A whole new world...sort of

I love this quote by Martha Graham, "Practice means to perform, over and over again in the face of all obstacles, some act of vision, of faith, of desire.  Practice is a means of inviting the perfection desired."  I especially like the last sentence.  I can't remember exactly, but I believe my first competition was when I was six or seven years old.  It was an ice-skating competition.  Since that time, I competed pretty regularly in ice-skating and dance competitions until I was probably 15 years old.  After that, I stepped out of the competitive arena and enjoyed performing without receiving a judge's marks.  Until yesterday, that is.  Yes, I stepped back into the world of competitive dance last night to compete in my first Irish Feisanna, or Feis (pronounced "fesh").  Despite my nerves, after a 10 year vacation from this kind of stuff, it was really fun.  I was horrified when I learned what I would have to wear though.  I didn't want to spend lots of money on this competition since I decided to do it at the last minute (the VERY last minute! I learned my final dance on Wednesday night that I had to compete in on Friday.  Smart.), so I wore a plain white button-up shirt, a black skirt, and black tights along with my ghillies.  So what's the problem?  I felt like a cheerleader!  The skirt was much shorter than the mission-length standard for skirts that I've become accustomed to over the last three years.  Ha!  It's funny how much this affected me, and even though it wasn't THAT short, I still felt scandalous.  This is why no personal photos are being posted.  Haha!  I am, however, including some pics below of some irish solo dresses to give you a frame of reference for the costume length requirements.  Apparently, the judges feel like they need to be able to see your entire knee and then some, to make sure that they are always crossed and turned out.  Right.  On this note, I much prefer wearing a Scottish kilt.  Yeah, it flips up a bit while I dance, but still, I fancy the pretty plaid material that extends all the way to my knee.  Another reason I didn't go for the fancy schmancy irish costume is that they cost a fortune.  It is a serious investment to buy a solo competition dress.  The average figure for a dress like the ones seen below is $1,300 - $1,500.  And lastly, I just have to say, they are the funniest looking costumes I've ever seen.

Overall, it was a really good experience.  I proved to myself that I can still pull off dance competitions and do pretty well.  It was a good feeling to know that after starting classes in April, I pulled off a competition in June.  With every style of dance, I always manage to pick a favorite.  I competed in the reel, light jig, slip jig, and single jig categories.  My favorite was definitely the light jig.  I don't have any videos or pics to post of the actual competition from Friday night, but the following pictures will hopefully introduce you to the wonderful world of Irish dance competitions...

Do you see what I mean when I say the skirts are a wee bit short?!?!?  Luckily, all the adult competitors get to wear black tights instead of the funny socks.

Irish hard shoes....SO MUCH FUN!!!  You feel really funny wearing them though, because your heel is raised, as well as your toes.  You basically walk on the balls of your feet.

These are random models - I got this picture from an Irish website, but it gives you a taste of what Irish dancers look like at these feis competitions - lots of crazy color combinations, sequins, tiaras, and ridiculously tights curls (they're wigs, in case you couldn't tell).

As funny as most of the costumes look, some of the celtic designs are cool...

A girl from the Crawford School competed in this dress, which is why I included it in this post.  It's one official representation of what Friday night looked like.

Forever PLAID

 The Irvine Tartan

    I grew up in one amazingly cool family.  The Irvine/Stevens/Mitchell clan is quite the sight when we get together at my aunt's house.  This past Sunday we had a family party (nothing unusual to have weekly parties, but the themes are continually changing) and the theme this week: PLAID.  Oh yes, everyone got decked out in as much plaid as possible.  No one cared if the plaids clashed - and many did - so long as you were the person wearing the most plaid.  I really wondered what Karen's neighbors thought as they watched a bunch of people spill out of cars in lots of crazy colors.  Unfortunately, I didn't win the competition for wearing the most plaid.  I was pretty disappointed since I have a good amount of plaid stashed here and there in my closet - including a brand new (as of January) kilt from Scotland!  Even though every piece of plaid that I wore to this party came directly from Scotland, I disgraced my family by ordering a kilt in the ancient Buchanan tartan, rather than the ancient Irvine tartan.  I'm still hearing about it months later, and probably will continue hearing about it for the rest of my life.  Don't get me wrong, I love the Irvine tartan, but I really like bright colors (especially when I'm dancing) because they stand out more.  Anyway, I think my dad won the competition for wearing the most plaid.  He really hates getting dressed up for these events, but he made us all proud by going all-out this time.  The outfit: plaid 3-piece suit, plaid tie (in the Irvine tartan, of course), plaid scarf, plaid "cummerbund," which he claimed doubled as a jewish prayer sash since he wrapped it around his waist (it's really just another plaid scarf), a plaid shirt, and a plaid hat.  Basically, it was plaid over-kill.  I, on the other hand, pulled off a splash of plaid with grace and style.  I wore my kilt and scarf, as well as a swanky pair of plaid tights.  This party was the first time I've worn them, and I must admit, I really like them!  Maybe after one year of living in Scotland I can acquire just enough plaid apparel to beat my dad the next time we have a plaid competition.  

Regardless of all the plaid, the party was a blast.  It's always fun spending time with my extended family.  It just recently expanded with the addition of a wee little one about two weeks ago.  My cousin Alison had her fourth child - James Paul Mitchell - and I'm sure that in no time at all he'll be running around with the rest of the grandkids, keeping all the adults entertained.  The following pictures offer a good sampling of the festivities.  If the weather had been more agreeable, there would have been a caber toss in the backyard in the true spirit of highland games, but the indoor stuff suited everyone just fine.  Guid cheerio the nou!!!

Jeff and Joani Stevens with their kids, Drew and Ella.

Stevie Mitchell with three of his four kids: Michael, Beth, and Megan.  James is the new arrival in the Mitchell clan, and he spent most of the afternoon sleeping.

Paul and Karen Stevens....never a dull moment with these two!

Clan Irvine!!!  Always proud of some Scottish heritage....Irvine OR Buchanan.

My tights are TOTALLY cooler than my dad's plaid pants.  C'mon people, how often do you see tights like that?!?!

I absolutely love this picture!  Steve has acquired a new little buddy, which is hardly surprising.  Kids just love him.  Michael had a blast discussing how many fish were inside the grapes sitting in the strainer in the sink.  Interesting.  These two kept themselves entertained in the kitchen, while the rest of us enjoyed some delicious Scottish shortbread.

Let the games begin!  Every couple tried their hand at the bean bag toss.  As usual, in our competition, Steve won.

Another favorite picture.  Go Linda Jean!  She was a little excited when her bean bag landed closer to the target than my dad's.

THE END.

Happy Anniversary!

Today, 09 June 2009, my parents celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary.  40 years!!!  Amazing.  I've been around for just over half of that adventure, and I've watched them through easy times and hard times.  I'm grateful for their examples through both.  They invited me and Steve to dinner tonight, and when asked for advice regarding marriage, this is what they said.  Linda: "Be seaweed."  Dave: "That's good advice."  Short and to the point, eh?  In essence, it's all about compromise.  Something else that I'm sure my dad would have said if he had a couple more minutes to think about it, would be this, "marry someone who will be there when the wheels come off - someone who will stick around to put them back on."  My parents have seen some grim stuff with two heart attacks, and one heart transplant among many other things that come with marriage and mortality.  They've relied on each other, supported each other, and made sure that when the wheels came off - whatever the situation - they both stuck around to make sure they got back on.  I'm so grateful for the lessons I've learned growing up in their home.  Thanks Mom and Dad - happy anniversary!!!

P.S. The picture may seem very random, but it's the only one I have of the four of us: one couple celebrating 40 years, and the other getting ready to begin their own exciting adventure. 2009 is turning out to be quite the year...