I know that dance is not a new concept in the history of mankind. As soon as we as a people could stand and beat rocks together to establish rhythm, somebody started swaying to it and looking longingly at their partner of choice. Who immediately went in search for something dangerous and manly to do that didn’t require counting and rhythm.

But dance here in Waunaland, especially Latin Ballroom dance, and has had a huge resurgence fueled equally in part by parental need to recreate together sans children in public without sitting and consuming calories, and to reestablish the fact that we can go out regularly once a week for an hour and a half, and find on our return that the house will still be standing.

The Wauna Guy turned the big “five oh” this weekend. I attempted to surprise him with the rental of the F. O. E. club (Fraternal Order of the Eagles for you uninitiated folk) and the hiring of our dance instructor to teach a bit of dance for the rest of us.

It seemed like a great idea at the time. I rented a hall that quite a few could sit in. I could feed them cake and coffee without the worry about cooking for the masses, and we could all dance and skip the need to carry on awkward conversation with people that we see once every other decade or so. What I didn’t take into consideration is that roughly half of the invited folk would decline on the perception that they can’t dance. (Unfortunately, it seems that it was the male half of the invitees that squashed the idea.)

That seems so sad to me. Those people who did show up had a great time laughing and joking and DANCING! The kids in attendance last night had no qualms stepping up and grabbing a partner and with furrowed brow followed instruction with excitement and joy. A few of the more timid joined in on the second half of the dance session and discovered that they could keep up quite easily. And I think my spousal unit was a bit surprised by the event, mostly by who showed, and how much fun they had.

So Waunalandians, dance! Its fun, you can do it in the kitchen, in the streets and, well, other places. You don’t have to be a star. You don’t have to be Fred and Ginger Rogers. For those who couldn’t make the party, well, I’ll be reaching my big “five oh” in three years, four months. Start practicing now!

Big Leaf Maple. Acer macrophyllum, for you plant aficionados. A pretty straight forward common name for a tree. It is big. It has leaves. It is a Maple.

You won't find them in the nurseries or boutique plant stores in the Pacific Northwest. Why bother? Plant snobs don't like them. They are everywhere. They drop stuff. Leaf cases. Pollen. Catkins. Leaves. Helicopter-like seed pods. Branches. Whole trunks.

The forest canopy in any low land forest on the wet side of the Cascades is made up of conifers like the Douglas Fir, Western Hemlock and Western Red Cedars and the deciduous trees like Alder, Willow, Cottonwood, and the occasional oddity like the evergreen (but also always shedding) Madrona that does not have needles like the evergreens. But that is another story.

I love the Big Leaf Maple.

Springtime's last bare branches to be clothed is the Big Leaf Maple. Their peridot leaves uncurl like the scarfed skirts of ballroom dances. They cast an odd green light on the forest paths of the PNW. They tilt at crazy angles on high bank beaches of the Puget Sound and became my early life jungle gyms where I spent glorious summer days. I was Rima of Rimoloma in them, communing with bird, squirrel, cat and dog life. They provide temporary umbrellas from hot summer sun or rain squalls blown up from points South.

The Wauna-area maples dress in acid green chenille moss and accessorize with licorice fern. Their thin-tipped branches were my drinking straws when I camped. I'd find branches the trees shedded the previous year and drill out the marshmallow-like centers and peel off the thin strips of bark. (It occurs to me as I reread this, that my blog is Maple-colored.)

In early fall their enormous leaves slowly take on a pale to canary yellow and briefly, the celedon saltwater is littered with golden fairy boats drifting out with the tide.

Now the maples are stripped bare from the two wild windstorms we had early this month, and I look forward to reclining on my chenille beach chair next summer and look through the shuffled layers of green while the Wauna dog searches for beach jerky.

It has been far to long. I'm very sorry. The dance between home and work has been a challenge.

Most recently it has been the struggle of hosting the in-laws for Thanksgiving and for Derek's birthday (two days later!). My concerns are that it will be difficult to clean and keep clean the house for the events and do all the cooking for both events as well as work and volunteer at the girls schools and the YMCA too. And keep the girls happy. And take care of the animals. And take care of my parents home and mail while they are gone until April....and....pass the bottle please~ *_*

How do you super moms do it?

What do you use for $ if you hire the work done?

I'll get back to you with the compromises made.