Life, death, Avon and tap...

I can't believe it's been so long since my last post. Well, it hasn't been THAT long - a month or two ago I wrote this hysterically funny post about wearing all my mom's Avon fragrances to music class when I was in 5th grade. I wrote and edited and re-edited. Funny funny stuff. And JUST as I hit Publish Post - Blogger decided to do some much needed maintenance.

I'm typing like a mad fiend at the mo because I just KNOW they've scheduled a maintenance now that they've seen me log in.

So... Here's My Heart, Topaz, To a Wild Rose, and a bunch of others in one mad moment of 5th grade love. Poor Kerry Barnes. He got the full brunt of that toxicated, odorificous concoction. It was all for him and I made sure he got it. Now, why I couldn't smell *myself* was beyond me. It took the fainting bodies around me, Kerry among them (Kerry! Darling! Are you okay?) to alert me to the fact that I stunk. Like an Avon-afflicted skunk. If there's one thing you can count on with Avon - it's that they do not scrimp on the aromatic elixirs that they use in their fragrances. Heavy-duty arsenal strength stuff. Strong enough to kill mosquitos.

And that has reminded me of the time, after taking 6 full weeks of tap dancing, I did a dance routine on stage in front of hundreds of thousands of parents at our third grade pot luck dinner. Gloria Marconi playing the accordian in the background. Amazing. I have a feeling I stunk then too, and without the benefits of good old Avon.

I’m not even going to mention that I did a practice session of this dance routine for my neighbor’s insurance man while he was going over the state of their insurance affairs.

Can you imagine what I could have done with 12 weeks of tap? "And here she is! The toast of Lincoln Elementary School dancing to the strains of Beer Barrel Polka and wearing Hawaiian White Ginger".