This is what happens when you act interested in my blog- you get featured. Here's to Emily (cat to the left) and Brenna (girl to the right)

It seems I lack consistency...

So I have to apologize to my.....one follower (my sister), though I know there are millions of you out there, anonymously addicted to the earth shattering things I have to say who haven't left your computer or this page since my last post. To you anonymous addicts of eloquence, I apologize for keeping you waiting.

On Tuesday I went out of town from Dallas to Kingwood, TX (right outside of Houston) to see Marshall (who was prematurely home from being a kamp counselor on account of an evil case of mono). I had never been to Kingwood before. Kingwood is a forest. There are only trees and nothing else. 

Haha ok, that's not true, it just has lots and lots of pretty green trees everywhere, and was very much a culture shock to little miss Dallas over here....we went out to dinner, watched lots of tv, and viewed many a picture of Marshall's childhood (as well as 5th grade football highlight videos from a VHS tape soon to be converted to DVD so Marshall never has to forget his prime). The next day we woke up to watch USA dominate in the world cup, saw Toy Story 3 (round 2), made dinner (I was really nervous about that, but it turned out great!), and ended the night with Kitty City (a favorite puzzle of Mrs. Clapp, featuring 5 kittens peeking out from multi-colored bird houses sitting in a garden of sunflowers) The next day we loaded up and headed to Dallas where poor Marshall had to go to dinner with my ENTIRE family for my mom's birthday. The next day, I took him to the bus at 5:30 in the morning and sent him off back to kamp to finish his term! 

Since then I've been helping my sister, Sarah get outfits ready for her engagement pictures tomorrow, gathering decoration ideas my room for next year, and working with lots of cool kids teaching dance privates :) life is good! 

Until next time, dear readers...enjoy a picture of the cool kids at my mom's Italian birthday dinner 

Bethany Stutsman, escorted by her Father, Dr. Steven Stutsman....1, 2, 3, strike a pose.

Ode to Father- a little diddy about my daddy

With today being Father's day I feel compelled to write a little "diddy about my daddy"...

First and foremost I think he's as good as it gets. He is a lone ranger at our house, living with 3 of the girliest girls you'll find. He is slow to anger and quick to laugh. He leads our family with the love of Christ and pursues Him on a daily basis. He's one of the goofiest guys I know, and is probably half the reason I'm the weirdo I'm proud to be. He appreciates my passions and encourages my constant chasing after them.

Steve (my dad) is one of the only Dad's I know of who enjoys all the dance shows that come along with having someone like me for a daughter. Though it has been a long and achingly slow process, he has given me tough skin and a high tolerance for embarrassment. For example...

• T-ball games from the bleachers- (Bethany Goes to bat, Dad stands up) "Bethany! Before ya hit...PULL UP YOUR SOOOOCKS!"
• Kappa Alpha Theta New Member Presentation 2009. Dad's escort daughter across stage to pose for a picture. Did the Stutsman's comply? No. We strutted across the stage, arm in arm, and POSED for the picture. (picture posted above)
• Spring Break cruise 2009. My Dad competed in the "Hairy Chest Contest" on the main deck of the ship with, I mean, HUNDREDS of spectators, my dad competed against at least 20 young, tan, chiseled spring breakers in a contest that had nothing to do with a hairy chest...though my Dad does have a hairy one. A different random song would come on, and one at a time, the guys would dance down, shirtless, from the second deck to the first deck, where my friends and I sat, to their respective song. After my Dad came down with the crowd seriously ROARING, (he was hilarious) he came down for his grand finale, found me and my sister, and we both got up and kissed him. The whole ship thought we just kissed some random old man- it was great. When I sat in the hot tub a little later, I heard 2 teen-aged brats talking about the "weird guy who won" and for the first time in my life I got to say, "Hey, that's my DAD." It was so invigorating that I kept with the dramatic attitude (I still swear it was all in slow motion) and I stood up in the hot tub, shook my hair out, glanced back with an evil eye, and got out. [Dad won a bottle of champagne]
• Dance team date night at a Mavs game- Date says: "Hey Bethany...isn't that your dad?" I look at the JUMBO TRON to see my dad...doing the chicken dance mixed with portions of the thriller dance I taught him. Pants are pulled up and drastically surpassing his belly button- floodin' like you aint neva seen, polo shirt buttoned all the way up, and the dance team button with my FACE and NAME on it pinned, in clear view, to his shirt. Did I know he was going to that game? No. Did he go solely to do that? Yes. Did he get invited back with tickets paid for to be featured on the court at a half time as the "Doctor of Dance"? Why, yes. 

There's way more where that came from, but maybe I'll tell them sporadically in other posts. In honor of Father's Day, I made my Dad a card that is in the shape of my dog, Moe's head (he's a labradoodle. I'll post a picture of him too) that my dad said he'll use to post around the neighborhood, should Moe ever go missing. I crumpled it up to look nappy like Moe's curly body does, drew his face on, wrote a note on the back, and signed it from me....and Moe...........and the other dog, Harley who, let's face it, is second place to Moe. We're also going to see TOY STORY 3, me and my Dad's very favorite series. We need to leave in 15 minutes and Karen (Mom) is still blow drying her hair...typical. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed a little glimpse into the man who raised me and the diddy about my daddy. Happy Sunday, dear readers. Do something fun with your dad today...and then make a habit of it...because Dad's are cool once you let them be. 

Dad getting excited for Sarah's big day

(Read in really dramatic voice) "Why do I Dance? Why do I Breathe?"

Ok I'm fully aware that y'all thought I was cool until reading the title to today's blog. Rest assured that I'm still cool, I'm just quoting/making fun of a t-shirt I saw for sale at a dance competition once. I remember I saw it, laughed to myself,  and immediately began to point out the stupid shirt to my friend...I looked down and noticed that she not only liked the dumb shirt, but she liked it so much she paid $15 for it. Go figure...I don't remember what I ended up telling her instead of making fun of her new shirt, but I'm sure I was smooth. 


But all that is beside the point. I mentioned that dance is a big part of my life (I think) in a previous post, but since I have nothing pressing to blog about from today yet, and I just got home from teaching a delightful little girl a private lesson, I thought I'd talk about dance. (And she really was delightful, there was no sarcasm intended on my comment). Anyway, I started dancing when I was 3 I guess. I use the term "dancing" lightly, in that I took dance classes starting at the age of 3 and started actually dancing probably around 3rd grade. Poor dance loses a lot of little ones to boredom with skipping and curtseying to music while wearing tights and leotards in those first years. I guess I've always been pretty easy to entertain since I have always, even in the skipping years, been highly entertained in dance class. 


My parents were reasonable and let me try everything, of course. I tried my hand at t-ball, but that ended after a season or 2. No one told me when you play t-ball you sweat behind your knees, and that was NOT what I signed up for! Basketball, also short-lived, lasted a little longer than t-ball. I always liked basketball and I was pretty decent at it, but as the Shooting Stars (my basketball team of violet and gold) fizzled out, so did my basketball career. I guess soccer was next. I liked soccer a lot, and was an ever-committed defender for the Cowgirls who later turned into the Burn. (I picked out our jerseys...we were the only team with collars and we looked GOOD). Most soccer games for me were played with a ballet bun on top of my head as I had made a mad dash from Nutcracker rehearsal and changed from my tights to my cleats in the car on the way to my game. I also kicked the ball with my arms in a "low-v", if you will, with my dance hands flexed up. As time went on I grew increasingly afraid of the ball hitting me because, for one, soccer balls have more of a slap effect than a hit and when you mix that and winter tournaments with numb skin...somethin had to give. Soccer gave and I moved on to Junior High Volleyball and cheerleading. I loved Volleyball and still do. As the most awkward, chubby, brace-faced 8th grader you've ever seen, with a haircut just below my ears, I didn't strike anyone as Cheerleading captain. But Cheerleading captain I was. I still don't understand it. Thank God my older sister had paved the way for me by doing the dance team at our school or I might have gone the Volleyball or cheerleading route. (not that anything is wrong with either of those two routes- just not for me) 


So now, I like to think I have grown out of my awkward stage...but that's just what I'd like to think. I'm a dance major at Texas A&M with hopes of opening my own studio with my sister in Dallas after graduation. I'm just getting started on the networking and professional side of this business, so I teach privates and group lessons when I'm home in the summer and come home for choreography jobs if I'm so lucky to have them during the year. So if you're in the Dallas area and looking for dance- let me know :) 


I'm sure dance will come up again later, as I'm sure I will want to seriously discuss So you think you can dance season 7 (it just kicked off) and other things dance related. Thanks for listening to the babble, dear readers. Dancer or not, do a little jig today, you'll be better for it.