to be bad at something

Last week, during a restaurant dinner with the young family, Snowdrop took out a pack of conversation cards. You pick a card and then go around the table discussing the question asked. It was actually more fun than it sounds. Us grownups had to think deeply and come up with honest answers to stuff we dont often think about. Like this one: what hobby do you wish you'd take up? 

It's easy to come up with ones you're already trying to perfect. For me, that would be writing, photography, growing flowers, getting more fluent in French. But new ones? By the time you're 70, you pretty much will have tried anything on your wish list, or given up. But they pushed me and so I finally blurted out -- ballet. I got a lot of quizzical looks on that one. Ballet? Seriously?

The thing is, I'm terrible at it. At least I was made to feel that I am terrible at it when I took ballet lessons in Poland at age 6. Somehow to those watching (mostly the teacher and my family at home), I didn't appear to have the makings of a ballet dancer. After a childhood year of beginning barre work (it seemed interminable), I gave up, choosing instead more "tomboy" (remember that word? difficult years to be a girl) activities. Skateboard, jackknife in my jeans pocket, tree climbing -- that kind of thing. On my own, because there weren't many girls interested in skateboarding, jackknife games, or tree climbing (living in New York City may have had something to do with that). 

So why did I blurt out ballet now, over a beer in a Quebec restaurant?

My younger daughter was a dancer. Her ballet was exquisite. And I know from those years of watching her dance, watching her peers dance, that for all its virtues, advanced ballet is ruinous of your feet, and demanding of a ballet figure and form that is devastating to both those who can never have it, and not much better for those who strive to achieve it.

And I want to dance ballet?

The fact is, I love the movement. The precise yet fluid motion. The balance, the demands on your limbs and core -- it's all beautiful! In my imagination, I do not dance, I don't do arabesques, I don't spin. I just do the movements, perfecting them slowly, over time.

And wouldn't you know it, this morning, there appeared in the paper an article about seniors who in their retirement took up ballet. Well that caught my attention! And, according to the wise women and men who practice this form of dance way into their 70s, the benefits are greater than any stretch you can get from yoga. (Balance! Ballet is all about balance!)

So this morning, after feeding the animals and not doing much in the garden...

I take a walk in the neighborhood of the new development (those rings!!) and then I go on Amazon and buy ballet shoes -- a $13 investment into my new hobby! (Lessons? No need! I don't want added Covid risks! For now, there is my friend YouTube. I'm excited!)

I tell Ed about this over breakfast. Predictably, he laughs.

(Ed is the kind of partner who makes you strong by all the teasing and rib cracking and knuckle pulling he does with you.)

In the afternoon, I pick up just Snowdrop at school. We are still finessing the schedule. This week, I am to take her to the farmhouse then to a ballet class. Next week will be different and the week after -- different still. For now, I'm just rolling with whatever works for the young family. So, farmhouse, then ballet. For her!

(chomping down a croissant while getting ready; sometimes it seems that the after school afternoon is one long snacking session!)

And after dance, I drive home and reheat the squash curry from last night. Portions in our restaurants are always very very large!

And in between all those moments and thoughts and shoe acquisitions and ballet preparations (for Snowdrop), I keep thinking about our hobbies. Did you ever plunge into something you're not good at because you enjoy it anyway? You did? Good for you!

with love...