Nosejobs & Cartwheels

Here I am at my desk, wondering where this week swooshed off to. Wasn't it just Tuesday when I last glanced at the calendar? Just finished chatting with Dave and he says "Stop slacking... I want a new post!" Oh my God - the pressure of this blogging! Sometimes I feel that if something hilariously funny, exciting or death-defying doesn't happen.... who the heck wants to read about my boring life?

Ok - here goes. The single most frightening thing I heard today was this. Don't fall over when you read it..... there are only 86 f-ing days til until Christmas. That's 10 weekly paychecks or 5 for those of you bi-monthly paid. Or for those of us self-employed..... whatever we can scrape together in the next 3 months... or 86 f-ing days. Every other sentence Hannah is asking me... "Mom, is Santa listening now?" because she wants to announce another item to add to her list and wants to make sure he hears her. Sometimes, I just cock my head off to the side like I'm listening for him and say to her..."No, Hannah. I'm sorry, he's not here right now". I guess this won't win me any Mother of the Year Awards.

I watched Dirty Dancing for the 1, 752nd time last night and I sat there glued to the screen AGAIN. What is it about this movie that enthralls me so much? I'm not sure if it's the music ( love it!), the dancing (love it too!), the sense of family, the cool resort, or Patrick Swayze. I think it's a combination of all of it. I honestly can't think of one thing I don't like about the movie. The only thing that makes me sad is Jennifer Grey thinking she had to get a nose job. Both of these pictures are Jennifer Grey and I ask you... which one looks like the real Frances 'Baby' Houseman?

Back to the dancing in this movie. They make it look so easy! I guess when I watch people dancing, it looks so fluid and simple. An expression of feeling. I get up to try and move fluidly and expressively. Have you ever seen a fullbodied dry-heave in motion? Yup - that's me. If you add to that mixture, my husband and his knee jerk movements... we are a regular laugh fest in the making. Now, if we've been drinking and try to dance.... look out. Flashdance here we come. Not to mention that neither of us can move the next day, or the one after that either without mass dosages of Tylenol Arthritis. Nothing like throwing your back out in a drunken dance fever with hubby.

It reminds me of the time Hannah was trying to do a cartwheel on the front lawn. "Watch me, Mom!" she screams to me and then does this side flip thingy that might resemble a half-ass cartwheel. "Hannah oh no - look at this! Let me show you how to do one!" I shout out (hoping Gary will hear me and come running to watch his wife do a graceful cartwheel). Now, remember I haven't done a cartwheel since 1980 at least... but how hard can it be? Isn't it like riding a bike... you just don't forget? I raise my hands up in the air, lift my left leg a little, toe pointing out just so and bring my hands down to the ground and push off with my feet and then proceed to drive my face right into the ground as my wrist, elbows and arms revolt at this unfamiliar movement and weight being forced upon them. Gary had come around the corner of the house to watch and he begins to laugh so hard he can hardly stand up. The man has tears streaming down his face from laughing. I'm whimpering on the ground, praying that I didn't break anything. Hannah runs over to me, kneels down and says "Come on, Mom -admit it! You know mine was better than that!"