Weird

Yesterday we spent a lot of time in Lower Queen Anne near the Space Needle, the opera house, the ballet, etc., so I was lost in nostalgia most of the day- slamming back and forth between laughter and resisting a flood of tears. On our last drive by the ballet, I succumbed to tears. Ezra said, "If you miss it so much, why did you leave?" 

I let Brendan tell the story to the kids. He did a great job (as he would, of course. He was there). It was nice to hear what he chose to communicate, which parts he chose to highlight. In light of us having a 6 year old who is struggling with perseverance, we both highlighted the hard work and years of practice required of me. To emphasize my improvements thanks to practice, I told them the story of how the first time I ever auditioned for PNBS, I did not get in. 

Years after that gawky audition, I worked in administration for the school and discovered (with permission and prompting from other staff members) the notes from my audition. I think it said, "ft, t-o, ext..." which are all good things I'll leave to be deciphered by those of you in the know, but it also said, and I really do quote, "weird." We all had a great laugh over that in the office, and it never hurt my feelings because I'm sure I was weird! I didn't know much about the big, wide, ballet world. I'm sure my ettiquette wasn't quite right, and I remember being out of mind nervous. As we say in Texas, I was a greenhorn. 

Back in the car last night, all I said to the kids was, "They didn't let me in the first time because I was weird." "Why did they think you were weird?"- Hazel or Ivo said. "I don't know. They meant that something about my dancing wasn't right yet." "OR," said Ezra, "maybe they just said that because you ARE weird." 

Yep. Maybe so.