Pole Dancing

A few years ago, we went to Parents' Night at our kids' preschool. On the wall were pictures that our kids drew of us along with descriptions that they dictated and the teachers typed. Son #2's said, "My mama works in a church." My neighbors thought that was pretty darned funny.

My girlfriend Mary's said, "My mom has hairy legs." Classic. And even funnier. (She was absolutely mortified.)

Jennifer, my coworker, just told me that she had too many vodka and cranberries on a trip to Lake George years ago and ended up puking on the side of the road as her husband drove the family home from dinner. When they went to the second grade open house, her daughter had drawn the requisite "What I did over summer vacation" picture and wrote, "I painted the town red with my mommy." Yep, a fully illustrated reminder complete with a red line down the road.

You gotta love kids.

My friend Petey sent me a link to this story this morning. Oddly enough, I think this lady has all of us beat!

ArtAwake

What a fun, sun-filled weekend. Hammock. Basketball. A little light cleaning.

Late Saturday afternoon, my mom, kids and I went to ArtAwake: an art/performance art gathering in a beautiful, vacant, old bank downtown. We went to see the opening band, 441, which is a bunch of 13 year old boys (i.e., a girlfriend's son and friends) who played rock hits like Led Zeppelin along with their own tunes that I preferred. Mad talent for middle school boys. There was food and wine. Interactive spaces for music and photography. People dressed in white who you could paint. (My kids declined; they're much too cool for that.) All-in-all, it was a nice diversion from the everyday tasks of life.

Afterward, we got delicious, pulled pork sandwiches at Sticky Lips then the kids had a sleepover at Grannie's while I went to see the hubby's band at Abilene. So. Much. Fun. There were heaps of bands playing elsewhere that night so the crowd was pretty light but we had a blast -- especially later when we had the dance floor to ourselves. My torn ligament was healing nicely so I tried to cement my feet to the floor and awkwardly dance in place; however, that gave way as the more fun songs were played later in the evening. Dancing without moving your feet is difficult and not so much fun, I've discovered.

It was pretty hot in the bar so we kept escaping to the patio out back to cool off. It was either that or take our shirts off -- which prompted us to ask ourselves if we had nice enough bras on to bare it all. (No, thankfully. And the ringleader of such activities had just left early so we weren't going to take up the reins in her absence.)

As a result, we started reminiscing/laughing about a night out maybe <20 years ago when a bunch of us went bowling at Clover Lanes. As the stakes got higher throughout the night, one thing led to another, and we were challenging each for extra points with daring feats of stupidity (e.g., five points if you take your shirt off). The night later became dubbed "bra bowling" as the men's Christian league beside us left quickly and the young man who was using the bowling lane equivalent of the zamboni to clean/buff the lanes before closing, fell over his equipment. Serves him right for staring at us and walking backward at the same time. D'oh!

I need to walk into town and hit Embrasse-Moi in case the occasion presents itself again soon. Must look my best.

My Treasure Chest of Love

My girlfriend Laura was in town recently from Delray Beach. We spent a little time viewing the permanent collection at the Memorial Art Gallery while the kids accompanied us on an animal scavenger hunt—looking for horse carvings, dogs in paintings, etc. We also went to see the hubby’s jazz band, The Steve Greene Trio, play at the Little Café and later saw his Podunk-punk band, The Chinchillas, play at The Cottage Hotel (a fun a little hole-in-the-wall). We inevitably faced the, “What do you want to do?” question for which Rochester has few fabulous options for repeat visitors (especially at this time of year). There are only so many times visiting the Pittsford “mega-Wegs” continues to have allure, the lakes are too cold to swim, the mountains are not yet snow capped for skiing, and the Maid of the Mist is docked for the season so why bother heading to Niagara Falls for the day?

We ended up late Saturday afternoon at Organic Alley, a fabulous local health market, which was having a holistic health fair. My girlfriend had a reading from an “intuitive,” while I sat on the floor praying to God, “Please put your words in this woman’s mouth.” I have a fear of mediums and spiritualists but this lady was spot-on in her dialog with Laura: not only nailing her raison d'etra but also giving her food for thought.

She then turned to me and asked, “Do you like to sing and dance?” and I wasn’t sure how to answer. I love to sing and dance but I’m horrible at both. I actually lip synch in church and, when I do sing aloud, people turn around to see what kind of mutant I am.

She said that my body was dancing and my heart was singing, “I have a treasure chest of love.” Laura and I started laughing. This woman proceeded to tell me that a) I work too hard, b) life doesn’t have to be this hard, and c) I need to focus on my talents—stop challenging myself further—and life will come much easier.

I came to work on Monday and immediately told my boss! Guess what, I’m planning on not working hard anymore . . . you okay with that?