El Day-O 14issimo! Dance Dance Revolution!

1. Food for Thought and Thoughts on Food ( I don’t know where my photo is!)

I just spent the last 20 minutes writing about how I had very little to say due to a lack of sleep which has induced incoherence, and whammo! It is all gone. This sort of makes me want to chew upon a pillow. Here I thought it auto-saved. Oh, how amusing!

I said some rather clever things, I believe. Let us just imagine that my most brilliant words ever have been lost eternally due to damnable technology.

At any rate, back to it. The gist of my message was that I am glad to be home so that I stop eating so many leftovers. As delicious as that food was, I want to be able to take pictures of food again, though technically today I had an opportunity. I went for lunch at The Reef with my family, and had a charming looking salad. It was indeed photogenic, though it’s taste didn’t live up to its physical attractiveness. It was a simple salad that consisted of mixed greens, carrot, corn, pumpkin seeds, tomatoes, and grapes. The dressing was supposed to be mint mango, which sounded very enchanting, but I couldn’t taste it. Fortunately, I had ordered jerk tofu to go with it, and that is always a flavorful burst of goodness. I would far prefer not enough dressing to too much anyway, so I just swirled my salad bits in the extra jerk sauce, producing a spicy delight.

Back to leftovers. This has been a conundrum, because I do want to post pictures every day, but I hadn’t factored in that I would be eating so many leftovers. Because I wasn’t in my own house, I didn’t want to put a gazillion different things into containers into their already full freezer. At home, I have a different approach.

El Tippo Magnifico de la Day-O: MARVELLOUS MUFFIN CUP PUCKS

This is something my former roommate and good friend Gwyneth got me doing, and for those of us paying attention to portions/freezer space/mixing up the menu, this is a grand plan. Take your leftover whatever and divide it up evenly into the cups of a muffin tin(s) and freeze (I use silicone because then the food pucks come out more easily, but a regular one works too). When fully frozen, pop out the little pucks and put them in a freezer bag, and voila! Little meals ready to rock whenever you like.

Naturally, an important key to this is that you have enough space in the freezer and that you are able to create a flat enough surface to put the muffin tin on. And also that the food you are making is conducive to be frozen in this way: soup, stews, pasta sauces, chili, etc. In the end, it saves space because you don’t have one giant plastic tub or a million little ones.


I am finally going to partake in the world of Zumba this weekend, as long as it hasn’t been cancelled, moved to another undisclosed location, and my knees are holding out. I went for a single run last week and both of my knees (which is not usual; usually it’s my right that gives me trouble) are giving me hell. It is my intention to gently use my knees on Saturday to dance my way to bliss.

Zumba is a dance fitness class, that is apparently all the rage. I hadn’t heard of it until I went to the Axe Capoeira Block Party and decided to do the mixed dance class workshop. Nothing quite like trying to get a bunch of awkward Vancouverites to participate in a very public dance workshop in the bright sunlight on Granville Street b/w Robson and Georgia. They had their work cut out for them and there were certainly ringers in the crowd. My feeling was, well, I don’t know anyone here, I want to do it, so I’m going to . It was vaguely uncomfortable at the beginning, but just like being on stage, the audience disappears, and you get into the space of being present to what you are crafting.

I love to dance, but I have a tough time translating what I see into what I do, at times. I need multiple repetitions. Once I’ve got the move, I’m good to go. I have a natural proclivity for rhythm and movement, much moreso than other types of athleticism, but I am not a gifted dancer. I am blessed with dancing hips.

I haven’t really been in dance for any length of time. As a child/teen, I wasn’t able/allowed to take it. Not something a good Christian family should toss their money away on. The first class I ever took was in my mid/late 20’s at a job I had where my co-worker (nice guy whose name eludes me..amusingly enough, he was a pretty conservative Christian) decided to teach it at work. Where we worked had crazy space and good facilities for different types of classes, so we were really fortunate. We did West Coast swing. It was mostly pretty fun and rather entertaining, because, as I learned, partner dancing is filled with pratfalls. The most 2 left-footed fellows were fun to twirl about with, because at least they knew they were clueless and just went with it.

On the other side of the coin, there was my co-worker Roman. He of the eternal ugly Hawaiian shirts and ceaseless superiority complex (because of?). He had fairly recently become a dance instructor himself (proving that almost anyone could because you don’t have to be good at it, just think you are) and as a result, was cocky and bossy and got very aggravated with me for making errors. Problem being: the male is the lead. If things aren’t going smoothly, it really is their fault mostly. And he was a lousy lead. There wasn’t anyone else that I danced as poorly with, and I really couldn’t have cared less if he was bad except that he badgered me and bragged of his abilities. And, as was confirmed later, had a major thing for me, which I kind of knew. I was mystified by his, “I’m going to be mean to you like a 1st grade boy that chases his favorite little girl at recess and beats her about the head with a text book to demonstrate his affection” approach. I have had a few hostile “suitors” in my day, who, in essence, seemed resentful of being attracted to me. Ultimately, it came down to them knowing I didn’t seem to  feel the same way, producing the counter-intuitive behavior that made it 20 000 times worse because they would respond by acting like giant doucheparachutes which repulsed me. At least they were then able to write me off as the horrible bitch they truly knew I was all along. Sigh. Back to dance!!!!! Dance!!!! DANCE!!!!!

I did that for a bit. As much fun as it was, I decided couples dancing wasn’t really for me, unless I was dancing with one partner, we had good chemistry, and that person was patient.

I later took a hip hop class, which was going well until about half way through and the instructor left and was replaced by this very barky, militaristic dude whose approach made me, as the weakest dancer in the class, extremely uncomfortable. The previous teacher explained things so well, and demonstrated a few times, so I could pick it up. New guy didn’t do that, and for almost everyone, that was fine. Despite it being a beginner’s hip hop class, there were few true beginners. There was even a professional dancer in there. She was very keen to point out she wasn’t a professional hip hop dancer though. She had absolutely no problem picking up anything, so I can only assume she had a bunch of money to throw about and needed the ego boost of being better than everyone else. I didn’t complete the class as I  got bronchitis and was sick for 2 months, putting my future career as a back up dancer for the yet to be heard of Justin Bieber to rest.

My last dance class was Belly Dancing. This too was cut short by illness; kidneys this time (cripes, yes, I have had a lot of health problems since I was a kid). I enjoyed that quite a lot too, though I found and continue to find, any upper body work really hard. I have very tight shoulders, neck, back, so things like snake arms and certain fluid motions just don’t happen readily. I need some sort of permanent deep body, yet somehow not painful, physical therapist to go to town and loosen my muscles on up.

This brings us to present day dance dance dance. I took part in the workshop and I shall go and use my hips and booty in the best possible ways and let the glistening river of sweat run forth.

In the meantime, I am always going to apartment dance to my own groove. No one can best me on my own dance floor:)

Here is one of my favorite happy tunes of late! It induces skipping as well as dancing in me. Thank-you Oh Land for your child-like glee!


About nala7299

Greetings Feline and Fellow Earthlings! In the interest in "brevity" I will attempt to summarize via lists. I AM, this is me, here we go, weee: writer, reader, lover of music, dance, theatre, animals, oddities, 2nd hand trolling through alleys and le boutigues of sally ann and value village, and the beautiful outdoorsy nature of my home. Big breath, leap #2: a veggie head, enviro eco freak, chocolateasaurus, transformer more than meets the eye, former ESL teacher, a happy auntie of Nicholas and Sam, my 2 sweetie pie nephews. Leap #3...welcome to me! Enough said, read my blog:)
This entry was posted in Body Blissed, Body Cursed: A Trek Through Loss and Gain and Loss and Gain. Bookmark the permalink.

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