Everything Is Beautiful At The Ballet
The following blog post contains scenes of jealousy-inducing mushiness, and men in tights. Reader discretion is advised.
In the morning, I will be leaving to go see Moscow Ballet's Great Russian Swan Lake in Edmonton.
My super-awesome husband bought me tickets for my birthday. (Which is why he couldn't take more time off for the Josh Groban concert in August, in case any of you were wondering why I went with my brother instead of my hubby to go listen to a young, attractive man sing romantic songs in romance languages.)
I have never been to a ballet before, and I am super-excited. So excited, in fact, that the most imaginative superlative I can come up with to describe anything right now is "super."
The only thing I don't usually like about watching dance performances is that the story is not always clear to me. However, in this case I have a head-start, since The Swan Princess is one of my favourite animated movies of all time! Yes, I am aware that this is not a direct translation from stage to screen, but it was enough that when I read a synopsis of the ballet on-line, I was already familiar with the major plot-points, even if they did change the name of the prince.
So, we are off early in the morning for Edmonton.
"We" meaning just. Jason. And. Me.
Stop and let that sink in for a moment.
This will be the first time in almost four years, and only the second since having children, that Jason and I will have a night all to ourselves, with no children to go pick up, take home, tuck in bed, wake us up an indefinite and unknown number of times in the night, or morning, feed breakfast to, try to compete with for conversation time.
Today, after our super-busy weekend, and a week where doing more laundry seemed like it would suck every last vestige of my joie de vivre from my body (so I therefore didn't), I did a week-and-a-half's-worth in less than twenty-four hours. This may not seem that spectacular until you realize that this is normally a three-day affair.
PLUS! I got Jude to start helping me sort through the toys to decide which ones had outlived their usefulness in our family. (In the past I have tried to make this a yearly event, but sadly, this is the first time since moving here that we have done it. Needless to say, the toys had reproduced to the point that they were starting to mount organized resistance to being straightened up, and the chaos in our basement is nearly complete. It was definitely time.)
All this with the sing-song of Swan Lake! Edmonton! Night alone with my honey! repeating over and over in my brain.
The exhilaration is beyond description, so instead of trying, I will leave a teaser for those of you who wish you were me right now.
Swan Lake! Edmonton! Night alone with my honey!...
