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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Don Pueblo who wrote (19148)	3/12/1999 10:56:00 PM
From: Ilaine	Respond to of 71178

I remember Poodle Skirts. I was too young for one, but when my dad was in dental school and we lived in the St. Thomas Project, there was one chick with a poodle skirt. She had all the guys after her. Wow, wonder how that story turned out? Hah, as if I don't know how all those stories turned out.

To: Don Pueblo who wrote (19148)	3/13/1999 10:52:00 AM
From: Rambi	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 71178

Penni's Poodle Skirt My mother had visions of her only daughter being the next Shirley Temple. It was a prime example of maternal delusion; I had dead straight hair and no dimples. Nonetheless, being a product of the Depression and an expert in "making do", she was not deterred, giving me a perm that more resembled an Afro than Shirley's golden curls and spending hours teaching me little songs complete with cute expressions and gestures. I remember being in a talent contest and singing "Let the Sun Shine In". I could only have been three or four but I still remember the gestures and can perform it for you after a few glasses of wine if you like. Then came the dance lessons. I remember practicing on the kitchen linoleum with her calling out the rhythms. "step ball change, heel-toe-turn to the right-- step ball change- slide left left left--" I loved my tap shoes. THey were shiny black patent leather with little black silk bows and when I walked they went, clicky clicky. I wore them ALL the time. THe first recital was a very big deal, at least to a five year old. And our costumes were a poodle skirt, just like the big girls wore! And I got to wear rouge and lipstick! And I remember so vividly standing up there with several other little potential Shirleys, looking out at the audience of moms and dads, and feeling so wonderful in my pink poodle skirt and special shoes and the music started, "step ball change, heel-toe--turn to the right- only I turned to the left (I was only five! THis right-left thing was still confusing!) and colliding with the little girl on my left who apparently had a better grasp of the concept. ANd I FELL. I FELL! On my little pinkpoodleskirted behind. ANd of course I cried and couldn't finish the dance. My mother must have given up on me as Shirley- as I don't remember any more dance lessons. But dreams die hard and I started piano the next year, which was much better, as you only have to get to the piano bench and then you sit down.