Best of 2009 Blog Challenge – Rush

December 16, 2009 at 12:21 am (#best09)

Somewhere in September, before the illnesses and injuries and travel started keeping me from getting my full 8 hours of dance a week, I pulled off the first truly clean triple* turn since college. Three spots plus a breath at the finish before coming down. Clean. Like way back when. It was such a rush I wanted to do a little dance. So I did.

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Best of 2009 Blog Challenge – Food and Change to Where I Live

December 16, 2009 at 12:10 am (#best09)

Let’s just gang these together here so I can move on to bitching about being single at Christmas. Sort of.

Food

Buttermilk panna cotta is the kind of thing I really didn’t need to know about. It’s not easy to find (unlike, say, bad pizza in California), it’s not exactly good for you, and it’s not cheap (unless you compare it to rack of lamb…or caviar). But I don’t know why I’m surprised that what I want is rare, indulgent, and luxurious. I should know myself better than that by now. Regardless, it’s SO. DAMN. GOOD. So good. Trust me here, I know dessert.

Change to Where I Live

Well, I changed where I live, so I think that should count. The best part? No roommates. The worst part? No longer living with my former roommates. They should move in next door…or maybe into the next building over.

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Best of 2009 Blog Challenge – Best Place

December 15, 2009 at 11:51 pm (#best09)

I know I’m way behind here, but I suck at a lot of things lately, so think of blogging as just the tip of the suckage iceberg.

(And I skipped best album because I have historically atrocious taste in music. Moving on.)

This is going to be a photo essay of sorts…about my new closet.

I have what my friends have begun to refer to as a “Carrie Closet” – that is, you have to walk through it to get to my bathroom. That door with my pajamas and the Sox hat (actually, hatS – there are two because really, who owns only one Sox hat?!) leads to my little powder room. When I first looked at the place, I thought of it as a nuisance I could accept in exchange for an in-building garage spot and a killer location. But I quickly discovered its possibilities.

Oooh, aaah, clothes.

You see this, my friends, in addition to being a walk-in closet, is a DRESSING ROOM. That’s right, a dressing room. Because I am a friggin’ rock star. At least in my closet. It fits my dresser and still leaves enough room to practice pirouettes (I mean…not that I’ve tried…). I organized it according to my very own supersecret, makes-perfect-sense-but-would-take-me-too-long-to-explain system, which, I must admit, is brilliant. At least in my closet. Between The System and having it all in plain sight (except for coats and suits which get their own closet in the hall), I never have to go searching for something and nothing gets lost in the back. I have a place to set out clothes for the next day (you can see tomorrow’s outfit hanging on the door in the photo up top) plus plenty of space to dump a dance bag and my various ballet/pointe/jazz shoes (not pictured, for damn good reasons!).

That jumble of shiny stuff is the pile of silver bracelet-type-things I plan to layer on tomorrow.

Every morning I use this space to dress, spray on a bit of perfume, steal a glance at that glamorous photo of my grandparents, and begin my day feeling like a million bucks. Over the past few months, this closet dressing room has gone from a nuisance to my favorite place.

The back of this photo is stamped, "Cedars Country Club, Lakeville, Conn." with "1939" added in my grandma's handwriting, which means this was taken the summer they met.

Forgive me, I thought it worth adding a close-up of this photograph.

P.S. I still wear the watch she has on here.
P.P.S. See?

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Best of 2009: Challenge

December 11, 2009 at 11:38 pm (#best09)

The biggest challenge of the year so far may be mustering the courage to make a change and take a chance. I don’t mean to be cryptic, but I must.

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Best of 2009 – Moment of Peace

December 8, 2009 at 11:25 pm (#best09)

Talking about Hawaii would be a cop-out. Hawaii IS peace and solitude and rejuvenation and contentedness. At least for me. At least in our little corner of Kona.

Talking about dance would be redundant. I’ve called it my church; there have been some powerful sermons this year. I go because I lose myself in it. Because the good and the bad of the day disappear into the movement. Because I find my peace in the studio.

Talking about wine would make me sound like an alcoholic. I’m confident that having two or three glasses a week doesn’t MAKE me an alcoholic, but there are days when I find a whole new world in the first five minutes of my buzz.

So, what, you might ask, will I be talking about? Well, swinging.

No, not the trading sexual partners kind, (I’m not into that, in case you’re now wondering) but the reliving childhood kind with some support surface hung between two chains, bars, or ropes. I LOVE swings. I like to push off hard then pump with all my might until I can lean back, let my hair fly, and watch clouds twirl above me.

It’s not just the connection to being a kid (with no job, rent, or adult responsibilities), it’s the wind. And the pendulum. Somewhere in that moment, at the highest point, you can suspend disbelief and think you’re never coming down. As if you are in fact floating. That breath – or maybe it’s more of a hiccup – is where I found my moment of peace this year.

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Best of 2009 – Blog Find

December 8, 2009 at 11:47 am (#best09)

Easy.

Ben.

Go, read, thank me later.

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Best of 2009: Conference

December 7, 2009 at 10:13 am (#best09)

This is part of Gwen Bell’s Best of 2009 Blog Challenge.

I went to two conferences this year. One reinvigorated me personally while the other reinvigorated me professionally…for about eight hours. Let’s stick with the first.

Asilomar is, well, stunning. It smells, and looks, and tastes like summer camp. And then add a quiet dinner by myself the first night (with too much wine) and an acroyoga session and intentionally disconnecting from everyone in my life (except, actually, Bridget) and you have one peaceful BS. Life looks good from that quiet, contented place.

No, it looks great.

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