Can I Get Back To 18 Again?

I HAD A 'MOMENT' the other day. One of those rare instances you don't see coming because you don't realize how far away you've come from who you once were. Aging is like that. Maybe it's the journey in life that makes you see the distance you've travelled - when you finally take the time to notice it. This isn't about me patting myself on my back. Nor is it about me signaling any kind of virtue. Most of the time, I question what virtues I have. I can't imagine having a moment like the one I just had, if I were still in my 30's or 40's. I think I had to go through some messy decades in order to see how I've changed. I question whether those changes have all been good ones. For the most part, I think they are, but there have also been costs. When a stubborn tree weathers many storms, it doesn't grow straight. It will bend, and in broken places, there will be scars.

I finished watching Nine Perfect Strangers the other night on Netflix. There were good and bad aspects. I don't think hallucinogens are the way to psychological healing or a way to deal with unresolved grief, nor do I like the idea that the show may support that. On the other hand, the psychological drama was good, which was a result of the writing. 

I digress. What I want to talk about is one of the last shots of the last episode, where Nicole Kidman drives off with the smiling ghost of her daughter. It's a beautiful day, they're in a convertible, driving down a coastal highway - probably somewhere along the US west coast. Nicole's character has finally come to terms with her grief. As they drive away, she and her daughter laugh and raise their hands to a perfect, blue sky.

What struck me about this shot was... once, I was this happy, this carefree. I resented nothing and no-one, I held no grudges, I feared nothing. Once I was 18, and it was a beautiful time, and the present moment was that perfect, and the future seemed perfect, too. 

Where the hell had that happy 18-year old gone?

I know where she went. She grew up. She had kids. She had a marriage that struggled for years, and then finally made peace with itself (thank God). She had friends who lived their own lives, moved away, and lost touch. Others turned on her because of shared issues. For those friends who didn't support or who betrayed, she held grudges against them for a long, long time. She revisits those grudges, occasionally. There's a certain satisfaction in that, which is hard to explain. (I'm working on getting over it.)There were a few professional failures, but luckily, there were successes that outweighed them. She learned that tenacity and stubbornness will get you where you need to go, and a second 'thank God' for those few supportive folks who helped her along the way. 

There were deaths. Of old friends. Of parents. The death of her mother made her face her own mortality, maybe for the first time. Despite being a spiritual person, death was, and is, still hard to accept. The passing of her dogs broke her heart.

When COVID hit, she became paranoid for a time, and she's still cautious about it - probably more so than most. She still wears masks. Like many people, the isolation wasn't the best either, particularly as it gave her the time to dwell on past losses, hurts, and betrayals, not a great habit as she was already obsessive about many things. On the plus side, that same obsessiveness and perfectionism helped her Get Things Done.

God, what a load to carry. I didn't realize how weighted down I was.

I don't suppose I'll ever be as carefree as I was at 18, but I'd like to head there. I think I've started. I'm not so driven anymore, and I'm not so bitter. I find if I can't out-and-out forgive, I can at least 'forget about it'. I can also look at why I choose to hang onto my resentments. Do I think they empower me? Why do I need to feel empowered? Again - forget about it. As for the deaths, better to focus on life.

I don't think I'm so different from many of us. The years can weigh heavily. All of it leads to a question. Was there a time when you felt carefree and completely happy? What was your moment, when the world seemed perfect, and sunny, and you were content to be exactly where you were? Have you found your moment again? If you haven't yet, do you think you will? I have hope for the both of us.

I suspect I have too much history for me to re-live that carefree time exactly, but maybe I can find a good alternative. I suspect it will take some mindfulness to get there. My moments will be simple. More time in the garden, more time to play with my grandsons. More walks enjoying the great outdoors. More time talking to the people I care about, who I know care about me. I wish there were more of those. I'd like to make some time to include a few new ones. Maybe I'll get another dog, although I'm not sure I can live with the eventual heartbreak. The thing is - to live in the now. And then, maybe plan a bit for the future. There's travel.

Maybe all I need is to rent a convertible and to head out onto a coastal highway, to rediscover 18-year old me. That joy, that peace, that perfect moment. If there's a heaven, for me it would be that. I pray I find it, that I'll get there.

Happy travels to us all. - Susan.

2nd Editions of the Tattooed Witch Trilogy, Finally!

The Tattooed Witch Trilogy

 

Well, it took about six months of hair-pulling frustration to learn InDesign, Kindle Create, and the ins and outs of Amazon Publishing, but here are the books of my trilogy, finally. These were first published by Five Rivers Publishing in 2013, 2014, and 2016 respectively; I regained the publishing rights; they're now 2nd editions under my imprint, the Three of Pentacles Press. (More to come from the new imprint too, but I don't want to talk about that, quite yet. I'm still deciding how deep I want to dip my publishing toes.) The trilogy is basically the same, except for a few tweaks (naturally, I couldn't leave well enough alone). 

The Tattooed Witch and The Tattooed Seer e-books include the first few chapters of the next book in the series, so if you haven't read them, those will give you a sense of where the story goes. 

The links are below. If you have a Kindle Unlimited account, you can read the books for free. Yay! :-) Of course, the books are also available as paperbacks.

1. On Amazon.ca: The Tattooed Witch: Book One, The Tattooed Witch Trilogy eBook : MacGregor, Susan: Amazon.ca: Kindle Store
2. On Amazon.com: Amazon.com: The Tattooed Witch: Book One, The Tattooed Witch Trilogy eBook : MacGregor, Susan: Kindle Store
3. On Amazon.ca: The Tattooed Seer: Book Two, The Tattooed Witch Trilogy eBook : MacGregor, Susan: Amazon.ca: Kindle Store
4. On Amazon.com: Amazon.com: The Tattooed Seer: Book Two, The Tattooed Witch Trilogy eBook : MacGregor, Susan: Kindle Store
5.  On Amazon.ca: The Tattooed Queen: Book Three, The Tattooed Witch Trilogy eBook : MacGregor, Susan: Amazon.ca: Kindle Store
6. On Amazon.com: The Tattooed Queen: The Tattooed Witch Trilogy Book 3: MacGregor, Susan: 9781988274171: Amazon.com: Books 

All three books have had good reviews, but as these are 2nd editions and the first editions are no longer available, I can't include those star reviews here. If you'd like to leave a review on Amazon.ca or Amazon.com, I'd appreciate your support. Thank you.  

Currently, I'm in the process of setting up a new website. When that's done, I'll mention it here. 

I'm also back to editing On Spec manuscripts, so I may resurrect Letters to the Slush Pile here, or I may turn them into a YouTube channel. Lots to do. I'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, stay warm, stay Covid safe, and here's to a happy and fulfilling 2022 for all of us!

All the best! - Susan. 

 

 

BACK FROM THE DEAD, AND SOME NEWS!

 

IT'S BEEN A WHILE, HASN'T IT? Like, three years since my last post. Did you miss me? I'm not sure what I can blame the lapse on - a pandemic, a bad attitude or simple ennui, perhaps a focus on other things, like painting or flamenco. 

Anyway, here I am again, resurrecting Suzenyms, and along with the blog, some news. I've registered my own imprint. Here's the new logo:

Three of Pentacles Press

Why Three of Pentacles, you might ask? The Three of Pentacles is one of my favorite tarot cards. It means mastery and collaboration. The Rider Waite deck features three people working together on a cathedral arch - a mason/sculptor, a priest, and a noble. I also like to interpret the card as combining talents, time, and people in order to create something lasting and great. What I hope to do eventually, with this imprint. 

The title above, is the first book under the new publishing name. Maybe you recognize the title - The ABC's of How NOT to Write Speculative Fiction. For a number of years, I featured the ABC's here, on Suzenyms. I've updated and rewritten them, and now they're in their 3rd edition and available as an epub for the Kindle on Amazon. You can link to the pages here: 

For Amazon.com: Amazon.com: The ABC's of How NOT to Write Speculative Fiction eBook : MacGregor, Susan: Books

And for Amazon.ca: The ABC's of How NOT to Write Speculative Fiction: MacGregor, Susan: 9781777713409: Creative Writing & Composition: Amazon Canada

Plus, the paperback is also out! Finally!

I'll also be re-releasing my anthology, The Tattooed Witch, The Tattooed Seer, and The Tattooed Queen, now that I have the rights back for all three books. They were originally published through Five Rivers Press. (Thank you, Lorina Stephens, for your validation and support). 

After I get those done, who knows? I'd like to record my trilogy on Audible. I'll probably do it, myself. We'll see. 

I'm also toying with starting a YouTube channel, based on my old Letters to the Slush Pile posts, which you can still find here on the blog. What I'd like to do is to take samples of writing submitted to me, and discuss where the prose is working, and where it still needs work. All without mentioning anyone's names, of course. If any of you out there want free editing advice, and are willing to endure an honest critique with the idea that your work might eventually be the source of a YouTube post, please contact me at threeofpentspress@yahoo.com. For now, I'm limiting my focus to short stories. I'm not quite set up for YouTube, yet. Have to learn how to handle the new vlogger camera, first. :-) But if you're interested in receiving advice from an editor of 30+ years, drop me a line, and let's see where I might help you. 

That's it for now! It's good to be back! :-)

- Susan.

NEVER MIND...JUST DANCE.

WHEN I TOOK MY FIRST BULERIAS CLASS, HERE IN SEVILLA, I did the typical Canadian thing and apologized to Ramon Martinez, my teacher, because my Spanish was poor. 'Lo siento,' I said, 'mi espanol no es muy bueno.' He smiled and replied to me in English, 'Never mind! Just dance!' He actually said a bit more than that, but this was the core of his advice. So now, 'Never mind, just...' has become my motto for every artistic endeavour I do. I think it's a good one.

Not sure what to do with your bulerias improvization? Never mind, just dance.
You flubbed that last llamada? Never mind, just keep going.
Where does this all end? Never mind. It's not about some far-off goal you may never reach. It's about the journey. Just go! Enjoy!

How many of us waste our time obsessing over small details or never allowing ourselves to make mistakes? I'm guilty of this in dance, which is why, for me, improvisation is so difficult. Ramon told me not to be afraid to fail, to make those mistakes. So flamenco is not just about understanding its physical technicality. It's also a battle with one's pride, never an easy thing to do. Furthermore, it's also about looking so confident that when you make a mistake, you hide it, as if to say, 'Oh, yes? I meant to do that.'

I find this motto so helpful. How about using, 'Never mind, just...(then fill in the blank with whatever your goal is at the moment)? For example:

Ticked off, because the short story you submitted wasn't accepted? Never mind, just write.
Not sure where to start that novel? Never mind, just start. Anywhere. You're going to edit the damn thing to death anyway.
Frustrated because that painting isn't working? Never mind, sometimes it's the mistake that makes the piece shine.

One of my fellow bulerias students is deaf. As Ramon sings, she watches his lips carefully, so she'll know what to do and when to do it. (Bulerias is tricky this way. There are places in the cante where you can do certain moves, and other places where you shouldn't. Thus, my confusion, especially when the cante, or singing, is constantly changing.) In spite of her handicap, she's been dancing with Ramon long enough that her improvization is amazing. She is, by far, one of his best students.

I have one more class with Ramon on Monday, and then I leave Seville for Canada. I've enjoyed my time here very much. I've learned a great deal, and I can't thank Ramon enough for that. He's changed how I see myself as a dancer. I am more confident, yes. Perhaps also confident enough not to worry so much about future mistakes. :-)

Will I return to Seville next year? I can't say. But I can say this: 'Never mind. Just dance.'
(Thank you, Ramon.)

- Susan.

A LITTLE TOO MUCH ENTHUSIASM?

A COUPLE OF WEEKENDS AGO, Mike and I went to Los Gallos, a famous flamenco tablao here in Seville. We made sure to arrive a half an hour early to get good seats. We ended up in the second row from the front, seated next to an Australian couple.

I like Australians. Like Canadians, they are (by and large) warm, enthusiastic, and straightforward folks - definitely 'what you see is what you get', kind of people. Judging from how they were talking, they were excited about the show. They were also new to flamenco.

The tablao's host entered the stage, and asked in Spanish, English, and French, to please refrain from taking photographs or videos during the show; there would be time for that at the end. It's a pretty standard request. As soon as he finished, the woman beside me yelled, 'VAH MOSE!' Then her partner shouted it, as if to make sure we all heard. "VAH MOSE!"

I cringed. Who had told them that was an appropriate thing to yell? I've had enough flamenco to know when it's reasonable to shout a jaleo or two. Hearing 'VAH MOSE' (or 'let's go!' for vamos) was too much for my sensibilities. Plus, I didn't want to keep hearing it shouted in my ear throughout the show.

I leaned over to the woman and whispered, "Excuse me. I know a little about flamenco. If you really want to show your appreciation, a better thing to say might be, 'Olé!' or 'Eso es!"

Her eyebrows lifted. Her partner considered me as if I had suggested a better Rioja. "Eso es?" she repeated.

"Yes. It means, 'that's it!' You can say it when a dancer performs a really amazing bit of footwork. Or you can shout, 'Toma!' It means to 'take it!'"

She beamed at me as if I had handed her the moon. He nodded. "Toma! Right! Thanks!"

"No problem." I smiled. I had done my good flamenco deed for the day. None of the performers would be insulted with hearing "VAH MOSE!" as if what they were doing on stage wasn't enough, and the two beside me were happy, armed with appropriate jaleos. As the guitarist and singer took the stage, we watched them tune up. After their first piece, one of the dancers performed an incredible Tarantos. As she finished with an awe-inspiring set of turns, it came:

"HAY SOW! HAY SOW!"

My seat-mate was so enthusiastic, and shouting it so loud, she almost lurched from her seat. I didn't have the heart to stop her. Every time she shouted 'HAY SOW', I kept finishing it with an 'es' in my head. Was 'HAY SOW!' any better than 'VAH MOSE!'? Probably worse. I hoped the flamencos on stage would see her appreciation for what it was.

But when she started in at the start of a Seguirillas, I set a hand upon her arm. "It's probably better to say that a little less during this piece," I whispered.

"Oh, right," she said, noting the terse expression on the dancer's face. "She looks a bit upset."

"Yes. It's that kind of dance."

"Got you," my seat mate replied, nodding. We were flamenco sisters now, afficionadas.

In didn't stop the 'hay sows', but the end, she won me over. She was so happy and thrilled with what she was seeing, she kept grabbing me by the arm when something exciting occurred. Being a touchy-feelie person myself (although not as touchy as she was), the four of us agreed the show had been astounding. Afterwards, we introduced ourselves. They were Natalie and Wade from Adelaide, and off to Madrid the next day. It seems Australians like Canadians, as much as Canadians like Australians. I told them they should visit Casa Patas, a famous tablao there. Natalie assured me they would.

I suspect Casa Patas rang with her "HAY SOWS!" I don't doubt they'll be remembered in Madrid. :-)

Hasta luego, mis amigos, olé!

- Susan.

THE EXTENDED POSTCARD...or DEAR LESLIE, HOLA from SPAIN!

A FEW DAYS AGO, I SENT A POSTCARD from Seville to my dear friend Leslie, who lives in Lethbridge, Alberta. I'm not sure how long it will take for her to receive it. I do know it took the woman at the postal desk about five minutes to figure out the right postage, so maybe mail from Spain to Canada isn't that common. As there isn't a lot of room on the back of a postcard, I mentioned some of the things I've seen and done. If I'd had more room, this is what I would have told her:

DEAR LESLIE, hola from Spain! I'm having a great time here, my flamenco classes are wonderful, and I've learned a lot. I will miss Seville when we leave, but it will also be good to get back to family and friends.

A few of the highlights, so far:

1). The Shoes. Oh my god. And not just the flamenco ones, which come in every colour and style you can imagine (and yes, I did buy a new pair, in red). There are more shoe stores here than just about any other kind, the leather and suede are fantastic, but then so is the cloth, the canvas, the whatever. And so reasonably priced. I wish my feet weren't so tender - band-aids and moleskin are my friends. But I think that's why I notice the shoes here so much - because I can't wear most of them. Gold and silver lame sandals are also a thing. :-) Anyway, if you come here, save room in your luggage for shoes.

2). The weather, of course. It's mid-October. We finally had a break from the heat (simmering at around 32C+) with some rain today. The air is soft, and the cobblestones gleam in the damp. I know it's been awful back home with snow in Alberta (unless you're a skier, then it's all welcome and good). Personally, I haven't missed the snow. Although, strangely, I have missed Canada. The other day, we were in Corte Inglais, one of the major department stores here, and the muzak was playing Rocky Mountain High by John Denver (and if you want to sing along, like I did, I've included the link here. Go on. Do it. Let's love Canada together.) And even though the song is about Colorado, it brought memories of why I love Canada and the West so much, our mountains, our wilderness, the cold, fresh air - Banff, Jasper, the elk, the goats, the ravens, even the bears. Seville is a such different landscape. Urban, sophisticated, colourful.

3). Which is also why I love Seville. The weather makes it so people friendly here. Everybody lives in apartments, so the plazas and parks are a living, social space. It's great to sit in a square, drink a Sangria, eat a tapa or two, and watch the rest of the world at play. Siesta is still in place, so you need to adapt to that, change your lifestyle to match it. But I like seeing a whole family (including the dog) hanging out in the plazas, eating, talking, playing, even sleeping. (I refer to the little kids here, who might still be out with their parents at 11:00 at night, asleep in their strollers. Babysitters? Who needs babysitters when you have the whole family enjoying a cerveza or two at El Tremendo?)

4). Colour: the one thing I hate about Edmonton is its lack of imagination (mostly) with colour. In my neighborhood, every house is beige, or white, or cream, or pale blue - winter colours and boring. Ditto with clothing choices - we all wear black, or brown, or grey, with an occasional flash of red or blue (and yes, I'm as guilty as anyone. Black seems to be the go-to colour in my wardrobe). Here, mustard yellow is the top choice for clothing and apartment trim, with raw sienna, yellow ochre, cream, and olive green as secondary favourites. All summer colours. Here, the women wear fabrics that flow, float, and drape, while they guys tend to be hip in torn jeans, shirts, and scarves. They have a term for how people dress here: - it's 'pijo' and means 'posh'. If and when I come back to Sevilla (and I pray I do), I'm packing sun dresses and skirts and sandals. We've been here for six weeks now; I packed three pairs of jeans and only wore jeans twice, having to make do with my ugly shorts or yoga pants. And my ugly, black sneakers, too. Mike likes to wear his La Giralda t-shirt he bought in a souvenir shop. Gee, how is it everyone knows we're tourists???

5). Flamenco, naturally: It's everywhere, and it's wonderful. I've seen some great shows with some amazing performers, not the least of whom is my bulerias teacher Ramon Martinez. Yesterday, as I was walking down the Almirante Apodaca, the main street near our place, a taxi was stopped at a red light. The driver was listening to a bulerias, which was blaring from his window. His hands were clapping the compas (the time) as he waited for the light to change.

I could go on and on, Leslie. You would love Seville - the city, its sites, the Catedral, the museums, the flamenco tablaos, and the people - everyone we've met has been kind and friendly, considerate and helpful. If you know some Spanish, a little goes a long way. Being the typical Canadian, I start most of  my conversations with an apology - Lo siento, soy Canadiense. Mi espanol no es muy bueno, (I'm sorry. I'm Canadian. My Spanish isn't very good) and people will smile, and often tell me their English isn't very good either, but not to fret. Don't you worry, little Canadian. We Spaniards will make it work. We will help you. We'll get along, just fine.

Signing off for now, Leslie. I hope life is good with you! Say 'hi' to Megan and Cat for me! Besos y brazos! See you soon!

- Susan.

IS IT LUCK, OR SOMETHING MORE?

La Metropol Parasol or 'Las Setas'

THE PICTURE ON THE LEFT IS OF SEVILLA'S METROPOL PARASOL, or as it's colloquially known, Las Setas (the Mushrooms). Mostly made of reinforced birch wood, it swoops over the Almirante Apodaca, a major street which I walk along nearly every day. Whenever I do, I'm reminded of how incredibly lucky I am to be here in Seville, studying flamenco with a world class instructor and enjoying the city itself.

I am lucky. But is luck all there is to it?

I debated posting this post. Nearly talked myself out of it, but I'm going to anyway, because the point of writing blog posts is to offer something of interest to your readers, and maybe even some help. I'm going to tell you what I think, and depending on who you are and what your experiences have been, you'll either agree with me, allow for the possibility, or dismiss what I say because it's too 'woo woo'. I read some stats recently, about belief. Those of you who agree with me will fall into the minority, around 25 percent. 50 percent of you will say the jury's still out on whether the world of spirit exists, and the rest will negate what I say altogether. 

Am I lucky, or is it something more?  

I never expected to be here. I never expected my love for flamenco or writing to bring me the opportunities and success they have. I never thought Mike, my dear husband, would support me in either of these passions to the extent he has, and I must certainly take that into consideration. But I also feel there is a spiritual connection to the success I've enjoyed and continue to enjoy. My life has been one surprise after the other. I never expected any of these good things to happen.

That said, I did ask for them. I asked for spiritual help with both my writing career and my dance. And I've received help in spades. 

Who has helped me? Well, that is the question. I think we go on existing after we die. I think death is a transition to a bigger reality than what we know now, a bigger, broader experience. I also think once we pass, we can help those of us who are still in physical form.

I'll tell you a funny story. It's funny because it could be my imagination, and I'll allow for that. Years ago, when I was just starting to dance and struggling with it (but then, flamenco is always a struggle, because you're always reaching for the next level), I asked Antonio Gades to help me grow. Antonio Gades, one of the top maestros in the flamenco world and known internationally. He had passed away a few years earlier, in July, 2004. I was having a small hissy-fit over my lack of ability as a dancer, frustrated because it wasn't happening quickly enough, so I looked up into the air and hailed him like you might yell at an actor from the audience: I really want to dance, Antonio! I need to! I love it so much! Can you help me? (I smile as I write this. I wasn't completely serious when I put the question to him. I was feeling very passionate and emotional and upset about the whole thing). As soon as I finished my heart-felt plea to Antonio, an answer popped into my head. It was this: Do you practice?

I was completely taken aback. I hadn't been practising. Not really, other than mucking about for an hour or two before a student show, and certainly not on a daily basis. What I 'heard' was  exactly what I needed to do. 

I still don't know for certain if this was a real response or my imagination working overtime. I've decided it was real. I felt a bit silly that I should bother such a great maestro, when the answer to my desire was so patently obvious. (And this is why I still like to refer to him as Saint Antonio. Because maybe he is.)

Anyway, all I'm saying is, if you have any faith in the world of spirit at all, and you're in earnest over something you want, or want to do, maybe ask for help. See what happens. You just might get what you need. The luck you reap may be more than you know

Until next time, olé!

- Susan.  

MONDAY to FRIDAY, THE DANCE WEEK

A tile display, outside one of the bars in Seville

IT'S FRIDAY AFTERNOON AS I WRITE THIS, and it's been a good dance week. It didn't particularly start off that way. This is how it went:

Day One (morning): great bulerias class with Ramon. First tangos class this afternoon at 4:00 with Joaquin Grilo. I wonder what it will be like?
Day One (afternoon): Oh my god. I am in over my head with this tangos class. Everything is going by in a blur. This was supposed to be 'basico/medio' which I took to mean basic to intermediate (or beginner+) level. Did someone not send Grilo the memo? This was supposed to be easy. I'll decide after tomorrow if I'm going on Wednesday. AND NO WAY AM I STANDING IN FRONT AGAIN! That was downright embarrassing.

Day Two (morning): another great class with Ramon. The bulerias is challenging, but I feel as if I'm getting it. Lots of chances to 'tweak' where I have to.
Day Two (afternoon): Okay...I'm still missing some of the steps because it's going by so fast, but Grilo went over yesterday's choreo, and I'm basically getting it. Who knew my feet could move that fast? Nobody told me. Will definitely go tomorrow. Tried to take a spot in the back row, AND EVERYBODY WANTS TO STAND IN THE BACK ROW!!! Forced to remain in the front! Grrr!

Day Three (morning): I think I've developed a new blister on my little toe. Notice lots of other girls are sporting band-aids on theirs. Still love Ramon's class, and it's still challenging. I'm finally getting that remate.
Day Three (afternoon): More choreo, still waving my arms about like a gorilla, but AT LEAST I'M IN THE BACK ROW!

Day Four (morning): The dreaded bulerias 'circle' in Ramon's class, where we dance solo, but I did all right. Go me. :-)
Day four (afternoon): Where the hell was my head? I should have practised the choreo, but there were some new cool moves. The annoying girl who kept cutting me off from the mirror yesterday is actually a REALLY GOOD DANCER. I took Jane's advice and managed to get a video of us dancing, so now I have it and I can take it home to finally get those pieces I am missing. Really like Grilo - he has an awesome style.

Day Five (morning): Ramon divided the class in half and let us take a video of each other. It's so great to have a record to recall later. Apparently, his class in October is designated 'medio' or intermediate instead of  'all levels' so I may have to up my game. On the other hand, one of his longer term students told me it shouldn't change too much, so that's good to know. Mind you, she told me in Spanish, and I may have missed her meaning. Whatever...
Day Five (afternoon): Didn't go to Grilo's class, as we are going out tonight to see Ramon dance in his show at La Casa del Flamenco. I didn't want to look like a drowned flamenco rat from the week (had to do my hair and get cleaned up. And yes, I can guess what you're thinking - she pooped out. Give me a break. I've been dancing all week in 32+ C weather, both morning and afternoon.) Plus I have the video, and it will be practice, practice, practice until I perfect it. This tangos was the first exposure I've had to fast footwork for the majority of the dance and to mark the time. In other words, the taconeo was the marking. Very cool to be pushed (kicking and screaming) to the next level. :-) (And yes, I'm joking.)

I still love being here. I've definitely entered new flamenco territory. Must keep it up, once I'm back.

Ole!

`SAL` or `SALT`...WHO YOU ARE.

WHEN I TOOK MY FIRST BULERIAS CLASS, HERE IN SEVILLA, I did the typical Canadian thing and apologized to Ramon Martinez, my teacher, because my Spanish was poor. 'Lo siento,' I said, 'mi espanol no es muy bueno.' He smiled and replied to me in English, 'Never mind! Just dance!' He actually said a bit more than that, but this was the core of his advice. So now, 'Never mind, just...' has become my motto for every artistic endeavour I do. I think it's a good one.

Not sure what to do with your bulerias improvization? Never mind, just dance.
You flubbed that last llamada? Never mind, just keep going.
Where does this all end? Never mind. It's not about some far-off goal you may never reach. It's about the journey. Just go! Enjoy!

How many of us waste our time obsessing over small details or never allowing ourselves to make mistakes? I'm guilty of this in dance, which is why, for me, improvisation is so difficult. Ramon told me not to be afraid to fail, to make those mistakes. So flamenco is not just about understanding its physical technicality. It's also a battle with one's pride, never an easy thing to win. It's also about looking so confident that when you make a mistake, you hide it, as if to say, 'Oh, yes? I meant to do that!'

I find this motto so helpful. You might, too. How about using, 'Never mind, just...(then fill in the blank with whatever your goal is at the moment). For example:

Ticked off, because the short story you submitted wasn't accepted? Never mind, just write.
Not sure where to start that novel? Never mind, just start. Anywhere. You're going to edit the damn thing to death anyway.
Frustrated because that painting isn't working? Never mind, sometimes it's the mistake that makes the piece shine.

One of my fellow bulerias students is deaf. As Ramon sings, she watches his lips carefully, so she'll know what to do and when to do it. (Bulerias is tricky this way. There are places in the cante where you can do certain moves, and other places where you shouldn't. Thus, my confusion at times.) In spite of her handicap, she's been dancing with Ramon long enough that her improvization is amazing. She is, by far, one of his best students. It's clear she lives by that motto - 'Never mind, just dance.'

I have one more class with Ramon on Monday, and then I leave Seville for Canada. I've enjoyed my time here very much. I've learned a great deal, and I can't thank Ramon enough for that. He's changed how I see myself as a dancer.

Will I return to Seville and his class next year? I can't say. But I can say this: 'Never mind. Just dance.' (Thanks, Ramon.)

- Susan.

WHO NEEDS A DRYER WHEN YOU HAVE CLOTHES PINS?

LIKE THE TITLE SAYS, WHO NEEDS A DRYER, WHEN YOU HAVE A BALCONY AND CLOTHES PINS? For some reason. I find hanging my laundry from a cord that I've tied to each end of my tiny balcony, very satisfying. And I have neon clothes pins, which are cool, because they appeal to the little kid in me. Colours! Sky blue, neon green, hot pink and yellow. I had the same thrill from coloured pencils in a new pencil box when I was eight. (Which is probably why I like soft pastels to do some art when I find the time.)  I suspect hanging my laundry reminds me of my childhood, when my mother used to hang our laundry on our clothesline in the back yard, and everything froze into place in January. I still remember sheets hanging like plates of shaved ice and towels at attention like rectangular flags. They had a solidity to them that meant Canada, and January, and playing outside making snowmen, and home.

Of course, there's no snow here. There hasn't been any rain either. If you've been watching the Spanish news, you'll know the rest of the country has suffered. It's 30 degrees and things are dry in an hour instead of taking all day. But I do love hanging my laundry. If truth be told, I was a bit worried about not having a dryer when we moved here. But no hay problema.

On the other hand, maybe we're just the dumb Canucks of the neighborhood, hanging our laundry across our balcony. Nobody else seems to do that, and we do have a clothesline on the roof of our building. (We went up there to do our sheets, and the sun nearly blinded me. It was so bright it gave me a headache.) But the balcony is so convenient. And we don't do a lot of laundry.

The other great thing here is the groceries. The major supermarkets in Sevilla put ours to shame. There's so much to choose from in terms of cheeses, meats (can you say 20 different kinds of jamon?) and produce, some of which I've never seen. The fish is fantastic. All fresh, and the flavours are amazing. AND THE WINE. We bought a respectable bottle of chardonnay for one and a half Euros (or about $2.25 Canadian). The stuff was on sale for 70% off. We plan to go back and stock up. :-)

I've also discovered the delights of salmoreo, which is like a gazpacho but much creamier and smoother. We ordered some the other night, thinking it was a salmon thingee. (I know, don't laugh. We're learning.) It turned out to be this fantastic cold tomato soup, served with bits of shaved ham and cheese. We loved it. So when we saw it in the store at Corte Inglais, we bought it. I never thought I'd be an afficionada of cold soup, but in hot weather, there's nothing better.

What else? We walked around today, trying to find Mike a pair of summer shorts, and nada. The stores are already displaying fall fashions. Also, 5:00 p.m. is about the perfect time for a sangria. :-)

More mañana. Olé! - Susan.