Tonight's cocktail is the last glass from a bottle of inexpensive Chardonnay, bought on sale and opened a few days ago. A more discerning person might have poured it out because I'd been too lazy to use the vacuum-seal thing, but I am not that person.
This afternoon I took Tink to the dress rehearsal for her dance recital, which is this weekend. I remember being in recitals back in the day - they would trot out the entire dance school to do one big event that would take what seemed like 4-5 hours before it was all over, because of course most people were in multiple numbers, and this was the South, so all the girls took dance lessons. And, God love the late 70s, there was always at least one person who would twirl fire batons. Seriously, on a wooden stage in a crowded auditorium full of little girls who'd been shellacked with Aquanet to within an inch of their lives, they let a 15 year-old toss around murtherfurkin' fire batons! We lived dangerously back then.
Thankfully these days they break things down into separate recital groups so that nobody has to sit through more than about an hour, though I do miss the fire batons. Anyway, I must say that Tink has moves. I don't know where she gets them. Her dad doesn't dance, and though I like to dance, I'm not particularly graceful, all those lessons notwithstanding.
I love Tink's sassy confidence, which is completely without self-consciousness. I love that she will create her own combinations and steps just to see what will happen, and she's not afraid to laugh at herself if she ends up falling on her butt while doing it. It's especially awesome when she combines ballet, tap, hip-hop, and Tae Kwon Do, because really, if they're good on their own, why wouldn't they be even better together? I want to bottle this essence of who she is and give it her booster doses of it when she's 12 or 13. Everyone should remember feeling that way, and find a way to recapture it as often as possible.
Lest I sound too sappy (and I swear I only had the one glass of wine), please be assured that throughout the recital on Saturday, I will be secretly hoping that something like this happens (found on Huffington Post):
That kid's going to rock the boardroom someday, though I think we're all pretty glad she didn't have access to a fire baton.