St. Patrick’s Day, Egyptian Style


Got my green swag!

group photo

heading upstairs to dance at SpringFest

I spent the day eating real Greek food, watching the real dancers (We were, like, 2 dances after the 5-yr-olds) and hanging out with my friend, who vends at the festival.

I felt an obligation to get my Irish drink on, but I was so tired I took a nap and woke up at 9:00pm (!), not remotely interested in fighting for a seat on St. Patrick’s Day.


Happy 222!

There’s a National Margarita Day?!


2.22.18 @ Green Pig Pub in Downtown Salt Lake

Today was a convoluted mess. I’m glad there was a margarita at the end of it.

I’m in a bit of a Fibro flare, have been for several weeks. My pain level is not as high, even in this extended episode, as the every-day-run-of-the-mill that was the last 5-6 years of my life, so I’m pretty grateful. But it is wearing on me, and I’m utterly exhausted.

I got everything wrong today. Left my card in the wrong pants and had to drive 45 minutes back to town and 45 minutes back to my eye doctor to order my glasses, and then spent nearly 2 hours at the Apple store, on an empty stomach because I don’t eat breakfast and I spent an hour and a half of my life, at lunch, to drive in frustration rather than feed myself.

They couldn’t replace my battery, which holds no charge, because it had “expanded.”

“What does that mean?” I ask. I can’t conceive of why a battery might bloat.

“Lots of things can do it,” I learn. “Usually, it’s just part of the dying process. Different compounds break down and the carbon dioxide makes it swell.” The young man delivering this news proclaims it like nothing-out-of-the-ordinary.

“We’re talking about exploding gases,” I say. “Shrapnel. And it’s right next to my head!”

“Yeah.” He was non-plussed, but he replaced my entire iPhone for the cost of a battery. Friend, that was worth 2 hours!

I’m reading a book by Adyashanti, “Falling Into Grace,” another I nabbed from the book exchange I worked in several years ago. It’s a nice depiction of losing the self, and timely after yesterday’s dumbass move of the day.

I think my life is about having my ass handed to me. My ego trips me up. That’s universal, of course, but my ego really trips me up. Adyashanti does a good job of helping me understand what the hell is meant by relinquishing the sense of self. (Attempts usually leave me irritated by pretentious hippie-chatter, and no more enlightened.)

So I’m enjoying that, and most things on this annual act of marking time. It’s nice, because I’ve noticed that late February is often a bitchy time of year for me.

Oh. And my optometrist recommended bifocals. Ha!

Happy Blogiversary to me. Happy 222 to you you you!

Dumbass Move of the Day


My friend is in a show, so I went online today to purchase tickets. While there, I decided to find out who, exactly, was directing the show I auditioned for 3 and 1/2 weeks ago, to no reply. I’ve not been called back to as many auditions as I have, but never in my life have I just not heard. Community or professional, good or bad, you always hear back.

I was offended. Not only did he deny me the basic courtesy of a response to the effort and time I gave him, he said he’d let me know. “Callbacks are Friday,” he promised, “so you’ll hear by Thursday.” Nothing.

Dude, that’s your word. Don’t say it if you’re not gonna do it. So now I’m righteous, as well as ego-bruised. I was pissed.

I decided, after buying my tix, to get the guy’s name to file away in the Do Not Audition bin. I feel disrespected. That’s not a place I want to invest my time, dedication, and talent.

As I’m scrolling down for his name, something jumps out at me: My own! On a callback list posted just when he said it would be!

Oh. My. God.

I’m such an ass! And now I’ve no-showed for an audition. I’m the unprofessional!

I will say, it’s the first time I haven’t received the reply to my email or phone, and they didn’t tell me to check the website for the posting, but why the hell didn’t I think of it?!


Man, I’m old. Any 20something would have looked there as naturally as brushing her hair. Guuuurl, check yourself!

African Kicked My Ass

It was awesome!

We played 2 rhythms I don’t know, though we started class with one that has a standard accompaniment I am familiar with. There are 2 basic parts that carry through most rhythms. Usually, one or the other pattern supports the harder accompaniment, and Quinn, who solos and holds us all together.

The second rhythm knocked me out! Quinn had to modify it so I could keep up. I wasn’t the only one, thank god, but man! My hands, arms, and shoulders are aching now!

Typically, 4 or 5 drummers make up that week’s corp. Today, we had 6 on djembe and a full dunun section behind us! (3 separate standing drums and rhythms, as opposed to the one regular fella who plays a version – ballet style – that blends what the 3 drums would do together. Sorry, can’t explain it better than that.) I can’t tell you what it feels like to have that music pulsing through your body, buzzing from head to toe and shaking every cell! It’s as though you can feel the space outside of your skin.

On the drive home, at high noon, a murmuration of starlings danced overhead. It was directly above me at one stop, and so big that you could watch it in the sky as the shadow surrounded you beneath. It felt like the refracted light of crystals in a sunny room, landing on you, teasing you, flying all around you. I felt like I did in class, like I was part of something bigger than myself, like touching the space outside of me, like sharing myself with that space and creating new energy altogether.

ballet style

Dunun for one, known as Ballet Style


What we had today! L – R: Dununba, Sangban, Kenkeni with attached bells … You can get a lot more sound behind and around, with 3 people on 2 rhythms each.

Cedars of Lebanon

I danced for the first time last night at Cedars of Lebanon, a gorgeous, high-end Middle Eastern restaurant in downtown Salt Lake. If felt great to get the first performance behind me, and I’ll definitely be returning!

cedars of lebanon

Shahravar’s sleeve gives me the most fantastic belly dance booty!

beginning bellies

Beginning Bellies!

And this morning I finally made it back to African! It felt so good reconnecting with my community. I really feel like all of me is back, like the girl with Jax – even before I got sick – just pushed Christie out of the way. I never imagined I’d be the kind of girl to ameliorate to the point of disappearing, for a relationship.

I’ll remember to keep in mind that cooperation is different from permitting another’s will and personality to the non-existence of my own. (And I didn’t even cooperate very well! I think because disappearing is inauthentic, unconscious though it may have been, it left me fighting to feel my own self. In other words, fighting. Hm.)

I really just love my African dance community. The welcome I received there nearly brought me to tears. I feel loved. Rosie, our instructor, shouted when I walked in.

“You’re here!” she squealed, so loudly that the dancers looked up from the din of conversation, and my friends ran to me. I was embraced by these beautiful, powerful women whose ups and downs have been supported by this group, and who’ve certainly seen me through mine. I was home.

“I love it when you’re here!” Rosie said, hugging me. “You have the best energy!”

I can’t tell you how wonderful that was to hear from old friends, people who know me, after a month spent with the stabbing, echoing words of Jax’s cruel wife.

I didn’t realize how deeply she cut, or how lasting was the wound. It was, after all, absurd. Carrie doesn’t know me, and it was her energy she revealed, not mine. But to fit in among such loving people has to mean that I, too, resonate at that frequency. In any case, all I felt was luuuuv, and then we pounded that shit for an hour and a half!

Korejuga, my favorite rhythm! How timely was that?

I’m really happy right now. It feels good to write that.

Alice Walker

“[T]he planting of trees demonstrates a clear intention to have a future and a definite disinterest in war.” (Excerpted from the short story “China.”)
tree-of-lifeAlice Walker also wrote, I read once on a book jacket, “Having been so dissatisfied with my own and the world’s shortcomings, I would have thought myself a suicide by 30.”

Me, too.

I’m paraphrasing her second sentiment. Typically, when a quote strikes me, I can Google it as it comes to mind later, to repeat ver batim, but I’ve never been able to find that one. It bothers me, because I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so understood – and okay, as a result of shared troubles – as I did in that moment.

When I finish the stack of books I collected at random from the community exchange shop I once worked in, I’m going to devote my time to her bibiography. Isn’t is remarkable that people from such disparate backgrounds, generations, and experience, can be so similarly simply human?

(I’m obsessed with leaves and trees. I’ve hand-sewn hundreds of leaves over the years and attached them to costumes of every type. I even stitched more than a hundred to a sheet to make a tent cover into a treehouse, to which I attached a dozen or more birds and butterflies. Eventually, it got too heavy for the tent to stand under its weight, and now works as a great camping blanket. It’s so beautiful. It always makes me happy.)
treehouse 2treehouse

Girls Weekend

The girls and I went for a soak in the mineral baths of Lava Hot Springs. There was a big pagan Fire and Ice Festival and I gotta say, those Idahoans can spin! There was one guy on a rolling fire staff who was as good as any I’ve seen. Before the show, the entire ensemble climbed all the way up the mountain face and lit up to alert the crowd downtown: The night has begun!

It was steep up there! From below, it looked like they were stacked one on top of the other. And how the hell did they get up there in the dark? It was really cool.

Natalia is a newer friend through my friend of a few years, Amber. My god, she makes me laugh! I haven’t laughed like that since my bestie Jordan moved 2 and-a-half years ago. Angie is Amber’s twin, and the four of us had our own private geothermal tub fenced inside a patio off our hotel room. We danced, drank, skinny-dipped and laughed for days.

Natalia and I got talking about being roommates in Portland. One of the reasons I wanted to move was to save money, and splitting costs in Portland would be pricey, but the idea is holding my interest. I visited Portland for the first time almost 2 years ago, and wanted to move there immediately. I asked my friend then, “How can I know if I’d tolerate the weather?” Her answer was that I’d just have to try it for a year.

I’d certainly invest in a therapy lamp. Anyway, lots to consider as I continue to dream and refine my intention for the move in October. Methinks a decision ought to be secure by the end of March. Six months will go fast!

Ahhh. Great weekend. Great girls.natalia and methe girls