During my career as a ballet dancer, I performed nearly every role in "The Nutcracker": from Fritz in the party scene to various candies living in the Land of the Sweets. I danced Nutcrackers in Juarez and Vancouver. In Seattle, San Francisco, and even Uvalde, Texas.
So by the time I turned 19 and ticked off my 150th Waltz of Flowers, I'd had enough of "The Nutcracker."
Visions of sugarplums made me want to jab my eyes out with candy canes. I would have rather listened to Salvation Army bells ringing outside Macy's than to Tchaikovsky's Christmas-shopping soundtrack playing inside Macy's.
Retired at the impossibly old age of 30, I figured I'd never have to listen to "The Nutcracker" again, especially if I did all my Christmas shopping online.
But "The Nutcracker" is like the Mafia; you never really get out.