Waiting (Not So) Patiently

Waiting for a house to sell is a lot like waiting for the sun to come out on your every second year beach vacation. You can only lay under the clouds for so long in your brand new tangerine swimsuit before the cracks start to form in your brave face.

Yet, the stakes are so high and the temptation to pretend is so great that you’ll start telling yourself that the sun is just about to pop or that the right buyer is just around the corner.

The truth is that there is no way to tell if the sun will come on the fourth or the fourteenth day of your vacation or when the stars will align to bring that perfect purchaser to your well-marketed doorstep.

The very best you can do in either situation is distract yourself. Fortunately, I distract easily.

Lately, it amuses me probably more than it should, that the most common search term that brings people to my blog is: interpretive dance. Now, I mentioned interpretive dance very briefly in a previous post which tells me that there is a great deal more interest in the art form than there is in clutter, decluttering, or simplifying.

Just imagine the following I’ll attract by dedicating this entire post to the subject.

The thing about interpretive dance is that, in its highest form – it’s a highly skilled art form that calls forth deep imagination and emotion.

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Yet, in its grassroots form, it’s accessible to everyone. Regardless of age…

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…or species.

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There’s no need for a special venue. Interpretive dance can be performed anywhere the spirit moves you.

At the coffee shop…

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In the park…

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And, why not at the conference…if that’s how you roll?

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Some dancers only reach their full expression with a partner…

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While others feel there’s something missing if there’s less than twelve limbs to call upon.

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Men make excellent interpretive dancers.

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So do dogs…

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While Interpretive dance sequences are often self-explanatory – sometimes a caption or a bit of text brings deeper meaning to the dance.

It is noted below this photo that it also appears in: Bee and Adam’s Wedding Album

That definitely speaks to state of mind.

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And, this one is called:

Joanne Still Interpretive Dancing

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Some people just don’t know when to quit, I guess.

Others still have found a way to incorporate interpretive dance into unimagined arenas.

These people are interpretively dancing their Ph.d dissertation.

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There is debate in some circles over whether interpretive dance is more powerful with costume….

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or without…

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And, if all of this bores you – there’s always interpretive arson…

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Whatever lights your fire, chances are someone has already danced exactly how you feel about rain on your vacation, or no offers yet on your house…

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…which, if not cathartic, is bound to be distracting.


Day 99: What I Didn’t Do This Weekend

9,900 things gone, only 100 to go!

Before I tell you what I did this weekend, I should probably tell you what I didn’t do:

– I didn’t complete my project.

– I didn’t clean the whole house.

– I didn’t list my remaining clutter on craigslist.

– I didn’t meditate on simplicity.

–  I didn’t metamorphose my abode with contemporary accessories pulled from the ether.

– And, I didn’t dance interpretively through the open space feting my accomplishment.

Not me, so not Squirrel (image source)

I had planned to do all these things because Squirrel was taking the kids to Whistler for the weekend. (I had to stay home for a couple of social engagements.) Go ahead and get all googly-eyed over Super Dad – I did,  but you should know that he was staying at my parents house and was not without some help of his own.

Sadly, whatever took up residence in my sinuses last week moved into my chest and throat giving me the distinct impression I was drowning and preventing me from sleeping more than 2 hours Friday night.

My girlfriend called to check on me Saturday morning after I left an uncharacteristic 1 hour into her party:

“You should just watch movies all day.”

Ha! Watch movies?! This was my chance to complete my project unfettered by things like meal-making and the rapid fire questions of my four-year old.

By 7pm, I’d cried my way through Bridesmaids and chortled through Horrible Bosses. It loosened my congestion enough to drift off for 45 minutes, but I had only decluttered four things.

Later, I puttered around the kitchen polishing the counters and wiping grimy cupboards while adding three episodes of Sex In The City and Saturday Night Live to my TV tally.

I fared a bit better today uprooting lots of things from the master bathroom while I cleaned it for the first time in I don’t know how long.  I washed several of my jackets to take to my local women’s centre along with some toiletries, books and a couple of children’s toys.

I have to thank my friend for checking on me and planting the movie idea. It definitely kept my spirits up while my weekend plans went down the drain. My project, not unlike my children, has stubbornly refused to follow the path I laid out for it. The upside is that you don’t have to look at an actual photo of me interpretive dancing…yet.