Irish Dancing for the Clueless and the Totally Obsessed!

Tonight was Wednesday night dance class. 7:30-9:00 pm. Normally, dance helps me get over the hump of the middle of the week and sleep a little better knowing that I accomplished something.
Not tonight.
Today happens to be the kind of day when it’s sunny and hot all day, to the point of wanting to die during gym class, and then out of nowhere, a storm starts up at night.
If your parents allow you to shower or bathe during a thunderstorm, I think they need to see a therapist and do some heavy Internet research on water and electricity. There’s a reason why they tell you to keep the flatiron plug out of the sink, people!
If you are a parent and you allow your children to shower or bathe during a thunderstorm, the same applies to you. Smarten up!
Tonight, I would risk electrocution.
Basically, we walked in and did drills for maybe half an hour, but it seemed like longer until someone got the bright idea to turn on a fan (the AC doesn’t work). Once the fan was on, we felt like we could do anything because it was cooler… Which came back to bite us in the butt 20 minutes later. By 9:00 we were sweating bullets and exhausted beyond belief. Plus, we’re talking about doing the four-hand reel for Oireachtas this year, so there was some heavy discussion about team dresses, fund raising, wigs, and practice schedules. Then, I came home to BEG to my parents, who are still “on the fence”, to PLEASE let me do the four-hand, I’ll pay for the dress myself, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
After all of this, I was sweating and sticky and achy and crampy and probably more than a little smelly, and all I wanted to do was curl up on the shower floor with some warm water flowing. Not so. Beat by the elements.
So for those of you who wonder: who has the energy to write all this at 10:45 at night after dance class? The answer is: those who cannot sleep, because they worked too hard and are filled with pain and sweat. It’s not so much having the necessary energy as not being able to sleep.
And for those of you who have no clue what the hell I’m talking about and haven’t left yet, first things first, thank you for not giving me up as some sort of crazy person, good things come to those who wait.
My blog is my place to express my feelings and everything about Irish dance, my… Hobby isn’t the right word. I’ll go with… LIFE. Irish dance is my life. My blog, feisprincess, will be where I can talk about everything dance and let it all out so that I don’t irritate my non-dance friends beyond possibility.
NOTE TO NON-DANCERS: Yes, “feis”, as in “feisprincess” is a word. It comes from Gaelic for “celebration”, and is used to refer to Irish dance competitions. I won’t go into the whole process of the feis right now, although I’m sure at some point I will have a feis post, I will just say, if you don’t already Irish dance, (Another Note to Non-Dancers: NEVER call it “Riverdancing” if you want to live!) you should do so. Although, yes, most people start young, I started at 11 and so far I’m turning out fine! So even if you’re an adult and think there’s no hope… Fear not! You have no excuse to go pick up your first pair of ghillies and sign up for a class TODAY! If this is something that sounds interesting to you, then there’s really nothing standing in your way other than what YOU think your limitations are. That’s the thought I’ll leave you with as I attempt to sleep in my current state of pain and sweat. Good night, WordPress Community, and may you never suffer a thunderstorm on dance night!

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