Hello, Is It Time to Freak Out Yet?

Whooo boy do I have a week ahead of me! I have been taking a dance class that culminates in a performance on December 9, and while you may envision me leaping across the stage like a gazelle, in fact I will be desperately counting "un dos tres, cinco seis siete" and hoping I don't do that thing that my husband says Americans do, which is robotically coordinate my arms and legs to extend simultaneously on one side and then the other. No, I'm not that bad, but as I discovered during a semi-dress rehearsal last night, I'm not that good either. And I clocked my partner in the mouth with my elbow during a turn (I wasn't the only one who did that). So the entire class will be cramming this week.

The advanced class was amazing to watch, and my fantasy of joining them next semester was punctured by the reality that we hadn't mastered much, much simpler choreography. "I feel bad for the advanced class--they must be so intimidated by us," I joked to the other women backstage. "Yeah, I saw one of them crying because we're so good," another responded sarcastically.

But, on top of that, a film crew is coming over tomorrow to videotape me in my natural habitat while composing, practicing, playing six percussion instruments simultaneously and being irresistibly engaging in conversation (I think a videotape of me sitting in front of the computer for hours, while accurate, would be disappointing). What's my priority? Do I practice? Do I clean the house? How badly does it stink in here and will that affect the camera operators?

On top of that, I have a gig Friday with a cover band I auditioned for last month, and I have to learn eight songs, ranging from Shakira and Selena to Celia Cruz, each one packed with lyrics. So we've been doing it as a family, with the boys and my husband playing percussion and screaming while I sing, in order to duplicate performance conditions. No, really that's just because they are always shaking things and screaming. My guys: Very in touch with their inner gorilla. Growing up I lived in the loudest house on the block, and it appears that I am still living in the loudest house on the block.

On top of that, I have two dance rehearsals and on Saturday another gig with my drummer but two other musicians I don't know so I have to compose a set list that will be pleasing to the clients but not too difficult (though I know these are good musicians).

On top of that, I am trying to get my festival press kits in the mail this week.

OK. Bye.