I have a new boyfriend. Or, to be perfectly accurate, I have four new boyfriends: my new zils.
If you are not involved in Middle Eastern-ish dance, that word will mean very little to you. Suffice it to say that yesterday I bought my first pair of real finger cymbals so that I could go to a drill class and stop wearing the clanky trainer zils. This was strictly to take the training wheels off my fingers, you understand, and I unexpectedly fell in passionate love. As soon as I finished sewing up the finger elastics while Scherezade, Mason and I were eating at Caplansky's (speaking of mad crushes: Caplansky's), I started trying them out. They are so shiny! And their tone is so lovely, so bell-like, so unlike the dull clanking of the trainer zils.
I ziled all the way down College Street, until Scherezade and Mason made me stop.
I ziled through the half-hour zil drill (of course!)
I ziled when I drilled the Turkish Shimmy.
I ziled when other people danced and I sat out to give them room.
I seriously thought about taking the zils into bed with me last night, but sense prevailed.
This morning, instead of eating which I desperately needed to do, I started to knit my zils a special original designed-on-the-spot pouch out of (leftover) Lucy Neatby yarn.
I may take them to church.
I haven't been this excited about a new toy since my camera. And before that, probably Tenty. 'Sbeen a long time. Ding!
I also got a short dramatic haircut yesterday. This was necessary for a few reasons, the most important being that I haven't had my hair cut in half a year and the lesser being that, um,
My hair has been lank and uninspired this spring. The blonde bits are completely fried and breaking into little crazy turfs. I was more than ready for a change. Now for some new glasses to replace the unflattering ones the Boy talked me into so many years ago! Why am I wearing these ugly mf's? Because I left my nice frames in a dressing room in Kitchener after a bellydance recital. In October. (Of course.)
New zils and new hair. This should compensate for an afternoon spent marking and quite possibly making a dance costume.
The contents of this site, unless
otherwise noted, are copyright Rocketbride 1997-2009.
Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*