i have always had a bit of a southern obsession. i loved watching gone with the wind as a child… i was mesmerized by the big hoop skirts decorated with intricate ribbons and lace and layered over all the petticoats and cinched up corsets. i spoke with a terrible southern accent for the entirety of my fourth grade year, nearly driving my father out of the house. in my twenties, whenever i suffered a break up, i would return to gone with the wind and read in the middle of the night when i woke up miserable. “fiddle dee dee… i’ll think about that another day!” i’d tell myself when i couldn’t stop ruminating over whoever had broken my heart… just like scarlet. in my early thirties, i was invited to a wedding in north carolina. there were loads of southerners there, but there was one proper belle that i became fixated on. she was newly pregnant so she had a perfect little baby bump poking out beneath all of her floral empire waist sundresses. she always had a matching cashmere cardigan draped over her shoulders that never fell off, even though the top wasn’t buttoned. her husband wore pink pants and immaculately ironed button downs and loafers all weekend. i studied her and followed her around all of the wedding parties and events like a stalker. i couldn’t wait for the bride to return from her honeymoon so i could interrogate her about my belle. i learned that all of my belle’s towels were monogramed and every christmas her entire extended family had a huge photo shoot where they wore matching clothes. apparently, holiday cards are very important in proper southern families raising belles and gentlemen.

so you can imagine my delight when i learned that kale eating, fleece and lulu lemon wearing, relentlessly exercising boulder hosts cotillion classes every january. my children are half californian and half new yorker. neither state is known for good manners. i immediately signed my son up. the classes took place over six sunday afternoons in the winter. most of his friends could not be convinced to go because it overlapped with ski season. i did not give my son a choice. for the first couple of years i chaperoned a lot. this meant that i got to dress up and wear little white gloves and shake hands with the boys as they walked in. i also got to listen in on the lessons and i’ve learned a lot. for example, when someone asks you to pass the salt, you are supposed to pass both the salt AND the pepper, not just the salt. you should never butter your entire piece of bread. you are meant to break it into pieces one at a time and butter each piece as you eat it. and if you are unsure about which bread plate or water glass is yours, just put your pointer fingers and thumbs together to make a “B” and a “D.” i may have trouble with my left and right, but i do know my letters and this tip has helped me at many a dinner with a crowded table top. now when my children are eating macaroni with their fingers or telling a story when they have broccoli in their mouths i just sing out, “COTILLION!” i have to call out “COTILLION” a lot, but the classes go through high school, so we have some time to get their manners sorted out.

as follows, when we decided to get a puppy, i started asking around about dog training classes. nearly to a person, my dog owning friends recommended dog days in berthoud. hank just finished his first ten day stay at puppy finishing school. it was heart wrenching to drop him off - i cried for the first twenty minutes of my drive home. and my daughter cried violently, if briefly, most of the days he was gone. she really had a hard time because generally, she never knows what day it is anyway. so at least four times each day during his stint at boarding school we had to sit with a calendar and count how many days until hank would be home. my goals for hank’s cotillion classes were for him to stop eating his poop (as no gentleman should) and to learn how to walk on a leash. he has only been back one day and it is hard to tell what he learned because he is so tired he has been sleeping constantly. further, it is only 17 degrees in boulder right now… too cold for either hank or me to venture out. but i imagine i will be singing out, “COTILLION” far less with hank than with my children.

to read more about hank click here or here or here