Kitchen dancing: Gettin’ down to the Grateful Dead
Dear Izzy, Max, and Kate,
Another installment in our “gettin down” series: Kate, my little hippy child, we just had an extended kitchen dance session to the Grateful Dead’s “Hard to Handle.” I was exhausted. You asked for more spins, kicked your heels, shook your arms, your curls bounced. And my not so great day drifted away with wailing guitar jams and your tiny hands in mine.
You’re a very special kid, Kate. Nevermind marching to the beat of a different drummer. You are the drummer! A flower child 45 years to0 late. Don’t ever let them change you my sweet Peedle. If you want to join a drum line in Boulder, CO – you go girl (as long as you’re there because you’re also training as a pro triathlete!).
I find authenticity in you every day. You inspire me to continue my search for myself.
My dance partner. Like your sister before you.
This isn’t much of a letter, I realize. But I wanted to remind you how special you are and how awesome our daddy/daughter hippy kitchen dance was.
Here’s what we danced to tonight while dinner cooked:
I love you,
Sat: biked 2 hours
Sun: Ran 9 miles
Tues: swam 1400 / Ran 30 minutes