, , , , , , , , ,

I would like to say that I have an amazing father.  Really, he’s great.  I saw him tonight at a meeting.  Afterwards he stood out in the parking lot for half an hour getting bit by mosquitoes while explaining things to me.  There is so much I just don’t understand – for example, the male psyche.  Guys are weird and strange and I do not understand them.  My father, however, is a guy himself, and he understands.  The things he said helped a lot.  Basically I should let go of my expectations and enjoy myself and the people around me.  So I’m going to try.  Regardless of whether it works (and the definition of “works” is rather hazy), just getting to talk things out made me feel ever so much better.  My dad, he’s just good.

In other news, I competed in my first ever swing dancing competition this past weekend, and as traditional for first competitions, completely tanked.  (The other tradition is to blow everyone else away with a blazing victory, the first of many, but sadly that was not the tradition I was destined to carry on.)  I finished dead last with every judge.  Sigh.  I did get some nice compliments from a couple of my leads.  One enthused about my “wonderful frame” (ironic since lately I’m pretty convinced that my frame is crap), and another came up later and burbled for a little while about how “responsive” I was in the competition.  Johnsy was there to cheer me on (the first time anyone has ever come to watch me dance), and gave me a detailed critique of my performance in the car on the ride home.  Apparantly I need to smile more.  Oh well.  Tomorrow is another day and all that jazz.

I am getting to work more on Westie lately, which is good.  Bounce and I had a talk about it last Sunday, and since then he’s been great about working with me.  He says that if I can fix two things (keeping my feet under me and learning elastic stretch) I might actually be a good follow someday.  I’m pretty sure he meant that to be encouraging.  At least 95% sure.  Well, maybe 93%.  Yeah.