Riot and Frolic

My Favorite Things

I'm going Big Picture on this one, because it's been a tough year and there's a short list of things that have helped me enjoy it.  

And no, even when I get to actual things, nothing is sponsored and I still don't have ads, but if you want to buy me a coffee, I won't be mad.

I'd love to hear what's on your list!  

Canva. 

I remember spending hours designing cards on our Apple IIe in Print Shop back in the day and Canva's excellent website (and slightly touchy app) brings me right back.  Their intuitive setup makes designing the myriad of little graphics and visuals and invitations and calendars and banners and content of blogging/podcasting/business/family life a joy with about a million and nine graphics for every occasion, beautiful templates to work with, and fun tools to make your visuals appealing, no matter your training.

Dancing.

Still. Always?  In the physical doing of the actual dancing, but also the events, the people, the competitions, the learning process, the teaching process, the whole buttload of it.  I freaking love it.  To quote myself: I have a prolonged tolerance for it.  

Superbloom.

The Misterwives album Superbloom. Summery, peppy, chill, fun.  

Beach Days.

Once a week, we hit one of our favorite water spots.  By "we", I mean me and the seven kids and sometimes a friend of theirs (because The G is always at work, bless him).  We have narrowed down the necessities (that's a blog post for another day) and I never plan on staying more than an hour, so it's a short and sweet field trip where I get to cool off and all the kids are actually safe and happy and BURNING OFF SOME ENERGY.

But oh wait, kids are solar-powered. 

In any case, last year, #6 [Cricket, or Clarence, for reference] would not go in the sand, let alone the water, and this year he is ALL IN as seen here:

Writing.

Still.  Always?

I've been told I wrote a story in kindergarten that my parents got in trouble for, because they weren't supposed to help with our work, and they said "we've never seen this story in our lives".  

IT WAS ABOUT DINOSAURS BECAUSE DINOSAURS ARE AWESOME.

With homework, journaling, and eventually blogging, apparently I also have a prolonged tolerance for this.

Fancy fingernails.

Strangely not due to shutdowns, just in an attempt to find a way to do my nails in the brightest, most obnoxious colors ever and have them last without chipping or any maintenance, I found dip nails.  The powdery alternative to gel manicures that one can do at home, as long as one is stubborn enough to climb the learning curve.  I use mostly Revel nail products, but some others as well.  If you're really interested (ahem, Nea), you can click over to my Adequate Tutorial on How to Use Dip Powder for Fancy Fingernails .  

Crocs.

They are so dorky, but they hose off sand and dirt and bugs and mulberries and when my feet hurt, the little pokey things feel divine and they're great for those aforementioned beach days.

My garden.

It is producing food.  And flowers. And it is thrilling.

People.

Both the people I was forced to interact with for months during shutdowns (yes, my kids and husband) and people in general.  I am not an extrovert.  And still this is true.  And now, it is so nice to see OTHER people and people are generally nice and interesting.

Laundry day.

No, I don't like doing laundry. I like having the laundry done.  I finally started listening to podcasts regularly and the Lazy Genius take on laundry has been and excellent change in my not-really-a-system-way of doing laundry previously.

Doctors and nurses.

Docs and nurses are always great, but when you're trying to discover a mysterious diagnosis on your small bebe, having a 6'4" doctor sit on a tiny stool while you pepper him with MANY questions and he patiently answers them all in technical terms and then explains them like I'm five and never looks uncomfortable while basically squatting for 30 minutes makes life better.  Likewise to all the nurses who are fairly unfazed by screaming babies and still do an amazing job getting vitals, labs drawn, and calming down those same unhappy babies.  

 

What's kept your face to the future lately?

Episode 2 : After Competition Rituals

Still waiting for Apple Podcasts to accept me at the cool kids' table, but Spotify is up and running.

This episode is based on this blog from November 10, 2015 with a important aside at the end (there's also some good links in the original post).

It's a short one, but WORTH YOUR WHILE. 

I'd love to see what you'd like to hear next, so leave a comment below.  Also, check out my new links (if you're desktop/laptopping it) in the sidebar.  

 

Olympic Gold Medal Ballroom Dancer (Or How to Write a Resumé)

This is has nothing to do with how to write a resume, in case you came across this on a Google search.  Or the Olympics.

For years, I've come across dancers' resumés and bios where people have billed themselves as Champion of So-and-So/Professional Blah-Blah-De-Blah/World's Greatest of Whatever.  And I love the self-confidence of throwing these titles out into the world and believing people are too busy to do an internet search.

Personally, I am an Olympic gold medalist ballroom dancer.  

I AM KIDDING. 

I am the champion of nothing, but I have had a pretty decent career in ballroom dancing.  You can still Google results I had from 2005, not to mention many after that.  And I'm "old", AKA Instagram didn't exist until I was well into my professional career. 

I'm in an industry where the people who compete professionally are working to be the best.  Like, HUNDREDS of couples are out there, every year, trying to be the best.  Taking coaching, traveling, buying costumes, practicing, working their asses off, ALL WANTING TO BE THE BEST.  And you know how many people win a national title every year in their style? One couple.  Two if you want to be generous and add in the rising star title, but then you're on a slippery slope to adding in the winners of the biggest or most prestigious or longest running or it's-nearly-the nationals comps that are out there.  

IT'S OKAY NOT TO HAVE WON.

Oh, don't get me wrong, it sucks.  I didn't spend thousands of dollars and hours and tears and swear words to be a completely adequate professional.  But this was the path I chose.  

AND I DON'T CLAIM I WON A BUNCH OF SHIT I DIDN'T WIN IN THE HOPES NO ONE REMEMBERS THE DANCESPORT SCENE 10 YEARS AGO.

BECAUSE THEY DO.

People who know what you did, know what you did.  Those knowledgeable people will search you out for their desired dance experience.  Personally, if I'm looking for a Rhythm coach, I know that person's name and how to contact them.

But the people who don't know, don't care.  If someone is Google-searching "ballroom dance lessons", they want a great teacher. People who don't know about the dance scene want to learn about dancing from someone who a) knows how to get them to dance b) is fun to be around.

As with massaging titles in one's resumé, samesies for using the signifier "professional".  Here's a definition:

• [only before noun] connected with a job that needs special training or skill, especially one that needs a high level of education/professional qualifications/skills/professional standards/practicea. "An opportunity for professional development" "If it's a legal matter, you need to seek professional advice."
• (abbreviation pro) (of sports) done as a paid job to make a living and not as a hobby [editor's note - even if paid]

There are MANY amazing amateurs in, let's say BALLROOM DANCING. But being an amateur ballroom dancer and a professional ballroom dancer are two different things.  There are different competitions and titles between the two, and an implied level of proficiency at, oddly, teaching ballroom dancing when one calls themselves a professional and often a time commitment surpassing even world-class amateurs.

Lastly, using time as an indicator of awesomeness also needs to stop.

"I've been playing trombone for 30 years" is true, except should we really count that first four years when I didn't really know what I was doing, or the years I loved band, but hated practice, or those 21 years after my band years where I didn't play one toot, but now have recently literally picked it back up again?  Pro'lly not.

Time spent at something is no indication of passion, talent, hours practiced, skill, or proficiency. It might simply indicate a prolonged tolerance for a certain activity.    

When you have to write that damn bio or resumé, stick to the facts of your awesomeness [there are many, I swear].  Find the best [most accurate and encapsulating] adjectives. Use testimonials and references. Have your friends help [they remember your best qualities better than you do, I swear].

You don't need a trophy or an inflated title, or a made-up title, or lifetime of experience to be really great at something.  But you do need that passion, talent, hours practiced, skill, and proficiency.  

GO GET IT.

Riot and Frolic : A Podcast

Coming soon to Apple and now on Spotify, here's my voice, reading what you may have already read.

In perhaps a timely reminder for some locals, Episode 1 is "Things You Can Control at a Ballroom Dance Competition".

Star Wars references abound, my friends.

 

Finding (and Sticking to) a Niche

Several years ago, we had newly leased and renovated an old ballroom in Saint Paul.  

We were working 10am - 10pm Monday - Saturday, teaching many private lessons, practicing 10+ hours a week for national competitions, hosting 1-2 group classes a day, and holding ballroom dance group classes for private events and corporations in the “off hours”.  

A lady called and wanted to rent our space on Easter Sunday, so she could host the meal for 40+ members of her family.  I told her we’re weren’t available for rentals, and we weren’t open on Sundays. 

“Well, the previous tenant let us rent the space.”

I told her that, being a ballroom dance studio, we didn’t have chairs besides the permanent ones that were bolted around the edge of the floor.

“Can’t you just buy a few tables and chairs?”

Clearly, she was not to be deterred by lack of availability or equipment.  

“Since we don’t do event rentals, we wouldn’t have use for them besides your brunch.  Also, we don’t have a kitchen, “ I replied.

She proceeded to tell me that she could supply chairs and tables for her party and they would carry their Easter brunch for 40+ people up the rather steep stairs to the second floor ballroom.

“Ma’am, we don’t do event rentals beyond dance events. We actually just got the historic wood floor refinished and don’t even allow street shoes on it.  Also, we don’t have a cleaning person available and we’re booked with lessons starting at 10am the next day.”

“WELL, we’re just EATING.”

Refraining from sharing any anecdotal evidence that eating was by far the messiest thing that could happen in our ballroom next to jello wrestling, I reiterated my refusal and many previous points of being unavailable, not among which was that is was Easter Sunday and we would be having our own family gathering and would not available to oversee the rental.

THEN she asked how much we charged for rental, which I believe was $150/hour.

“WHAT?! The previous tenant let us pay-what-we-will!  It was really a community space.”

[HEAVES SIGH]

I own a ballroom dance school that is open 60+ hours a week.  We have employees that ballroom dance professionally, train to teach ballroom dance, have over 40 years of experience, practice 10+ hours a week outside of teaching times, have danced in 100s of competitions, have been hired for dozens of shows, and have made medal podiums as professionals and with their students.  

Ballroom dancing is different than country dancing, swing dancing, salsa dancing, pole dancing, break dancing or hip-hop, tap/jazz/ballet/lyrical/contemporary, line dancing, and belly dancing.  There are different companies, businesses, and individuals that are trained in those areas.  No, I do not know all of their names and contact information, but I've heard Google is a thing. 

We are not just an open space.  We are not an unoccupied studio.  We have a few chairs, mirrors, and props for teaching and we occupy our space nearly 12 hours a day.

We are not equipped for sit-down events and we do not have a kitchen.  We do not have the inclination to invest in the equipment to make either of those things a reality.  We do not have the energy outside our very successful business model to make a very different business viable and successful, or enjoyable for the customers looking for those services. 

There's something to be said for branching out, and diversifying, and something about seven streams of income, but also DO WHAT YOU'RE GOOD AT.  I make no excuses for the fact that I don't teach Lindy dancing (I could, and love Lindy, but there are delightful people who are great at it), Argentine tango (samesies), zydeco, pole dancing, belly dancing, line dancing, kizomba, etc., etc., etc. If I knew I could provide an awesome, exemplary service to people in any of those disciplines, I would provide them.  I am well-trained in teaching the narrow and vast art of ballroom dancing and I don't provide space rental, event planning services, or tap dance lessons. 

You wouldn’t ask a piano teacher to teach you to play the trombone.  You wouldn’t ask your kickboxing gym to do ballet classes. You wouldn't ask a doctor to check out your teeth.  

OMG.  WOULD YOU?

I love teaching ballroom dance and would love to teach you ballroom dance.  

The end.