Dance Dance Dance

My weekend was devoted to Phil and dancing. Pretty much a perfect weekend, come to think of it.

Phil decided to come down just for a couple nights because, well, (aw) he missed me. And I missed him too. I was super excited to see him. No big event, no big plans, just time together. Sometimes, that's more than enough.

We did end up going out for dim sum with Saf and Ange, which was delicious. I'd never been for dim sum before, and I have no idea why the heck not. You get all these little things to try, and they come in cute little dishes and they're easy and fun to share. It was great. Ange said that in Vancouver, she goes to a restaurant for dim sum where they come around with a little cart and you get to pick things off the cart! How cute. I want to go there.

The rest of the weekend was a whirlwind of Bollywood scarves, hip hop booty bounces, and jazzy spins and side kicks. After the three hours of rehearsal and into the run-through, I spread my fingers out in front of me and counted off the days. Seventeen. Seventeen days until this crazy, wonderful, stress-inducing, heart-palpitating, spirit-lifting show goes up. Seventeen days to buy costumes, make costumes, paint the set, build the set, and rehearse, rehearse, rehearse!

I strained my hip, my legs ache, and I have a bruise on the bottom of my right foot. So why exactly do I do it? For those 90 minutes, times three, each week, that I get to forget about homework, and show-planning, and interpersonal issues, and being far from people I love and just dance, pretend I am that amazing dancer I have always wanted to be with excellent form and legs that go on forever.

I think I'll go stretch now. Ouch.