...flying the coup...

It's time, and we're ready...

Andy and I are "getting out of Dodge" for the next few days, and we have decided to keep all the details to ourselves. Since we will have little to know access to wifi, I would not be able to update you on our adventures anyway, but I promise to have many on our mini break.

Thank you for spending your precious time reading about my little life. You encourage me in ways you will never even know!

Have a wonderful week! xoxo

I promise not to get eaten by giant turtles! I mean, I'll try not to...

...in remembrance...

My family is filled with men who have chosen to lay down their lives for their family, their friends and their fellow man. Not many died in war, but most passed on into eternity long ago. Those that remain rarely speak of their war experiences, except the good memories, like stories of their comrades.

Shamefully, I forget that they have survived such horrors.

Memorial Day is a wonderful opportunity to stop the business of life and honor, appreciate and thank those that have shown us such great love.

Today, our small municipality held a parade, a small service and an antique car show. My father-in-law is a veteran, and he loves antique cars, so we invited Andy's family to enjoy the festivities.

The memorial in our little park.

Classic cars! I'm not a car girl, but even I can appreciate these babies!

This paint job was absolutely stunning!

So pretty!

My muscle car of choice? The Mustang!

So flawless! Just impressive!

Okay, I just liked that it had a face. Cute!

Yeah, we're motorcycle people.

This poor guy had to be melting!

So these ladies were singing and dancing...

...and my in-laws decided to practice their dance moves in the street! (They take lessons.)

We didn't stay long because of the intense heat and humidity, but returned to the house and grilled our lunch and played Apples to Apples.

Ever since the service, my mind has been stuck on the sacrifice of these men and women. What can be said to these people who have given their lives so that others can live free? Is thank you enough? Is it sufficient?

"Greater love has no man than this: To lay down one's life for one's friends." Jesus

...anyone want to analyze this dream?...

Weird side effect:

2:25am

The lights had been out for quite some time, but I simply couldn't force myself fall asleep. My hair, still wet from my shower, was dampening my pillow and causing a consistent chill. My eyes pressed shut, I tried to imagine him here with me...

...when suddenly I found myself in a kitchen, intended to be my parents kitchen, but not my parents kitchen. We were celebrating, I'm not sure what, maybe the fact that I was home. There was lots of hugging, and extended family were present. And there were men wearing wife beaters, looking like they had just finished working on some part of the house.

One of them was an old high school crush, who reached out and pulled my mom into a big bear hug. I blushed as if I was in 11^th grade all over again and with my eyes down, pretending to be nonchalant, I prepared my arms for his hug as well, only to be pulled into the grasp of a scruffy, dirty blonde. Not that his hair was dirty blonde in color, just that he was dirty and blonde.

And in this odd dream coma, everyone was much, much taller than me.

There was an elderly aunt in the kitchen, but it was blurry, and I couldn't make out her features to know which aunt it was, so I squinted, only to find her features becoming more melty with a terrifying Voldemort look about her nose (or lack there of.) I stared only because I was so horrified I could look away. She pulled me into a hug and then held onto both my hands as I pulled away, curious for another glimpse at her face.

And this elderly, Voldemort-impersonating aunt, also a giant to my small frame, closed her eyes and tilted her head from side to side, as if praying, I thought. Until her head began to jerk from side to side violently, and I thought she was possessed, and I wondered what voice would come out of her when she finally did speak, and what the voice would say. I unsuccessfully tried to yank my hands away and move toward the dining room where everyone else was gathering for dinner, but she pulled as well, and soon we were swirling, and spinning and swelling around the kitchen and through the dining room and into a wide, open universe, with limitless stars scattered across a black sky.

I gave myself over to the sensation of flying through the air, weightless, spinning, but not to the point of dizziness, so much so that I let it continue for longer than I would have expected.

We spun around and soon we were floating in a dance hall, with an open roof, and other people floating and swirling, and there were lasers, but not the cool rhythmic kind you'd see in a club, more like, one or two, that gave a pink and green hue to the whole room.

And that part of me that was still me somewhere in the recesses of my mind, still awake, still in control, began to say, This is fun, but if this is something demon-y, I belong to Jesus.

Just FYI.

...yep, I totally said it...

And then I was driving. Apparently, I was a camera man/photographer for a local news station. I was traveling with a reporter down our small town streets. A man dressed as the local team's mascot (a chicken) was beaten and battered and bloody signifying yet another loss by his team, and he kept jumping in front of our car, feigning being run over. He was cute, so I slowed down and played along, then rolled down the window and said, So if I park the car, will you lay under it like I ran you over?

Sure, he agreed with a bigger smile than I thought possible.

I dropped off the reporter and parked the car on a side street, then ran barefoot back toward them with my camera. I could hear momentary screams escaping the building entrance where they stood, a building that seemed to be a museum or sanctuary of some sort for all sorts of exotic spiders and tarantulas. I, of course, freaked out and ran back toward my car.

Crash!

Oh shit! A man's voice rang out down the street.

I knew I should, but I just couldn't look away, mostly because I couldn't figure out what was going on, and I was so curious. There stood a giant turkey with several black squiggly, worm-like things hanging from it's mouth, and two men standing back from the scene, laughing callously, perhaps a bit fearfully. I was mesmerized by the whole thing, and kept walking closer and closer, only to realize that the crash had been a cage, which was shattered on the street and the squiggly worms were actually the legs of a tarantula. Thankfully, the turkey was winning.

It was hunting the turkey and the turkey just grabbed it! one man exclaimed.

At least there was only one, I thought to myself.

Then, a huge clump of dry dirt lunged passed the turkey and onto some grass. My eyes, wide with terror, couldn't look away as the dirt cracked apart to reveal a spider, a jumping spider, that in one bound had leapt it's way across the parking lot.

Frozen with fear, I watched in slow motion as he lowered his body toward the ground and launched himself off the pavement, his eight legs spread eagle, gliding, soaring straight for my face.

...and that's when I woke up...or, rather, that's when I ripped myself back into reality...

Shudder. I'm not sure I'll be sleeping tonight.

What was in that spray tan?!

Never again...never, ever again...

...i smell funny...

I'm sitting here taking shallow breaths so as not to breathe in too much of my own scent.

I'm a white, white girl, who could go out in the sun for twenty minutes and end up looking like a lobster. Even with loads of sunscreen, after a long day in the sun, my skin is only hot pink, and it never fades into that beautiful tan everyone longs for, but instead just fades back to white, with a few extra freckles.

After witnessing Ross's Mississippi-ly mishap, I was never interested in getting a spray tan. But it's been a busy week and I haven't had much time for new adventures, so when I saw that Shine gives first timers a free spray, and they're open until 10pm, I decided to pop in tonight for a bit of color.

The woman at the desk was so helpful, and she ran through all the procedures with me, and I felt completely confident in their product and my ability to navigate the booth.

I obediently did all that she had instructed. Strip. Put on shower cap. Apply lotion to heels, in between toes, palms, in between fingers, nails and knuckles. Step inside booth. Press the flashing green light. She had reviewed all the movements with me, and I executed them semi-flawlessly (I turned right when I should have turn left, and vise versa, but that's what I always do. I'm a little messed up like that.)

At first I was excited about my new adventure, and as I drove home, I imagined how awesome I was going to look with my first tan ever. I ate some dinner while I worked on this post, (I was much more positive then) and finally at about 11 I found myself face to face with a mirror and gasped.

I have the tangerine glow of an Oompa-Loompa.

I tried to have faith in the system, but by 1am, I jumped in the shower and scrubbed myself as hard as I could.

The result?

Well, she did tell me to lift my chin when the sprayers began, but I was so shocked at the sudden burst of cool mist that I tilted my head downward, and now my neck is extra white compared with the rest of me.

And I did apply that special cream to my hands and feet, but apparently not enough on my right hand, because it's officially darker than my left one.

Also, they said the smell would go away once I showered. They lied.

Looks like my Sunday adventure will be researching how to make this fade faster.

Hope your weekend adventures are infinitely more successful!

...happy hour...

Can you believe that I've never been to a happy hour?

I'd seen them on TV, those crowded parties where people gather after a hard day's work for drinks and appetizers, where they mingle and meet and maybe...fall in love. Yes, I'm a dreamer...a silly, romantic dreamer.

In my early teaching days, I taught from 1pm – 9:30pm, and that didn't lend itself to finding a happy hour to enjoy. I frequently felt that I was missing out on something amazing, like some rite of passage into adulthood. But all that changed today! Our friend, Karen, won a happy hour party for herself and some guests, and Andy and I were invited!

We were so excited to gorge ourselves on free food and mingle with a new crowd that we hardly noticed the traffic. Besides, it was a gorgeous day for a drive. A day so filled with this cool warmth that you rolled down the windows, blasting Jay-Z and JT through the stereo while you sang, rapped or mumbled along. It didn't matter if you knew all the words, or any of the words...today was that kind of driving day.

Howl at the Moon is a dueling piano bar in the newly established Ballpark Village downtown. We arrived to find that there were no tables left available, and so we jumped into the food line while Karen grabbed us a place at the bar. We chatted and laughed, and then chatted and laughed some more.

The place filled quite quickly and soon the pianos were dueling it out with songs from Me and Bobby McGee to Rednecked Woman. (That's an unfair sampling, I just can't remember the others because those are the first two that had me dancing and singing along.) A plethora of people were milling about, waiting in line for food, waiting for drinks at the bar. We positioned ourselves as far from the din as possible, though chatting still proved a challenge with all the ambient noise.

I didn't mingle, but, I'm married, so there's probably rules against mingling once your married. Still, I stayed with my own crew, mostly because I really like them and focusing on them seemed to take the most energy and time.

Of course, on the drive home I found myself wondering if I had experienced a true happy hour. True happy hour? I thought. What does that even mean? Images flashed in my mind of what happy hour looked like on TV and in the movies and I chided myself for being momentarily swayed. Does it matter what happy hour looks like to anyone else?

For the hour that we were there, I was super happy!  

See how much fun we have!

...to be, or not to be...

I love St. Louis in the summer! So many free activities! In fact, St. Louis has more free activities than any other city I know. Yes, the weather can reach 108 degrees with 100% humidity, but we're still worth a visit! One of those amazing, free activities is Shakespeare in the Park.

Juggling Jeff and the Chinese yo-yo

Every year, Andy and I say we will go to see Shakespeare in the Park, but our odd schedules deter us every time. So Andy picked me up from work tonight and we barreled down highway 40 to Forest Park. When we arrived, the glen was not as covered with people as I'd expected (read: get there early!) likely due to the fact that tonight's performance was a preview of Henry V.

You'll want to go early anyway, because they have a pre-show at 6:30pm and there are so many entertainers to enjoy. Of course, our favorite entertainer is our good friend, Juggling Jeff! When you go, make sure to find him on the hilltop. We guarantee you'll love his show!

I set out our blanket in an open space near the front. We could hear Juggling Jeff, so Andy ran off to watch his show. I sat back, reading and enjoying the cool, calm of the evening, while strolling musicians serenaded me.

The show was fantastic, as always! In fact, this year Shakespeare in the Park is doing two shows, Henry IV and Henry V. 22 actors doing 65 roles on alternating nights. Yikes! There will be a double feature on Saturday, June 7 and 14, and you know I'll be there. I'd love for you to join me.

For more info on Shakespeare in the Park, click here.

For more info on Juggling Jeff, click here.

My favorite Shakespeare sonnet: 116

on the glen

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
   If this be error and upon me proved,
   I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 

...me, at my bravest...

...although, if you can be brave and perfect, that would be ideal...

This weekend was, once again, filled with performances. The music school where I teach hosts 14 performances over two weekends every May, and all the teachers and administrators breathe a big sigh of relief (mixed with the tiniest tinge of melancholy) once it's finished. Though it's wonderful to see and hear such a mix of students and teachers perform, it's also incredibly exhausting and anxiety-inducing.

I gave several extra make up lessons this week to make sure some students were prepared, and when I wasn't working with them, I was working on my own songs. I was so pleased with all my students, and the students of all my colleagues. The technique and attention to detail that has gone into their training is superb, and wow did they shine! But more importantly, they were brave.

In case I haven't said it enough, performing terrifies me, like in the same way that some people are terrified of flying or spiders. Standing in front of others and sharing your heart is intimidating and unnerving. There are some songs that we sing that completely strip us bare, and we stand, naked, before an audience, praying only that it will be worth it in the end.

Though I've practiced it for months, this song still hits a bit too close to home for me. Andy confessed at dinner that he fully believed I would burst into tears on stage, and sat there considering what he should do when my break down occurred. Thankfully, I held it together.

Story: Lizzie finally becomes pregnant, only to miscarry and find she cannot bear children. She sits in the nursery, singing to her godson, while family and friends are in another room celebrating the boy's christening. (There is a break in the recording because our iPad ran out of space in the middle of the song, so we had to re-film the ending after everyone had left.)

So, there it is...me, at my bravest.

You go be brave this week, too!

Remember, I'm always cheering for you.

...celebrating mom...

With Andy's strange schedule, it's important that we try to make time to spend together and with others. So Andy and I took his mom, Karen, out for a late Mother's Day brunch to Miss Aimee B's Tea Room.

We picked my in-laws up and drove to the little house on Main Street, so tucked away we almost missed it. It was filled with antiques and lots of silly trinkets, so we amused ourselves to pass the time until we were seated.

I had never been to Miss Aimee B's, and the history behind it is fascinating. One of their specialties is a creamy lemonade made with milk (yes, milk!) and it is delicious! The food was superb, but it was the desserts that just made the meal. I wish I had thought to take a picture of it. I might want to go back just for dessert!

All in all, we had a great time. Then we went back to my parents-in-law's house to view pictures from their recent Grand Canyon vacation.

We're so thankful for Andy's mom and all that she has done for us. We were so happy to celebrate all that she means to us.

How did you make your mom feel special on Mother's Day?

For more information on Miss Aimee B's, click here.

...cardinal nation...

They've been talking about opening it for years, and they finally did, so Andy and I went downtown to Ballpark Village, where we ate lunch and watched the Cards whip on the Cubs. Here are a few pics to sum up the afternoon:

That's my city!

One of many ginormous screens

Playing hooky to see the Cards v. Cubs

The lawn

Lots of games to pass the time

Cardinals 250 cake

So close, yet so far away...

Someday, I said to Andy as we ate Ted Drewes on the lawn, you can bring our kids here and you can watch the game on the big screen while they play. Someday...

Andy's love for the St. Louis Cardinals is infectious. I really wasn't a fan of baseball until I married him. He cheerfully told me all about the village as we walked around, like how the lawn area is on top of the former pitcher's mound of the old stadium (or something like that) and lots of other fun tidbits. Though it was forecasted to rain, we enjoyed the warm sun and cool breeze until we headed down the highway, when the rain began to fall. It was such a delightful afternoon...

If you're looking for a great family activity this summer, I'd recommend this one.

For more information on Ballpark Village, click here.

...feelin' hot, hot, hot...

I was unprepared for the swells of sound that ripped through the room. My dream world shattered, I fumbled and groped around the nightstand for the object making such a racket. 4:50am.

I sighed. The sun, itself, wasn't even close to rising. But rise I did, donning my workout clothes, brushing my teeth, washing my face, gathering up my belongings and driving into the city, to Bikram Yoga Midwest. When I arrived, the yoga instructor greeted me, had me sign a waver, gave me a few instructions and then directed me to the back studio.

Bikram yoga, also known as hot yoga, is a 90 minute class that utilizes a series of 26 poses practiced in a room heated to 104 degrees with 40% humidity. Upon opening the door the force of the heat was so great I almost fell over. I tucked my chin to my chest and marched in, laying out my mat, my towel, my water, and my body in the same manner as the two class members who had arrived early, and breathed in the hot, hot air.

People began to filter in slowly, filling in spaces in the front, the back, the sides. I, of course, happily planted myself in the back. On the first pose, arms raised to the ceiling, I felt a small trickle of sweat run from my elbow to my armpit. I panicked slightly, as this was 5 minutes in and I still had 85 minutes to go. Without a clock to keep track of the time, I decided to put my energies toward ferociously focusing on holding each pose. By the time the class was over, every part of me was drenched...drenched!

...and I loved it! I drove home feeling wide awake and gleefully happy. I felt like I had conquered the world, and it wasn't even 8am. If you're looking for a challenging workout, or would just like to try something new, look into Bikram yoga. If you end up at Bikram Yoga Midwest, tell them I sent you.

I've already signed up for my next class. Do you dare join me?

For more information on Bikram Yoga Midwest, click here.

...dead ends...

The road that led to no where and the path.

I arrived in the cool of the evening, just as the sun had begun it's slow descent into the earth and a chill settled in the air. The fresh scent of spring tickled my senses as I tramped down a tar-covered path, not necessarily paying attention, staring at my phone for direction, only wanting to ensure I had an adventure for the day.

Though I live roughly 20 minutes away, I had never explored Laumeier Sculpture Park. A natural oasis in this urban jungle, the grounds are littered with sculptures by numerous artists, curated and cared for by a team of individuals.  Some sculptures will capture your imagination, like Pool Complex: Orchard Valley and others will make you giggle, like the dog karaoke installation (I can't recall it's name.)

As I walked, I looked up from my phone to realize that the path had come to an end, with work vehicles crowding the empty expanse. I laughed. Just my luck, I thought. I chose the path that leads to nowhere. It seems to fit my view of my life right now. The path to no where. I turned around, more than a bit agitated, cursing the meager amount of wasted time, and started walking back toward the parking lot, when my eyes caught a glimpse of a shrouded path. Oddly, it could only be seen on the return trek back up the road (or I hadn't been paying attention at all.) I continued to walk, weighing my options, when, at the last moment, I veered, and stepped onto the trail.

My guide

I crept with caution, unsure of what might be around the corner. Though I had pulled up a map, it seemed entirely unhelpful in the moment (mostly because I can't read maps.) So I was forced to blindly explore this space where hundred year old trees bend and sway in the breeze. Where a delicate Breath causes the leaves to rustle and respond. I was alone, but not really. My walking companion, a bird, hopping here, fluttering there, always just a few paces ahead of me, as if to say, Follow me. I know the way. To what or where, I didn't care.

As I roamed deeper into the forest, the song of the crickets intensified, while the sounds of the city faded into inconsequential background noise. I traipsed deeper and deeper down the path, forgetting all that was familiar, allowing myself to be swept away by the beauty and mystery of my surroundings. Some installations made me laugh, while others caused delicious shivers to run down my back. My presence was unannounced, but not unwelcome. I felt as if I were an old friend, who had come to sit and hear stories long forgotten, surrendering myself to their narrative. It was a place where you could get lost, but not really.

Forty five minutes later, I found myself back in the parking lot. I paused, not ready to return to my "real life."

I stepped into the car and sat for a moment, silent, steeping. I had learned too much to take it all in at once. But the most important was this:

Don't fret when you come upon a dead end. Perhaps you can only access the better path on the return journey.

To dead ends!

For more information on Laumeier Sculpture Park, click here.

Eye, Tony Tasset
One of the many installations. I didn't take many pics bc
I didn't know what things were okay to take pics of.
Hopefully I won't get in trouble for posting this...

...getting creative...

Too often, I have found that I have either not worked hard enough, or I have given up too quickly. Both realizations are tragic and a tinge heartbreaking. But I'm also realizing that I'm not alone. And it's made me more fervent in my desire to inspire others, particularly my students.

For the fall performance in October my students will perform their own original songs. We will work on several together in lessons over the next several months and then we will perform our best ones. It's been interesting to see the responses that my announcement has garnered this past week. The most common responses? “I can't do it.” “I'm not good at it.” “I'm not talented in that way.”

It is this attitude that defeats me, and I suspect many of you, before we even begin.

Let's remember, talent only gets you so far. You must be willing to work and work hard. Being creative, in anything, is not only for a chosen few. After all the teaching I've done, I'm not sure that I believe in “special” people anymore. Those with a magical gift to do, or say, or create something. I don't believe that it is magic, though some may make it seem like it is. Some of the greatest creative individuals will confess that they have honed their craft through hard work and practice over time. When we bust away the mystery myth, we can begin to create without fear and self judgement.

You've heard Edison's quote, “If we did everything that we were capable of, we would literally astound ourselves.”

How will you astound yourself this coming week?

Looking for ways to get creative? There are tons of articles out there, from mind-hacking to getting tipsy, but this might be a good place to start.

...petting the stingrays...

When Andy and I honeymooned in Mexico, we decided to take an excursion to Xel-ha, an outdoor adventure park. It was there that I went snorkeling for the first time. As we were floating through the water, looking at different colored fish, Andy called out, "Look, Sharon, a stingray!" I immediately screamed and jumped into his arms, a difficult task considering we were treading water. My fearless husband laughed as I clung to him, unwilling to even look in the water.

The Saint Louis Zoo is home to Caribbean Cove, where cow-nose stingrays, crabs and little baby sharks dwell peacefully together. Did you know that stingrays are docile creatures? Like dogs and cats, they're just looking for a little love. So the zoo allows people to pet and feed the stingrays for a mere $5. But, if you get there in the first hour that the zoo is open, they let you pet them for free!

Was I brave? Watch the video and see for yourself!

Do I deserve this treat? Was I brave enough to pet the stingrays?

Always teaching me how to be brave by example.

Are you brave enough to pet a stingray?

...are you ready for an adventure?...

Are you ready for an adventure?

One of the many benefits of my hard work on the patio is the opportunity to sit back and enjoy it. This morning I did yoga on the patio and then read the news.

I despise the news, mostly because of the biased reporting on both ends of the spectrum. I find myself regularly rolling my eyes when they make their own opinions obvious. But I'm fully aware that part of being a good citizen is to be informed. So I started a new habit of news reading this week, and my patio has made it an easy transition thus far.

Of course, the very first article that caught my attention was the plight of the nearly 300 school girls in Nigeria who were kidnapped by the militant Islamic group Hoko Baram last month. Some of these girls are the ages of my nieces, the ages of your daughters. There have been reports of mass marriages, with these young women being “given” to members of this detestable and despicable group, and the ring leader has said that he will sell these girls in the marketplace.

What kind of morally depraved human being snatches innocent children and rapes them or sells them to be raped? I do not understand the world I am living in...and I'm feeling helpless, as if my hands are tied behind my back and I am forced to watch this injustice play out.

But it doesn't have to be that way...

The Nike Women's Half Marathon in San Francisco has been a dream race of mine for several years now. And this year, I'd like to run to raise funds for the A21 Campaign, as they seek to bring traffickers to justice and as they create spaces for young women to experience hope, healing and restoration.

So I'm calling all my lady runner friends!

This is a huge race, and most female runners want to do it. (At the finish line, local firemen dressed in tuxes hold silver platters with signature blue Tiffany & Co. boxes as the finisher's “medal” is a Tiffany designed necklace.) Therefore, getting into the race is based on a lottery drawing. A little bird revealed to me that groups have a better chance of getting in.

Would you consider running with me and raising support as well? It would be a most amazing girls weekend! The lottery has not begun yet, but it will be up soon, so don't wait to make your decision. Please contact me today if you are at all interested. Even if you've never run a day in your life, I know that, by October 19, you can be ready!

So I ask again, are you ready for an adventure?

For more information on the Nike Women's Half Marathon, click here.

...my garden...

Sunday's performance was superb! While I have no recording to share, I heard great comments and encouraging remarks. My body shook the whole time, but I loved sharing my heart.

I came home and treated myself to some dark, dark chocolate, as I relaxed in the anti-gravity chair on our patio. As I gazed around the patio, I knew I needed to get to work. So that's been my adventure the past few days!

It's not been easy. Gardening is dirty, sweaty work. But I must say, our little oasis was worth all the hard work. As I sit here, resting back in the longe chair, a light breeze is picking up the scent of the woodland phlox and dancing it around me. I've been breathing a bit more deeply tonight. 

There are still a few things I need to do. We need some string lights and I'd like to hang some of those hanging pots. All in good time. 

Here's what I've planted:

Gerbera daisies

Dahlias

Impatiens

Pansies

Woodland phlox

Strawberry bush plants

Lettuce

Spinach

Green and red peppers

Cucumbers

Zucchini

Squash

Peas

Beans

...and something else...haha! I can't remember! Oh, well. I look forward to being delightfully surprised. 

Also, everyone is welcome to come hang out on our patio! 

Hope you have a wonderful week!

ps. Farmer's tans are in this season, right? If not, I'm in trouble.

...Cinco de Mayo...

Cherokee Street - the only place to get Mexican food in St. Louis...and the best place to celebrate Cinco de Mayo!

So that's what we did!

The people, the music, the dancing, and the heavenly smells of all kinds of Mexican food filled the air as we walked the street. We tasted chicharones for the first time (just found out, while making sure I spelled the word correctly, that they are fried pork skins.) We danced, we ate, we laughed, we played. It was a fun, entertaining and exciting way to spend the afternoon.

Though I had never ventured down there before, I'm looking forward to going back!

For more information on Cherokee Street, click here.

Here are some highlights:

Welcome to Cherokee Street!

Dancing in the street...

So we joined them!

Not sure if this will post, but here's a link to laugh at!

Everyone should experience these once in their lifetime - but only once!

If you like Pina Coladas (oh, we do!)

A view from the rooftop

The sun setting over St. Louis

Strawberry Margarita cupcakes made by Karen to end the evening!

...making new friends...

Look at that face! Don't you just want to kiss it?

I love meeting new people, and what better new little person to meet than Ella Rose!

Born to Cedrick and Emily just five months ago, she is already ahead of the curve. She bounces like a pro, her super strong legs propelling her off your knees and into the air. She is super chatty, always wanting to join the conversation with her babbling. She's quite observant, always wanting to see what is going on around her. (She took a shine to staring at Andy. I can't blame her; he is so cute!) And she's a super chill kid, at least from what I saw tonight. Even though she didn't get her nap today, she never cried or yelled once. She just decided to take a quick cat nap so the grown ups could talk for a few minutes.

Cedrick and Andy lived together before Andy and I got married. (Actually, they lived in a two bedroom apartment with four other guys.) Not sure how they managed, but I know that Cedrick played an important role in Andy's spiritual life and he still remembers their time together fondly. We couldn't have been happier for him when he met and married Emily. She's a beautiful and authentic young woman who can speak from the heart in a way that is genuine, but not sappy. I've yet to meet many people like her. And she loves and respects Cedrick, which makes her that much more wonderful!

As we grow older and delve further into our own relationship, Andy and I are realizing how intentional we have to be with all our relationships. We were so sad when, months after she was born, we realized we hadn't actually met Ella. With social media, and all the pictures that I see and like on Facebook, I forget that I haven't actually met some of these sweet little people in person. So we scheduled a dinner for tonight at Dewey's Pizza. (You know how we love Dewey's Pizza.)

Catching up was such a treat, and that's what it was, mostly catching up, and also oooing and ahhhing over such a cute little one. When we first set up the double date, I wasn't sure what to expect, or how I would react. You see, Ella's due date was just a few weeks earlier than our December 21 due date.

Would I be able to respond to her? Would it hurt to much? Would I pine for the child I lost?

But you know what? All I saw was Ella, and her utter adorableness. I saw Cedrick and Emily's excellent (but exhausted) parenting skills. And I didn't wish for something different. In fact, I didn't even think about it at all.

I just enjoyed our two and a quarter friends.

Make some time this weekend to enjoy the people you love. You won't regret it!

...practice...

With performances coming up this weekend, the majority of my free time has been dedicated to practicing.

Yulia, my accompanist, and I were able to steal a few moments before teaching this afternoon to work out some of the kinks. For the accompanist, this is a challenging song, because it frequently flips between time signatures. We had to patiently sift through all that more than once, and it still needs work.

I have a love/hate relationship with performing. In all of the plays and shows I've ever done, I've always wept bitterly before going out onstage, terrified of the attention, the stares, the potential for failure. For my college senior recital, my advisor sent me to a doctor for heart pills, because he was so terrified I wouldn't make it through. I obviously survived, but I've lived in fear of performing for too long.

I have opted out on more than a few of these performances, much to the chagrin of some of my colleagues (I'm looking at you, Mort!) So this year, I'm putting myself out there and I'm going to do it, even if I choke. I guess it's all a part of life, and perhaps it will make for a good story.

I still have a long way to go before Sunday. If I can find someone to record it, I'll post the finished product then.

Is there something holding you back? Are you ready to let it go?

Update: Wanted to share a video of our practice but it's not ready yet, according to Vimeo. Will post soon!

...dance party...

It's been a busy week, and with a house still in shambles, and trying to work out all the details surrounding that, I haven't had many adventures.

Frustrated with my lack of planning and desire, and perhaps filled with cabin fever, I pushed the furniture around in our living room until I had a big open space. I pulled out a speaker, made a playlist and grabbed Andy's hand, and we danced around the living room in our socks.

I LOVE dancing, and by dancing, I mean jumping, twirling, leaping and twerking all around our finished basement, which is currently under construction. I never allow Andy to stay with me, though, because he doesn't like to participate, he only likes to watch. One time he made fun of me, so I now ask him to leave the room so that I can unwind.

But not tonight!

I grabbed his hand and pulled him up and out onto the "dance floor." We're not skilled dancers, by any means. But we had a blast doing: the lawnmower, the grocery cart, the sprinkler, the wax on, wax off, the drop it low, and lots of other really dumb things that we made up in the moment. We laughed a lot, and after just a few songs Andy laid down on the couch, too tired to continue. I kept going, but I didn't make him leave.

I'm thinking one of our adventures this year will be to take dance lessons...we'll see!

On our playlist?

Happy by Pharrell Williams
I Wan'na Be Like You by Robbie Williams
LA Calling by Crystal Fighters
Love Is All I Got by Crystal Fighters
SexyBack by my boyfriend Justin Timberlake
Save the Last Dance by Michael Buble

What's on your dance track playlist? I could use a few new ones...