Ughhh. What a last day in the kitchen that was. Between five and nine tickets behind for at least two hours; we were probably putting food out with an average of a 20-minute wait. It was terrible. And there wasn’t really anything that Scott and I could have done to make it better – they just all came in at once and we were slammed. We did break a grand, which was completely unexpected for this time of year, but geeze. I am so glad that this was my last day instead of my first day.
What probably ended up cheering me up the most was that Scott was backing me up on my grumpiness.
I did go ballroom dancing one last time. It was the second week of a four-week series on mambo, which differs from salsa in that salsa holds the fourth count, whereas mambo holds the first count. I learned basic steps, cross-overs, swivel steps, fifth-position cross-overs, what our teacher taught as the ‘wax on, wax off’ turns (loved that part), a series of steps where it looks like we’re chasing each other back and forth, some optional endings…
I’m not sure what reveals more about my personality, the kitchen or the dancing. I caught on pretty quickly, and the teacher, Traci, gave me a high five for doing “a great job” following her for one of the demonstrations, but tonight revealed a different side to my personality than what the past couple of times have highlighted.
Since I’m beginning to be more comfortable in the class setting, I’m starting to think for myself, which isn’t necessarily a good thing. I’m so focused on doing the routine we’re running through to the letter, to the point where I’m actually beginning to pull my partner through on the spins instead of letting him spin me. Three weeks ago, one of the guys said to me that the hardest thing I have to do is follow. It didn’t quite hit me then – probably because at the time, I was pretty lost to begin with – but it did hit me tonight that when I think I know what I’m doing – and especially when I know I know what I’m doing – I have a hard time following even when the guy knows exactly what he’s doing, too, he just wants to get to so-and-so a step a few basic steps later instead of jumping right into it like we’re ‘supposed’ to be practicing.
Doesn’t that say so much about how I am with life in general? My chronic restlessness is a lack of that key virtue of letting go and letting God. It’s that whole concept that I started to struggle with back in high school with Paolo – about how a good thing at the wrong time can become the wrong thing without being intrinsically bad. I might have all the steps, I might ‘know’ all the ‘right’ ones, but if it’s not the right time for them, they become the wrong steps because I’m fighting the lead of my partner.
Good things can become wrong things when we fight God’s lead, when we’re trying to pull Him through a situation instead of letting Him carry us. We fight for much but still lose more when we try to do things in our time rather than letting them happen in His.
To remedy my tendency to fight the lead, I did something that I am normally uneasy with; I danced blind. I had to open my eyes for some of the spins where he lets go of me completely, but as long as he still had a hold of one hand, it helped me to focus on following.
It reminds me of a poem in the first poetry book I read in earnest, from cover to cover, and I haven’t that book with me now, but the first two lines read, ‘”Where is your God?” the doubter cries / I point him to the shining skies,’ and the believer just keeps pointing the doubter to countless other aspects of creation, and still the doubter cannot see. I also think of that song we haven’t sung at Mass for a while, “Without seeing You, we love You / Without touching You, we embrace / Without knowing You, we follow / Without seeing You, we believe.”
So, moral of the story – I have to get better at dancing blind.
Anyway, I ended up here at Jill’s house tonight, and I’m enjoying a glass of Moscato while Jill takes last-day videos and such.
Three more days!!!
Peace out =)