I blame my parents, but who really wants to point fingers? I’m a kitchen dancer and I come from a family of equally as energetic, though perhaps not equally as skilled kitchen dancers. Once again, no pointing fingers.
At the Whitney home, cooking is generally a community event. Mom does not ring the dinner bell to invite us to sup. She let’s us know we need to get in the kitchen and get started. Or we complain about how hungry we are. Either way, everyone, or mostly everyone, is there to help.
The more skilled and trusted you are, the more likely you are to get a harder job. For example, making drinks is farther down on the metaphorical cooking ladder then say, stirring the chili so it doesn’t burn. If you mess up a drink, you can dump it out and start over. If you ruin the chili, we’re all going to be livid for the rest of the night because we’re not going to put that burnt chili to waste. Unless it’s really burnt, then we might get Jack in the Box and love you forever, but that’s not a risk even I am willing to take.
No matter what your job or skill level is, if the music moves you, you dance (watch that chili so it doesn’t burn, though!).
People who keep knives on display in their kitchens intimidate me. A row of blades just screams, “NO DANCING” and we do not live in that backwards town in Footloose. Put those in a drawer, homie. I don’t trust that magnetic stip while I’m grooving with passion and all of my extremities.
I remember when I was little and had my friends sleep over, my dad would make pancakes for us and we would listen to irish music. Sometimes, we would do a lord of the dance impression.
One time, when Will was probably five or six we were all sitting around the kitchen table and Will walked into the room. My dad said, “Will bust a move.” So Will did a little spin move and smashed his head into the post of a kitchen chair. I think he laughed until he cried.
We don’t have too many cd’s in the kitchen, we’re more about quality than quantity. Naturally, we have a lot of country singers’ Christmas albums, Elton’s greatest, some ABBA and usually a Disney mix or two. We do have the ole Bose radio, which is probably one of the most well-loved appliances in our whole house.
The kitchen floor is where the five of us test out new moves and share favorites. We taught Will to waltz and lots of people to Polka. We taught my parents the Cupid Shuffle and Solider Boy. I remember doing the macerana with my sister a long time ago. It’s the only place I can moonwalk (the rest of our house is carpeted). It’s where my mom perfected the “Mom Twist” and my dad put his special touches on a move we call “Touches on the Soccer Ball.” It’s huge in Europe. Now don’t you want to invite my family to your weddings?
I took kitchen dancing with me when I moved out. I wish I could still dance at home, but that’s quite a dinner commute. I dance at the dollhouse as I cook. We have a little ipod dock and a tiny kitchen, which is just perfect. We also kind of have a Saturday Night Fever floor,what a bonus. Josh and I dance a lot in the kitchen, beginning with a late night grilled cheese one time.
If you haven’t discovered this art, you really are missing out. And you might even learn that you like to cook! Also a very happy wedding anniversary to my parents who started kitchen dancing!
Tags: kitchen dancing
