The Gates

courtesy of NY Times

We just got back from LA.  We were there so my homgurl could audition for Ballet West's summer intensive.  The competition was fierce, so we're keeping our fingers crossed that she'll be offered a spot.  Pray for her.  But you may want to pray for me after reading this story:

After my homegurl finished her audition, I went up to the director of the school and said the following: "Um, pardon me for a minute, um, we've planned our summer around her getting into your program, so I really hope she makes it.  What do you think?"  I didn't let him answer because I was already saying inside my head: You're the biggest stage parent on earth and this man now hates your guts.  Move your crazy self out of his sight, immediately.
Peter, that's his name, looked at me and said, "As I've already told the girls, we will let them know in a week or so."
I turned and began my strut of shame out of the room, but then I turned back and said, "I was kind of just kidding about the whole arranging our summer bit, but not really, you know?"

Can you believe the car wreck, absolute disaster I am?

We have not heard back from Peter, yet, but I have started writing an e-mail to him, apologizing for my pushy behavior.  My homegurl keeps saying, "Leave it alone; don't send it," so I'm taking her advice.  Even if she doesn't make it, we still had a good time parading around the City of Angels.  I would live there if I could.

We visited F&S Fabrics, where we found the perfect fabric remnant for reupholstering the chair for my homgurl's vanity set.  Then we visited Jenny at the Dance Store. She fit Hannah into the perfect pointe shoes.  We had heard that no one in the Western United States could do a better job than she, and so far, that's true.  Then we ate lunch at the Apple Pan. (You must order a piece of their banana cream pie), and spied on some kissing lovers while eating our fries and burgers.

I love living in a big city, but the truth is, I will live in Gilbert until I kick the bucket. (I do love Gilbert, BTW.) To requite my burning desire to live elsewhere,  I finally hung our picture of The Gates.  When I'm longing for some time in a city that never sleeps, I'll stare at this picture and imagine I'm in Central Park.  Do you think it will work?

If you're interested in learning more about one of the biggest displays of public art in modern history, you can read more about The Gates here.

P.S. We're off to San Francisco this weekend, so I won't need to stare at the picture until next week.