Tutu Cheerful
As a 4-year-old, I remember dressing up in my pink tights and black leotard, dancing 'round and 'round in our humble kitchen, with its rusted metal cabinets and the occasional cockroach darting across the "brick" linoleum floor, to the tune of Johann Strauss's "The Blue Danube." Me, not the roach. My father would place the 33 1/3" black, ridged disk on top of the turntable, and the needle would scratch its way through a melody that will forever live in my heart and mind. Pum pa rum pum pum. Pum pum. Pum pum. Ahh...
[Insert sound of needle zipping across vinyl record as it's pulled off in haste]
I hate ballet. There, I said it. Actually, I think I've said it a few times before. But, what about Strauss, you ask? I still love "The Blue Danube" and the memories, but I dropped out of ballet when I was 5 and again during my Freshman year of college. After about 2 classes that counted toward my electives. In exchange for bowling. The s…
[Insert sound of needle zipping across vinyl record as it's pulled off in haste]
I hate ballet. There, I said it. Actually, I think I've said it a few times before. But, what about Strauss, you ask? I still love "The Blue Danube" and the memories, but I dropped out of ballet when I was 5 and again during my Freshman year of college. After about 2 classes that counted toward my electives. In exchange for bowling. The s…