Just south of us is a tiny French town with deep 18th century roots, and every year they throw a "12th Night Ball." It's a fascinating mishmash of re-enactors, people who just like dressing up, people who don't dress up at all, and a lot of little teenagers in prom gowns. Quite the mix. But hubby and I were excited to go because we had taken a dance lesson the month before and really enjoyed it, and were encouraged by the teacher to come to 12th night to help keep order along with the other couples who had been taking lessons. I'm sure the dances don't seem very complicated to most people but I have two left feet and a desperate desire to get it right. My gentleman had to keep kicking me in the shin and saying "It's just a dance, stop stressing!" We had a great deal of fun though and danced for hours!
The paper called up any participants from the neighboring county so we did get to be in the newspaper later!
My lovely handmade shoes did pretty well for the night although I started to get blistery toward the end.
It took us a little while to remember what we'd learned at lessons, I'm sure the poor teacher felt like she was herding cats from the stage. I took my neck handkerchief off...too hot...but should have taken the apron off too...oh the things we regret when photo evidence turns up.
I've given up on a pair of stays I was hoping to finish soon and think I'll just do slightly boned jumps. I've got nothing to support!
Hopefully next time I post, I'll have pictures of my finished crafting room which has been loooong in the making, but now has beautiful shelves full of folded fabric, and a cheerful color theme of light grey, gold and hot pink. Can't wait to finish it up soon!
