Back with another So You Think You Can Dance post. We’re at the top 8, getting deep into the serious talent. Here we go.

Group number was cool, the men all in black, dancing a bit minimalist, the women in red with fans, but not just prancing about flipping their hair. I’m getting really tired of all the hair flipping and obscuring the girls’ faces — professional dancers don’t do that. I wish they wouldn’t make the girls do it here.

Solo: Tiffany. Good basic girl dancing on this show, but not memorable.

Witney and Twitch: East Coast Hip Hop
She was so good! Really committed to the sharper, harder movements, and did them way full out. I’m impressed.

Solo: Will. No goofiness! Good for him. Nice work.

Cole and Allison, Sonya Tayek number
LOVED THIS! He plays a soulless character so well, with no sadism-for-fun, just a matter-of-factness that is creepy and scary. Sonya’s choreography was amazing, all the slow movement to sudden fast freezes were awesome, and they killed every bit of it. There was real menace from him and fear from her in this. Cole matched Allison’s intensity, which is saying something. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. This was really so powerful and dramatic.

Solo: Lindsey. She’s really thought out how to make her solo still ballroom, but by herself. Looked good.

Eliana and Ryan, quick step (often the kiss of death on this show)
Her charm in this number was shiny and lovely! The choreographer managed to make a story out of the quick step to give them something other than just steps. Her carriage from the years of ballet transferred well to this formal ballroom hold. The dancing was great, but her charm totally sold it.

Solo: Chehon. I love his solos. He really tries to convey something other than “these are the tricks I can do.” The way he hangs in the air in the middle of his jumps makes me hold my breath. And his spins, his center is crazy. And then he cried because his mother was in the audience all the way from Switzerland.

Lindsey and Alex, jazz to that Gotye song.
Top shelf movement, and I love me some Alex, but their chemistry wasn’t there. There was supposed to be sexual tension, and they made frustrated faces, but I didn’t buy that aspect of it.

Will and Lauren, a Christopher Scott hip hop (which are often some of the best things on this show) in which Will has to be serious
He wasn’t as super-crisp with his lower body as he could’ve been, but he gave an “ordinary guy deeply frustrated” vibe, which was what the piece required. The musicality of the choreography was awesome. He did really well — no goofiness at all.

Solo: Witney. This didn’t do it for me as much as Lindsey’s solo, but she’s definitely hot.

Solo: Cole. Speed, drama, power — a great example of his dance style.

Cyrus and Melanie, jazz
Weird punching moves throughout this number, but cute punching. This one had to be tough for him, because there was a lot of move and pose, so it was so very much slower than his normal style. But his charisma is HUGE, and he papers over a lot of dancing deficits with that. He honestly looks like he’s having fun. He never has one fake moment on stage, and that’s a gift.

Solo: Eliana. She’s never made me cry before, but she did now and with less than 30 seconds of dancing. So deep on those toe shoes.

Chehon and Anya, Argentine tango.
What a different mood for a tango on this show, it was so quietly sexy. So intimate. The come here/go away/now we’re here and let’s be together and abandoned to each other got me a little flushed, to tell you the truth. The flicking leg thing, which usually comes off as aggressive, was so sexy — it looked like they were tangling legs and made me think of … you get the idea. I’m falling for Chehon even more this show.

Solo: Cyrus (I. Can’t. Wait. He is so Sick at what he does.) Loved every millisecond of it.

Tiffany and Ade, contemporary (it better be good to get the pimp spot over that Chehon and Anya number)
The dancing itself was so good, big and impressive and free, and Ade is so strong (with beautiful arms) but to a song about the power of love, there was very little connection between the two of them. I wanted more. I find Tiffany lacking in personality when she dances; I wish she’d waited a couple of years when she developed some gravitas. I obviously disagree with the judges and the voters, but I don’t find her memorable.

People leaving: (I’m SO thrilled Chehon is not in the bottom 2 this week! At this point, that’s what I care the most about.)
Lindsey — first choice I don’t agree with. She’s got more range, both in movement and in emotion than Witney. I would’ve kept her.
Will — I agree with this one. Cole brings more drama and tension to his movement, and he’s more of an emotional chameleon, so there’s more the choreographers can do with him.

I must say how happy I am that the women all had their hair back and I could see their faces this week! Hooray.

This was a really great night of dancing. I’ll be pointing my toes in my sleep. Hopefully, I won’t pretend I’m on the show so hard that I almost fall in Zumba tomorrow, like I did last week.

So my family and I took a one-day trip to Chicago. After the marathon drive to NYC earlier this year, a 2 1/2 hour drive was nothing. We hit the Museum of Science and Industry for the Mythbusters exhibit, which was incredible. You know how exhibits always say they’re hands-on, and then you get there and there are some buttons to push and cranks to turn and that’s it? Mythbusters is not that exhibit.

We got to do all kinds of versions of some of their episodes.

Do you get wetter running or walking through rain? Our verdict: walking. But if you wear a thick, absorbent sweatshirt, then it won’t look like you got wet at all.

Can you build a house that will withstand a wind storm? Our verdict: mostly. Our best structures had the roof or a wall or two go, but most of it stayed intact.

How long can you hang from a ledge on a cliff? I would drop within fifteen seconds, the kids made it about 45, and my husband around 35.

Can you drive blind? I don’t know the answer to that, but I can tell you that I coach people into quickly crashing.

Can you whip a tablecloth off a loaded table without making the plastic dishes fly? Yes. If you don’t count a couple of cups that went on their side.

But that’s not what this post is about.

We had a near religious experience at Sprinkles Cupcakes. Many of you may know that this is, apparently, where the cupcake craze started. I thought that was at Magnolia Bakery in NYC, but I guess I was wrong — unless there’s an East Coast vs. Midwest cupcake rivalry I’m unaware of.

We were walking on the way to my husband’s pilgrimage to Urban Outfitters and saw a line of people snaking out of a storefront on a chilly, rainy day. So, this being a vacation day, we followed our whimsy and checked it out. And then had the best cupcakes we’d ever had. I love your almond cupcake, Little Pearl Cupcakes, but the lemon one I had at Sprinkles was so light and deeply flavorful. It was on a whole ‘nother level. The kids got S’more ones with graham cracker crumbs at the bottom of a chocolate cake and a dome of toasted marshmallow on top. Oh, and I forgot about the core of soft chocolate in the middle. My husband got one with chocolate cake and vanilla frosting.

Everything was perfection: it was exactly what it should be in that ideal world I normally don’t live in. But I did for a few minutes yesterday, and then a few more today when I finished my cupcake. And I was grateful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vitamins are good for you. I accept this. I used to buy vitamins, but they always sat in their plastic bottles making me feel guilty because I spent the money but hated swallowing those giant pills. And then last year, I looked to the left of the gummy vitamins I bought for the kids: adult gummy vitamins. Not weird like those chocolate calcium chews I tried once. Real gummy candy. Real vitamins.

Similarly, I tend to shy away from entertainment that’s Good For Me, but the novel I just finished, The True Meaning of Smekday, by Adam Rex, is the gummy vitamin of message books. I’d call it a Comic Allegory.

Gratuity (“Tip”) Tucci is an 11-year-old African-American-Italian girl. Her mother is abducted by the aliens who’d been sending her messages through a glowing purple mole on her neck. Shortly after this, the alien Boov “discover” Earth and rename it Smekland, because, if you discover something, you get to rename it and kick people out of their homes so you have somewhere to live. They herd all the Noble Savages of Smekland into one state, and expect the Noble Savages to be grateful.

Sound familiar?

So Tip and her cat Pig head off in the family car to find her mother. In an abandoned convenience store, she runs across a fugitive Boov named J.Lo (male) who winds up modifying her car so it can hover. From here, it becomes a road trip book. They hover across the country, first to Florida, through Roswell, NM, and then Arizona, getting into trouble, learning about each other’s cultures, and growing to appreciate each other.

Other, even worse aliens invade, and Tip and J.Lo team up to rid the world of them.

There were tons of silly touches, like multiple groups of boys who form organizations called B.O.O.B., despite the fact that the acronym doesn’t quite fit the actual group name. Lots of alternate names for familiar things, mangled English from J.Lo, bickering, disguises, funky alien technology. Tip’s personality is vivid and real. Here’s a little taste from the beginning:

I’d drained our bank account, and there was less than I’d expected in the rainy-day fund that Mom kept at the bottom of an underwear drawer in a panty hose egg labeled “DEAD SPIDERS.” As if I hadn’t always known it was there. As if I wouldn’t have wanted to look at dead spiders.

I’ve never read a book that functions so successfully as a comic novel and an allegory. It’s a wonderful middle grade novel. I loved  it. If you’re an adult and enjoy middle grade stuff, you might enjoy it, too. Or just get it for your kids.

 

 

 

I am human again. Or at least I feel human again.

After enduring several days of throbbing, pulsating, piercing, stabbing, excruciating pain due to a dead, infected tooth, not to mention the nausea/vomiting from lack of food, lack of sleep and too much pain medication, I got a wonderful root canal. I promise not to tell you about the abscess.

Instead, I’ll go back to my intended blogging schedule with a voice exercise. I’m working on a “wondering,” but it’s not yet fully cooked.

Have you ever felt a particular affinity for a geography or culture that is not your own? Why? What about it do you love or identify with?

I’m going to make this answer a two-parter, because of a comment my daughter made, thinking I was talking about boys and girls. Today, I’ll cover geographical culture. Next time, it’ll be gender culture.

I grew up in Canada and Australia, in a largely Dutch immigrant subculture, although surrounded by a whole lot of everybody in Toronto. The only other culture I’ve been attracted to is Irish. (No, that’s not why I dyed my hair red. I did that because I love Anne of Green Gables.)

The first dance I ever choreographed and performed in public was to a song in Gaelic by Clannad. I had no idea what it was about, but it was emotional and atmospheric, so I called it “Gaelic Mourning” and danced in and out of a man’s suit jacket as if it belonged to someone I had loved. It was all very deep and meaningful to my 19-year-old self who’d never been in love and hadn’t had anyone I loved die in 12 years. My image of Irish culture then was like my impression of that song: misty, romantic, yearning.

Another aspect of my attraction to Irish culture connects to my Canadianness: to a certain degree, both cultures define themselves negatively, as “not them” — “them” being the English to the Irish and the Americans to Canadians. Yes, Ireland has its own long history and literature and culture and language and food, but when you grow up right next to a big bully of a country, you can’t help that self-righteous sneer, that disdain towards the hulk you’re dependent upon.

First week of grade 10 history, the lesson was on xenophobia (fear or hatred of foreign things/people), and the prime example was the U.S. We were taught that Canada’s way with “other” cultures was to think of ourselves as a mosaic — each culture maintained its own brightness and beauty while being incorporated into a whole made beautiful by their addition. This was preferable to the American melting pot, wherein everyone was dumped into the stew and expected to come out one way, and that one way was throwing their weight around. (Gr. 10 history did not include any discussion of the assumptions of why the majority culture had all this power to decide how to treat “others” when the original inhabitants of both countries weren’t given that option. And I’ve heard much more scathing indictments about the melting pot from African Americans.) This defining ourselves against Big Brother wasn’t a vague, unspoken part of Canadian culture.

Now, as a dual citizen living in the States with her American husband and children, I’m them and not them. I say us and we when talking about American issues, but I maintain a kernel of that disdain in my Canadian heart of hearts.

I’d still love to visit Ireland, because now I also love the dark beer, but it doesn’t have the same romantic pull it did when I was in college. Does everyone have an “Irish phase”? Kind of like most girls have a “horse phase”?

 

Welcome to my first day.

I called this blog “ won·der, n., v., adj. ,” because wonder in every sense of the word will be the fuel (definitions via Merriam-Webster).

noun:

• a cause of astonishment or admiration
• the quality of exciting amazed admiration
• a rapt attention or astonishment at something awesomely mysterious or new to one’s experience
• a feeling of doubt or uncertainty

verb:

• to be in a state of wonder
• to feel surprise
• to feel curiosity or doubt
• to be curious or in doubt about

adjective (wondrous, wonderful):

• exciting amazement or admiration
• effective or efficient far beyond anything previously known or anticipated

I also called it won·der, n., v., adj. because it’s a state I often find myself in. I’ve never managed to be “cool.” I get too enthusiastic, too passionate (positively and negatively), too invested about too many things. The detachment required for true coolness has always eluded me, which is the way I like it. So this blog may find me, now and then, exhibiting excited amazement or admiration. It might find me so surprised or astonished that I feel compelled to share the source with you.

It will definitely find me wondering. One of my favorite moments in my children’s worship stories is the “wondering” portion at the end.

* When the Israelites went through to freedom on dry land, I wonder whether the walls of water on either side were solid, or could you stick your hand through them? (Thanks for a friend for that great question.) I wonder whether you’d try to stick your hand through?

* I wonder when David found out why Samuel anointed him? I wonder if the oil dripped in his eyes? Did it stain his tunic? Did that annoy his mother?

* If Ruth was your friend, I wonder whether you would’ve told her to go with Naomi or would you have told her she was nuts for even considering it?

Wondering like this led to my most recent writing project: an imaginative retelling of the David and Saul story, aimed at middle schoolers (no, it’s not ready for anyone’s eyes yet). It’s fascinating to look at biblical stories and see the people as people, to not just gloss over them to get to the lesson we’re supposed to learn.

But religious stuff isn’t the only topic I’ll be wondering about.

Frankly, I’m wondering whether I’ll ever be a published novelist. To hone my craft in the hopes of reaching that goal, I’m giving myself weekend writing assignments that I’ll post here. To start, I’ll work through the exercises on Barbara Samuel’s Voice Worksheet.

Thank you for sticking with me so far. Hopefully, I’ll see you again.