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The Moscow Ballet: Nutcracker!
Several months ago my Aunt Keren hit me up to see if I’d be interested in some tickets to see the Moscow Ballet do the Nutcracker in Palm Springs. Of course I said yes and we anxiously awaited the day when we would actually drive all the way there to see them in the flesh. We had amazing seats and we were so excited. Originally we thought my Grandma would go too because she loves the ballet as much as we do but she wasn’t feeling up to it. So my cousin Kelly went instead. That’s her up there in the top picture with Bug sipping on some pre-ballet beverages.
Our seats were tucked along the side of the stage but they were so close to the stage! We could see the dancer’s feet and hear their nearly soundless bounces when they jumped really really high. It was amazing.
I have to admit I was a little worried it would be too much for Bug. Bug is not a night owl (usually to my delight) and the show started at 8pm on a school night. The Nutcracker is not a short ballet either. It didn’t end until 9:30 and then we had a two hour drive home after that. It was a doozy of a night. But it was so worth it.
I think since Bug has been in ballet since she was four and we’ve watched all sorts of movies about it together, she was pretty into it. It was really special for all of us.
Since the Moscow Ballet is a traveling troupe the stage wasn’t as elaborate as I expected but that was okay because their costumes were. The snowflake dancers were my favorite. They were beautiful. It was like the ultimate little girl dream come true. I loved it.
And then snow fell from the ceiling! It was magical. I think we are going to have to make seeing The Nutcracker a tradition from now on. I can see why so many people do.
Plus, it’s fun to dress up and be fancy for a night. Even if it was a school night. Yes, the next day sucked bananas but it was so worth it.
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Merry Christmas, it’s photo time.
I’m a firm believer in not stressing about Christmas cards. If it happens it happens, if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. You just can’t cram everything into the end of the year.
Yes, everybody would love a recent photo (or illustration!) of your family but if it means tearing your hair out trying to get the family together all at one time and smiling and you end up feeling more Grinchish than Christmasish, then it’s just not worth it, right? You just gotta give up and give in some years. You can’t win them all.
This year I thought it would be nice if Bug and I had a photo together but I didn’t have my hopes up. It’s been harder and harder to take photos of myself that I actually like. Bug always looks like a million bucks but me, I’m kinda scary sometimes.
I used to take photos of us together every day that I liked. Now, I’m lucky if I get one a month. I think the last photo that I liked of myself was at Halloween and I was wearing green makeup. That’s not really going to work for a Christmas card.
The last time I was down in San Diego visiting Bethany I asked her if she could snap a few of us and then I promptly forgot about it. I thought we’d get a photo by a Christmas tree when we were visiting Old Town but it didn’t happen. It was late when we were there and the kids were squirrely. It just didn’t happen.
But then right before we were about to leave, the sun was shining in Bethany’s backyard in that really pretty way and Bethany said, let’s just take a few photos and see if one comes out. I didn’t brush my hair, we didn’t put on any special outfits. We just went outside, sat on her wood steps and wham, bam, thank you ma’am. Bethany took six shots. I glanced at them briefly on the back of her camera and we were done.
Take One
Two, Three,
Four, Five.
Merry Christmas! We have a winner!
It’s funny. I know it’s a good picture. I love the light. Bethany is a great photographer. I just hate my hair. It’s like I’ve never seen a brush or a blow dryer in my life. I was fretting over it for days. I kept asking Bug if she thought it was a good picture when finally Bug just stopped me and looked me in the eye and said, “Mom, it’s a good photo. You look really really beautiful. I mean it.”
And then I believed her because if anything, she is brutally honest with me. She’s the one who tells me that I have a great big bongo butt and bad breath and that my outfits are dorky. So if she thinks I look beautiful with ratty tatty hair, then I must.
