Monthly Archives: September 2007

Only a down and dirty girl like me could fully appreciate a project focused entirely on efforts to live clean. That must explain why I had such a nice time this weekend at the John C. Campbell Folk School learning to make soap. We’re not talking glycerin soap here, the kind of soap made by melting prefabricated chunks of glycerin soap, adding some scent and pouring it into molds. We’re talking about rendering animal fat and working with lye to make organic soap from scratch. We’re talking about adding essential oils extracted from the earth’s bounty (not fragrance oils that are synthetic) and combining fats and oils, such as jojoba or shea butter, olive oil, lanolin, cocoa butter, and/or bees wax to add texture and lather to the soap, then throwing in herbs, poppy seeds or oatmeal to create other properties, such as exfoliation or ambiance. (The lye actually kills any scent from spices, teas or herbs, but they look lovely in the soap and it does enhance the illusion of scent which comes from the essential oils alone. Who knew?)  We’re talking about adding natural clay to the mixture so the soap draws oil from the skin while coloring the bars naturally. The combinations are endless, the recipes flexible.  Cold processing was fascinating! Decorating the bars at the end to make a pretty display was fun too.

I usually read about any subject I’m going to explore before going to a new class. I feel better if I go in with an intellectual foundation on a new subject so I know what questions to ask, but this time, I didn’t find the time to do any advanced research, so I went in without any concept of what making soap entailed. It was more involved than I expected, but in the best of ways.

When people heard I was taking a class to learn how to work with bees, they said, “Gee, you are brave. That seems so dangerous.” Ha. That was nothing. Bees are small and fuzzy and covered in sticky sweetness.  Now, making soap – THAT is something scary. Because lye can kill you. It can cause blindness, serious burns and if ingested, you die.

To begin, we combined natural lye to water. Instantly the water heats up to 130 degrees or higher, a chemical reaction that makes it seems as if lye has a life of its own. While waiting for it to cool naturally, we whipped up oils, such as coconut oil, olive oil and palm kernel flakes, some of which had to be melted first. These were added when both pots were around 100 degrees.

My teacher kept saying things like, “Never pour the liquid into the lye – ALWAYS pour the lye into the liquid solutions. Otherwise, you can have a volcano effect which will blow up in your face and scar you for life.”

Um… thanks for the heads up. Meanwhile, I’m thinking that, with my memory for details, I’m a goner for sure. Vinegar neutralizes lye, so at least with a spray bottle at the ready; I have a fighting chance at surviving this hobby. This is me handling lye (notice I forgot to put my mask on. Ee-gad.)

I know what you are thinking – this is a good look for me. Yep, I am ever so glamorous nowadays. i should be a pinup for soapmaker quarterly, don’t ya think?

(I wasn’t sleeping at the job – probably just praying the stuff wouldn’t explode all over me.)
 
Each student made two batches of soap, one with goat’s milk and the other a Castile soap. After the first day, it hardened enough to cut into bars. Some people decorated it with oatmeal or herbs crusts – especially when the batches hardened quickly so they were not as pretty as we wanted. That is something that will get better with practice. We were told you can’t overmix, but, um… obviously you can. Our second batches were all better than our first (for looks).


 My friend Patty (married to the fellow who draws Spiderman for Marvel Comics – standing in front on the right in red) took the class as well, and we made a pact to share our batches in the end. We ended up trading with the other people in class anyway, so everyone went home with a sample of scented soaps, each with individual properties. It was a casual class, with supportive new friends that encouraged experimentation while offering creative support. I enjoyed the great conversation and camaraderie. Here are a few of my new friends at the end of session show as we show off our sample trays.


We learned about tracing, curing, saponification, and SAP value.  Making soap is not unlike making wine, heavily dependant upon chemistry and learning about the unique properties each individual ingredient offers. Actually, I thought it was a lot like making fudge. You heat the ingredients to a particular stage, mix, then wait for a specific sign that it is beginning to turn and quickly slap it into a prepared pan before it hardens or seizes up. Soap even looks like fudge, almost good enough to eat. Of course, you can’t even use soap for the first four weeks, much less eat it, because the lye is still so strong it will burn you. Raw soap must rest first and cure before you actually put it to your skin.

I must admit, I really felt disappointed that I do not have a sense of smell this weekend, because so much of making soap revolves around scent. Of course, scent has nothing at all to do with a soap’s effectiveness or how the skin reacts – but people like smelly soap – they are drawn to soap because of its scent now adays because they associate this to luxery. The class spent an hour sniffing the raw essential oils, combining droplets on a card to create just the right, appealing scent to suit their taste before they made their decisions. I watched, jealous.

Patty was my nose for hire. She picked out scents for me. I ended up making one soap with clove, cinnamon and orange, and the other a fresh cucumber scented soap. She made orange and rosemary, and a flowery scent. I tried to marble my cucumber batch by using fern colored clay in a portion of the soap and lacing it through. I imagined this would make the batch look “cucumbery”. It turned out nice. 

Some people liked making smooth, skinny bars. I opted for big hefty fat bars with a rustic look. It was fun watching everyone experiment to create a soap that fit their idea of organic, homemade luxury. It all looked appealing to me, and whether it was left to cure in Pringles cans, in big square boxes or smaller bins, the variety of shapes and textures was as interesting as the diverse recipes. I can’t wait to try all these soaps out in a few weeks. In the meantime, they sure look pretty in the big hat box I brought to carry it home. This is all the soap I made in the class. (that’s cranberry seeds decorating my bumpy bars. It’s a stretch, I know, but I was trying to make it look pretty.)

 

I asked the teacher questions about how to make coffee, tea, and cocoa scented soaps because I was thinking I might make a line of earthy brew scented soaps, lotions and bath salts to sell in our shop. I asked Mark if he thought it was a good idea. He said, “If you love doing this, go for it. Coffee soaps would be a great addition to our store.”

After all, the class also taught us how to bottle, package and market homemade soaps too. Homemade organic soap is a viable business up here.

I thought about his comment later. “If I love it.”
Humm… do I love making soap? Good question. The fact that I can make professional grade organic soaps now is fun, but that does not mean I should do it full throttle. Because honestly, I can’t say I LOVE it.

I certainly know I love learning new things, and this class was no disappointment. I can’t wait to experiment some more at home. I imagine homemade soaps will make great gifts and I’ll probably save a bundle if I start making my own skin products, because I’m a girl who loves bath salts, lotions and the like, despite my “broken smeller”. And I will have a big herb garden next season, so I will enjoy making my own shampoos etc.. because gathering the ingredients from my garden will make it more meaningful – it seems so natural and wholesome to collect things from the earth and put them to productive use. I purchased several books on making soaps and lotions to do more research at home. I’ll no doubt experiment with a variety of homemade bath products. But would I like to make a business of soap making and become a slave to meeting demand if customers enjoy the product? Do I want to brainstorm ways to market something I am making, perhaps having to set up booths at craft fairs to move the product to make the investment of time and effort worth it? Who am I kidding? Probably not.

I’ve learned that I will embrace just about any interest if I allow myself to do so. And I have so many now, it is almost laughable. The thing is, everything takes time, and as sliver after sliver of my life gets consumed by special interests, I notice that the things I really want to devote myself to suffer. I am talking primarily about my writing, of course.

I loved dance. I loved it more than anything, and as such, I didn’t mind forgoing other interests to serve the art well. So many things I would have enjoyed doing were push aside for years and years during my term as a dancer. I was never sorry, because dance filled my heart and soul and it enriched my life in the best of ways. I didn’t need much else in my world. Good thing, because there wasn’t room for much else.

I love writing now. Writing is how a person brings order to the chaos of life. For me, it is how I get to truly know myself. I love organizing my thoughts and defining them, or in cases of writing fiction, I love losing myself in the vast universe of imagination. I love creating characters that personify all I admire in others. I fall in love with them and they become a part of me – or perhaps they are a part of me to begin with, and this hidden element of my personality suddenly takes on a life of it’s own through a designed character, bringing that part of me to the surface. Yes, I love writing and how it puts the world into perspective for me.

I LIKE making soap. I LIKE making wine and jam and keeping a garden and beekeeping and spinning fiber. I LIKE my horses – (no, I love them, its true – they do something for my soul). I LIKE hiking and making jewelry and baking muffins and making gourmet meals . I LIKE all these things A LOT – and I’m good at them. But I don’t love these things enough to sacrifice too much time from the projects I feel are more important to my heart. Knowing this, I must keep it all in perspective. I will make soap for fun because fun (and diversity) in life is important. I will probably have a house full of soap soon, just as I have hundreds of bottles of wine building up. I will no doubt make some soap for the store one day too. I’ll seduce Mark into spending a night helping me scent the stuff (my handicap is a nuisance, but it doesn’t have to stop me) with wood and forest scents, and/or cappuccino flavors. But I don’t imagine I’ll ever decide to commit myself to manufacturing earthy soaps, even if my concoctions sell well – any more than I expect to build my home wine making into the Hendry Valley Brewery. Not that these goals couldn’t be aspired to if I was driven to accomplish them– but home craft production is not something I feel passionate enough about to devote huge chunks of my life to.

The truth is, I am exploring new things all the time, because dancing so long and so obsessively, I became starved for diverse intellectual input. I crave new experiences and can’t seem to get enough now that dance has been shelved. But in the end, I hope to channel all the new things I’m experiencing into written pieces – and unfortunately, that demands time. Lots and lots of concentrated time.  The pie can only be sliced so many times without starved out the diners. So I must be careful with my inclination to embrace a new project with such enthusiasm. Time to slow down and refocus. Time to write more, play less.

But even as I say this, I must admit that I can never go to the Campbell school without signing up for another class in the future. Whether the next endeavor is in 6 weeks or six months, I am so enamored by the creative atmosphere and the non-competitive environment – so appreciative of the wonderful people and the holistic aura of the classes, that I can’t resist committing to one more session. It is as if, by signing up, I assure I’ll stay involved. I don’t want to let life get so busy I forget the important things – to live a creative life, sharing positive experiences with like minded people.

So . . . What did I sign up for this time? Don’t laugh.  Intro to Fly fishing.

Mark said, “Fly fishing? You are so weird. That class will just be a bunch of old men. Why on earth does a girl like you want to take fly fishing? Why don’t you take weaving. You’ve been interested in that for some time.”

I reminded him that everything we learn doesn’t have to be a craft or art related project. I know it seems out of character, but I’ve been thinking about fishing a lot since we moved here.  My dad took me fishing all the time growing up. I never appreciated it much, because I wanted to be left home so I could dance all the time. As such, I felt forced and I didn’t embrace it. I didn’t pay attention to the subtleties of fishing technique – I didn’t enjoy the experience as much as I would have had I just paused to let the nature and my Dad’s company soak into my soul. I think I missed out. 

We live right on the best fly fishing waters this side of America. I see old geezers out there all the time in their wading boots tossing out a line. I am jealous of their solitude, the quiet as they stand in the rippling waters alone with their thoughts. I want to be out there in nature too. Just me and a rod and, hopefully, a fish or two.  (Not to mention, I adore old men. They flirt in the best of ways – they know how to flatter a girl while never taking themselves seriously. Fun. ) Yes, I will enjoy learning all about fly fishing. The week long class will teach technique, how to tie flies, and even how to determine a good fishing spot etc…. The class is in late October, so I’ll be out there wading in the water with other nature lovers as fall leaves add ambiance I can’t wait! I will probably end up signing up for the class on how to make a handcrafted bamboo fly fishing rod  in Feb. knowing me.

The way I look at it, my interests are compatible. I can get all fishy and stinky when I crave a bit of solitude, then I can go home and wash up with my lovely homemade soap.  Contrast makes a person interesting. I don’t suppose I’ll look too glamorous in my waist high wading boots and an old fishing jacket. I’ll wear a hat sporting my hand tied lures, my hair askew and no make-up.. But while fishing, I can write at the same time. I will weave stories in my head, because I’ve found that when I’m out in nature, I do my best thinking. And fishing is something you can do alone, or with others. I can share what I learn with my kids or a friend. Or, I can use it as an excuse to be by myself to meditate on the water.  And fishing (if sucessful) gives you something you can bring into the kitchen too – everyone knows I love anything that leads to meaningful cooking. 

It just goes to show you that when you walk through one door, you never know where it will lead you next. I learned to make soap this weekend, and that will lead me to fishing.
 
Isn’t life interesting? Wonder what fishing will lead too. . . hummm……

Denver calls me at 9:30. “Ready to go?”
“I think we should cancel. The rain is pretty bad.”
“After all this cooking? Not on your life!”

So, off to the bakesale we go. We have about 30 minutes of overcast weather, then the skies open up and it gets WORSE than before (if that is possible.) Sigh.

 
It was a pretty bakesale while it lasted, if “pretty”  counts for anything. We had balloons and boa and hershey kisses decorating the table. One man came by and bought five items (1.00 each) and gave us a ten. A woman who works next door bought thirteen items and told us she just finished chemo for breast cancer. She took our donation slip and talked her boss (a lawyer) into sending  $100.00. Yippee. Even if we didn’t sell much more, that made facing the rain worth the effort. We also met the other neighbor who has an antique shop, and she bought some baked goods to put in the store. They sell coffee and food, but they chose not to bake today because they knew we were coming. That was kind. I will enjoy being their neighbor. 
  
We had made earrings to sell, but it wasn’t as if anyone was thinking fashion today. Had we brought unbrellas for sale, we might have made a killing.


When the skies started pouring down buckets, our potential customers stood across the street under a shelter. They waved, but they weren’t willing to tackle the weather for a brownie. Meanwhile, the grass where we were setup started to flood. Uh Oh. This does not look good. As we sank deeper and deeper, I argued for closing down. Denver was determined to sit the full time. When that girl is on a mission! I had to leave at 1:00. She stuck it out another hour until the train departed. All together we had about eight customers. Dang.

   
People said they saw our signs and they felt badly about our bad weather luck. Only 40 people were on the train, but tomorrow, they have sold over 250 tickets and the weather should be better – only tomorrow, neither one of us is available.

In the end, we made $150, and passed out a few donation slips. We have a plan to put our leftovers into pretty baskets and deliver them to businesses, like real estate offices, with a letter asking the employees to make donations if they’ve enjoy the offering.  Can’t hurt. Not like we want to eat all this stuff. I will take some to the Campbell school tomorrow for my soap making class and hit the students up for a donation. I have no pride.

Drenched and dissapointed, at least we laughed about it. In the end, something like this brings a daughter and Mom together for a few hours of damp conversation and gives us something to remember and that is worth something. And hey, if good intentions count, we’ve earned brownie points to get into heaven. If not, then at least we have the actual brownies. 

Failing isn’t defined by effort that doesn’t work as planned. Failing is not trying, ya know.   

It’s raining. Huge torrential buckets coming down in sheets.
Shoot me.
Because you know what I sent ALL day doing yesterday?
Baking.

I made:
Apple Bran Muffins,
Chocolate Chip Banana Bran Muffins
Banana Muffins with Dates and nuts
Chocolate Cheesecake Muffins
Oatmeal Cinnamon Chip Cookies
Dark Chocolate Raspberry Cookies
Double Chocolate Mint cookies
Strawberry Jam Muffins (With homemade jam)
Chocolate Chunk Carmel Brownies
Mandarin Orange Cake



I packaged each in little servings with a pretty pink bow and identifying label.

You see, today we were having a bake sale for our breast cancer fundraiser.

I told Denver that bake sales don’t make much money for the time involved, especially considering it would be a two woman show. Usually, many people contribute to a bake sale, but if only two people are cooking, then it will be a lot of work, not to mention the cost of ingredients all coming from one kitchen for what will probably be not a huge return. But she was insistent that this was something we had to do. She said, “Not everything has to be fancy and made from scratch, Mom.”

Then she rolled her eyes as if remembering who she was taking too. I don’t cook anything that isn’t from scratch. Nevertheless she was so enthusiastic about the project, I couldn’t say no. She put pink flyers all over town, got a few friends to donate some baked goods, and called the City Hall to get permission. She bought us obnoxiously bright pink shirts that say “Cancer Sucks” to wear, and picked up balloons. What’s a mother to do? I started cooking.

One good thing is that we are setting up this bakesale on our new land in McCaysville across from the train station. This is the future home of our art gallery/coffee shop. I kind of like the idea of bringing my muffins to this place, because I’ll be establishing myself as resident gourmet baker in this very spot next year. This can be sort of a warm-up, pre-business experiment on how to present things well enough that people will want to buy them. And I’ll no doubt get to meet people who will be examples of our future customers. Fun.

Mark came into the kitchen yesterday afternoon and saw the explosion of flour, sugar and baking chocolate. He kissed me on the top of the head and said, “You are a good person.”

“Not really.” I grumbled. “At this point, I’m not baking for cancer. I’m just doing this for my daughter.”

He grinned. “I know.”

Anyway, it is 7:48 am. I’m holding out hope that the rain might stop and we can still have a soggy bake sale. If not, I don’t know what to do– perhaps I can freeze this stuff and we can try another day – only I really feel strongly that everything should to be fresh, which is why I chose to bake everything in one day.

Now, I’m settling down to make clay and glass earrings to sell too.  If you are going to bother to have a fundraiser, you might go to the trouble to do it well.

Denver leaves for her jewelry silversmith craftsmen school next week, so this is our last opportunity to work together towards our common fundraising goals. We are behind in our efforts, partially because we have four big baskets being raffled in area businesses and we haven’t picked up the earnings yet, and partially because living in this quiet town makes it mighty hard to fundraise. The dribbles coming in from friends can’t compete with corporate donations and the donations from acquaintances that people in the work force can pursue. And the little businesses around here can’t give much. We are plugging away however – doing our best. (And if you are one of those friends (ahem, luckily for you,  I would never name names J.S.) who said, “I’ll give later”, there is still time. www.the3day.org/atlanta07/ginnyhendry

But rain can’t ruin a day completely. The good news is, there a constant tapping coming from my incubator that is host to my 16 assorted breeds of duck eggs. Perhaps something fun is about to occur. The eggs are due to hatch tomorrow, but after the peacock disappointment and having left to go to Florida again so I wasn’t available to tend to them; I’m not expecting much – no reason to set myself up for dissapointment. If anything does hatch, it will be a special delight.

Ah, the rain has subsided. Might turn out to be a good day after all. Hope McCaysville is hungry and that lots of tourists ride the train today, despite the weather. I will wear my Cancer Sucks shirt, but I feel inclined to take a fabric marker and write (Rain sucks too) on it underneath. See what a whiner I can be.

Wish us luck.

 

Tomorrow, Mark and I will be going to Sarasota for a few days to help Cory set up business management systems for SRQ (the new school located in the previous FLEX building) and to teach some dance classes. I am looking forward to the trip, but I dread it too. Don’t laugh- it is possible to feel both sides of the spectrum in a case like this.

I’m looking forward to dancing and working with young students again. I miss the creative process and the energy of the student/teacher exchange. Mark and I both look forward to sharing what we know with Cory about building a stronger school. Mark will spend time with him in the office to set up systems to talk about the nuts and bolts of budgeting, taxes, etc… I must admit, I look forward to walking into our previous business without fear of being thrown out or treated with distain. Glad those days are over.

But I hate leaving my life here, even for a short while – I worry about the safety of my animals and I am uncomfortable stepping away from the daily routine I’ve come to enjoy. There is an intimacy connected to our relationships here. The people we encounter at shops or in the street all are quick to stop to chat and the general atmosphere is jovial and warm. I always go through culture shock when we step back into “civilization” – which seems rather uncivilized by comparison. I also hate canceling lessons with Kathy whenever I travel – which has been more often than you’d expect considering we are semi-retired.

I’m guessing I’m in for no small amount of discomfort. I will pay a steep price for being out of dance shape. I don’t hold back when in dance mode, which means I’ll have trouble walking after my first class. Ah well – while the wisdom gained from aging is nice, the physical challenges are no picnic. I deserve every ache and pain for being a big barn potato (as opposed to couch potato)  in Georgia, considering I have a workout room/studio right in my house.  But with the weather so beautiful, who can blame me for choosing nature over the mirror? I’ll return to the more traditional dance, pump and Pilates workouts soon when the winter lures me indoors.

Since FLEX crashed, 5 new dance schools have opened by people previously connected to us. I was told tonight that there are actually 9 new schools in Sarasota. Humm…… Everyone wants a piece of the pie. Forgive me for a moment of honesty, but sometimes it feels like the vultures are circling overhead to pick over the remains. We tried so hard to keep everyone together, a united front. We could have kicked FLEX with our baby toe and helped set the place up back at it’s best again under Cory’s lead. We believed that would be in the best interest for everyone involved. But I guess the last two years took their toll, and trust was hard for any one director to gain. If nothing else, the things that transpired after we left taught everyone that talk is cheap and good intentions can fall flat. In the end, I think everyone feels safer now manning their own boat. 

I also think people mistakenly believe that all they need do is hang out a shingle and throw a few kids into a room with anyone who knows a few dance steps and a school is born. If only it were that easy. Mark and I always spent far more time brainstorming and calling upon every ounce of our knowledge, experience and creativity to piece together a strong program than we ever spent actually teaching. Heck, teaching is the easy part.  In some cases, people are opening dance schools now with no real knowledge of dance education, other than office procedures or a smattering of dance experience. In other incidences, they are trying to copy the FLEX methods, atmosphere and systems, to be the “new FLEX”, falling short of the goal because they lack heart and/or ambition overrides all propriety or integrity. In these cases, I see a lot of effort being poured into image and hype, but little focus on what it takes to deliver on the promises. As such, I doubt all these schools will be around in a year or two.  Nevertheless, it makes the going rough for those who are qualified to run a school.

I should mention here that one of the newly spouted schools in Sarasota  has been opened by our former preschool teachers. (Stagedoor Preschool). They have a dance division too.  I’d like to publicly state that we understand and support their choice. We wish them the best and send them good wishes. (I also sent them some homemade wine to celebrate! Lord knows there is nothing a school owner needs more than a stiff drink when things get frustrating.) They are lovely teachers, very devoted, and they endured two years of hell, hanging on to the bitter end with unfailing commitment to their students and FLEX during the frustrating transition period. They deserve success, and Mark and I both pray they will find it. We think they will have a fine school. A small and specialized preschool most likely, but perhaps that is for the best. The bigger you are, the bigger your problems tend to be. And loving your school and being happy is key to serving it well and staying for the long haul. Take it from two people who were driven out of the business. Sad, but true.

While we feel no ill will towards people opening alternate schools, Mark and I are giving our physical support to Cory and SRQ– not because we are playing favorites, and not because they bought the building (heck, we did have other offers), but because we believe this couple will make the best candidate for building a school that will be closest to what we founded –the fact is, our school filled a viable need in the Sarasota community and we have felt badly since its demise. We still hope something decent will rise from the ashes.  I’ve been talking to Cory for months, long hours on the internet and on the phone, and while others are quick to ask how we attracted so many customers and made money, he always circles round to “how did you create such a strong school and keep up quality?” Cory is interested in the long term. He cares about dance education, and he understands that parents, even if they have the best intentions, are not qualified to run the show like some kind of backseat dance school driver. This means, he has to hold firm to his vision and work to make it pan out – that kind of directorship means you are not always the most popular fellow in town, but you sure are the most consistent.  I think that if Sarasota gives SRQ the chance, it will provide the dance education people are seeking. You certainly can trust Cory to teach those elements of dance that go beyond dance steps – the aspect of the art that builds character.

Anyway, without saying anything more about the dance school biz, I do want to say that I look forward to teaching again. I’ve missed it.

It’s funny. When getting my MFA they taught me to “read like a writer.” After that training, I can’t pick up a book, without seeing it through different eyes. I am no longer oblivious to technique or style, and as such, I can’t ever really lose myself in a story. I am always calculating how the author accomplishes his goals.

After years as a teacher/choreographer, I now listen to music as a dancer too. I never hear music and just enjoy the sound of it. I am always choreographing in my head, or contemplating how it could be used to teach a movement concept. I see huge production numbers in my head, always featuring my past students, I guess I see them because their body types and movement idiosyncrasy are imbedded as my last ingrained dance memory. Even tonight, as I listen to music choosing what to bring to the studio, I feel movement seep into my body and I see past students orchestrating it. The energy builds inside of me and with it, steps, concepts and teaching objectives – it is as if the ideas come through me, not from me. I am out of shape, yet just the thought of returning to the classroom makes me instantly feel like a dance teacher with lots to share once again. I wonder if this dance persona will ever leave me, or if this is some kind of art residue that will linger forever.

My only disappointment is that I know the students we will be teaching this trip will be new faces, or younger students that we were not heavily involved with during our tenure at FLEX. Working with young, eager dancers from any source is always a joy, but I will miss the faces of the students I knew and loved. They have all moved on to other schools, and their time and focus is carefully controlled and manipulated by their new teachers in ways I can’t begin to understand. It sure is peculiar from a mentor’s point of view, but what can you do? I’ll never get over their lack of respect or their rude dismissal after years of our involvement. But as I’ve said in the past, I can’t be accountable for the influences they’ve had after our term as teachers. Obviously, what we tried to instill about honoring and respecting those that contribute to your artistic growth didn’t stick. Or maybe it is just that our society (and the dancers in it) has changed and the new generations haven’t got the time or inclination to waste effort on anyone or anything that doesn’t serve their immediate interests.

Whatever . . . if nothing else, it makes me very glad we retired and left the dance world behind. I am old-school and I haven’t much tolerance for the “what’s in it for me NOW” approach to dance training. I guess my attitude is perfect proof that I’m an old fart. You know you’ve become crotchety when you start saying, “They don’t make ‘em like they used to…” and “when I was young, I walked 10 miles in the snow, uphill both ways, to pay homage to my teachers.” And the younger set rolls their eyes and blows you a big raspberry.

Ha. I am not as offended as I sound. I’ve long since passed the offended stage. I landed on disappointed and resignation long ago.    

So tonight I am preparing to reenter the dance world for few days. I had a busy day  getting ready to leave town. I tutored Kathy (*side note – cool thing happened today. She was reading from a book, her finger slowly tracing the words as she stumbled over them, and she came to a big word. She sighed, and then gave it a try. After sounding out the letters, she looked up at me with a grin and said, “Marvelous?”
“Yes… and isn’t it marvelous you can read that word?” I said.
She hooted with excitement, then slapped me five, because it really is a hard word, and not one she would have gotten a mere month ago. That brief moment – her beaming with pride and celebrating a simple thing like reading the word “marvelous”- stuck with me all day. Little things like that make life fun.)

Where was I? Oh yeah, I did laundry at a mat, because my laundry machine is broken and I have to have some clean clothes to pack, and I cooked some peach preserves, because I didn’t want my big bucket of peaches to go bad while I was away. I am now waiting for Denver to come over so I can take her on the animal rounds because she will keep the ranch creatures fed and cared for while we are gone. So after this busy day, tired and ready for a break, I am going down to the studio downstairs to pick out music and work out a few ideas in front of the mirror. Nothing like waiting for the last minute to prepare. But I know some of my best classes are the ones I do not plan – and you really can’t prepare a class when you don’t know the students in advance.

It is hard to believe that tomorrow at this time, I’ll be teaching jazz in the very space we practically lived in day and night for eighteen years. Mark will be teaching ballet. While visiting, we will go out with the teachers who maintained a relationship with us through it all, and they no doubt will make fun of me and my winemaking and peacock rearing experiences, as they are so fond of doing. It is fun celebrating friendship now that we are not “the boss”.  The ease between us and old acquaintances (and the laughter) is precious. We will teach again on Friday. On Saturday, Cory set up a master class where all the proceeds will be donated to my upcoming cancer walk. This was his idea, and I’m truly grateful, although his generosity didn’t surprise me a bit. It is just like Cory to give something back even though he has barely gotten organized himself in this new endeavor. That is the spirit of dance I’ve always tried to instill and one more example of why we feel good about him taking over where we left off. Anyway, it will be meaningful to me to teach in support of a cause I believe in. A nice way to end the visit.

Tonight, I will go to bed dreaming of dance, feeling like the old me. Thoughts of donkeys, llamas, horses and bees will be pushed to the back of my mind as I revisit my first and foremost love, dance. It feels good. I am grateful for the opportunity to teach again in the building that holds so many happy (and some not so happy) memories for us. I hope I will leave at least a small, but positive impression behind, a humble contribution to help set Cory’s dancers on a positive learning path. But mostly, I am glad to have an opportunity to walk through the halls of the place that will always be FLEX to me, to convene with my memories and make peace with the final end of an era.

It was a good school. A good school will take its place. Life goes on.