mademoiselle drew

Dusting Off My Square Dancing Skills


Once upon a time*, I was going to start telling you a story about my weekend. However, I got off on the tangent from my asterisk and forgot what I was going to say. That happens OFTEN.

Let’s try again. Story may change from its original intentions.

Once upon a time, I used to sleep in, do chores, and run errands on Saturdays. This Saturday, however, none of the above happened. Instead, the day was rather jam-packed and I was happy for it (despite the fact that I have no milk or eggs in my fridge, but I do have whip cream).

The day began with soccer and the weather was practically perfect, as was the field. Sadly, my game was far from, but regardless, it was good exercise and I played a better second half. (We lost and I totally shanked a shot on goal… sad. Well, really, the saddest part is that I couldn’t play better for the Campbell cheering section which came to watch mine and Maren’s team get 2nd place in the Utah Cup. Sorry Dad, Jarv, Jennie and the kids, but thanks for coming.)

After running around in the sun for 90 minutes, I of course thought it necessary to meet up with Shawman to pump some iron. So it was off to the gym to try and convince my biceps and triceps they had the energy to lift a 20-lbs bar.

After the lifting, I rushed home to clean up and meet up with Mick, Tracy, their kids and Maren to watch a movie. And what movie do you think we went to? High School Musical 3, of course! Those kids were excited for the dancing and singing and such; I was entertained by seeing my high school on the big screen. Disney made my East High look much more school-spirit-filled than I remembered it. After the movie, and after Abe danced around in the front of the theatre, it was off to the next activity: the Fall Ball.

Here’s where the new singles ward comes into play. It was a ward activity and when I showed up, there was nowhere to park so I had to back out of the parking lot and park on the street. When I walked into the park pavilion, they were sweeping it up after having pushed all the tables out of the way and an older gentleman was standing with a mic in hand, prepared to begin calling some square dancing.

When was the last time you square danced**?

Let the young single adult square dancing begin. I felt like a hand-holding slut. (This is where I was going to tell you the number of guys that I held hands with as I skipped around promenading home and such, but I have no idea… maybe 30.) For the most part, there was minimal stepping on feet, nobody fell down and everybody learned how to “go into the center with a whoop and a holler.”

Did I mention that it was a good way to meet many more of the guys in my ward? Now if only I could remember all of their names. I’ll get there… eventually.

It was an hour of dosados, allemande lefts, courtesy turns, promenading and grand squares. Turns out, it was a fairly decent workout as well. I almost broke a sweat.

Sadly, when they were preparing the dutch ovens to make cobblers, I had to leave to make it to an indoor soccer game (where I only scored once so it was not one of my better soccer days all around).

Thankfully, due to circumstances beyond both mine and the guy’s control, the date I had for that night had to be rescheduled. I went home and stretched my muscles.

So aren’t you proud of me for trying something new? Well, something fairly new as I hadn’t squared danced for many moons… (and thanks to Mademoiselle Drew for letting me borrow the use of asterisks for side notes from her blog style).


Political Link of the Day: McCain gives Obama a new nickname, Barack the Redistributor


*Once I asked an ex-relationship a question. It was my attempt to get some conversation out of somebody who seemed to have decided not to talk to me for a very long weekend playing tourist in a big city. I simply asked him, “Tell me a story from your mission and start with, ‘once upon a time.’” Don’t YOU think that’s a good question to hopefully hear an interesting story? Well, I did. But, ex-relationship did NOT. Instead, he chose not to answer me and later said something along the lines of, “Well, you have to ask more specific questions.” I didn’t realize that regular old conversation between adults was governed by such a particular rule. How have I ever managed to carry on conversations with people and not necessarily followed this? You’re probably appalled now.

**Third grade with Doug Bodell. I should iSearch him and see if I can online stalk him; he was my third grade crush.

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Why do I Blog?


DOC: Hey Lare… glad you could make it.

LRE: Gee thanks, Doc. You’re so informal today and I see you’re not wearing shoes. Your socks don’t match.

DOC: I learned that from your friend, Mademoiselle Drew.

LRE: How do you know her?

DOC: I know everybody who is so kind to comment on your precious little blog.

LRE: Oh.

DOC: Speaking of blogs—I’m curious. Why do you blog?

LRE: Why not?

DOC: Because everyone else does it?

LRE: Do you think that kind of thinking would sway me?

DOC: Well, not when it comes to politics.

LRE: Okay; you KIND OF know me.

DOC: But that’s not why you blog then, huh?

LRE: No. Do you want to keep guessing?

DOC: Is it for money?

LRE: Ha. That’s funny. It would be nice if my blog paid some bills for me, but that’s certainly not the case.

DOC: Fine then. I give up.

LRE: I blog so that when I get together with my friends, we don’t have to spend all of our time together catching up on what we did over the past year.

DOC: You only see your friends once a year?

LRE: Certain friends, yes, because they all moved so far away.

DOC: Out of state?

LRE: Not all of them—they moved to Daybreak and Syracuse.

DOC: Oh, I see. Yeah, that’s EXTREMELY far away.

LRE: Tell me about it.

DOC: And so they have already read about all of your imaginary therapy and you, therefore, don’t have to update them?

LRE: Well, I guess they still have to ask about my riveting dating life since I choose not to indulge such juicy details.

DOC: Like the “pathetic” Batman at the Halloween party?

LRE: Hey, how’d you know? Did Mademoiselle Drew tell you?

DOC: Okay, so you blog so your friends will read it. And they blog?

LRE: Mostly.

DOC: So is that the only reason you blog?

LRE: No, I also do it in hopes that my family will read it.

DOC: In hopes, huh?

LRE: Pretty much. Let’s just say that the ca-hoolest members of my family read it.

DOC: And the other members…

LRE: Should start reading it. Somebody should tell them.

DOC: Since I’m not real, I guess I can’t help you out there.

LRE: Not exactly. And, you gotta stop reminding my blog readers that this therapy session is held with an IMAGINARY doctor.

DOC: Why? Maybe they think it’s funny, too.

LRE: Oh, so YOU think it’s funny that you’re imaginary?

DOC: Why, yes; yes, I do.

LRE: At least you’re comfortable with yourself—or lack thereof.

DOC: Wait, so back to the topic at hand. Is that it? Those are the only reasons you blog?

LRE: Well, I obviously DON’T do it to post pics of my cute kids online.

DOC: Your kids aren’t cute?

LRE: I don’t know. Are they?

DOC: You have kids?

LRE: I suppose that I blog also for myself. I like to write—even if it’s strange, slightly crazy things like Therapy Thursdays.

DOC: Well, here’s hoping that somebody thinks it’s funny.

LRE: Seriously.


Political Link of the Day: Redistribution of Wealth