Last night I went to panel discussion at the Guggenheim Museum as part of its “Works and Process” series, in which artists discuss their current “work in progress” with the public. Last night’s talk was entitled “The Shakespeare Festival” and focused on the American Ballet Theater’s upcoming Met season, which will include several “Shakespeare ballets” — most notably their newest production, choreographer Lar Lubovitch’s rendition of “Othello.” This was my first time attending one of these talks and it was really interesting, albeit short. The space, downstairs in the museum’s basement, was very intimate, seating only about a couple hundred, in contrast to the enormous opera houses and theaters the company performs in. The discussion, by Lubovitch, Kevin McKenzie (ABT’s artistic director), and moderator Wes Chapman, was interspersed with performances of pieces of the ballet by the ABT dancers, of course! Our cast was: Stella Abrera as Emilia, Jared Matthews as Cassio, Sascha Radetsky as Iago, Xiomara Reyes as Desdemona, Sarawanee Tanatanit as Bianca, and some guy I’ve never heard of before named David Hallberg?? — as Othello.

When he walked onstage, Wes Chapman (gosh, I keep wanting to call him Wes Craven…) said he first wished to introduce the dancers “since most of you are probably confused by all those names in the Playbills and it would be nice to put a face to a name for once.” He said this totally seriously. And only about two people in the audience (including me) laughed. Are ‘normal’ ABT patrons really this weird, or is it me — am I the weirdo?

Anyway, David!!!!!!!!!! Unbelievably for me, I arrived a little late (cross-town buses on the weekend are evil), and it was general seating so I couldn’t get my usual spot — practically onstage. But even though I was about six rows back, everyone was so CLOSE compared to when they regularly perform. And David looked SO skinny — I couldn’t believe it. He was also wearing all black dancewear (a slimming color we all know — oh also, the dancers weren’t in costume; they wore their normal working clothes), so could have been that — but he just looked so small.

I can’t wait to see the whole production — choreography looks so beautiful, even though it’s a pretty bloody story. I think Lubovitch is so brilliant — I haven’t seen a lot of his work, but from what I have, he is definitely becoming a favorite of mine (and he uses the great one a lot in his work, so clearly he knows what he’s doing…). Seriously, it was the first time I’ve seen him speak and he sounded really erudite and perspicacious. He said he was trying to create a “ballet in pictures” and was not so concerned with a linear narrative (as was the playwright who, he noted, didn’t actually originate the story; rather an Italian man whose name I can’t remember now is credited with that, though it was really originally an orally handed-down folk tale) as with making something that was humanly relatable and emotionally true to the classic story. As someone who’s fundamentally verbally oriented, I have a keen interest in how the poetry of language is translated into the poetry of dance, so I was very intrigued. But, as I said, unfortunately, the discussion was far too short.

But the dancing was brilliant. David is a baby genius. And I can’t wait to see the whole thing. Although, I have to say, it was really amazing just being able to watch them up close in their rehearsal clothes, without all the elaborate stage sets and costumes and props in a huge house. In a weird way all the pomp and circumstance of the theater kind of distances you from what you’re essentially there to see — the dancing…

Anyway, the Guggenheim has several other dance events as part of this series. Go here to have a look.

So, thanks to several employees of the New York City Ballet (including most importantly dancer Kristin Sloan and her Winger, along with a total of about five State Theater ushers, box office salespeople, ticket clerks, and security guards), I was able to make, and meet, a great new friend I finally met Dea, who just moved to the NY area from Sao Paulo, Brazil. We’d met on the Winger message board a few months ago and became friends through our mutual interest in ballet and writing, and my keen interest in Samba and Brazil! She only moved here a week ago, but I couldn’t wait to meet up with her! We decided, appropriately, on a NYCB matinee.

While I was in the shower, I received a message from her on my cell telling me she’d be a bit later than the 1:30 time we planned to meet (which was perfectly fine with me since I was running late!), so I took my time getting ready, headed to the State Theater, picked up the tickets I’d ordered, then waited in the lobby. Before long the lobby was jam-packed with hundreds of patrons. I couldn’t believe it — I’ve never seen it like that before — NYCB is doing some good business this season!

Anyway, I became pretty nervous since I’d only told her to meet me in the lobby without specifying exactly where; there was NO WAY in this crowd she was ever going to spot me. I didn’t really know what she looked like since I’d only seen the picture of her on her blog profile, in which she has her head thrown back and is laughing, so I couldn’t really see details like hair length, etc. There was no way I was going to be able to pick her out! So, I called her cell phone to tell her I was standing at the info booth on the left side of the lobby, but Al, her fiance answered — from home! She hadn’t yet bought her own cell phone and had used his earlier before he dropped her off to catch her train! He assured me she’d find me; she was really good at such things, and that, judging by the time he left her at the station, she should be arriving just about now.

So, I walked around the lobby looking intently for someone who looked like the blog photo. About fifteen minutes later, the first hurry-up-and-get-to-your-damn-seats bell sounded, no Dea, then the second bell, then the last. I knew she’d gotten lost! I was so worried! This was her first time in New York, in the U.S. for that matter, and she had no cell phone! I must have been walking around the lobby with a quite frantic look on my face, because two security guards (one from outside, and one from inside) simultaneously approached me.

“Just give your friend’s ticket to the window clerk and she can pick it up from him, miss,” the one told me, the other agreeing.

“Oh no, I’m not worried about missing the show, I’m worried that my friend is really lost.”

“Can you call her,” he asked.

“No, she doesn’t have a cell phone,” I said.

“No cell phone?” they both said in unison. I know, unheard of…

“No, she’s just moved here and hasn’t got one yet.”

“We’ll tell her where to go when she gets here; you don’t need to miss the show,” the one said. Overhearing our conversation, a third guard walked up handing me an envelope. “Just write her name, put the ticket inside and give it to the window clerk. They’ll give it to her when she arrives.”

“But how will she know to go to the window?” I asked.

“Oh EVERYONE knows, trust me,” the one guard said, with a smirk.

“But she’s from Brazil. What if the customs are different there?” At this the inside security guard, who had a West Indian accent, looked up to the left, contemplating.

“The customs are the same everywhere. She’ll know,” he said after a few seconds’ thought, nodding firmly, like he was completely positive of his assertion.

“And, if not, you’ll direct her there, right?” I said.

“Yeah, of course. What’s she look like?” the outside guard asked.

“Actually, I don’t know.”

“What?” they all said.

“I’m meeting her for the first time today. I just know she’s from Brazil. And she has brown hair … I think.” They all looked at each other like I was nuts.

“Look, miss, we’ll take care of it. Just write her name down and put the ticket in and you go on upstairs. Don’t worry.”

“Well, what if she doesn’t understand English that well?” This seemed to crack everyone up. “No, seriously, I mean, you’ll like walk her straight to the window and everything?” More laughs. I’m a worrisome dork. Always have been. I worry about Everything.

“It’ll be FINE, miss, we’ll take care of her.”

Ugh. They seemed sure everything would be okay. I hesitantly approached the box office window, looking over my shoulder hoping she’d run in just then. But no such luck. I explained everything all over again to the guy at the window. This one was a real jokester.

“She not from this country huh? Ooooh, this could be fun!” he said with an evil grin.

“What?!”

“Ha ha, just kidding!”

“She has darkish hair, I think, and she’s from Brazil.”

“Oooh, Brazil,” he said knowingly. “Oh, I’ll DEFINITELY recognize her in that case.” I assumed he was being sarcastic so I apologized for the vague description. But then he said without any irony whatsoever, “No really, I’ll see her. If she’s Brazilian, I’ll know.”

“What? No you won’t!” I laughed.

“Yeah yeah, I will. Trust me. I will.”

I really didn’t know if he was for real, but I turned around one last time and Dea still hadn’t arrived, and both security guards were looking right at me chuckling and motioning for me to go in. So, I did. I got upstairs to the Fourth Ring and explained the whole thing again to the usher while she was trying to seat me in the dark during the pause in the performance.

When the lights went on signaling the first intermission, I jumped up, grabbed my bag, darted out of theater and headed for the stairs to the lobby. If she wasn’t down there now I was definitely calling Al again. But right then, I heard someone say “Tonya?” In the HUGE crowd of people making their way from the theater to the lobby or restrooms, she actually recognized me! So, Al was right! And I was right that she’d gotten very lost on the subway — oh no! She also told me the minute she walked into the lobby everyone seemed to know who she was — probably because she had a ‘lost look’ on her face, she surmised! Ha ha — thanks New York City Ballet ushers, security guards, and ticket clerks

So we saw last two thirds of the matinee’s repetoire together (one a Balanchine, the other Robbins’ “I’m Old Fashioned” — which we both loved!), took some pictures in the lobby, then had lentil soup and these enormous cups of organic soy tea at Le Pain Quotidien, where Kristin had taken the blogger gang the week before! We ended up having a wonderful time and I’m so glad she’s moved to NY so we can talk about dance and writing and hang out and go to ballets and Winger stuff, etc. etc. etc! I just feel so bad that she got lost. But all’s well that ends well, right!

On Thursday night, I received an invitation from my friend, the illustrious amateur Latin dancer, Mika, to attend the final dress rehearsal of the Viennese Opera Ball, held at the Waldorf Astoria hotel. Though I had an invitation via her, we weren’t exactly sure I’d be allowed in without being on an actual list, and so were devising ways for me to sneak in through side doors, etc. But, happily, I didn’t have to do any ‘Ball-crashing’ — the place wasn’t that packed and no one seemed to mind one little extra spectator.

It was really sweet. The performance (which was only about 20 minutes long; presumably the rest of the evening consists of the actual social dancing), was cute. First, the “debutantes” were presented (below — sorry pics are a little out of order…)

They did a courtly little dance, then were escorted off the floor by the gentlemen in blue to the spectator stands, to watch the waltzing couples (above two pics). In the second part of the piece — the waltzing couples portion, that is — the ladies scurry down the floor, the gentlemen waltz after them, they perform this charming little flirty number whereby the gentlemen surreptitiously steal the ladies’ bows, the ladies through cunning then pleading, get them back, then the two make nice and waltz away together.

I saw a few familiar faces in the show — one guy, Charlie, who used to take lessons at my studio, and another guy, who I think is another dance blogger. Anyway, Mika had invited me to audition to be in the show, but I had to decline since I know very little Viennese waltz. But the dancing was so lovely, and I really would love to learn it — so perhaps a goal for next year… Or one better, attend the real thing?!

Afterward, I went to my studio’s monthly party, where Pasha made an appearance!!! He looked REALLY good, and said he is slowly but surely getting his strength back, and hopes to be back to competing and teaching very shortly!! Hooray! (Also had a little talk with my other teacher, and things went well — looks like our little foxtrotting Sinatra Suite is back on )

Lastly, I’ve received info that the first of five segments of America’s Ballroom Challenge, which was televised at the famed Ohio Star Ball this past November, is to be broadcast on PBS on January 31st. Check local listings for exact times. I, unfortunately, wasn’t there this year, so can’t give any insight into what all went down, but it is one of the largest national events, and, as an authentic ballroom competition boasting as competitors some of the best dancers in this country, it should be of great interest to anyone who likes the more poppy TV shows. Please tune in and support ballroom dance! (Below is a photo from their website, of my favorite Standard couple — Victor Fung and Anna Mikhed — believe me, the show is worth watching just for them )

One of the hardest things for me about Latin ballroom dance is honestly the shoes. Above is my shoe collection — priced at well over $1,000. And I don’t keep buying more because I have some kind of stiletto fetish, believe me. I just absolutely cannot, no matter how hard I try, find a pair of high-heeled open toed sandals that I can dance in. My problem is that I have extremely small ankles, but the width at the ball of my foot is normal. So narrow shoes pinch very badly at the toe and start to give me bunions if I wear them too often, but regular-sized shoes are way too large at the heel and don’t keep my heel secure, so that at times, my foot has almost lifted completely out of the shoe, resulting in a near-twisted ankle. Also, I have an extremely high arch, so if the material at the front of the shoe does not extend well enough up the middle of my foot, the front of my foot will pop out of the shoe when I point. Finally, I have long toes, so in open-toed shoes, my toes tend to extend out the front of the shoe, hitting the hard-wood, sometimes resulting in splinters short-term, bone spurs on my big toes in the long term. Yet, if I were to get the shoes in a bigger size, the heels would be way too big, resulting in the twisted ankle problem.

The only pair of shoes that have ever worked at all for me are the Capezios, in the picture on the bottom right with the tango toe in twisted copper and navy blue. But Capezio is no longer making that style in a soft-soled Latin ballroom shoe — it now comes only in hard soled cabaret-style shoes. Still, they weren’t perfect — the tango toe was a bit hard to point in and the material at the toe was so hard that they ripped the cuticles on my big toe, forcing me regularly to pad my big toes with moleskin, even after a year of wearing them, when they were well worn-in. Not the most attractive look, but at least the heel held my heel and I never nearly twisted my ankle. Interestingly, the Capezio’s — the shoe that worked the best while it was still being made — are, at $90, are the second least expensive pair (Blochs were $85; most expensive were LaDucas at $290).

To the immediate left of the Capezios are a strappy pair of International brand which are way WAY too tight at the ball of my foot, completely cutting off my circulation and forcing me to hobble around after half an hour of wearing them. After a couple of weeks of trying to break them in, I couldn’t feel the front of my foot. I went to a podiatrist, who laughed at the shoes when I pulled them out of my ABT dance bag. Shaking his head, he told me it was no wonder I was losing sensation in the foot. I told him all Latin shoes were this way. He told me no serious worries, loss of sensation in the foot did not amount to loss of motor function. So, basically, just because I couldn’t feel my feet didn’t mean I wouldn’t be able to walk.

Next, atop the Internationals, are a brand called Gamba or something like that (I honestly can’t remember all the brands I’ve tried). Basic problem with those is that they don’t hold my foot in them — kind of defeating the purpose of having a shoe in the first place: the straps are too far apart at the toe, so my toes come straight out of the edges of the shoe; if I have the ankle strap buckled tightly enough so that my foot doesn’t come out the front, it cuts off my circulation and sometimes literally creates a bloody mess. Exact same problem with the Freeds, to the right of the Gamba’s.

Proceeding to the top circle, from left to right. On top left are black tango shoes. These, and the LaDuca’s next to them have the best heels — only 2 inches tall and wide, allowing me to keep my balance. However, the tango shoes, though fitting at the heel, are too narrow at the toe (I have 1/2 hour tops of wearing them before I’m in such pain I can’t walk, let alone dance). The LaDucas work okay, but if I’m ever going to compete, closed toed shoes in Latin are an absolute no no. In any event, LaDucas all come in medium width, making them too wide at the heel for me. I had to take them back to the store three times to have more holes created in the strap so I could buckle them tighter and tighter, but now, because of that slightly off center t-strap, they’re pulling too much at the toe, creating serious toe pain. However, LaDuca guy told me I need the t-strap shoe, because, in the shoe sans t-strap, my foot will pop out the front when I point.

Next to LaDucas are the Blochs. Bloch just started making ballroom shoes, and I was told by the clerk these were the ones the ABT ballerinas wore in “Fancy Free.” However, upon seeing the ballet recently during ABT’s City Center season, and sitting practically onstage, I can assure her that only Angela Snow, who danced the very small part at the end of the ballet, was wearing these — and she looked very wobbly in them. Indeed, the heel is so narrow, it’s nearly impossible to stand on let alone dance on. Also, long toes come out the front of the strappy straps. Also, these, when buckled as tightly as I need to buckle them to keep my ankle secure, rip into the vein running underneath my ankle.

To the right of the Blochs are the second pair of Freeds. These are fine except the front of my foot, from ball to toe pops out of the front of the shoe when I point because of my high arch. So, after pointing, I somehow have to nonchalantly stomp on the front of the shoe to get my foot securely back in — which I don’t think will look too keen during competition or performance. Also, Freed does not design their buckles well. In neither Freed shoe style can I buckle the strap when it’s tightened tight enough to keep my heel in place. So, I can only get the metal thingy in the middle of the buckle into the hole, without being able to get the strap then back through the buckle. Looks stupid, and, needless to say, is not very secure.

To their right are the fancy pair of Internationals. These are so high (3 1/2 inches) that I really can’t balance. Plus, I’m taller than all of my male partners in them. Plus, the toe is not flexible enough and doesn’t allow me to point properly. Plus, the toe is sooooo open, my foot comes forward and out the front leaving my heel insecure risking the twisted ankle.

Finally, all the way at the top right are these Mootsies Tootsies brand (can’t remember the exact name but it’s something like that). Everyone makes fun of me when I wear them because they’re not a serious competitor brand (as the name implies), but a social dance brand. I didn’t care when I bought them; I was just desperate for a shoe that fit, and they seemed to in the store. But, as I learned, when dancing my rhumba routine with Pasha, the soles are so soft that they buckle under my foot. At one point, while trying to do a sexy rhumba walk around him, the toes of my right foot pointed (in arabesque position — so foot was behind me), and, as I brushed my foot forward through the floor, toes went completely through the straps, leaving the shoe under my foot, the ankle strap ripping through my skin while my foot went forward without the shoe. I literally tripped and fell.

“Tonya, you must get used to one pair of shoes,” Pasha always used to tell me. Having some kind of a shoe malfunction was nothing new with me, so he almost laughed with the Mootsies Tootsies mishap. Okay fine, but which pair? If I force myself to ‘get used’ to the wrong pair I could end up with a twisted ankle, severe bunions, or complete loss of foot sensation.

Oh, why can’t I just wear these! I know, not exactly attractive paired with a sexy Latin costume… I often wear the soft jazz shoes (on right), or teacher ballet shoes, which have a slight heel and suede bottoms allowing them to glide over hardwood floors (on left), but then when I go to practice the routine in the proper shoes (ie: evil Latin stilettos), I’m two to three inches taller and the partnership is all off. When I practiced my snake with Luis (where he dips me sideways, then I slither down and go through his legs, ending up behind him), we did it a bizillion times perfectly in my soft jazz shoes. When I started wearing the high Latin heels, I was suddenly banging my head into his crotch on the way through…

Well, one fun thing about these street Samba classes I’ve been taking recently at Ailey, is that, I just wear these:

No super skinny heel that I can’t balance on, no toe straps to fall through, no ankle straps to slice my skin, and, most of all, really inexpensive!

Last night my friend, Kathy, and I took Quenia Ribeiro’s Samba class at Alvin Ailey (me for the second time now, Kathy for the first). Kathy seemed humorously dumbfounded (like I think everyone is the first time they try the dance!), but she seemed to have fun — at least I think she did! But I thought it was actually harder this time — it seemed that the actual steps were more complicated than last time. Then, I at least knew where to put my feet on the floor, and just struggled like crazy with moving my pelvis and rib cage properly. But this time I couldn’t even get the steps down well enough to focus on body movement. Ugh.

In class I saw an acquaintance from my ballroom studio. We chatted a bit and she said she’s trying to save money by taking street Samba instead of ballroom as well. I guess I’m not the only one overwhelmed with the cost of ballroom…

Anyway, Quenia told us last night that she will be in Brazil for the next month for Carnival (lucky lucky her!), so there will be a substitute teacher at Ailey, which will probably be good for me since the sub hopefully will not know how advanced all of the “beginner” students are (maybe the more advanced dedicated Quenia students won’t even show?…) and will go A LOT slower. Fingers crossed anyway. Well, I bought Quenia’s instructional DVD and am going to practice like crazy over the next month so maybe I won’t be such a sorry sight when she returns! Hopefully by just watching her on tape, SOMETHING will seep in…

Speaking of great Brazilian dancers … the awesome Chimene sent me this link. Funny thing is, though of course I HAD to add it to my blogroll immediately (the link is the exclamation points at the top of the ballet section, because that is how I think of him — in exclamation points ) and know I am going to be searching MySpace for his comments to his friends, I can’t help but feel kind of weird doing so. I remember reading a discussion on Ballet Talk not long ago where people were agreeing that it was probably better not to meet your favorite dancers for fear of disappointment. Not that a huge amount of info is revealed on MySpace, but still, do I need to know that he’s “in a relationship” or that some of his friends seem a little … hmmm … outlandish!? I don’t know… It’s just weird seeing someone who has kind of a celebrity status to you, whom you admire / worship / have a gigantic crush on just talking freely in an open forum like that .. and whether it’s actually hanging out and conversing with or just watching in on the conversations of said admiree / idol / crush object — I mean, you’re bound to be disappointed if they don’t live up to your expectations, if they’re not perfect, which they won’t be since they’re human of course…

On the other hand, look at the cute cute puppy! (who looks rather contemplative in this pic). And look at his answers to the profile questions … Ugh, how could anyone not just LOVE him?

Last night, my friend, Alyssa, and I went to an event that Kristin had told me about when I met her on Sunday. (She also posted about it on the Winger, here). LVHRD (live hard without the vowels), an arts organization whose mission is to bring together progressive artists, holds events throughout the city in which different kinds of artists compete against each other. The materials to be used in the competition and the location of it are not disclosed until the day of the event and are then relayed to participants via text-message. They’ve previously held competitions between dancers, visual artists, and fashion desingers, but last night’s duel was the ‘Battle of the Architects.’ A duo of female architects from two firms were given a limited amount of time in which to plan and design a layout, then build a model of it. The main material to be used was — cheese, which female registrants to the event were told in the text message to bring. I had a Media Bistro panel discussion to attend immediately before, so Alyssa bought our cheese — Alyssa rocks!

After letting the architects go at it for three hours (oh, by the way, the competitors are separated by a big screen so they can’t see what the other is up to), we voted by text message for our favorite.

Field Operations (above) was the winning team. I think everyone liked them mainly because they wore dresses made of material that they used in building their model — so throughout the competition they ended up cutting off large portions of each other’s costumes (the one with the more geometric design ended up with a rather short skirt). Interesting schtick. Below is the other team, Balmori Associates:

The LVHRD people all had cameras and video recorders and were going around snapping pictures, which they’d then post on the giant screen behind the action. In the very top picture above, if you look hard at the screen, you can see Kristin. They got two silly ones of me — one where I look like I’m on something serious while talking to Tony Schultz from the Winger, and another where I’m at the front of the crowd at the stage looking a little too excited about getting a shot of one of the models.

So, as I just mentioned, Tony was there too, and Alyssa and I spent a lot of time chatting with him. Found out that I totally got his bio wrong in my last post — oops! But, he said he rather liked my reinvention of him, so didn’t correct me Anyway, he’s really a PHYSICS grad student at CUNY (which explains why 99% of what he says is way over my head!) and teaches at Sarah Lawrence — go here for his real bio.

Scariest thing about the night was that Dewars had hosted the event, so there was a free Dewars bar. Alyssa and I each got a cup of Scotch and gingerale. Alyssa was practically on the floor after finishing about 2/3 of hers, but somehow I downed my whole glass without feeling a thing — extremely weird since I am usually a complete lightweight… Either the bartender must have taken one look at my face and thought I couldn’t handle much alcohol, so went heavy on the soda, or else I am becoming a lush

Doug Fox, who runs the excellent, extremely informative and technologically innovative blog, Great Dance, was in town this weekend for a dance conference he was covering. So, several of us NYC dance bloggers arranged a little get-together with him. From right to left is: Kristin Sloan (ballerina with the New York City Ballet, in case you’re new to my blog and didn’t know that from the umpteenth times I’ve talked about / linked to her!) who created the best-known and I think first (?) diary-esque dance blog a couple of years ago — the awesome Winger — and is hence really the mother of all dance bloggers!; Tony Schultz, a modern dancer and PhD candidate in dance and technology at Sarah Lawrence who contributes to the Winger (and has a very fun personality by the way ); Parker, a ballet dancer, turned Belly / Latin ballroom dancer AND law student by day who writes the sweet Salome Justitia; Doug; and on the end, little ole me (with extremely flat New York winter hair!) I love how Kristin is holding that light away — in true pro dancer fashion with the flair of her hand!

We met at a little bistro across from Lincoln Center — where else! — and chatted for a couple of hours. Everyone is working on such fascinating projects and is so interesting and ambitious and inspiring. I was so happy finally to be able to meet everyone. I’ve been faithfully reading Kristin’s blog for almost a year now — it was actually the first blog I ever really read (at least daily … okay, hourly…) and is what made me want to start my ballroom one, so it was really kind of surreal meeting her! And I can’t wait to read all about this event that Doug attended. It seems that he saw tons of great performances and met many interesting people, so check Great Dance, where he’ll be posting about it for about the next week or two.

Fun fun time If you’re a dance blogger and you’re in the area and want to be included in the next get-together, it looks like Doug is setting up a list, so contact him!

I LOVE this. What a perfect YouTube video for a criminal appeals lawyer / dancer! If only Wordpress could embed… Leave it to Chimene, unearther of many a fabulous find, to discover it Chimene, you rock!

It’s Saturday morning and my dance studio just called me to make sure I was okay, since I haven’t been around in the past week and a half. How sweet to be missed And I’ve missed them too — I HATE being away from dance for so long… Just had a couple of crazy busy weeks.

Tuesday night I went to the monthly Writers Room member reading series at Cornelia Street Cafe. Readers that night were the sweetly funny Jill Dearman, Douglas Light, reading from his (published — how jealous am I!) novel, East Fifth Bliss, and Julia Lichtblau, who read her charming short story about a Guatemalan girl adopted by U.S. parents making the difficult decision to search out her roots. Just a few months until I read, for the first time, and I’m honestly getting nervous. How I can be anxious about reading in a cozy cafe in front of about 50 people from a manuscript read by practically everyone I know, as well as several agents and editors, and too numerous to contemplate writing classmates, when I have shown off my not so brilliant, two-year-old dancing skills on two real stages to a total of about 1,000 audience members, I’ll never know… but somehow I am. Well, the dance performances have been practice, I guess.

The host, Stan Richardson, was a bit punchier with the readers this time than last, asking them questions like, what is your most prized writing accomplishment (what am I going to say, my blog???), and what hours do you keep at WR so people know when to mob you, and, do you have anything else in your life that you’re proud of. The only question he asked that I would have any kind of interesting answer to was, when did you join WR. I joined right after Brooke Shields (who I assume was using the Room to write her memoir about her post-partum depression). They take everyone’s picture when you join and then post photos of the new members right above the entranceway for about six months. So, my lovely mug shot, in which my eyes were half closed, was right beside Brooke’s superstar photo gracing the doorway for six long months. I never did see Brooke in the Room, although I’m an evening and weekends member; she was probably there during the day. Or maybe she just joined thinking it a prestigious organization, and really has her own fancy loft somewhere in Manhattan in which to write? In any event, even having a crappy picture next to Brooke’s gorgeous face, I have to admit I felt very cool belonging to the same organization

Wednesday, I attended a panel discussion organized by the Women’s National Book Association, on alternative publishing methods, entitled “Entrepreneurial Publishing: Print-on-Demand, E-books, Back-into-Print, and Other Alternatives to ‘Publishing-as-Usual’”. Ever since reading Chris Anderson’s The Long Tail (which I actually discovered through dance, when Kristin Sloan posted on the Winger about attending his book-signing party), I’ve been interested in how the internet is affecting the publishing industry. I was particularly interested in POD (print-on demand — basically self-publishing wherein a small number of books are printed and sold by the author directly on Amazon, for example), but knowing very little about publishing, I still don’t entirely understand it. I oftentimes feel, when I am attending a publishing panel discussion, that I’m eavesdropping on a conversation already underway since most of the audience members are in the industry. But I do glean small bits of information, which is why I go.

Anyway, one of the most interesting parts of the discussion was a last-minute addition to the panel — Adam Bellow, who is pictured above with the mike. Bellow (who I just found out by doing an internet search so I could link to him, is the son of Saul Bellow — wow!!!), is an editor at Random House who just started a new pamphleteering press. He said that pamphleteering has in the past been very important to intellectual life — think John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty, On the Subjection of Women, John Locke, Adam Smith, etc. etc. etc. — and that creating such a press was not possible until the emergence of the internet and the lively intellectual culture it created. Hmmm. Sounds very cool!

Here are some books they had for the taking at the discussion — two romance novels published by Lori James’ Linden Bay Romance, which specializes in electronic formats and trade paperback, and one from Bellow’s company, which is titled, “Everything Could Explode at any Moment: Dispatches from the Lebanese-Israeli Front,” by Michael J. Totten. How very fascinating that the internet has made possible the return of lively 18th and 19th Century intellectual-political discourse!

Then, Thursday night I pulled practically an all-nighter at the office finishing up and filing a brief. And last night I tried to go to a birthday party for a fellow dance blogger — happy birthday, S.J.! — but only made it about ten percent of the way through before having to go home and crash, ridiculously early, on a Friday night (and, to boot, was so tired I forgot to take pictures — bad bad blogger!!!) Anyway, I’m pooped and looking forward to a relaxing weekend…

Who us? Of course not!!! Above is a picture taken last night of my good friend Evangelina (who is on the right) and me (sorry for poor picture quality; could my camera please not have a nervous breakdown whenever both zoom and flash are used simultaneously???) We’re in the very comfy lobby of the off-off-Broadway theater Center Stage, waiting to see a new play called “The Dirty Talk.” It was a special occasion because it marked the foray of Evangelina’s husband, Michael, an accountant and actor, into theater producing — go Michael!

The play was good. It was about these two men who agree to meet in person after having met online in one of those naughty-talking chat-rooms. Only the one guy, characterized by the title of this post, thinks he is going to be hooking up with a Hooters-working nursing-school student with the stereotypical enormous breasts, instead of a sensitive bisexual man. The two end up stuck alone together in a Jersey cabin out in the woods during a nasty thunderstorm, and the encounter eventually compels the first man to explore the reasons underlying his, shall we say, problematic personality traits, which are partly responsible for ending his marriage, and which stem from upsetting childhood experiences in which his father attempted to “make a man out of him” via various disturbing rituals.

Why do men do that to their sons??? My grandfather and grandmother did that “becoming a man” b.s. to my dad by forcing him into the army. But he was far too sensitive for the military, and I think it’s permanently damaged him psychologically.

Anyway, my only gripe with the play was with the second character, who I thought was just not fully fleshed out enough. I understood his need to pretend to be a woman online, but couldn’t fathom what he was thinking by actually showing up at the cabin as … himself. At one point, the other character asks him, “what were you thinking?” and he doesn’t really have an answer. So, he seemed to be more of a catalyst for the other, more compellingly dynamic character’s self- exploration.

The acting was excellent, and the play was by turns hilarious and sad. I used to go to these small off-off-Broadway plays all the time when I first moved to New York, and haven’t been in a while. I’d forgotten how much I like them. You can sit practically onstage, where you can see the action up close and really feel like you’re a part of it. To me, you get so much more out of the production than you do a big Broadway play, which, in those huge theaters, is so distancing in comparison. Evangelina and I have both been so busy — me with dancing and writing and working, and she with her new marriage and her and Michael’s decision to buy some property upstate and build their first house (!), that we haven’t seen each other in nearly a year. But, as with all close friends, the minute you plop down next to each other on the sofa with a glass of wine and start yapping away, it’s like you just saw each other!

I hope everyone had a nice day off today in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King. I didn’t have to go into the office, but I brought some work home, which makes me feel a bit guilty, being from the Evan Mecham state and all… But, at least I only read the transcript from my next case’s Voir Dire (Jury Selection), which I don’t see so much as work: it’s one of my favorite parts of the trial since it’s where I get to “meet” all the different kinds of New Yorkers who are considered for selection on my client’s jury. Anyway, Wordpress blogs don’t take kindly to YouTube embeddings, so I’m linking to Doug Fox’s post today, for The Speech!

Received some very worrying news. One reason I’d begun taking lessons with a new teacher is that Pasha, my teacher of a year and a half (pictured above, competing at the U.S.National Championships last September with his pro partner, Anna Garnis) has been MIA from the studio since our last showcase in October. I’d originally been told he was “taking a short break” and would be returning soon to resume lessons. Being the most popular teacher at the school (that’s where looking like a 26-year-old Latin Baryshnikov, and being an awesome dancer to boot, will get you here in these United States ) and having so many students that in that last showcase they had to set up a Chinese screen in the wings for him so he could zip in and out of his various costumes during the show, I figured we’d all run the poor guy down to the point that he needed a big long break from us all. But it’s now been a while.

So I made some inquiries. Found out that he wasn’t just taking a break, he’s been very ill, and even spent some time in the hospital.
Apart from the sadness of his being sick, everyone is so worried about him financially. Most ballroom dancers (and I would suppose most dancers in general) have no health insurance, so these medical bills are just going to be astromonical. Plus, most ballroom dancers make their living entirely by teaching, and they’re not salaried, so every day he’s bedridden is another day he’s losing out on essential income derived from his lessons. People are thinking of organizing some kind of benefit for him at the studio, and I’ll definitely post about that if it comes to fruition. I’m just so worried. Please keep him in your prayers and thoughts.

I’m stealing this from Konagod. Because it’s a fun one, and I like how some of the questions are phrased:

1) Name a book that you want to share so much that you keep giving away copies:

I can’t afford to buy copies to give away, but I’ve lent out my copy of Dreams of My Russian Summers by Andrei Makine so many times that pages are now falling out.

2) Name a piece of music that changed the way you listen to music:

I’m not a big music person, but I’ll never forget the first ballroom Samba class I took at DanceSport, my first studio, with this extremely fun, but somewhat crazed Greek woman named Roula Giannopoulou. I’d never heard Samba music before, nor had I ever taken a Samba dance class, and I have no idea now exactly what piece of music she played, but with the wildly intense percussion produced by several kinds of drums, intriguing sounds of other musical instruments I didn’t recognize, the different timing, the beautiful, poetic flow of the Portuguese (which of course I didn’t understand), and just the overall mad-fun atmosphere the music created, I knew I was going to love the class before Roula even made her way back from the stereo to the front of the mirror to show us the basic. As I learned the dance (and the other Latin dances as well), I had to concentrate really hard to hear the beats, so I wouldn’t be off-time. It also made me interested in the culture which produced it, which I knew from from the foreignness of the music alone, must be quite different from my own. So I guess it is in these ways that I learned to listen to and think about music differently: not just to get lost in it, but really to hear the drum beats, the rhythm, the way it was all put together, and view it as a window into another place…

3) Name a film you can watch again and again without fatigue:

In the Name of the Father — for the music, the story, Daniel Day Lewis, the setting, everything…

4) Name a performer for whom you suspend all disbelief:

On screen, Sean Penn; on stage, Jose Manuel Carreno.

5) Name a work of art you’d like to live with:

Pot Head, by Paul McCarthy. People accuse him of being lewd, bawdy, and prone to sensationalism, but I think the man tells it like it is

6) Name a work of fiction that has penetrated your real life:

Just one? — impossible. Middlesex, The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love, Native Son, The Grapes of Wrath, Howard’s End, Crime and Punishment…

7) Name a punch line that always makes you laugh:

This one’s hard for me. I don’t know if I know any punch lines, but I’ve always been humored by the movie line: “Dear Diary, my teenage angst bullshit has a body count.” From Heathers.

Extremely corny play on words, I know…

Ugh. Last night I had another ballroom lesson with my private lesson teacher, with whom I’m working on a foxtrotish version of Tharp’s Sinatra Suites for the school’s next student showcase, coming up in April. I had a very stressful day at work, and I was so frazzled I completely forgot to eat, which, before a dance lesson, is just not conducive to success. At least not with me. About half an hour before I had to leave for the studio, I tried to scarf down some yogurt and granola, but ever since I developed my Globus a few years ago, scarfing is just not possible; I have to eat s-l-o-w-l-y. Anyway, I managed to ingest about 1/4 of the cup, while stretching and packing up some home-work for later in the evening (nothing like multi-tasking!). But, with only a bowl of cereal and small cup of coffee about nine hours earlier, that quarter cup of yogurt wasn’t enough to keep me focused.

I think. Or it could just be the increasingly weird dynamic I seem to be having lately with my teacher. He seemed to be yelling at me for everything. He kept telling me to look in the mirror at how bad I looked, how crooked and broken my lines were, and how horrible my posture was. And I couldn’t always understand what was bad. Maybe you just can’t see yourself properly in a mirror. (And, he told me to bring a camcorder to my next lesson, so I could videotape myself, which I think is a good idea, since I do seem to pick up on things I hadn’t seen in the mirror … as long as I don’t obsess too much over my flaws). But, in the mirror at least, I don’t always understand how what I’m doing is not right. For example, I’ve been told before — repeatedly actually — that, since I have hyperextended arms, they should be a bit softened (slightly bent at the elbow so as to look graceful and not harsh) — have been told that by both ballet teachers and Pasha, my erstwhile Latin teacher. But this teacher tells me hyperextended is good and I need to make maximum use of that and show it off by making sure my arms are completely straight out at all times, never the least bit bent. But sometimes I couldn’t extend my arms as long and straight out as he wanted me to — I was reaching and reaching and stretching, while he kept chanting “more more more” but they just wouldn’t go any farther out without pulling my blasted shoulder out of its socket! And, when he’d pull on an arm to try to help me make that line, that’s exactly what it felt like! Or, he’d twist my rib cage area if I wasn’t doing “cross body movement” properly, or slap my wrist down if it my hand was extended outward instead of down, or he’d twist my wrist if he wanted me to hold my hands palms facing up instead of down. And some of the ways he was handling me were a little scary. I know he was just trying to correct me, but I had to ask him, nicely of course, if he could be a little gentler, especially with my left wrist since I have a partially torn a ligament in that one, and could have to have surgery if it gets any worse, which I most definitely don’t want. He apologized and explained that he just didn’t want to have to keep repeating himself, and besides, if I didn’t learn how to give him my body weight properly and to maintain the proper push / pull connection with him, especially on a trick like a lunge or stretch, I could hurt myself very easily.

I know that’s true, and that if you don’t have proper technique, both partner-dancing and alone, you can incur serious injury. But on the other hand, I have a very hard time learning when I feel like I’m being yelled at. I just get all flustered and can’t do anything right. And, we were going to put this overhead lift into our routine, and I know myself, and if I’m the least bit scared of the guy I’m dancing with, I’m not going to trust him and I’m subconsciously going to be pulling myself down while he’s trying to get me up into the air, and we could both hurt each other. I need to feel very comfortable with the guy in order to trust him, and in order to do hard things properly. I actually don’t see how anyone can dance with a partner they don’t feel completely comfortable with. It makes me feel for professionals who have to partner someone they’re not comfortable with.
Anyway, I don’t know if it was the lack of food or the pressure but I just couldn’t do anything right, and I couldn’t even remember the rather simple choreography we’ve done so far. I really thought at one point he was going to kill me! I mean, I know he wants me to dance well, and of course I want to be the best I can be, and I appreciate that he is serious and not lazy. But, on the other hand, I am never going to be a professional dancer, and this is supposed to be fun. I think for the first time, after leaving a hard day at work behind to head to the studio, I did not feel my stress-level lessened. Maybe I should put this routine on hold for a while and save the showcase for next October when they have it at a Manhattan theater (as opposed to Long Island, where it is in the spring), when all of my friends can attend again. In the meantime, I can lighten up and maybe learn some standard ballroom from the standard teacher, reducing my private lesson to every other week instead of every week to decrease expenses…. I hate to abandon some of the pretty Tharp-esque choreography I was trying so hard to learn though … although what we’re doing doesn’t look much like what Baryshnikov and Elaine Kudo were doing on the tape anyway… I guess genuine foxtrot ballroom and balletish ballroom are two completely different things. I hadn’t realized that. I have a lot to learn about dance, apparently.

Anyway, I guess I will be thinking about this — where to go with my ballroom dancing from here — over the long weekend, since I don’t have my next lesson scheduled until next Friday…

But, the GREAT thing about last night was that I saw a very good ballroom friend: the always sugar-sweet, always full of motherly advice, the splendidly charmingly wonderful, Elaine, whom I haven’t seen since our October showcase! She was having a coaching with the studio owner. When, after my class, I practically fell right into her open arms crying, like a ridiculous baby, she insisted I accompany her to her favorite nearby diner for a glass of wine and some much-needed comfort food, and a pep talk. Funny thing about food though is that, when I haven’t eaten all day and I’m completely stressed, I seem to have no appetite. Well, I ordered some very greasy, very tasty fries, and a glass of the house red (just to cut cholesterol levels from ingestion of said fries, of course )

And here, Miss Elaine is being her silly self (Notice my ever so nutritious dinner in foreground):

Anyway, it ended up being a very good night after all, full of catching up on life, receiving sound motherly advice on managing work stress and dealing with dance teachers (!), and enjoying good, trashy comfy food. Thanks Elaine

I’m so new to blogging, I really don’t know how important these blog awards are, but from now through this Wednesday, January 10th, nominations are being taken for the 2006 annual “Bloggie” awards. Again, Dance is not represented as a category, and again, I am annoyed. There is a category called “Topical” which covers all blogs on topics not covered under the other category topics, so you could nominate dance blogs in that category. But since winning is based entirely on the number of nominations and votes a blog gets, it seems to me that any topical blog that doesn’t have its own category is not going to do very well. Not that we all want to be competing against each other or anything, but I am just so sick of seeing dance underrepresented in just about everything…

Anyway, to nominate, vote, or just check it out, go here.

Ha ha ha — I am extremely delighted to announce that I just won a blogging award (my first!) It’s from the Public Defender Investigator Network’s Blog, who suitably named their awards “The “Rodneys,” as in comedian Rodney “I get no respect” Dangerfield, which I think is hilarious! My category is, aptly, “Best Title of a Blog That Has Nothing To Do With the Job” — what, you mean, Swan Lake Samba Girl doesn’t just scream Public Defender??? Also in my category, as runner-up, is Knit in the City, a charming knitting blog.

Seriously, this is a very fun honor!! Here are the other winners (most of whom write actual Public Defender blogs!)

So, the story about my case made the front page of the New York Law Journal yesterday! (It’s the one at the bottom, titled “Judge Faulted For Offering Defendant ‘Game Show’ Choice”) My quote is on page two.

Mr. Perrotta actually closed the article with my words, which made sense because it was a good sum-up of the strange case. He just quoted me saying I was happy that Mr. Nicholson (my client) had the conviction removed from his record now and that the case was very odd and I’d never seen anything like it before. So I managed not to sound like a Valley Girl after all! (I think…) At least if I did say something nutty over the phone like, “I was like, I totally can’t believe the judge did that!,” Mr. Perrotta used the coherent sentence! The reporter’s first name is Tom, by the way, so he shares the same name as the novelist who wrote Election and Little Children. I assume it’s not the same writer — maybe I was interviewed by a famous novelist! Anyway, I’d link to the article online but you can’t access it unless you’re a subscriber to that newspaper. All the guys in the mail room — Pete, Anthony, and Craig — were jokingly calling me “Miss Hollywood” all day and asking for my autograph

Then, later in the day, Pete brought me this sweet Christmas card from another of my clients, from prison. Look how cute this angel is…

And, this must be my fifteen minutes of fame weekend, because Kristin Sloan posted the picture I’d sent to the Winger of my first performance as a child!! She’s still taking Winger reader submissions of their “First Performance” pieces, by the way, so everyone who has ever performed should send one in to her! Do it! It’s fun

Yesterday at work, I got a call from a reporter from a big law journal here, wanting to do a short interview with me about the case I recently won. I was getting lunch when he called, so he left a message. When I returned to my desk and listened to my voice mail, I freaked out a bit. I’ve never spoken to the press before! So, I re-read my brief and the D.A.’s brief, re-read the Court’s decision about eight or nine times, even re-read some of the cases I relied on and the Court cited. I was so nervous. I mean, I think I am the typical appellate attorney: i.e. a bookish writer-type, who can’t talk her way out of a paper bag — which is why I am an appeals lawyer, and not a trial one, after all! Ugh. I took so much time re-reading everything in sight, that I must have returned his call too late in the day, and missed him, because I sat by the phone, like a high-schooler waiting desperately for the boy she likes to call her back, until well into the evening. Around 7ish, I finally decided it was time for me to leave the office for the day; I figured he’d call back tomorrow.

I was so frazzled in the evening, I thought I’d better do something to bring my stress level down a notch. So … I took a dance class of course! But, in keeping with my New Year’s resolution to not spend so much money, I opted for a street Samba class at the Alvin Ailey extension, for $15, instead of another ballroom lesson, for about $10,000. Which means, I saved $9,985!!! Which means I can attend one more Met ABT performance!!!

Seriously. Street Samba: insane. INSANE. I’ve never felt so stupid in my life! We started out doing these crazy stretches, making me realize just how inflexible I really am. Then, only a half an hour into the hour-and-a-half-long class, the teacher — the other-worldly, completely beyond human, impossibly amazing, Quenia Ribeiro, began with like, advanced advanced ADVANCED hip swaying, pelvis contorting, just crazy moves. The class was supposedly for beginners!?! First step — FIRST step — was this African-based (I know this, because I’ve seen it at Broadway Dance Center’s West African class’s student showcase) traveling move, except instead of simply opening up arms and legs as wide as possible sideways while somehow bouncing forward, she moved her pelvis back and forth in this really beautifully sexy way. I tried and tried and tried to imitate her, but couldn’t in any way, shape, or form do anything even close to her with my mid-section. Happily, I managed to figure out where my feet, at least, were supposed to go on the floor. Right at the second I was feeling like, okay, I look like an enormous ass, but at least I know where TO GO on the floor, the drummers started drumming (live band by the way, singing in Portuguese, which means they were really Brazilian — how the hell they managed not to laugh themselves silly watching us, I’ll never know…) , and Quenia started moving AT THE BEAT THEY WERE BEATING TO — basically, the speed of light. In trying like hell to keep up, I flailed about wildly, smacking this poor Asian woman next to me right in the face. She stepped on me, though, so it was okay! Seriously, the few of us in the back section were spending more time apologizing to each other than anything else.

It didn’t take me long to realize it was just not going to be happening with me. I mean, this woman just moved in ways that I didn’t know possible. Her pelvis was darting back and forth — both front to back and side to side, so fast it was just a blur. I had to grab onto the back barre just to steady myself while watching her. This was NOTHING like the ballroom style of Samba I know! Had nothing in common with it whatsoever. I mean, it was still interesting, but just wasn’t me. As a skinny white girl, I know I will never ever EVER be able to move like this woman. And the funny thing is, after I finished my rotation squirming down the floor I stood at the back barre and watched the rest of the students. And, apart from about four really good ones, who you could tell were her very serious dedicated students, no one was really dancing Samba. They were all, however, rocking out madly, and were laughing hysterically and obviously having great fun doing so — unlike me, who just couldn’t get over the fact that I couldn’t do it properly. The really fundamentally pathetic thing about me, I realized, is that, these people, though they weren’t doing Samba, still all had obviously danced a lot at clubs before and just had either a natural or developed sense of rhythm and awesome, for lack of a better term, booty-shaking skills. I, on the other hand, had none. They may not having been dancing Samba but they were most definitely DANCING; I — I looked like Gumby basically.

Well, I felt STRONGLY like giving up, but forced myself to give it the old college try — more because I knew I’d feel stupid making a scene either walking out of class or sitting down in back than anything else. The reason I managed to make it through the whole class — nearly the whole class anyway — was because I assured myself that, even though I was making a gigantic ass of myself, no one was looking at me; people were concentrating on themselves, on having themselves a blast. And this little mantra worked. Until …

…until I turned to look out the window, and saw, to my horror, about twenty to thirty people — men, women and children, on the outside of the building staring right back at me, bemused looks overflowing their faces. Turns out this handy little covering on Ailey’s ground-level studio windows is not really a covering — if outsiders walk up close, they can see everything going on inside. And since Samba is so much blasted fun, the music pouring out through the windows and onto the sidewalk, we attracted the attention of every passerby… And I had thought I was SMART to stay in the back of the class — ie: by the window, and not by the mirror! Idiot idiot idiot!

Anyway, I tried and tried, but to no avail. I never did get it. Just when I thought we were done, at about ten minutes until the end of the hour, and everyone was applauding the band, Quenia announced that we’d now completed the Bahia part of the class; now, it was time to learn the Rio style. Good lord, I thought; there’s more?! And funny thing, absurdist thing was, Rio was actually much closer to what I knew from ballroom! I mean, there was still a lot of upper-body arm and upper torso movement, and hips were looser and steps bigger, but I actually recognized some of the moves! I saw bota fogos, and voltas, and bachacatas — my favorite!!! I nearly peed my jazz pants! Legs were kept a little closer together than in Bahia, and Rio was, to little ballroom whitey me anyway, more familar to my body, more jazzy, more Latiny, just more me. And I swear, Quenia looked right at me when I was coming down the line, and just kind of smiled, as if to recognize that (even though there were at least 20 students in the class), she could see how much trouble I was having with Bahia (you’d have to have been blind not to); and now here I was doing something not completely ludicrously wrong! Ah! So, at least now I know that Rio-style Samba is the kind that I like, that I can actually aim towards even if, with my body type, I may not ever look completely right doing it… Throughout class, I was thinking how much I just wanted it to end, how I’d look back on this and laugh but would never ever come back, but at the very end of it, I was actually reconsidering. Maybe I will visit Quenia again, especially if she spends more than the last ten minutes on Rio!!! Anyway, my mind was very successfully taken far off of reporter guy!

First thing this morning, he called. The minute the phone rang, I reached for the paper on which I’d written out my ’statement.’ Of course, once I started to recite it, he interrupted and started asking me some questions. And he was so nice and warm and easy to talk to (do they learn to be this way in J school??) I couldn’t help but just go along with him and speak what I thought, off the top of my head. After I hung up, I realized that, though I said what I wanted to say content-wise, when I’m relaxed and speaking freely, I tend to use lots of “likes” and “totallys” and “I means” and “ums,” and now I’m all worried, if he took down word for word what I said, I’m going to sound like ‘Valley Girl attorney’! I can just see the write-up: “‘I was like, oh my god, I totally can’t believe the trial Judge like did that, like that was soooo totally wrong,’ says Ms. Plank…” My office-mate assured me that I most definitely did not sound like that, but I’m still worried! Will have to wait and see…

So far so good with my New Year’s resolutions not to spend huge amounts of money on dance! Who needs to install your own barre with a handy-dandy home kitchen counter, and office bookcase!

I definitely close and lock my office door when I do this (since I have to hike my skirt up!) What better use of a lunch hour

Seriously, I don’t like to stretch on the floor during the winter because it’s usually cold down there (since cold air seems to do the opposite of hot) and stretching with cold muscles, I’ve found, is a huge no no (that’s how I pulled my adductor muscle and strained my hip flexor). So, I find alternate uses for home and office equipment — easy!

Natalia has just posted the first ever dance blog carnival, which includes some very interesting-looking entries! Thanks Natalia for hosting. What an inspiring way to start the New Year! Happy reading, everyone