I missed being at my Writers Window last week. So even though I’m reeeeally late this week, I’m here! First, an update from my last post. I ended by writing I was going to do something I’d always wanted to do, and asked if anyone had any guesses. My elementary-through-high school classmate, Don, suggested skydiving, hang gliding, scuba diving, or dirt track auto racing. He was close … in that skydiving and hang gliding were once on my list. Dirt track auto racing not so much. Scuba diving–never. But no, the one thing I still wanted to try wasn’t nearly as adventurous as all of those, (but thank you Don for believing I was still up for adventure!) but I couldn’t do it because I was told I was too fat.

This is me in kindergarten. When I was about this age, maybe a year older, I wanted to take ballet lessons. I think my older cousin Heather may have been taking them, but that wasn’t the only reason I wanted to. I’d seen pictures of dancers in their pink leotards and fluffy tutus and while I wouldn’t have known the words then, they looked graceful and poised. But after the introductory class the instructor told mom I really was too fat for ballet and I should take tap instead. Mom didn’t tell me this of course, I overheard the woman. So instead of pink satin-y ballet slippers, I got clunky black patent leather tap shoes.

I took lessons for a few months, felt uncoordinated, fat (or ‘chubby’ or ‘stocky’ as were the polite words back then), and embarrassed trying to master the shuffle step-ball chain-shuffle step while all the other little tappers around me seemed to be (at least to me) click-clacking their toes and heels just fine. I’m still convinced learning the 5 fundamental ballet positions would’ve been easier. I hung up my patent leather shoes by their black satin ties before I had to perform in a recital.

Ballet isn’t just about the costumes, it’s about learning body awareness, or kinesthesia, knowing where one’s arms and legs are in relation to the space around them–the grace and poise ballerinas are known for. My lack of lessons is probably why I have the grace of an albatross.

So, when our local arts council offered a one-time intro to ballet as part of their Creative Tuesdays line-up, I eagerly registered and paid my $30. I was finally going to get my opportunity. I didn’t rush out and buy ballet slippers and a leotard; I was assured my yoga pants and bare feet would suffice. Unfortunately, the class was cancelled at the last minute, so I’ve still not done something I’ve always wanted to do.

Today, when I see videos of cherubic, joy-filled little girls in their leotards, tutus, and satin ballet slippers I get a little teary-eyed, not so much for the fat little girl who missed out, but mostly in joy, and in gratitude they are given the chance to grow in grace and poise.

Ballet is also a discipline in maintaining balance.

Second, yes, I’m still in the midst of Kakalak judging (fingers crossed I’ll be finished over the weekend), so I’m also working to maintain mental balance. In order to meet my 50 poems a day goal, I read 10 poems in a sitting then take a few minutes to clear my head (and get off my bottom) by cleaning out a drawer, watering my plants, switching out laundry, doing yoga stretches … and instead of opening my Writers Window last week, Hubby and I held Nana and Papa Camp for three days.

While their other summer camps are fairly structured, Nana and Papa Camp is more free-for-all, or at least ‘What do you kids want to do today?!’ The boys are rising 2^nd and 3^rd graders so a box full of packing peanuts is still–for whatever reason–one of their favorite things. They scooped, dug, and transported the ‘popcorn’ creating mountains and roads for an hour or more. Clean up was just further extension of play as dump trucks and dust pans (scoopers) did the work.

Experiments had to include things that exploded–of course. While the balloons didn’t explode, the boys loved watching them expand. The baggies exploded. We did that one outside and it was pretty cool. One of the boys wanted to make the clay pot wind chime for their mom, the other was more interested in setting up Risk. We have our own set of rules for Risk, designed by the 3^rd grader; he’s a stickler for the official rules for Outfoxed. We followed the rules (directions) for homemade churros.

We learned How to Train a Dragon at the local theater, and watched for the umpteenth time Aviator from the comfort of our recliners. The tv room was also the arena for balloon Keepy-Uppy and balloon volleyball. A week later I’m still finding deflated balloons shriveled behind furniture. The older Grand would disappear for an hour or so into the Cousins’ Room for ‘personal time’ and I’d hear the tumble and clatter of Legos being searched through. They saw the yard clippers and wanted to cut down trees so we found some chinaberry saplings that had to go. I asked if they helped their daddy with the yard clippers, and they said ‘no, Daddy said we’re not allowed to use them. We’re not old enough.’

‘She’s too fat to take ballet’ echoed for years, and the power of words was never lost on me. I hope as an adult, and especially as a Nana, that I take care of what I say, especially with young ears within earshot. But I also hope I listen to the power of others’ words, not just at their face value but to what deeper meaning (and desires) they may hold.  

Which brings me back to my task at hand. It’s time to open today’s batch of Kakalak submissions and settle into their stories and nuances. I hope all of you have a great weekend. I hope to be back at my Writers’ Window on Monday!