Nutcrackin'

Few things evoke more emotion in me than Tchaikovsky's: The Nutcracker. That's due, in part, to the pure genius and beauty of the music. But, in large, it's due to the overwhelming amount of childhood memories that come rushing back at the crash of the cymbols and the cries of the violins in that piece. I was a student of ballet for fifteen years, and during those years danced in each production of The Nutcracker that was performed in my small, Missouri community. It was actually a family affair. My parents acted/danced in the opening party scene. My younger brother was a strong, masculine, Arabian prince. And, like me, my younger sister danced her way through almost every role in the ballet. See, here's proof from the mid-90's.

Seeing The Nutcracker at Christmas time has become a tradition for me...a tradition that I've sadly gone without during life in Turkey. Well, on Saturday, my "no Nutcracker" streak ended. My husband gave me an early Christmas present: a kid-free night that started at Boogaloo, our favorite swanky Cuban/Cajun restaurant in St. Louis, and ended at:

Aside from the guy who was snoring beside me (no, not Zach), it was a Christmas treat!