Dance Yourself Clean

Dear Readers,

There's is something that I love to do. I have loved it since I can remember. Something I love so much, I do it every day. Eat? Well, yes, but that's not it. Watching television? Oh, I love that too, but no cigar. I love to dance.

The idea of me dancing may surprise, even repulse some of you. Even more surprising is that I have my upbringing in Rupert, Idaho to thank for it. I took a few ballet lessons from a woman named Ann Marie upstairs from what is now a Mexican wedding dress shop, but she moved shortly after I began. After that, I had to turn to the best teacher of all: MTV. Hours and hours were spent in front of the television, dancing around the small living room like I was the guest of honor at Studio 54. I would dance to anything and everything, but rap was my favorite. And when I finally made it to junior high, the thing I looked forward to most were those awful dances in the gym. The "DJ" would pump such classics as "The Electric Slide", and "Unforgettable". It didn't matter how crappy the music was though, I was killing it on the dance floor all night.

Please understand that I was never the kind of dancer that was able to memorize moves or routines. I never had a desire to be on a dance team or clog professionally or anything like that. My moves were always unrefined, spastic even. However, when I moved to Washington D.C. and started dancing at clubs there, I learned some things that white girls from Idaho typically don't have the privilege to. Often being the only white girl in the club, I was taken pity on and was some what of a novelty. My beautiful friends Suki and Giselle would keep a close eye on me, and critique me at the end of the night. Before I knew it, I was killing it on the dance floors there as well.

Now, here we are in Boise. And I have a husband obsessed with music. We have 57 days worth of dance your heart out good times music on our iTunes playlist. Shay hates to dance, but he can put one hell of a set together. I would feel bad that he doesn't dance with me, but I have a list of friends who gladly will. And we all take our dance time seriously. My friend Deana had a birthday party last week, and she had Shay dj at it, and we danced for the entire 4 hour set. Once, in my friend Loren's basement apartment, our friend Pat put on a personal dance party for 8 or 9 of us and we danced all night. Some of my best times over the last few years involve Jenny, Lojo, Chris, Courtney and a dance floor.

So this morning, as I get ready to bake a cake for an order, I will put on LCD Soundsystem's newest album, and will "Dance Myself Clean" until the cake is ready frost.

Sincerely,
h.

"Home is Where the _________ is"

Dear Readers,

A week or two ago at work, my lovely coworkers Becky and Sarah and I were checking out this really cool journal. The journal asks you a new question to answer everyday, and has space under each question to answer said question every year for five years. The purpose is to see how different you are year to year. Like I said, it's really cool (I didn't buy it however because I know it would just be another book added to the pile on my bed stand that would soon be forgotten). Anyhow, one of the questions that Becky read out loud to us was: "Where is home?". A seemingly easy question to answer at first, but when you spend 2 weeks thinking about it, it quickly becomes convoluted.

When I hear the world "home", I'm immediately taken to 810 5th Street, Rupert, ID. The house I grew up in, and the one my parents still live in. Although many things have changed about the house over the years, it harbors the same familiar feeling that you probably will never find anywhere else than where you grew up. Every sound can be heard in that house, so forget about sneaking out. And yes, Mom will know if you're watching something you shouldn't be on television even when she's at the other end of the house. But is this really my home now? It's been so long since I lived there or even used it as my permanent address. But as the sign says that hangs over my mom's kitchen entry way, "Home is Where Your Mom Is".

Since leaving Rupert, I've lived in 19 residencies. Two in Logan, UT, one in Washington D.C., and 17 in Boise, ID. Obviously some of these residencies are more memorable than others. I'll never forget living in Logan, it was one of the best and most miserable times in my life. And my stint in D.C. has stayed with me as well. As for Boise, I have a hard time remembering where everything happened. I did learn some good lessons though: never find a roommate in the newspaper, never go back to church and move into a house with 8 other Mormon girls, never trust a roommate with a child when she asks if you'll keep an eye on her daughter for a bit and then find out later that by "a bit" she meant she was going to the Oregon Coast for a week and you're stuck with her 3 year old and no money or appropriate food. I'm sure I referred to all of these places as "home" at one time or another, but honestly I never felt like I had a home until I met Shay. Even then, we didn't live together, but I discovered with him that "home" was a feeling, not a physical place. After being together for a decade, I still find that he is my home. And when Lucas came along, he became a part of that home. So maybe it's more appropriate to say, "Home is Where Your Heart Is".

With that being said, my affection for Boise has grown significantly over the last few year. Particularity since I've had Lucas. And by Boise, I mean mostly the downtown area, although I don't mind venturing out to Milwaukee to go to Target once in a while. I love walking down 8th Street and seeing all the familiar faces. I love knowing that there's hardly a place of business downtown that I don't know someone. I love that when I hear someone nay-saying B-Town, my Mama Bear instincts kick in and I start to get angry and tell the people not to let the door hit them on the way out. I love the people in Boise, especially my group of creative, talented, and amazing friends that I'm sure could never coexist anywhere else but here. So I guess you could say that I've found a home in Boise, Idaho as well.

There are so many possible answers to this unassumingly bated question. I know that I'm very blessed to have so many answers. But now I have to go and clean my apartment, because unfortunately feelings won't do it for me.

Sincerely,
h.