If you’ve ever seen me attempt to dance, you would know that it’s not the most graceful event to witness. Picture a drunk giraffe wearing heels, and you will have some idea of the level of coordination and sophistication I display when it’s time to ‘shake my groove thang.’ (Boatman said it’s not that bad. Bless his heart. 🙂 )
Sadly, dancing is one of those things I’ve always wished I could do; in my head I’m one of those movie stars who spontaneously joins a dance off in a bar, and busts so many cool moves that everyone stops to stare and cheer me on. In reality… well see example above. So it’s fair to say that Dance Camp is not the most logical place to find me. In the game of ‘Where in the world is EssentiallyJess?’ the odds on me being anywhere near an organised dance event as anything other than a spectator are slim to none.
The chances of finding me at that event in the capacity of ‘cook’ or ‘photographer’ is even more insane.
So guess where I was last weekend?
It started out as me sending Taylah to dance camp because she, thankfully, has a style all of her own and is able to dance better than a disproportionate flamingo with the coordination of a land-based walrus. (How’s that for a descriptive sentence?) It then became a request for me to attend the event for a few hours in the evening, in the capacity of chaperone to fill a need for legally endorsed adultness.
That then morphed into me being required to arrive at the start of camp, and possibly help out in the kitchen if help was needed.
From there I became officer in charge of photo booth shenanigans.
Let’s just take a moment to back up here; as a cook I do ok. I feed my family and thus far no one has died or suffered poisoning on my behalf. I can bake a mean cake, and last week I cooked a very attractive cannelloni dish.
I am NOT a caterer though. Not even close. I can follow directions and look very intently at a dishwasher to see if it’s working (two things I did very well, if I do say so myself), but that’s about the extent of my camp kitchen abilities.
I joked to more than one person that the only thing more random than finding me at Dance Camp, was finding me in the kitchen at dance camp.
And then came my other ‘career,’ innocently started with the question ‘do you know how to take photos?’ Sure I can. In fact I liken my photo taking ability to that of my dance ability; in my mind I am a professional. I just point and snap and produce works of art that adorn my walls. In reality, my photos are good enough for just us, and occasionally Instagram, and my living room wall mirrors a Taylor Swift song. (Blank Space. Things I learnt because of Dance Camp.*)
Regardless of skill or level of coordination, I am nothing if not a woman up for one very random challenge, and so I figured if I was already wearing the label of ‘dancing cook photographer’ I might us well live up to it. Donning one fabulous neon green hat, I joined in Rock and Roll classes, and can now proudly proclaim that I know sufficiently enough moves to be an extra on a Grease remake.** And I think I kind of rocked it (excuse the pun). Of course I was partnered with an eleven-year-old girl who was very forgiving of my two left feet and more concerned with whether or not I could do a cartwheel, which I’m proud to say I achieved with possibly more grace and success than anything else that weekend.
The success of the weekend (in particular the cartwheel and the ability to move my feet whilst saying aloud ‘step, step, rock, rock’), briefly had me considering a change in career. Why blog when you can be a superstar rock and roll dancer, acting as your own photographer, cooking your own masterpieces, and cartwheeling like the best of them? It seemed only natural that I take The Next Step (boom tish) in creative endeavours, and sign myself up as a Dance Camp captain.
Waking up the next morning and feeling like I had been hit by a truck, with sore arms, feet and a desperate desire to understand how anyone is able to function on less than a full night’s sleep quickly squashed those dreams. Some people are made for music and late nights; I’ll quite happily take being curled up on my couch with my lap top.
And if I ever feel the urge to dance again; well at least I have proof that someone else things I’m not that bad. 😉
Have you ever been to dance camp?
How’s your coordination?
*I did know about Taylor Swift before Dance Camp.
** That may be a gross overestimation of my skills.