Irish dance camp is now over. It’s been a great experience for Emma. She learned more about Irish dancing, which seems to be her passion, and was introduced to gumboot, clogging, and some other kinds of percussive dancing. She’s quite a kid. Not a shy bone in her body. The youngest student there, she spoke up, asked questions, volunteered to be first. I am in awe of her.
For me the biggest challenge was keeping her six-year-old sister occupied for two hours while Emma was dancing. Today, she stayed with my friend Paloma, and I took work along. I am working on my third book proposal. STILL working on it.
As I put the proposal down and stared at the walls of the Rockfish Valley Community Center, I wondered how many of these walls I’ll have to endure. The door of her percussive dance class was closed and I could hear the rhythms and jumps and dances. I peeked in the window as best I could.
Today, it all seemed manageable—maybe, with enough planning, patience and help, I can make the freelancing work. Sitting outside of a dance class and working seems like a logical thing to do for me, though I so often cannot manage because I usually have Tess with me. And well, Tess is another kind of kid. She wants all of me, most of the time.
