Posted in contra dancing on November 17, 2008 by FiftyBogue
Wow – That was some great dancing we got to do over the weekend in Lawrence. I’m just sorry I couldn’t come back for the Sunday dance. Everything was just right – the caller, Tom Hinds, was clear, concise, laid back and funny. The band, Lit Splickety, was solid and awesome. The lighting and the floor were perfect. A lot of great dancers and good friends in the room too. Another peak dancing experience. Thanks, Lawrence Barn Dance Association!
I’m also posting a short video from Solefest in Springfield, Missouri two weeks ago. This features Frederick Parks calling while giving the band a chance to dance – he accompanies his own singing square. Enjoy!
“Contra dancing is difficult to describe in words. It must be experienced. There are, however, some definitions that may be helpful. Contra dancing has its roots in Scottish and English country dancing and American square dancing. The progression and figures allow everyone to dance with everyone else. Two long lines of people face each other at the start, but as the dance continues, some couples progress up the set and some progress down the set. By the end of every dance you will most likely have danced with everyone in your set. Yes, this may sound confusing, but it is much easier to do it than it is to think about it.
The soundtrack of a contra dance may include celtic, old time, bluegrass, swing, and popular music styles – all from a live band – depending on where the dance is held. Our contra evenings also include waltzes, occasional squares, and other fun surprises.
Contra dancing is a great form of exercise and an excellent way to meet new people with varied personalities.
You do not need to bring a partner because there will be others with whom you can dance. If you do have a favorite partner, it is a great way to spend time together.
If you are doubtful about coming because you do not know exactly what it is or because you do not already know how, the best thing to do is to come and find out.
If it must be described…perhaps the best way is to say that contra dancing is as a self-inflicted amusement park ride…but do not let that scare you !
Here’s an excerpt from a GREAT article by Greg Rohde of St. Louis:
“What I discovered that July night was wonderful live music that compels me to move, a community that extends great hospitality to new dancers and a style of dance that is very easy to learn. Much of contra’s popularity is in its simplicity: if you can walk, you can contra dance. It doesn’t matter if you have two left feet. (Contra dancing uses a walking step so it doesn’t matter which left foot you start on.) I was thrilled to encounter a place where the whole community dancing together is more important than any one person or any couple looking good. I had previously taken some dance lessons that were horrible because the instructor kept chastising us for every small mistake. Worrying about getting each step right meant that the evening caused more stress than it relieved. The contra dance floor, on the other hand, was a playful oasis. Everyone was very patient with teaching someone who was new, had no idea what was going on and lacked a good sense of rhythm. I was hooked. Since then, it’s seeped into my blood as I’ve danced thousands of dances and have discovered a source of deep joy and great playfulness.”
Now, like I said, they’ve described it very well, but they can’t tell you what this “self-inflicted amusement park” means to me.
When I started dancing I was single. While I hoped to meet a nice guy at the dances – and there was always someone there I was interested in – it was never an atmosphere that was just about hooking up. In fact, it took a while to figure out who was already partnered, since couples don’t always dance together. And I did, in fact, meet B. at a dance, so that worked out very well. Before that, I had taken Irish and swing dance classes, but what I found was that this kind of dance took away my loneliness and gave me a community, much in the way that church does for many people, I guess. But this fix also satisfied my physical need to touch people. Contra dancers like to say, “Where else can you be in the arms of different man/woman every 30 seconds?” And although you may not be attracted to every guy or gal you swing (hopefully not, at least), a contra dance is a comfortingly safe place to be physical with other humans.
Plus, it’s just plain fun.It’s the only exercise I’ve ever loved.Since I seem to have no endorphins (I exercise, but I’m always grumpy afterwards), it was a big surprise to love something so aerobic and to feel so joyful during and after.It’s a very sociable environment too, and now contra dancers figure prominently among my friends.
And yes, it’s a little bit like the square dancing you did in junior high, but not very much, and you don’t have to wear a cowboy hat or a big petticoat unless you want to.And you’re older now, so you don’t have to worry so much about looking cool or no one asking you to dance. Besides, they will ask you to dance!And it’s OK for you to ask them! They will, too, I swear! It’s a very friendly place.
One surprise for me was that contra dance is like this huge, secret society that you don’t know about until you, uh… well, know about it.I’m sure there are a lot of things like that around, but I never fail to marvel at how many places there are to contra dance across the country and around the world. Just Google it, or search “contra dance” on youtube – you’ll see. Before I travel, I check dance websites to see if I can catch a dance somewhere, and when I do, the group is unfailingly welcoming. Many dance folks are “dance gypsies” and travel around to lots of regional dance weeks or weekends, which often offer nationally known callers and bands. I mostly stay in the Missouri/Kansas area, where I can enjoy four or five dance weekends a year, but I’ve traveled to Kentucky and Wisconsin just to dance. I know folks who travel to dances almost every weekend. (Some drive for 2 hours just to go to their “local” dance!) I have a friend who spent most of one summer traveling from dance to dance, calling or e-mailing ahead to a dance group to see if someone could put her up. They always did, and she was safe and sound and had a blast.
And the music! If you’d told me 15 or 20 years ago that I’d be this interested in old-time fiddle music, I’d have thought you were nuts. But if I had more time and money, I swear I’d be a groupie for some of my favorite dance bands.Hotpoint, Wild Asparagus, Airdance, Nightingale – the ones I like are non-traditional, incorporating some bluesy-cajuny-rocking funk into those old fiddle tunes. And don’t get me started about my waltz music!There are always at least two waltzes played at every contra dance, and waltz workshops are offered at most dance weekend workshops.I fell in love with the waltzing early on, then I fell in love with Larry Unger’s waltz music.If I were to get married tomorrow, I’d walk down the aisle to one of those songs.
So, it’s obviously more than dancing for me.It’s fun, family, friendship, fitness, love, and a twirlingly good reason to wear a skirt. It’s a high.It’s bliss. It’s a good reason to keep my knees in shape. It’s my guaranteed slice of joy.
You can take a look at my dance videos on Youtube here or click below. For those of you in the Kansas City area, who’d like to check out a dance, visit the CrossCurrents Dance website. For those of you who are elsewhere, visit here for national dance listings.
I have sleep apnea. Shocking, I know, that an overweight, middle-aged American woman might have such a thing, but I assure you, it’s true.
My apnea story isn’t one of those “…and suddenly I felt SO much better, I took up running and lost 50 pounds!” kind of stories. I didn’t even suspect I had apnea. I just always knew I wasn’t a “morning person.” I HATE getting up in the morning. My poor mom had to practically blast me out of bed every morning of my youth, and I still give my snooze button a workout.
When I started sharing a bed with B., he commented on my snoring, saying it wasn’t excessive, but was persistent. I told him, “It’s like a kitten purring. You’ll find it soothing.” He didn’t have any dramatic stories about me stopping breathing, so I wasn’t worried. But I finally started wondering if I shouldn’t wake up feeling more refreshed in the morning, like a normal person. So I did a sleep study.
For those of you who haven’t done it, sleep studies are no fun whatsoever. It’s a lot like checking into a hotel, until they strap 19 electrodes on you and tell you that they’ll be watching and listening to you from their booth all night. Oh, and if you need to go to the bathroom, just say something – they’ll hear it – and will come in and unstrap you from the monitors.
I sleep on my stomach and I couldn’t really get into my normal sleeping position during the study, but managed to drop off for a few hours (5.25 according to their records). Enough, at least, for them to determine that I was having about nine apnea episodes an hour that were keeping me from getting to REM sleep. I never wake myself completely, just kept myself out of deep sleep. The few minutes I dropped into REM sleep, I had 22 apnea episodes! And yet, this is considered mild apnea.
I learned from my new sleep doctor that folks with untreated apnea are twice as likely to die of a heart attack than those who are treated, or who have no apnea. That got my attention. So I got a CPAP. For those of you unfamiliar with that particular acronym (for Continuous Positive Airway Pressure), this is the name of the torture device that is choice #1 for apnea treatment (or at least it was 3 years ago). It’s a machine with a 6 foot hose attached to a face mask that you strap to your head to blow air up your nose all night. This somehow keeps your throat from closing while you sleep. It’s as fun as it sounds. It’s like sleeping in scuba gear – and just as sexy. For a stomach sleeper like myself, it was nearly impossible to sleep with, but I tried for three months, usually waking to find it sighing softly on the pillow next to me.
I was referred to Dr. A., my wonderful sleep dentist, who fit me for an oral appliance that holds my lower jaw forward just enough to keep my throat tissue from sagging while I sleep. I took to it immediately (although it gives me a monkey-faced look, also not sexy), and found subtle, yet consistent improvements in my life – increased energy, less horror about getting up in the morning, fewer morning headaches, etc.
The appliance is fitted to your teeth, so since I started the process of getting my new teeth, I’ve had to sleep without it. I thought I was doing pretty well during those three months, although in August and September I had some back problems that didn’t really going away. I was stressed out at work, and had a short fuse. None of this seemed serious or sleep related – and maybe they weren’t, who knows?
But here’s the thing: last week I got my new appliance, a cunning little lavender model, and even though it’s pinching a bit and needs some adjustments – voila! No more back pain, more energy, no headaches, happy to be alive, etc., etc. Yet another subtle miracle wrought through the magic of REM sleep!
If you’ll excuse, me, it’s my bedtime!
NOTE: Dr. A. says that many insurance companies are now recognizing OAT (oral appliance therapy) as the first protocol for treating apnea, rather than the CPAP. That’s good – maybe my insurance will pay for it this time!
Posted in life on September 28, 2008 by FiftyBogue
I was born with bad teeth (well not literally, but, you know…). And then they got worse. Having inherited my mother’s bad dental genes (she had full dentures by 35), I then contracted scarlet fever and was given the antibiotic tetracycline when my adult teeth were developing. So my teeth were always kind of a grayish color and developed fractures. Add to this the fact that flossing wasn’t something known to occur in our house while I was growing up, and that I had more tetracycline for my acne as a teenager, and that’s how I wound up with a filling in every off-colored tooth. But there’s more! My jaw is small and my teeth are kind of scrunched up and one of my front teeth never fully descended and was always shorter than the other. They weren’t deemed crooked enough for braces back then, so they stayed with me. Fortunately, I was never very aware of how gray and crooked they were.
UNTIL I got veneers on my four front teeth in 1986, that is. Then everyone felt obliged to tell me how they’d always wondered how my front tooth got broken, but never wanted to ask. (In fact, no one HAD ever asked.) When I moved back to Kansas City I became a patient of Dr. M., and he’s taken good care of me, putting crowns on eight of my molars over the years. But he’s always been keen on improving my smile, something I wanted too, but couldn’t afford. But veneers aren’t supposed to last more than 20 years, and mine were 22. So, after selling the house, I put some of the money aside for new choppers and this past summer I started the whole grueling process. I was persuaded to have my canine teeth redone as well, and instead of veneers, I went with full “jackets” which I guess is what they call caps nowadays.
I’ll spare you the details – no one reads a blog for the dental procedures (I hope) – but suffice to say that after weeks of bleaching, 4 long dentist appointments, 3 of which involved 6-12 shots of a novacaine/epinephrine cocktail that left me jumpy and my face numb until bedtime, more drilling than I want to remember, and consultations with the “tooth artist” who makes the teeth, I now have a Hollywood smile. Here’s the proof:
(Remember – even these “before” pics aren’t my natural teeth. So I’ve included one with those…)
Posted in fifty on September 2, 2008 by FiftyBogue
Last week, I experienced that most infamous of the 50th year rights of passage – my first colonoscopy. It has capital letters in my head: My First Colonoscopy. Laura’s First Colonoscopy. I won’t say much about it, but I can’t resist saying a little. Here’s what I learned:
KU Med Center has a beautiful new endoscopy center – only 3 days old when I was there. Still had the grand opening flowers.
Everyone tells you the prep day “is the worst part.” That’s basically true (although the procedure is pretty bad too), but for me “the prep” went on and on, seeing how I felt sick to my stomach right up until the procedure.
Why didn’t I think about how shaky I would be from not eating? I guess I thought broth and Popsicles would be enough.
Drinking a bottle of magnesium citrate is pretty much the same as giving yourself the instant stomach flu. Don’t drink it right before you go into a grocery store. The effects are immediate.
I knew I was going to poop a lot; I mean, they have you drink your weight in laxatives. But I didn’t realize that my guts would completely liquefy.
I am now the proud owner of a photo of my ileocecle valve. And some other parts I won’t name. Why do they give you those? I already had proof enough that they’d been there.
I was NOT completely asleep. As God as my witness, THAT will never happen again.
Note to self: always have some Depends on hand. Because you never know when you might need them, now that you’re 50…
I truly, truly can’t believe it’s almost September. B. and I were talking about how we feel a little gipped since we didn’t get to do everything we thought we’d do – fishing, water parks and the like. We’re hoping to make the most of the fall, which is starting to look a little booked up. We’ve postponed our big vacation for a number of reasons, but are starting to think about some smaller trips in the coming months.
I did have a couple of adventures this summer that I’ve neglected to set down here. I’ll do it in brief, since it’s late and tomorrow’s plate is full.
Our deluxe accommodations
V. and I took a trip to Minneapolis to celebrate our 50th birthdays. We stayed in a very nice hotel (down comforters, pool, hot tub) near the Mall of America where we shopped a great deal (uh, like 14 hours) and we also took in the sights of Minneapolis and St. Paul. We drove and honest to god never stopped talking the whole way. I was hoarse when I got home. I mean, you’d think we’d listen to music or something for a few miles…
Then, a couple of weeks ago, some of my good friends and art school cronies got together for a reunion, some coming from out of town. I had fun houseguests for a few days and had a great excuse to play hooky and just generally PLAY. Good food, good friends, great memories.
I’ve had a bunch of doctor’s appointments lately and have been trying to get my nose back to the grindstone everywhere – at work and at home. I’m trying to get an HOUR a day of exercise on most days – a new resolution – and sheesh! it’s kickin my butt. But I managed it today and we’ll see how tomorrow goes. I’d like to live forever, so I have my work cut out for me, huh?
So I guess I’m sharpening my pencils and getting ready for fall – not a new school year, but it feels like something new, anyway. Time to put away the dreams of summer for another year, maybe? Well, not until the pools close, I guess.
I’m gearing up to spend a wonderful weekend with some old friends. College friends, but that makes it sound so plebeian… We were in the Art Department fer crissakes, and a freakishly talented group, too. So out of the ordinary, we need a better, more descriptive designation, right? Art Rats. Visually Trained Humans. Aesthetes. Hmm. Not nearly cool enough. Oh, and I’d have to add “& friends.” Not everyone was an art student. Some were just cool in their own right.
Anyway, my friend R. and family are already here and we’re having a blast, hanging out, swimming, shopping, dining. And tomorrow kicks off 2.5 days with others of the gang (alas, not everyone could make it), hanging out, eating BBQ, looking at art, laughing, eating some more and generally having fun.
A nice thing to do, reuniting. I’ve been doing this a good bit lately. Against all odds, I, a formerly not-so-popular, non-cheerleader choir nerd, am now heading up my high school reunion committee, and we recently got together in a non-reunion year to celebrate turning 50. The party was fun, but the committee meetings leading up to the party were perhaps even better. I LOVE catching up with friends from my past. And the older I get, the more past I have.Awesome.
Advice of the day: I recommend going to a high school reunion, even if you didn’t have a great high school experience, and even if you didn’t know many of your classmates. It teaches you a lot: That all that stuff that mattered SO much back then – how popular you weren’t, how snooty the cute girls were, how unkind life seemed – all evaporates with time. Time is the great leveler. The handsome jock may be scraping by in a dead end job, while the guy nobody noticed has the brilliant career (but you already know this if you watched Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion). There are time-worn yet relevant lessons to be learned from this, folks. Like:
don’t take yourself too seriously
appreciate what you have now
don’t judge a book by it’s cover
don’t follow every fashion trend, especially if you’re going to be photographed
Reuniting with pals (or even enemies) from the past isn’t only fun (and anthropologically fascinating), it gives you perspective. And that’s never a bad thing.
