
Dreaming of...............Russia.

Missing.......................Spokane.
Remembering............Badger Creek.

Craving.......................Pike Street Market's Mac & Cheese.







Every time I have a milkshake, I am transported to another time. A time of jukeboxes, checkerboard floors, and full circle skirts, record players, chrome bar stools and roller skates. They are happiness in a stainless steel cup. Add a dollop of whipped cream and I'm done for. It soothes...it relaxes...and it fattens all in one fail swoop.
Love it. Crave it. Gotta have it.

Just yesterday, I was thinking about my first pair of point shoes. I still have them in a box in my closet; the only pair I've kept. The day I bought them was a proud day, for they were well earned. My ankles had to have a certain strength and my skill and technique had to handle the responsibility. My fellow dancers and I had been preparing for this day for quite some time. Going to the dance shop was a field trip for us young dancers, not unlike seeing a museum of dinosaur bones for the first time. Phillip, the fitter, placed lambs wool in the box of the shoe as to soften the shock of skin on wood. The anatomy of a point shoe doesn't exactly aid in pretty feet, other than when one is wearing them to dance. I placed my hands in his as he aided me in rising to my tippy toes. I might as well had been on the tippy top of the world.
"The dancer believes that his art has something to say which cannot be expressed in words or in any other way than by dancing...there are times when the simple dignity of movement can fulfill the function of a volume of words. There are movements which impinge upon the nerves with the strength that is incomparable, for movement has power to stir the senses and emotions, unique in itself. This is the dancer's justification for being, and his reason for searching further for deeper aspects of his art." - Doris Humphrey, dance pioneer.

