Gee, I have no idea why.

I’m facing the barre, up en pointe in fifth position, ready to follow the girl beside me in glissades down the barre, but I can’t go because Lé Assistant is reaching up-
-And she has to reach up because she is tiny anyway and I am over six feet tall on pointes-
-still need to tilt my head up to kiss my husband though, damn I love height-
She’s reaching up and slapping me all upside my shoulders and back, like whack! whack! whackwhackwhack! while saying, “Those shoulders! Drop them! Relax! Gosh why are you so tense tonight?!”

Posted in Ballerina Class, and other pointe-y stuff, Technique and Class | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Sock Tutorial—Extremely Difficult—Unless You Have A BFA In Costume Tech This Tutorial Might Explode Your Brain

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1. Get that pair of tights with the run in them. You know the pair I’m talking about.
2. Cut them. Use scissors, not your teeth.
3. Put them in your pointe bag.
4. Wear when you are getting all rebellious, like “Screw tights. I’mma wear leggings to pointe class”, but when in reality your feet still want tights.
P.S. Even better if they’re not convertible. But it’s not like you can control which tights get laddered, so if they are convertible, fine.
P.P.S. They must be long enough to tuck under the hem of your leggings, otherwise they will roll down and you will look totes ridiculous.

Posted in DIY, OMG outfits you guys! | Tagged , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Little Wooden Mannequin Project #9

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I love fishnets.

Little Wooden Mannequin Project is: my little boy plays with this mannequin and leaves it on the floor in some tortured pose, which I draw.

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Breaking the law, breaking the law

My teacher doesn’t believe in breaking in pointes.
He says it’ll happen naturally as you work in the shoe.
I have come to the conclusion that he is crazy.
So I got out the camera and the internet. To the bat cave, pointe shoes!
Here is the right, not broken in but worn in class at least seven times:

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Observe, that sole is doing it’s own thing. It is not even paying attention to my foot.
Here is the left, also worn in class at least seven times, (I mean duh, it’s not like I wore one and not the other) Plus broken in below the heel following the instructions described by Lisa Howell here at The Ballet Blog.
(She has such a lovely voice, doesn’t she? I like pointe questions as an excuse to go hear her speak.)

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Seems better visually, but not exactly forming a platform for my heel like she describes in the video. Will see if it feels any different in class. Guess it’s possible that this shoe is already too far gone at the mid-shank and it’s a little too late for breaking in at the heel.
That shank is so stiff though! Maybe I need to bend it more.
Don’t really want to buy another pair yet, as I don’t quite trust this class to stay together long enough to justify my purchase. Although considering I bought this pair in 2011, they have amortized out pretty ok.
Hmm.
Also, look at those gross puffy heels! Never noticed that before! The stuff a foot close-up will show you. Those things are super tight on flat, hot dang.

Posted in Ballerina Class, and other pointe-y stuff | Tagged , , , , , | 8 Comments

Tippy toes

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Hey Adult Beginner, sew anything lately?

Yes I have, super thanks for asking!
This, for a friend:

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Baby quilts are very satisfying to me in that they involve playing with color la la la, not the minutia of fit.
The Adult Beginner has made approximately one million baby quilts.
I used to wait until the baby was born and the name announced, so I could put the baby’s initials on the quilt, but the thing is, once my friends started having babies they started having a lot of ‘em and there was just not enough fabric in the world so I started putting the family’s last name on the quilt so it could be good for this and all future babies in a one-quilt-per-family lazy-quilter kinda way, but then after having my own baby and making my own quilt and taking them both to various places together I learned that I don’t actually like having my last name broadcast to the world via baby blanket, which is probably just my own paranoid problem and not something normal people worry about, but anyway now instead of the last name I do a big initial.
You can see here on the backside we have an L for Lucky Bastards Who Are Receiving This Quilt.

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Another satisfying thing about making baby quilts is that people who don’t sew, which is most people, see a handmade baby quilt as this super enormous investment of time and energy and they are totes impressed. They have no idea that quilting is a relaxing mindless thing I do while watching stupid tv. Let’s don’t tell them, right?
Yesterday I was finishing this one up Lazy Sunday Afternoon style while the baby was napping and Mr. Adult Beginner was out putting net over the tomato cage because damned birds have been eating all our damned tomatoes, and he popped in and was like, “Whatcha watching?” And I was like, “Oh! Some movie called Sophie and Sheba! This aspiring ballerina has to give up her dreams because her family sells her elephant to a circus in order to save their zoo, so she goes after the elephant and joins the cir-” And that was when Mr. Adult Beginner walked back out the door shouting, “Nope. No. Uh uh, too much, just stop it right there.”

Posted in Movies, tv, and live stuff | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

Adult Beginner stares into the abyss.

A few months ago I organized my big box of letters.
Gentle Reader, do you have one of these somewhere, stored in your parents’ house or up on a shelf in your garage?
Every letter from everyone ever?
Mine is a 12 gallon plastic storage tub, and it was full of chaos, just Worlds Colliding all over the place: best friend, pen pals, boy friends, grandparents, all jumbled up together, unread since the first time, plus a ton of those little folded-up-passed-in-class notes that high school girls do. Or did. Who knows anymore.
Settled in with the box and over the next few weeks sorted them all out by person and tied them in little bundles. With ribbon. I know. Such a girl thing to do but ribbon actually is, I found, the most efficient way to keep all these different sized stacks of different shaped things together. Considered consulting an archivist friend on how they do, but nah, Ribbon 4-Ever.
Except the folded passed-in-class high-school notes. Left those free-floating in the bottom of the box because they are very much like jellybeans: you don’t even really like them, but you grab a handful at random and get hooked on the trashy yumminess and suddenly realize you’ve eaten half the bag/been reading for two hours and your tummy/head hurts but you don’t want to stop just one more handful one more handful.
Sorting letters means reading them, and reading them means consuming in one or two sittings the rise and fall of an entire relationship, and then another and another, and even with the insight that a decade or two of distance and maturity brings, that’s some heady stuff.
It’s crazy to see how powerful words are, that, like, I’ve read all these letters before, they’ve already shaped me, they’re in me, they are me, but they can still hit me all over again in new surprising ways.
Anyway, the other day, consulting with the dental surgeon about my wisdom teeth, he was like, “If we remove this one here this nerve could sustain damage and there’s a risk of facial numbness, so let’s just not,” and I was like, “but just temporary numbness, right?” And he was like, “Nope, could be permanent.” And I was like, “but what about when I’m old, won’t it be a problem to still have that one back there?” And he was basically like, “well let’s say you live into your eighties,” (and I’m freaking out thinking what do you mean, ‘let’s say?’ What are you seeing? What do you know that I don’t??!!!) and he continues, “at that point, the risk of facial numbness is, kinda, not so bad comparatively.”
And I immediately got that weird time portal feeling I sometimes get, except this time instead of being linked to a happy moment in the future I felt linked to a scary sad future moment, and I also immediately thought of one of the letters, from a high school boyfriend, right after I’d broken up with him and he told his mother and he was crying and she cried too and she told him, “You can expect to go through this many more times in your life” and when I read that at age sixteen I just thought it was weird that she had cried too but to read it now at age 37 it makes me want to cry and cry, I mean what a devastating, bleak, dire thing to say to a teenager, and sitting there in the dentist’s office while having my weird time portal feeling and remembering this letter all I could think was (super drama, you ready?) ITS ALL OVER, from now on I can expect to experience that time portal feeling many more times IN A BLEAK AND DIRE WAY ONLY BECAUSE I’M GETTING OLD!!!!!!
Super. Drama.
Anyway, what I’m trying to get at is:
That whole day leading up to the dental consultation I’d been feeling cranky and scared and sad and heavy and tired and worried and stressed out and had been thinking I’d skip ballet and just, like, be sad all evening and forever, but driving home from the consultation, all filled with the image of being so old I don’t even care if I can’t feel part of my face, all I wanted to do was get to ballet class and use my body and feel it be strong and solid and happy.

Posted in the stuff drawer | Tagged , , | 8 Comments