Saturday, March 28, 2009

You're gettin' old, Frau! Ha HA!

That's what Dave said to me this morning as I medicated a lingering headache, brought on by a loud concert last night.

But am I even allowed to grow out of my teeny bopper stage before I'm fitted for support hoes and a cane?

You see, I spent Friday night in the midst of fellow David Archuleta fans at his concert in Salt Lake City. The crowd was probably 90 percent female, and 85 percent shrieking female. My ears are still ringing exactly 24 hours since the close of the show. And Dave thought I was mad at him last night because I kept yelling.

Anyone who has read my blog for a while knows that I'm a big fan, and president of the David Archuleta Fan Club for Married Girls Who are Too Old to Have a Crush but Still Might Be a Little Obsessed.

Make that "Former President." I think I've been demoted because my concert buddy sister-in-law might be a bigger fan. I know. You didn't know that was possible because you know that I chased him down last year during his hometown visit, packing my 1-year-old. But so did she. And her husband (my brother) is an honorary member of the club, since he gets juicy text messages from Brother Archuleta frequently.

Back to the concert. It was a lot of fun. David Archuleta is a great performer and seems so confident on stage now. He was full of energy and I couldn't believe he could keep singing song after song with all that bouncin' around like a Tigger (Sorry... We've been watching a lot of Tigger lately). If it were me (and it wasn't, because American Idol rejected me) I would have needed a minute to catch my breath in between songs, but we already established that I'm getting old.

It was a fun girls night! Thanks to our men for going out of their way to get us to the concert and keep the munchkins for the night.

Here we are. I'm the one with the Lisa Loeb glasses and she's the one with the Taylor Swift hair

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Maybe this is the Excedrin talking

My mom was here for an overnight visit Sunday and Monday. I mentioned to her that I had found an old pin of hers that had her highest bowling score from back in the day engraved on it. For some reason it was in one of my jewelry boxes.

Her score was 187. She told me she got that score when she was on diet pills (this would have been in the 70s or 80s, I believe).

"Boy, did those things work," she said.

She told me the pills made her stronger and more focused. Basically a super-version of her regular self.

But after a while she wasn't feeling so well and she decided to stop taking the diet pills, at which point her bowling team wondered what happened to their star player.

I've already told you about my desire to lose weight, so I won't bore you with that again, except to say that the thought briefly crossed my mind that maybe I ought to give diet pills a try.

And then I remembered that I can't even take Excedrin without getting giddy and jumpy and wanting to start a ballroom dancing club. Seriously. This has happened twice.

I used to be a newspaper reporter. On two separate occasions at two different newspapers I was dealing with a migraine that I had to get rid of to keep working into the late-night hours. So both times I went to a nearby drugstore and bought Excedrin. And both times I found myself in an exceptionally good mood and hardly able to sit still. And both times I couldn't wait to get my work done so I could get started on forming my own ballroom dance club. And the second time this happened was when I made the connection:

Maybe this is the Excedrin talking.

I was a ballroom dancer before ballroom dancing was cool. (It's cool now, right?) I started when I was 11 and I was pretty serious about it throughout my teenage years. Along with my brother and my other dance partner, Martin, I would compete several times a year and perform anywhere we were invited. We competed at the national championships at BYU every year, and Martin and I even placed 4th in the waltz and quickstep at the nationals in 1995. That was my biggest dancing accomplishment, I think.

Now a decade later, some of the dancers we competed against are gracing the "Dancing with the Stars" stage. It's fun to see them doing so well and having that opportunity. They wouldn't remember us, but they were the standouts back then, so we remember them.

Our dance teacher was an awesome teacher and a shady businesswoman. My parents had finally had enough of her financial dishonesty and decided to take their business elsewhere. Which meant that if we wanted to keep taking lessons, we had to make a big drive every time.

First we went to Nancy. She was about a three-hour drive away and we saw her every couple weeks. She liked to pick on me. She once pointed out to me and the rest of the class that my legs were not very pretty. Thanks a ton, Nancy!

That didn't last long. After that my mom set up lessons with a few different teachers in the Provo area (about a 4-hour drive from home every other week). The most exciting part of that was taking private lessons from Rick Robinson, who was a legend to us. He was one of those dancers who was so captivating that even if there were 99 other dancers on the floor, you couldn't take your eyes off him. And now we were under his tutelage. He taught us the best routines we had ever danced, and they are still the routines we feel like dancing when we hear a good cha-cha beat.

I say "we" because often when my little brother, Joel, hears a good cha-cha beat he'll reach out his hand to me and indicate it's time to dance. Even if we're at the grocery store or somewhere equally as inappropriate for putting on a dance recital. And I have a feeling if I weren't so shy about it, he'd actually dance the whole routine with me, right there.

I don't remember how long the Provo lessons lasted, but it became too expensive and time-consuming to keep making the big trip. We were still performing locally, but we weren't learning anything new and we weren't competing so much anymore. I did try to start a ballroom club at my high school, but ballroom wasn't cool yet so it fizzled.

Then I went to Ricks College. I had been out of the dancing scene for a year or two, but I was excited to get back into it there. I danced on the summer team and then the fall semester started and it was time for auditions. For some reason I wasn't sure if I was actually going to try out or not, but at the last minute I threw on a skirt and headed up to the MC.

Auditions were a disaster. The whole thing lasted for about an hour, and they picked all the new members from what they saw in that short time period. I had three chances to dance, and each time they had the men choose their partners, so I had no control over who I danced with for my audition. They had about 10 couples dance at a time, for about 90 seconds at a time.

My first partner had just learned the basic cha-cha step that night, so we danced the basic cha-cha over and over and over and over. The next guy had been in a social dance class during the summer term, so he knew a little, but not a lot. And the last guy was on the team, but hadn't taken lessons. So he knew all their group routines, but none of the basics and he was trying to lead me in all kinds of crazy things I had never learned. So I never really got to show anything that I knew, and subsequently I did not make the team. As a further blow to my ego, my best friend, who had danced other types of dance all her life but who only knew the few ballroom steps that I had taught her, made the team. I was happy for her, but so sad for me. This was also the week that I didn't make it into the choir I had hoped to be in. Just an all-around bummer.

Joel and I did participate in one more competition, at Ricks, where we placed 6th or something in the novice category (is that right, Joel?). Eventually I was encouraged to try out for the "Winter" team, and so I did. This time I made it, but it was around the same time that I really got into journalism and was working for KRIC-FM. I had to leave dance practice early every time to make it to my on-air shift, so after a few weeks I decided to leave the team and focus on my radio job, which I really loved. I was top dog there, or at least I felt like it... and it was a good feeling.

After a couple more hometown performances my career in ballroom came to an end. I didn't know it then, though. I'm glad that our last performance was one of our best. Joel and I choreographed a really fun swing number for a benefit show my mom put on in our hometown. I didn't know then that it would be the last time I would perform in front of an audience, and I wish so much that I had a recording of it.

It's something I really miss. I also really miss singing with a group (and I don't mean church choir... I love participating in the church choir, but that's not what I'm talking about). I've tried off and on to rally others to participate in both ballroom clubs and singing groups, but no one is ever as excited about it as I am. Maybe someday I'll take enough Excedrin or diet pills to get something going for real.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Me = big baby

I recently discovered The Creative Junkie. She makes me laugh. But today she made me cry by posting the following videos. They're not sad at all, and they're not even trying to pull at my heartstrings... are they? But seeing all these strangers sharing such a joyful moment makes me feel all kinds of tear-inducing emotions.

And the making of: