You and me and LEVEL THREE!

Last night I took my first level III class! Woo! There were a couple of things I tanked on, but it was SO nice to do some different stuff. Everyone was complimentary in such a way that I figure they were pegging my absence on nerves, rather than my stupid work schedule. But no! I would have been there months ago if I had had the chance! But, I had to earn money! To pay for class! It just works out that way, sometimes.
Before class I got to observe the children's level II class, I have never actually seen a kid's class at this studio before. There were only three girls, which seems amazing because our adult level II classes are running 12-14 right now. At the end of class my teacher talked to the girls about pointework, and getting themselves ready for it. HEY! I am in level three! And I already have a theraband! Let's get to the talking, woman!

I actually only decided to go to class about ten minutes before I had to leave. I had a bit of a tummy woggle all day and felt terribly dizzy most of the evening. I accomplished precisely nothing all day (finishing off the first season of Downton Abbey does not count as an accomplishment, more's the pity) But, I couldn't miss my first level III class! So I went, and managed to not fall over (my balances at the barre were even pretty good, I would say) but the trip home was dreadful and I thought I was going to lose it when I got home. I had Indian for lunch, though, and I would be darned if I was going to throw it up. I wouldn't have been able to eat Indian again for at least a year, and that is not acceptable.

In light of the robbery on my last train ride I have started leaving everything of value that I usually carry at home while on my way to class. I don't even bring my license or ipod, just my dance clothes and a bus pass. It makes for a boring trip, but I would rather be safe than sorry. Now, if someone steals my dance bag and makes off with my perfectly broken in Grishko slippers I will probably be pretty incensed.

He Wasn't Even Wearing a Bandana and Spurs

So, a few weeks ago my husband started a new job. It's good in that it pays (very) slightly more but sucks because he now gets home forty minutes later than he used to which means I can't have the car to drive to ballet class. Yeah, I am not excited, either. So I am taking the train to class these days. My husband picks me up afterward because there is no safe way for me to take the train home after dark (besides, I am gross after class). It's been a sore point, but there really aren't any better options right now.
The point is that today on the train to class I witnessed a robbery. There wasn't a weapon involved, thank goodness, but still. It's been a few years since I took public transportation with any regularity, so maybe I am just not used to it anymore. In my sheltered world of moving within the automotive bubble created by modern society I've quite forgotten how terribly real the rest of life can be.
On a brighter note I guess? The universe kindly did not present me with any assemblés tonight. Thank heavens for small favors, yes? Though I have been attempting to get my mind around the reverse combination that threw me so badly on Monday. Through a lot of surreptitious jumping around in the bathroom at work and LOTS of running it over in my mind whenever I have a spare moment I think that maybe I might possibly have a slightly better concept of what I was doing wrong. Sort of.