end of august, end of august???? why it was only weeks ago that it was deep winter and I was wondering what work prospects would come in the spring, only days ago that I wrote my last confession to this blog, only hours ago that I went to my last mid-week dance class before I traded in the leisure (I use that word loosely) for employment. Yeah, I just got a job! But d*rn, summer is over. But, I've been dancing or rehearsing most days, and I have seventeen pairs of socks to show for all my time off! I got five years of tax returns done, ripped my way through ten feet of magazine piles and pulled the most beautiful images, had my house parged and stuck back together with cement goop, had good swims with good friends, travelled to Paris, walked the beach boardwalk early in the morning (more mornings than in the past ten years combined), rode my bike in the ravine, saw movies, figured out the cabling and connections on my TV so I could get an HD signal, wrote a letter that was twenty years late, held my cat when he was sick, learned how to use my serger again, danced and listened to music after years of putting it in the background and forgeting that I ever knew how to move, sorted my shirts by mood and colour, bought a lot of wool and even more sock wool, went to DKC meetings, went to my book club meetings (and read the books before), bought a sari every time I went out to lunch for Indian food, baked pistachio biscotti again, talked to my sister most everyday, indulged in good cheese, road-tripped to Montreal et environs, commenced a correspondence with a long lost relative, archived pictures, made movies, and suduko'ed my brain off.

Wish I had written more here... but this month has been crazy busy, like I always wonder at this point in my between gig status how anyone can work and get anything done. But very soon I'll be back to that life, 70hour weeks, time at home to sleep, have a coffee and do a few rows. But August... I worked on a friend's short film (or was the July?), my cat got sick and almost died, I went to a friend's cottage on Lake Huron, and I danced or rehearsed almost every day, and until my walking pal went back to work I was walking with her most mornings. And I bought enough wool from Briggs & Little to knit twelve pairs of work socks, a nostalgic favourite of mine. And that was the month?!?! Nothing like a deadline. Five days before I have to be back; and in that time I will sew a belly dance bra, a modern Egyptian cabaret narrow slit skirt, embelish said items with all the glittery bits I can fit on them. And put everything away. And sundry administrative tasks. And a visit to the ex. And try to do better on living the next go around on my show. Stay tuned.

I sense, both with regret and anticipation, that my eight month hiatus from work is coming to an end. I'm rushing to get my costumes worked out for the bellydance school recital on September 17th. Here I am in the Khaleegy dress (oh my - what to wear underneath, probably harem pants and a choli). As illustrated, it is a matter of delicateness grace and skill to dance with these dresses to full advantage, swishing and tsking, sweeping hair and arms, and enticing mothers with sons to notice your full hips, glowing skin and sweet (ahem) smiles, without tripping, ripping or getting lost in it (as illustrated). I'm in two other dances, one where you have to wear a peasant skirt, tight tank (for full display of beginner undulations and belly pops) with a coin scarf and all the bling you can manage. The third dance is the most challenging. It's from the beginner 2 class, has the most complicated choreography for me (involving dropping to bent knees a couple of times and undulating back up), all while wearing a modern Egyptian cabaret get-up. Now, belly-exposer I'm not. Sort of a contradiction in terms I guess to call myself a "belly" dancer. Don't worry, the belly is undulating and moving under the sweat shirt at all times.... just nobody can see it. But now it's time to put it out there. I went in search of materials to sew my costume, and several hundred dollars later I have enough for 10 costumes! Plenty of space to make mistakes in design and execution, but limited time to get it right. The idea is a fully-beaded red/black cabaret bra, meshing for the belly, and a tight narrow lycra skirt. Ta-da, modern egyptian cabaret dancer. What did I get myself into? Usually I don't put much preparation into anything. I just jump and go. As I've gotten older, i've observed that my nerves get jangled much more when I'm rushed, whether it's a dinner party, interview with an employee, or travelling. Everything is so much more enjoyable when I've carved out the space to enjoy it, and eliminate pesky details like "WHAT TO WEAR!!!?!?!??!?"

Exhaustion. My ex-husband and I have just witnessed a catty miracle. Hector, black killer boy, was critically ill with a brain tumour or some sort of brain infection (our bank accounts being too small to buy the diagnostic tests to be definitive). It's been comatose cat duty for the past six days. Without the gory details, we dug his grave and were taking him to his "last" appointment, when we saw a bit of life (one last chance to try feeding him, he licked his chops when I opened a can which he promptly turned away from). His death sentence was commuted for another day, while we waited for some or any more improvement. Two days later he is his old yowly self, insensed with me that I won't allow him out, yelling for an A-team rescue from every open window, hissing at his pills, and consuming 3 cans of stinky cow gut beef gravy cubes in the past 12 hours. But this week, I sat with him outside on the front veranda with his little dish rag body and 1000 yard stare. I picked up some mindless knitting on an unfinished sweater from 3 years ago. I call it my Jamestown sweater. I travelled to New York State with a couple of friends to a picnic on a very hot and overcast August afternoon, and convinced them to go to a wool store with me. It turns out the wool store was in deep woods, quaint but sparsely stocked. I was jonesing for fibre, not having developed the habit of always always carrying a small project with me (like this week at the vet when we were juicing up Hector on a fluid IV every morning because he wasn't drinking - out came the socks). So at this country woods wool store, I bought the "local" stuff, which turned out to be Maine wool. Scratchy, but hardy, a good outdoor under the down vest sort of sweater. I picked all the colours I liked, and thought I'd figure something out later. Each colour band is four rows, and the gradation is mostly consistent. Pretty boring knitting, and I guess I hadn't figured out a complete plan for it. I went to the Interweave book of sweater patterns, worked the numbers, figured out how much yardage I had, and committed to a plan of action. That would make it the Jamestown funky public boy school sweater with the split t-neck and semi inset sleeves. Wait for it... the experience of showing bd teacher the stash has me interested in finishing a couple of things. That and it's cool here, finally. More about the new thrills of my bd life tomorrow...