is sleep, wake, deal with Jan’s annoying sick dog nap, cuddle, try to find a swimming hole, listen to beautiful singing, drive to Nelson, car picnic, and then dance some more
There are 21 Iron Dancers at Nelson and we all get a medal and certificate listing the five places we danced. Concord, Greenfield, Greenfield, Brattleboro, Nelson. There is chorus jig, Jan is playing and I want to be in line with the playful girls who were behind me last time. The La la la’s down the inside are loud and everyone is jubilant. We drive to Vermont and then back down to Greenfield and I am so tired I can not possibly make it back to Wendell. I sleep on Jan’s couch and think something I haven’t in the 15 months since I started dancing. I’m tired, I think I am done for a few days.

However Big Bandemonium with their full brass section will be at the grange Saturday and I will probably be too.

Geesh

It’s true

Today is National Dance Like a Chicken Day. In honor of the nutso dance popular at weddings. Don’t know how? Here

Don’t want to do this alone? Jump in on this class. They even know the words.

Think this is nuts? I may agree with you.

Is this song a polka? If so it would be fun to polka around all the chicken dancers don’t you think?

come on let’s!