Hoofin' It

I’m practicing my pick-ups and trying out wings.

I’ve got a new tap teacher this year and she’s definitely picking up the pace in class. To move to a more advanced level I’ve known for a while that I've needed to master pick-ups and wings, among many, many other steps, but for some reason these two have been my continual enemies.

With pick-ups, I have a tendency to fall forwards. Or backwards. My sense of balance is not really fussed on which way to pitch me.

With wings, our teacher cautioned that if we didn’t have strong ankles beginners ran a high risk of breaking them. In my youth I managed to break my right ankle and snap a bone in my left foot, so I’m a little apprehensive about movement that encourages further time in plaster.

Our teacher also revealed some rather ambitious plans for our winter recital this year. Our “costume” for the past few years has consisted of black slacks and a nice Christmas sweater. When we’re feeling really daring, we wear mittens or a Santa hat. (Scarves were tried but rejected after one rather unfortunate practice session. Fighting strangulation while keeping a syncopated beat is hard.)

This year, however, she threw out words like “little skirts,” “hot pants,” and other scary terms that will involve some major YMCA time and a more balanced diet on my part. I’m hopeful she is teasing, but she is a tiny woman who could fit easily into my pocket and perhaps doesn’t not understand the distress those words cause to adult-sized women.

We shall see.