The Nutcracker. Again.

My husband, Bob is a dancer. He's a really good one too. Half his career was spent as a dancer and I still love to see him tap. I don't know how anyone does that and he does it really well. But he's also a ballet dancer. Which comes with its drawbacks. Namely, we have to see The Nutcracker every year.

Now I have nothing against the Nutcracker but there are parts of it that are V-E-R-Y-S-L-O-W. Particularly everything in the first half. And then the second half of the second half. (In fairness, I have seen it uncountable times, sometimes more than once a year.)

When we were first married, Bob could never sit still. No matter what he was doing, watching TV, doing dishes, etc., he would do it while he did a barre. At night, he would go out on the lawn and dance with an ancient, heavy iron boat anchor (yes, a real one) and leap and dance with it to build his strength. He would work relentlessly on his "turns in second", building up to doing 32 in a row. He could jump and do a double pirouette in the air before landing. He could do lots of beautiful things that I don't have the names for. He would video tape himself and wince at his mistakes or strut with pleasure at his success. It was impressive, yes, but over time, it drove me nuts. He would watch Nureyev or Barishnikov and begrudgingly give them their due, but would gleefully point out their weaknesses. I didn't care - they looked flawless to me, but what the heck - it made him feel better to "level the field", as it were.

Every dance company where we live produces an annual Nutcracker. There are a zillion to choose from, it seems. Years ago, when we first moved here and he danced with one of the local companies, he danced rather significant roles. He would strut his stuff (or leap his stuff or pirouette his stuff or whatever other impressive ballet maneuvers he could do "back in the day") to some of the more exciting music from The Nutcracker. Especially the Russian Dance. We watched him excitedly as he spun nearly out of control to the wild applause of the audience at the big Civic Arts Plaza here in town. We're on year 9 or 10 and the past several years his roles have diminished in direct relation to his speed and abilities. Any dancer will tell you, dance is a sport - an extremely taxing one and it takes a terrible toll on a dancer's body over time. Bob gets up each morning with stiffness and occasional pain and waddles his first few steps until he gets in gear. In stubborn denial, he blames the mattress.

He was in rehearsal Thursday night and the timing was off musically. He turned too soon and got hit in the mouth by a ballerina. Out came half his front tooth. So much for the delicate flowers we see prancing around the stage. Those chicks are lethal!

So this year, at 49, Bob is the "Mouse King" which requires little athletically. He is also

"Mother Ginger", his opportunity to dress in drag and be rolled out on to the stage by about 50 little children hiding under his skirt.

That I want to see!

Part II

Saw it. Bob was hilarious as Mother Ginger. Milton Berle reincarnated. Just hilarious!! After mugging it up with raised eyebrows and kissy-faces to the children flowing out from under him, he fanned himself, primped himself, posed himself, led the audience in applause for the children, feigned demureness, flirted comically and as they rolled him off stage, he opened wide his arms and mouthed the words: "I Love You ALL!" He got lots of laughs and applause. And he did it all without totally upstaging the children. No easy feat.

He was ridiculous. I was very proud.