AloooooooHA!

Good news! It looks like I'm going to pull through. The swelling has gone down, and I seem to be able to feel my face and ear again. I'm sorry for those of you who were hoping for new cars or other valuables, but your time will come eventually. Be patient.

So I am a hula dancer. I am one who does the hula. I am graceful, alluring, and really know how to tell a story with my hips and hands. Here's how I found out:

Background: We have a lot of people of Pacific Island origin in our ward. Last year our activities committee decided to have a luau, because it would be fun, and they would have lots of help with the planning. They got all the PI people to serve on the committee. This one old Samoan guy who got PART of the entertainment job decided to take on the whole thing and tell everyone what to do. Everyone had to obey, because he's old, and he's a man, and that makes him in charge. Also, the activities committee people didn't realize that a luau was meant to go on all day and all night, preferably for several days. Our ward is used to showing up for food and leaving within half an hour, before the cleanup starts. So the Samoan Patriarch planned an extravaganza that would last a good two hours, involving all the organizations in the ward, as well as some professional fire dancers and stuff. He told everyone when they would be practicing, which was basically two hours a day, every day for two months. Also, he would be using all the youth's activity time every week.

This did not go over well with me as Young Women president with other plans for the girls' time. So I boycotted by refusing to participate (also I had a slight knee injury that I milked as far as it would go). The youth loved it! They had a fantastic time, and of their own free will would go over to this guy's house every day in the summer and practice for like two hours. I couldn't even get them to come to Mutual unless I picked them all up, and even when I did, they refused to participate. So I guess there was some value in the dancing, but it kind of irritated me. I just felt like I should have been consulted.

On the day of the party, the men went up early in the morning and dug a huge pit in the church sand volleyball court and cooked a big pig. Then the SP's wife brought costumes for all the dancers, and after the dinner they all danced. It really was fun, except for the part where it dragged on and on, and people were grabbing their kids and running away as soon as they were done with their dances. Fortunately, the fire dancers didn't show up, so that cut the program down to about an hour and half.

This year, for some insane reason, they decided to do it all again, same guy in charge. Huge revolt among the youth leaders. The bishop explained to everyone involved that people would only be participating if they wanted to, on their own time. When the Sunday program was passed out, the bishop almost passed out. One whole page of practice times, with each organization scheduled at least once a day during the week. Bishopric member stood at the pulpit, and in a subdued tone requested support for the efforts of our activities committee. Brother SP, who has been somewhat cool to me all year, asked if I would participate in a singing group. I agreed, because I felt slightly guilty about dissing him last year, and I like to sing. Practices have been held twice daily for the last three weeks. This guy literally turns his entire life over to this endeavor. So yesterday at our practice, with five days left until the party, I'm sitting around with all these older, overweight women, and SP says, "So you're done singing for today. How about learning a dance?" Three of the women get up and leave immediately. I'm left sitting there with one other younger woman, trying to figure out how to get out of it.

Five minutes later, I'm standing there, learning these hula moves. "Hey, this is kind of fun," I think. Later: "Hey, I'm actually pretty good at this." Later, after SP and his wife stare at me in shock (I told them I can't dance, and that was really true as far as I knew), and the other woman keeps trying to watch me so she can figure out what in the heck to do, I think, "Hey, I'm feeling a little sexy here."

It's all in the knees. Mine now feel like they're swollen to the size of my head, which is pretty big, considering all the compliments I got. The trick for me was to remember, as I started moving awkwardly around, that those island women are sometimes very big, and they can still look very beautiful as they dance. So maybe this is the kind of dancing for me. I just loosened right up and went for it.

My favorite part was when I told them that my sister's husband is Hawaiian. "Ah," they said. "That's why you can dance." So thank you, my brother-in-law, for all you have taught me about the art of hula. I expect it is really going to take me places. At least to the ward luau this Saturday night.