Shake that Booty, Sister.

So its been another crazy week.

I've had a ton of creative business meetings
to prepare for,
am working on getting a client's house ready
to put on the market,

and have even helped old friends
take care of their kids after
their nanny broke her leg.

Another round of my favorite kind of chaos.

So it goes without saying that my date-night Sunday,
which started with a pizza and some arugula at
Bottega Louie,
and ended with an entirely uncharacteristic,
life-altering experience,
was much needed.

My boy and I were given tickets to see
Angelique Kidjo,

*gorgeous

an AMAZINGLY talented, Grammy-winning
singer from Benin West Africa,
FRONT ROW at my
favorite venue ever,
the Walt Disney Concert Hall.

* Thank you Frank Gehry

She is just lovely,
has the most incredible voice,
(I was most moved by her song 'Petit Fleur')
and her stage-presence is delightful.

This was all well and good,
her beautiful voice,
the amazing architecture,
my man by my side...

When suddenly she invited anyone who wanted to
to come on stage and dance with her.

*this is the stage. note front row.

Then,
A HUGE Nigerian man with
a very large African drum
(forgive me, I don't know the specifics, but WOW)
came to the front of the stage and started playing.

One by one, the people who had collected there
were invited by Angelique to dance.

Alone.

With the man and his drum.

In front of the entire hall.

Again, all well and good.

Until she spotted ME.

In the front row.

Sitting.

The next thing I know, a HUGE spotlight is shining on me,
and I am being beckoned
to CLIMB ON STAGE
(in my 4" Rochas heels no less)
to dance to this man and his drum.

I took one look at my guy,
who gave me a daring smile,
and decided to go for it.

I took off the scarf I was wearing,
climbed on stage,
and danced to that African drum.

Like a white girl, no doubt,
sure with SOME rhythm,
but a white girl just the same.

And ya know what?

It changed me somehow.

Being on that stage,
letting go to the music,
in front of all of those people,
in my favorite musical venue in the world,
somehow
gave me the permission to just
BE ME.

So thank you,
Miss Angelique Kidjo,
for not only reminding me of who I am,
and what I am capable of,
but for allowing me to present that to the world.

4" heels and all.

xx