Twinkle Toes Doser

We’ve all had a desire to pursue some other path in life. Mine has always been to be in a musical, but only as an extra who dances just because my singing is cringe worthy. It’s almost like running your fingernails down a chalkboard. It’s bad, but I always thought it would be really neat to be a dancer in a musical. They’re always so elegant and sexy and classy and entertaining AND you can burn some serious calories (dancers always have some of the best bodies). Well, today I quickly found out that any dream I ever had of being an extra on Broadway or the next making of “Footloose” or “Grease”, has been snuffed out.

In my effort to lose 10 more pounds before the summer, I’ve decided to take some classes at the Y. Today offered up Zumba and it was my first official experience in this foray of exercise. At first, I thought how wonderful this would be. I could fulfill that life long dancing dream. How hard could it be? I mean I’ve been dancing my entire life and right now both of my boys seem to really be digging on my Mommy Moves and Grooves, which has me concerned about their eyes. How could they possibly enjoy what they are seeing especially if it’s anything like what I experienced for an hour this morning?!?!?

For those of you living in a hole for the past decade or so, Zumba is a dance exercise that combines mostly Latin dance moves with some low and high impact cardio workouts. There’s a lot of the samba, the shuffle, the hips twisting and shaking, and even a few spins and a cha-cha or two thrown in for good measure. There’s not much of a break between the songs as you jump right in from dance to dance and move to move.

First off, my hips don’t lie, but unlike Shakira, my hips have been telling me for quite so time that I have to rhythm. I suppose I’ve been living in a box for a while because I always thought I gyrated my hips quite well when the beat kicked up, but then again I’m never standing in front of a mirror the entire time either. I literally wanted to slap myself for doing this in public.

Second, I’m a stiff! Not like a Divergent Stiff, but a stiff when it comes to dancing. I lack grace and a lot of it. Picture a taller version of the “Elaine” from Seinfeld, but throw in a couple of trips when I should have been sashaying. I’m a disgrace! I’m worse than Billy Dee Williams on Dancing with the Stars! I can’t believe I ever danced in public (of course at that point I’d had some liquid courage so I was oblivious to how awesome I danced).

I don’t know what was more exhausting, though. Literally trying to keep up with the instructor or mentally trying to figure out how to raise my arms and shuffle my feet at the same time. I’ll do it again, if for no other reason than the facts that it’s a good calorie burner and I’m sure to provide comic relief to the class. On the plus side, I now have yet another way to embarrass my boys in public. Dun Dun Dun!

But it’s pretty safe to say that I will NEVER be a dancer which really saddens me. I’d always kept that in my back pocket. 🙂

Did I Drain the Grease? Hmmm……

There once was a girl who hated to cook.
The kitchen she refused to look.
But one day fate stepped in
And soon it would begin
That girl became a cook.

Alright, alright! I’m definitely not a poet who didn’t know it. Quite the opposite as you can see above.
I’ve started taking to my role of a stay-at-home mom quite well. It’s only taken me a year to do it, but hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day, kids! Ok. I’m done with the cheesy factor, at least with my writing.

Before I go on, let me tell this quick little anecdote of when my husband and I first started dating. As most of you may know (at least those of you who’ve known me my entire life, my husband his entire life, and both of us together), my husband is the cook in the family and I STINK at it. When we first started dating, he made this amazing meal of a crab meat stir fry complete with his own homemade soy sauce. He can open a fridge and pull random ingredients out and throw them together to make the greatest meal your taste buds have ever encountered. Me? Not so much, but I am learning.

The first time I cooked for my husband, I made what I thought to be an amazing meal (although it didn’t come out like my mother’s always had). I made your basic spaghetti, except I cooked the sauce ALL DAY LONG. It was one of those slow cooker sauces in which all of the ingredients are fresh and there’s no such thing as using a jar of sauce.

My husband ate his entire plate of spaghetti. I was so happy. As we were cleaning the dishes, he asked me about the sauce. Being proud of myself, I jumped right in with the comment that it was my mother’s recipe (my mother never wanted me to repeat this, considering how badly I butchered it). He smiled at me and then asked me about the meat. I told him I made it with ground beef, which I had crumbled up into a frying pan and browned. He continued to smile at me and then asked,

“What about the grease?”

Huh? Grease? What grease?

“Did you drain the grease?” He asked.

“Of course not. The recipe didn’t call for that. Look,” I said while showing him the recipe.

Once again, he smiled at me and then took the pot of sauce and said,

“Do you see this film on top? That’s not supposed to be there.”

And that, my friends, was the end of my cooking days. Flash forward nine years and I’m a new woman! Who would have thought that? Not only can I cook, but I can also chop and dice vegetables without drawing blood. I can grill and baste, make meatballs from scratch, and even improvise.

Since, I’ve started getting so much better at this cooking thing I’ve decided to start posting some recipes on this blog, especially the ones that are simple, unique, and fun not just for me, but also for Davey. I’ve found that something I despised so much, can actually be fun especially when you have a little helper such as mine.

If any of you have some great recipes you would like for me to try or would like to share with each other, please feel free to comment. Check back later tonight for my Sloppy Joe Empanadas. Yum!