I'm a Ballet Buff

Who knew? Prior to a few years ago, I’d never given much thought to the art and discipline of ballet. I’ve never been a dancer, and though I’ve always enjoyed watching dance, the extent of my experience with ballet consisted of an occasional trip to the Benedum at Christmastime to see the Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre perform The Nutcracker. Or if by chance my ballet-loving friend Beth, who always had a season subscription to PBT, would take me along.

That all changed three years ago when my friend and fellow writer Luke, whose daughters are both ballerinas, invited me to a matinee performance by the Lake Charles Civic Ballet (LCCB). Unlike at the Benedum, where, invariably, I’d be sitting near the back and the dancers appeared as large ants onstage, at the Rosa Hart Theatre there’s no such thing as a bad seat. By sitting close to the stage, I can see every expression on the dancers’ animated faces. And I’ve discovered that these dancers are not only dancing: they are acting.

This was profoundly evident last weekend when my friend Mischelle and I attended LCCB’s spring performance, called Assemblé 2013. Assemblé is a French word (as well as a ballet term) meaning to come together. The show was appropriately named because LCCB’s goal was (and will continue to be) to bring together many various forms of art into one exciting show. Mission accomplished. I can’t recall a time when I have been so thoroughly entertained by such a variety of sights and sounds in one performance. The show combined a myriad of dance styles, musical genres with onstage musicians, and visual arts. I laughed. I cried. I said WOW!! a gazillion times. The show included classical ballet, Broadway, and original LCCB pieces. For the complete story, read my article in this recent Jambalaya News issue here.

Mischelle and I on the “red carpet,” eagerly anticipating the show.

From Graduation Ball. 

 

 

West Side Story.

In Trepak, Death is a beautiful seductress.

In The Fable, an original LCCB piece, a group of blind men each experience an elephant in different ways – the ears, trunk, tusks, skin. “Only through multiple perspectives do we understand the truth,” said Lady Holly Hathaway Kaough, artistic director of LCCB.

 

LCCB’s next performance is May 19, 2013. If you live in southwest Louisiana, do yourself a favor and don’t miss it! And if you aren’t one already, you’ll become a ballet buff like me.

Photos used courtesy of Danley Romero of Romero and Romero Photography and with permission by the Lake Charles Civic Ballet.

Quilt Show

I went to a quilt show in Lake Charles today. It’s sponsored by a quilt guild in town called the Calcasieu Cut-Ups. You can read more about this event here.

I’ve been a quilter since 1986. I doubt many of my friends in Louisiana know that about me. I’ve only made one quilt since moving here, and that was four years ago, when my nephew was born. I’m not sure why I got out of the habit. It likely has something to do with my eyesight and the fact that I can no longer see up close without reading glasses. But after viewing the fabulous quilts on display today at the show, I’m motivated to get started again. This was one of my favorites. I love the bright colors! And the polka dots are fun.

In 1986, my sister was pregnant with my first niece, Loren. I asked my best friend Beth, who is an amazing quilter, to help me make a baby quilt for the pending birth. I thought I’d only make that one quilt. I hadn’t planned on becoming a quilter. But after the process of making that first quilt, I was hooked. Indeed, quilting is a process, and I think that’s what I love about it. There are so many steps, each one unique. The many steps keep me from getting bored. After formulating an idea, you shop for fabric. I love this step. I love browsing through fabric shops. So many colors, patterns, and textures! I especially love the batik prints. They’re like beautiful watercolor paintings.

Then you choose a design or pattern. You trace, cut, and sew (I sew the pieces together and quilt by hand. It takes an average of about three months working diligently to complete a quilt; longer if the quilt is larger). Once the top is complete, you sandwich the quilt back, batting, and top, and begin quilting. Finally, you sew on the binding for the finished work of art.

Yes . . . art. And that’s something else I love about quilting. For someone like me who can’t draw or paint, quilting is a satisfying artistic outlet. Who can say this isn’t art?

 

 

 

If my friend Melissa quilted, she’d make this one. 

Over the years, I’ve made numerous quilts. I honestly have no idea how many. Most of them I gave away as gifts. Here’s a collage of a few quilts I’ve made.

 

My favorite quilt is this one my mom made for me. See my boys?

Mom wrote this on the back of the quilt.

In addition to quilts, there were several vendors at the show. I bought some fabric and came home with lots of ideas. I have two projects planned, but I can’t say what they are right now. It’s a surprise!

Welsh, Louisiana

Between Lake Charles and Jennings along the I-10 corridor lies a sleepy little hamlet called Welsh. With a population of 3,000, this epitome of a small town has been on my to-see list for several years. When I discovered that a friend’s sister owns a restaurant there called Cajun Tales (it’s promoted on a local television station and yes, advertising works) a group of us decided to make a day of it. Or, at least a couple hours, as is the case in a town as small as Welsh.  But there are enough attractions there to make it worth the trip.

Cajun Tales specializes in Louisiana seafood fare. The day’s plate lunch special was fried shrimp with french fries, hush puppy, side salad and some of the best bread pudding I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating. The fried mushrooms received rave reviews. Their fried alligator was also good. Another house specialty is the crawfish pie. I’d like to return someday to try it. Visit them online here.

 

 

After lunch, we set off to explore the town. We found a few shops to browse. There’s a neat, clean, spacious second-hand shop. Grandma’s Garden sells flowers, gifts and chocolates. The Farmer’s Wife sells gifts and specialty items and is adjacent to a hair salon. Around the corner, Cajun Treats sells Louisiana-themed novelties, food items, and assorted other curiosities. Check them out or order gift baskets here.

But for us, the highlight of the town was the Welsh Museum.

This tidy treasure trove of antiquity displays a mix of memorabilia that defines the history of this proud town. Lots of photos tell the town’s story. They have desks, books, and trophies from old schoolhouses, photos of the town’s earliest houses, churches, stores, and other buildings. Vintage clothing depicts the fashions of bygone eras. There are several examples of early typewriters and antique sewing machines, old farm equipment, fragile yellowed business ledgers, and furniture. The museum is housed in a VFW building, so there’s an extensive war memorial exhibit, with uniforms and photos and histories of the town’s many military men. There’s a display case of Indian arrowheads that were found in a nearby excavation. There’s a painting of a world famous fiddle player who lived in Welsh. We mused over old kitchen gadgets and a wringer washing machine. And how about this antiquated equipment from a dentist office in Welsh?

Aside from the Museum, the best thing about Welsh is the Dairy Queen! But we were too full from lunch to stop for a treat. Next time.

Remembering Adolescence

I’ve been going through drawers and closets -- sorting, tossing, donating . . . purging unnecessary possessions. It’s a good feeling; getting rid of clutter. But oh my goodness, the things one can find on such a mission.

For example, yesterday I discovered a long-forgotten diary of mine from 1972-1973. I was around 12 years old at the time. Forty years. That’s how long it has been since I had opened this book. There wasn’t a lot written in it. (The serious journaling bug didn’t bite until I was in my 20s, I guess.) So it didn’t take me long to sit down and read through it all. Each entry brought back a memory that I hadn’t thought of in four decades. In that brief sojourn yesterday, seeing myself through my 12-year-old eyes, I became reacquainted with a part of my adolescence. Insightful, to say the least.

This was one of my favorite lines in the diary: “July 10, 1972. Dear Diary, I didn’t do much but I had a good time.”

Yes, that is so utterly me. My best days are the days that are quiet and unstructured, simple and carefree, spontaneous and open to anything. Or nothing. In that respect, I haven’t changed much over the years.

But this is what I looked like at that age. Both shots were taken at one of my all-time favorite places, Swallow Falls State Park, Maryland. Throughout my childhood, we camped there so often, I feel like it was my second home. I grew up there.

  

 How about you? What have you held onto through the years that can take you back and remind you of that bud of a person who bloomed into who you are today?

Oh, and by the way, I’m having a garage sale in a few weeks.

A Wild Menagerie

For the past several weeks, there has been a vendor hawking curious wares on a street corner near my home. I chuckle and smile every time I see him, which is often, because he is near my home. The merchandise is so eye-catching, unusual, and, well, just plain quirky. I had some extra time today, so I stopped to take a closer look.

I spoke briefly with the vendor. He hails from Billings, Montana.  He buys these objects in pieces, welds them together and paints them, creating  objets d’art. If you are into that sort of thing. They are made of aluminum, so they aren’t as heavy as you might think. The smallest items sell for around $35.00 and the larger ones go for several thousand dollars. Lawn ornaments? Garden decorations? I don’t know what you call them, but it’s a fascinating menagerie of wild animals and an assortment of other oddities. There were golfers, fire hydrants, pink flamingoes on steroids. I saw garden benches, frogs, and wildlife-ish door knockers. For patriotic folks, he has a Statue of Liberty.

I’m not sure who would buy this chicken. Someone who owns a fried chicken establishment? A farmer who sells eggs from free-range hens? And why is the giant chicken being guarded by a blessed Mother Mary who is balancing on an orb?

Here's one for the avid sportsman. Yes, we have lots of those in southwest Louisiana.

 

 

What is that expression about when pigs fly? Hmmm.

 

I’ve always liked gargoyles. But these are just so . . . large. And I adore turtles.

Just makes me wonder. Does anyone buy this stuff? Or do they simply chuckle and smile when they drive by? In case you’re in the market for a giant standing roaring bear, the man says he will only be here a couple more days. Then he’s heading back north.

A Sunday Afternoon Crawfish Adventure

So it’s crawfish season here in southwest Louisiana. It’s an exciting time of year, each spring and fall. Similar to the mom and pop donut shops so popular in these parts (read that post here), small drive through crawfish stands can be found on most every major Lake Charles roadway.

Today was a lovely sunny day – perfect for a Sunday drive. Bob and I decided to go on a crawfish adventure, just to see how many different places we could find crawfish.

In Moss Bluff, there’s the Hot Spot.



In Westlake, Crawfish 2 Go.



On Ryan St., there’s Tails to Geaux. I’ve seen this place sell snow balls (snow cones, for my northern readers) and BBQ. Now crawfish. Guess they roll with the seasons.



Country Club Crawfish is so named because it’s on Country Club Rd. But Country Cabin Crawfish would be more descriptive.



Also on Country Club Road is The Crawfish Stop. I love all the different cartoonish crawfish depictions.



Naturally, all these mom and pop joints are closed on Sundays, so to actually eat crawfish and not simply look at signs, we had to go to an established restaurant, and it’s not always easy to find one open on Sunday in Lake Charles. But we knew for certain Steamboat Bill’s along I-10 would come through.

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There should be a bit of preparation before one digs into a platter of crawfish. First, push your sleeves up securely. You don’t want them getting messy or in the way. Then pull your hair back snug, because you are not going to want to touch it once you get started. Then make sure you have plenty of paper towels nearby.

Steamboat Bill’s crawfish were quite small (I thought maybe it was because it’s early in the season or maybe the weather had something to do with it, until later in the afternoon, when we found larger crawfish elsewhere). And they were super spicy, which I don’t mind so much. But my husband has an odd allergy to hot pepper spice and was red-faced and sweating buckets by the time we got to the last crawdad. (We’re used to it.) We also thought the crawfish there were a tad overcooked. No worries. We love Steamboat Bill’s, as does everyone in town, and I know this one negative review won’t hurt their business one bit. Anyway, I saw something at this restaurant I’d never seen anywhere else before. A wash-up station outside the rest rooms. How cool is that! Because it is absolutely essential to wash your hands ASAP after eating crawfish. Even after a dozen washes, your hands still smell like crawfish for a least a day or two.



Bob and I shared a small platter at Steamboat Bill’s because we were hoping to find another establishment selling crawfish, so we could sort of compare and contrast, you know, things like size, taste, spiciness, price. We drove from Steamboat Bill’s to Mr. Bill’s on McNeese Street. Closed. We went to Seafood Palace on Enterprise. Closed. We were just about ready to give up when, as we drove north on Highway 14, we saw another Crawfish Stop. Open. Score!

These crawfish were significantly larger, less spicy yet very tasty, cooked perfectly, and less expensive than Steamboat Bill’s.



So there you have it. Our Sunday afternoon crawfish adventure. Where do you like to get crawfish? Never eaten crawfish? Come visit us some spring or fall. We’ll show you how it’s done.

A Quiet Celebration

Have you ever noticed how some birthdays are simply more (or less, as the case may be) spectacular than others?

Today was my birthday, and truly, I think it must have been the most low-key unremarkable birthday I’ve ever experienced. It was quiet and peaceful. There was no party, no fanfare, no cake and candles, no gaily-wrapped gifts. The day was an exercise in appreciating small pleasures.

Several friends at my gym, Dynamic Dimensions, wished me a happy birthday this morning. Ms. Johnnie made me my favorite smoothie, a Berry Delite. My mom called. The sun was shining and it was warm enough to open the windows. I received some good news about a writing contest I had entered. The postlady brought a few birthday cards. And a Netflix movie. My husband made dinner and cleaned the kitchen. And no birthday girl could ever feel forgotten with all those Facebook friends! It was a pleasant day.

While the day may be over, the birthday has a ways to go. I have several breakfast and lunch dates with friends coming up. It’s not a birth-day, it’s a birth-week, right!