My Comeback Unveiled

Since God gave me stuff that shakes, I dare not waste it in shakelessness. For I have it on good authority that talents are not to be hidden or buried. It would seem that mine are pretty exposed. Yup, I am that righteous.

The wind plastered our veils to us like flypaper.
The wind plastered our veils to us like flypaper.

Recently, I began belly dancing again after taking a few years off. I joined a class with hips of all skills. As with previous courses, no criticizing appearances was allowed in this class’s hallowed mirrored halls. We undulating ladies celebrated the loveliness of the feminine form, stretch marks and extra padding and all.

My classmates ranged from inhibited beginners to unrestrained veterans.
My classmates ranged from inhibited beginners to unrestrained veterans.

After eight weeks of lessons, my group performed at a laidback function at the Provo Farmer’s Market. Fortunately, a downpour predicted to hit mid-routine didn’t materialize until much later that day. The wind didn’t get the memo about the delay though. A breeze gusted as we shimmied, which made our veils completely unruly. Still, wild wardrobes and all, it was a memorable experience performing on park grass to a leisurely crowd.

In one portion of the dance, the back row was supposed to come forward and do some graceful veil spins. The rest of the line got confused and didn't move up as planned so I practically did a veil solo.
In one portion of the dance, the back row was supposed to come forward and do some graceful veil spins. The rest of the line got confused and didn’t move up as planned so I practically did a veil solo.

Belly dancing isn’t anything like the seductive business it has been popularized as. For me, it’s a pleasant way to exercise my core with amazing women and appreciate that real beauty comes in many dimensions. Also, I love to dance and, surely, God didn’t give me bouncy hips for nothing.

Picnicking in the Past

I’m a Jack of all centuries. I can shake a hoop with a Civil War crowd or delicately eat strawberries with a Regency gang. A few weeks ago, Jason and I did precisely the latter.

These pillars conjured Pemberley's grace.
These pillars conjured Pemberley’s grace.

The Visions of History Society invited us to attend their Premier Summer Regency Picnic. This event occurred at beautiful Memory Grove in Salt Lake City on a pleasant but sultry May Saturday. Our company spread blankets beneath broad branches and indulged in cucumber sandwiches and fresh fruit. After all, to sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment.

Over twenty attendees filled the park with a curious history.
Over twenty attendees filled the park with a curious history.

Due to our peculiar attire, our group frequently received puzzled glances and inquiries from curious passers. Many girls recognized our men’s resemblance to Mr. Darcy and were instantly intrigued/in love.

Cute bridges are not to be wasted.
Cute bridges are not to be wasted.

Memory Grove was an enchanting setting for this affair. It provided stately columns and darling bridges ideal for Regency reenactments. Oh the fantasy of history!

The harsh afternoon light did not conceal the classic elegance of Memory Grove's structures.
The harsh afternoon light did not conceal the classic elegance of Memory Grove’s structures.

It was a delightful afternoon, although it’s a shame that Regency folk wore so many layers. I wouldn’t have complained about being properly dressed in a little less. Thanks Visions of History for asking us to join your al fresco communion with nature and the past.

Run Me Rad

Running is a highly unpredictable pastime. One never knows its outcome. Will you trip on your shoelaces and break your fall on a pillow of dog poop? Will you inhale enough gnats to produce polka dot snot? Will you drink too much Gatorade and vomit blue? Will you lose yourself in a garish powder fog? When you lace up your sneakers and head out onto the asphalt there’s no telling what mayhem awaits you.

Yes, we were rad.
Yes, we were rad.
This picture was taken before we blasted each other in earnest.
This picture was taken before we blasted each other in earnest.

This year we again participated in Color Me Rad, a 5K with shade. We’ve done this race for years with my brother and his wife but this time we added some smaller targets; our niece and nephew joined our familial rainbow.

I looked like a rainbow in a hairnet.
I looked like a rainbow in a hairnet.

Jadon took to being painted pretty well, even with oozy liquids. Isabelle, on the other hand, only appreciated pink hits. She was pretty mopey about every other hue. Still, a good time was had by some of us at all points and all of us at some point.

Jadon was okay with powder showers.
Jadon was okay with powder showers.
Isabelle only liked the pink parts of the race.
Isabelle only liked the pink parts of the race.

Color Me Rad is a cool mix of sprint and tint, one we will gladly radly run again.