I did not get to post last night because Marvin and I drove back to the town where I work to attend a childrens' dance recital.
Perhaps you are thinking, June. You specifically did not have children. One of the rewards of such a life choice is that you do not HAVE to sit through the dance recitals. True that, I say to you, and yet I voluntarily drove the 25 miles back to the small town where I work and schlepped to the high school, where apparently EVERYBODY IN TOWN similarly attended said dance recital.
But see, not one but two women I work with had little kids in the thing, and for weeks I have heard about rehearsals and I had seen the costumes and the studio portraits. Because let me tell you what (wait. I have to go make coffee, then I will tell you what) (okay) (by the way, Marvin is in the other room saying excitedly, "Are you ready for your bordetella booster? Bordetella? Booster shot?!" and Tallulah is dancing around like something good is going to happen to her. Dogs are so trusting. Poor Lu)…
Anyway, let me continue to tell you what. I took dance for years. Years. And only one time in all those years did a photographer come in and suck my parents into the studio portrait. And my mother still has my nice Kermit-green-tutu shot of me, with my gold tiara and my one front tooth not quite grown in yet. But apparently now when your kid takes dance class, those photographers come in every year and you get studio portraits.
So I am just saying, I got swept up in the whole scene and I totally had to see this dance recital.
A dance recital in a small town in the South. I think I have glitter permanently embedded in my medulla oblongata.
Oh, there was one dance with teeny little girls, who mostly stood there and looked off stage at their teacher. That was a common theme last night. And I particularly liked the little kids who got on stage and just stood there, never moving once because I guess they were freaked out by the crowds. I'll bet their parents were glad they shelled out money for this venture.
At any rate, these little tiny girls were dancing to some country song, and I am not familiar with the country songs. Although I do like that one by Carrie Underwood where she gets all drunk with the cute guy and she doesn't even know his last name, and then she continues to get drunkeldier and apparently marries him at some quickie chapel or something and wakes up the next morning realizing she doesn't even know her own last name. They play that at the car wash a lot and I always jam out to it and sometimes I think Dear God, I have to get out of the South. I am over here jamming to a Carrie Underwood song. I KNOW who Carrie Underwood IS.
Then I eat a ham biscuit and calm down.
Getting back to my STORY, the teeny GIRLS were on stage sort of dancing to this country song where the singer is singing something about how he hopes they have a good life, and all of a sudden all the DADS came on stage, and they all had on the same outfit (black pants and white dress shirts) (which I thought was a nice touch), and they all picked up their daughters and swirled them around, and oh, I was SOBBING. It was so CUTE. Then they hugged their daughters and carried them offstage.
"Who were those MEN?" asked Marvin, who had been promised dinner at Hooters for coming with me to the dance recital. "Isn't anyone concerned they just took those small children away?"
You can't have nice moments with Marvin around.
Anyway, I will do Ask June later today after the vet. (Bordetella!?) Henry is going, too, for his first vet visit. Speaking of Henry…
I stepped on him. No. I was just looking for Henry pictures and found the shot of my new shoe that I was gonna show you last week before the camera died. Cute, non? I also like the bag of dog treats in the background. Welcome to my life.
Anyway. Someone is frisky these days. That's all I have to say about that. Someone has the crazy look in his eye quite a bit. Someone does not get his rest very often. Someone is lucky that he is cute.