Anyhow. Focus. As relates to the blog... Before we went, I tried on my dance shoes, figuring that they'd still fit, as I was in my late teens when I stopped dancing (back surgery will tend to put at least a temporary stop to jumping up and down vigorously). But no. My feet are now too long. Another reason that I really like this dance school is that there's a basket of shoes, free to anyone who needs them. So at least two pairs of my shoes will go into that basket next week, and I have a set of gilleys which fits. (The other three pairs wouldn't be useful: two sets of gilleys are ... heavily used (and one has my name in my father's handwriting; and there's a set of hard shoes which have nails in the toe which has been prohibited from competition in the past 15 years).
After we came home, and I wrote down what I'd learned (as I realized it was already fading), and recovered (soup and about four large glasses of water, with sitting), I asked my husband to remind me what he wanted us to do for the rest of the evening: get rid of the mess on the six-foot table. I forgot to take a picture at the very beginning, but here's the before-and-after. I only went through the baby clothes; the clothes still on the table are the ones TG will grow into pretty soon. (The bins on the floor under the table are too large for LC, and the overflowing box on the right side, believe it or not, is the current size. Even though I'd already gone through and there's not enough room in the nursery already for the clothes in the current size. There's always more.