Young Swimmers and Old Souls

 Just a little snapshot entitled, "A Day in the Summer of the Dopps."  Here, my latest, greatest idea.  A cooler full of drinks for Cherry Hill.  It so much more fun than...not having a cooler full of drinks at Cherry Hill.  Notice Tizzy is in her floatie suit, which enables her to float on the lazy river with Xanthe while I drink all the drinks in the cooler.  They go around one time, check in with me, and repeat.  All day long.  Also notice that my foot is STILL in a wrap because it never healed.  Eventually, I'll probably go to the doctor, who will tell me to ice it and take ibuprofen and wait. :/

Ruby's sunglasses just spontaneously snapped, so I put them on after she rejected them.  One lens is better than no lenses, especially at Pirates Cove, where eye patches are all the rage!

 Ari looks so cute in her new suit!  We hit a sale one day at Downeast and nabbed a few new suits cheap.

 One night, Scott texted and asked what our plans were for dinner.  I sent him this picture.  Nothing is as good, easy or cost-effective as David's Pizza.  If I call him as we're leaving The Hill, dinner is ready when I get there.

Another night, we did this.  Some Kings came over and Freestone grilled up some burgers and dogs.  (Scott was watching the NBA draft at Iggy's with his dad and brothers, leaving the grillmaster job open.)  There were a few glitches in the grilling.  The first burger Free tried to flip ended up in the gully.

 The same night as the bbq, Ruby had a recital for her students.  They started filtering in as we were wrapping up King festivities upstairs, wiping off the counter and replacing the trays with a new batch of cookies for the recital-goers.  Tricia had just arrived from Miami, and she and Jim were able to stay for the recital to see Esmae and Ruby play.  I was so proud of Ruby!  She hosted the recital so gracefully and her students did very well.  She is a really good teacher, and her studio is quite robust.  She has 12 students and a waiting list, and I'm trying to convince her to raise her prices.  She is every bit as good as teachers (like me) who charge 10 times more.  Her response is, "But what if I charge more and they can't afford it and then they never play an instrument?"  There are so many things to love about that statement, I could burst.  Ruby truly cares about her students and their families.

 Six of the students earned their "Twinkle Trophy."

 When it was Ruby's turn to play, Tziporah walked up to her and said, "It's my turn a sing, Wooby."  As Ruby played her piece, Tizzy made herself comfy on the bench and hummed along, occasionally belting out a random word.

 It's easy to see how compassionate and patient Ruby is, in everything she does.  Hosting a recital in front of a roomful of adults, she calmly let Tizzy jostle her, sing in her ear, and hog the spotlight.  It doesn't matter what Ruby played, or how it went.  It just matters that, at that moment, Tziporah felt special, and everyone in the room saw Ruby's beautiful spirit shine through.  Isn't that how it is in life?  In the end, the only thing that matters is how we treat people.  How can Ruby be so young and embody that idea so completely?  She is a old soul, and her mother is continually in awe of her spiritual maturity.  (And her guitar playing.)

Fairies of the Forest

 The Dopps Cottage camps have continued.  Last week, Golda taught one on her birthday and continuing all week, and Ruby did a night camp called Fairies of the Forest.  This week we're winding down, with 2 weeklong camps called "New Orleans Rhythm Works" and "Art and Music."  Ruby is getting ready for them right now.

People have asked me if I would mind if their kids "copied" our idea and did camps.  Of course not!  First of all it's not "our" idea, and secondly, it's a great idea!  The more camps the better.  It's such a great deal for parents at these prices, and it's good for teens and pre-teens who don't have/want a regular job.  So go for it!  Here are somethings we've learned:

It's pretty good money, but it's not "a huge money maker," as some parents have put it in asking our girls about it.  If you're paying five bucks for your kid to spend three hours at our house, you have to imagine that you're not being ripped off.  So no, the girls aren't rolling in the dough.  But they make probably $15 an hour, which is great money!  That said, it's not a lot of hours because we have a limited pool of customers, so the girls can't run camps all day, every day.  And they have to be super frugal about purchasing supplies, because that can totally eat up profits.  So far, they have paid for Girls' Camp with some of the money and saved the rest for a possible trip sometime in the future.

As far as the content of the camps, I laugh when people accuse me of creativity, because all we do is 1. Think of a title that sounds intriguing.  2.  Search that title on Pinterest.  It's really easy, and that method is good for getting the creative juices flowing and getting excited about the project.  Generally in life, I always start with a theme and go from there.

I have found that most of the kids just want to be given glitter glue, scissors and paper and be given free reign.  With a wide range of ages at the camp, explicit instructions don't work.  If it's something that has multiple steps, we'll do one step and then leave that project, do something else, then come back and do the next step.  While I would like all the kids to leave with an amazing project in hand, it's usually not like that.  We don't have the budget, or the "customer" pool to divide camps up into different age groups.  So we give kids supplies, ideas, and let them go wild.  The kids are happy that way.  These fairy houses were a huge hit, and required no preparation, no instructions beyond a little description of what a fairy would be looking for in a home.  As they worked, Ruby and I told them that we would be handing out supplies to the "best" teams, kindof like Hunger Games, where needed supplies fall from the sky.  (We didn't reference Hunger Games, however!)  As the kids worked on their teams, we dug around in art bins for random leftoevers, like a feather, a lid, a box, a sticker, etc.

"Who wants a...a...fairy chair?"  Take a lost glue stick lid and call it a fairy chair and kids will clamor for it!

 Scott was the judge of the houses, and gave each kid a different award, along with a little cardboard fairy to live in the house.  The kids loved the element of competition, and it was fun to see them work together.  I swear, they could have kept working for another couple of hours!

But...we didn't have that kind of time.  It's always on to the next adventure, this time, practicing in the car at Cherry Hill while mom tries to round up all the kids to make it to guitar lessons on time.  Can't be late!  Fairies never are. ;)

Mini Man

Freestone got a call the other day.
"Hi...OK...Yes...What time?...OK.  See you then."
Then there was me, standing in the background questioning Free with my shoulders.  I asked him when he got off the phone, "Where are you going at 11:30?"
The epitome of the word "nonchalant," he replied, "I'm meeting Lindsay at Cherry Hill."

Oh.  OK.  So my 11 year old has a date with a girl.  In a swimsuit.  I was so nonplussed, I actually dropped him off at Cherry Hill at the designated time, and watched him walk away with a certain spring in his step usually employed by much older, ahem, "men."  Friends who witnessed Freestone meeting up with his prepubescent flame reported extreme awkwardness.  I mean, it's still 5 years before he can officially date!  (And besides this whole Cherry Hill thing, he just received an invitation to a girl's late-night birthday party at a cabin in the mountains!  Ironically, if he were older, I'd be worried!)

Hours after the 11:30 start time of the "date," when I lured the kids to my Cherry Hill spot with cookies and cherries, it was simply two "Whovians" talking about Dr. Who.  They were actually quite comfortable hanging out.  The rest of us, however, had to groan at their nerdy topics of conversation.  That said, Lindsay is absolutely darling.  She has been the lone female in a cadre of "nerds" in Freestone's class, and I absolutely have to respect her for that!  Smart girls rule!

Freestone has been coming into his own lately and I must say, I like the direction he's going.  Somehow, he is becoming a delightfully unique product of his environment, taking the examples and tools available to him and fabricating a Freestoneized world.  His current interests are all forms of dance and all forms of video games.  He can also extemporize ad nauseum about rocks, evolution vs. creationism, the back stories of various superheroes, and the definition of quantum physics, and can perform elaborate off-the-cuff skits about hypothetical events such as what would happen if two fictional characters picked up a pizza and it was bigger than their car.

After Scott took Free into a high-end suit store, essentially dooming him to expensive taste for life, the wheels in his head started turning extra fast.  The suits at Beckett and Robb are so pricey that Scott told Freestone it would be cheaper to fly to Hong Kong and order a hand-tailored suit than to buy one in Farmington.  Later that day, Freestone was searching Airbnb.com for places to stay in Hong Kong.  Actually, what he was trying to do was find a flight.  He thought it was exceedingly dumb that a website for lodging would have the word "air" in it.  I explained that it is a reference to an air mattress.  These are lessons one must learn if one is planning a suit-buying trip halfway across the world at age 11.  I wonder if he was planning on inviting any girls.

Magic Anyway

 Sunday, the King family celebrated Golda's birthday with grilled peaches and this juicy meat.  Scott and I were concerned about Golda's birthday the next day, because last year was so major.  The girls were in New York with Scott for Golda's 16th birthday, ready to embark on their Europe adventure.  This year, some of Golda's friends were at camp, and she didn't have any plans for her 17th.  In fact, she was in a funk about turning 17.  Sixteen is so magical, and 17 just isn't.

We thought about sending her to San Francisco with Ruby, but the cost quickly added up, and we were disappointed that her birthday wasn't going to be as magical as last year.  Remember, last year was when Scott had his breakdown after New York, because it had been everything he dreamed fatherhood would be, and it was over.

 The stars must have been aligned, because despite grand plans, or any plans at all, Golda's 17th birthday was another one of those magic moments.  Scott and I took her to lunch at Park Stone, and then Scott, who had cleared his calendar, took her to Park City.

 (The morning had been spent in "Frozen Camp," Golda and a dozen kids, dancing and crafting.)

Wandering up and down Park City's famous Main Street, Scott and Golda went into a jewelry store.  This ring, Golda's birthstone, spoke to Scott.  It has three corners, representing the Trinity, and the amethyst is traditionally thought to have "protective powers."  It seemed like the perfect moment in time for a father to give his daughter a special ring.  Scott told me, "I thought I should be the one to give her a nice ring, before THE ring."  THE ring is probably a long way off, but the fact remains that this girl will soon be an adult.  She was in love with the ring, and Scott was so glad he didn't let that moment get away.

 She also wanted a book, which they found in a little bookstore and had gift wrapped.

 Dinner at Grappa!

 Golda's friends, Evyn and Tori, left a treat on the door.  Thanks, guys!

Truffle dessert!

 Overnight at The Ranch.
So Golda didn't jet off to an exciting location.  She didn't get a car.  She didn't have a big birthday bash.  She doesn't need all that.  She has a dad who can make magic out of nothing.

He always did want to be a magician.

Who Is This Child?

Remember when I was taking pictures of Freestone's dance and someone called?  Later, when I listened to the message, it was for Golda, asking if she would speak in Sacrament meeting.  I quickly texted back that she would, that she would love to, in fact, and I knew it was true.  Sometimes Golda even complains that she never gets to speak.  Who is this child?!

Today is her 17th birthday, and I've been asking myself that question, "Who is this child," for about that long.  Who is this baby with the red curls and the determined face, who won't snuggle, afraid she might miss something there is to see?  I hadn't known she would come with a fully formed personality!

Who is this child, only two years old, who can draw pictures of dogs like a pro, and whose first sentence is, "I want one, a puppy."

Who is this child, going off into the world of public school?  I thought she would stay little longer!  That big girl couldn't be my baby!

Who is this child, running for student council?  Did I suggest that?  No.  When did she start having all these ideas that are her own, all these plans I didn't instigate?

Who is this child that is such a beautiful dancer?  Where did she get those lines, that drive, that passion?  How could I not have noticed all the hours of class piling up, and Golda using each one to become this incredible ballerina?

Who is this child who knows more about music than I do?  How does she get such a beautiful sound out of that flute, and when did she begin to appreciate her abilities?  It must have been somewhere along the way, when I was so busy reminding her to practice that I didn't notice where it had gotten her.

Who is this girl with the courage to go with her sister to Europe, all alone, for five weeks?  How did she get so brave?  Why does she long to leave us, to see the world?

Who is this young woman, asleep on Golda's bed, at rest in an immaculate bedroom, surrounded by our daughter's recital costumes, her slender fingers stretched out above her head, reaching toward her carefully marked scriptures?

And where did my baby go, the one with the soft, red curls?

To Observe, To Learn, To Grow, To Love

 Someone asked me, "Do you do anything else during Recital Week?"  The answer is no, I realized, which is what makes this week so relaxing and sweet.  Even given this fact, the kids were pretty tired by Saturday.  All of them were in both casts, except Ptolemy, who was only in one staging, one dress rehearsal and one performance.  I am so happy the rest of them all got to be in both casts.  It's sad when one kid is left out of half of the festivities.  This year was perfect.  On Saturday, after the matinee, the whole family gathered outside the Browning Center.  We had three or so hours before call time for the evening performance.  I said to Scott, "It's so nice that we have nothing to do.  Like, we have three hours and we can do whatever we want.  All we have to do is get pizza."  Scott was looking at me like I was nuts.  Nothing to do?  Uh-huh.  But seriously.  When does the whole family have three solid hours together to do nothing?  Recital Week.  So we got pizza and did this:

Yeah, I'm good with three hours of aimless free time every few months.  Any more than that is just tiring.

 After Scott went home with Tizzy, we still had time to go to the dollar store, then lounge about the halls waiting for warm-up class to start.  Then, finally, curtain time again!  Hundreds of kids, bleeding, crying, feeling sick, getting lost, tearing their tights, misplacing their costumes, being dropped off for the wrong recital.  You know, all the stuff that I love.  Honestly, it beats feeding ducks, although it was nice to stretch out on the grass for awhile.

 Ari

 Esmae

 Freestone insisted on lots of hairspray for his hair, which had nowhere to go, and was perfectly well-behaved without any product at all.  I guess he felt more prepared with his hair paralyzed.  This is his modern costume.  He has threatened to wear those suspenders as a civilian, so that will be interesting.

Modern costume.  Cool dance.

Vulcan neck pinch, otherwise known as a trapezius, Bill's main form of discipline for the past 40 years.

Don't tell him, but it doesn't really hurt.

The Rubies, Golda, Emily and Jess

Ari in Les Sylphides costume

 My Wednesday-Saturday 5:00 class.  Darling girls!

 Emma and Ari, carpool buddies.  I eschew carpools whenever possible because I go ballistic when my kids are late for things, or even when they MIGHT be, but the Whites are close and reliable, and saved me by driving Ari when I was teaching.

 Freestone and Xanthe were in the same modern class.  Their percussion dance was cool.

 Ruby and Nancy, one of her little guitar students, backstage.

 Christie's Advanced II class, some of them.

 Meanwhile, Tziporah was having fun with Scott, being a spoiled only child!

 She found my chocolate-covered almonds hiding under my bed and told Scott, "I'm eating dog poop!"  Lol.  I had told the kids that the almonds were reindeer poop.  Why?  I don't know.  So they wouldn't seem so appetizing and I could hog them all up myself?  :)

 "Liby from Shelter" is this darling girl's official name in Ptolemy's book.  He also has "my best friend Camden" and "the real Isaac" that he calls buddies.  Liby from Shelter was one of the many girls who swarmed around Ptolemy.  Unfortunately for the little girls, Tolly only had eyes for his pre-teen chaperones and the lovely and graceful Lauren, the senior soloist in his dance.  Look at him admiring her onstage!

Ptolemy was only in the matinee, since he is so little.  He stayed for the Saturday evening performance, to watch the magician.  I stuck him in the class that Ari was chaperoning and went backstage to watch the kids dance.  Later, suddenly, Ptolemy was right there backstage, like an apparition.  I had this panicked thought that he had walked across the stage to get to me.  I said, "How did you get here?!"  He bounced up and down and chirped, "I came with the rainbow class."  Ari's class, "Mosquitos," had colorful costumes which apparently disguised Ptolemy as he sneaked backstage and found his mom, like a sequined homing pigeon.  He knows his way around!

It was fun to be backstage when the curtain went down, with all the seniors, their friends and Clytie, exchanging final hugs.  Senior moms filtered back for photo ops, and there were tears on both sides of the cameras.  For this photo of Clytie, the conductor David Van Alstyne, and the Company girls, I wrote a quote from Maya Angelou, "We are all visitors to this time, this place.  We are just passing through.  Our purpose here is to observe, to learn, to grow, to love...and then we return home."

Concise and beautifully true.  There it is.  And I thank Clytie for giving all of us the opportunity to experience all of those things.  Through dance, as through life, we observe, learn, grow and love.  This picture captures the observing, by the Company girls onstage as well as the younger girls in the wings.  They are learning as they observe, and as they do and imitate.  They are growing.  Even Clytie and David are growing in their roles, as they bring dance and music to the audience.  And the love, well, that is evident in abundance, through performance, through the gratitude of the dancers toward their teachers, and through the tears as final bows are taken, final hugs exchanged.  And now we move on to the next thing, to observe, learn, grow and love, enriched by our experience here.

It's Sunday afternoon, and Tziporah just said to me, "Mommy, it's time a go!  We needa go to a be-cital!"  No, little one, not until next year.  We have other things to observe, other ways to learn and grow, other aspects of life to love.