... and 5, 6, 7, 8

You know you're a dancer when... you are trying to time something entirely unrelated to dance and find yourself counting in sets of 8.
I've actually missed a lot of class, lately. I had oral surgery again last week, and I have discovered that stitches don't go well with raising my heart rate (THROB THROB THROB). Before that, though, I simply flaked out on pointe class for a few weeks because I was feeling leftover hormonal stuff (mainly fist-shaking rage). I think I am going to try technique class tonight (probably not pointe, simply because I can't eat well enough to get my energy levels up that high right now) if for no other reason than to unload the car load full of tutus that are clogging up every square inch of floor space in my sewing room. This latest batch was gone through while I was feeling particularly nasty, so I'm afraid I was pretty ruthless about throwing things away.
Honestly? I'd kind of like to blow off class, tonight. On the other hand... yesterday was stressful and upsetting so maybe the ballet "therapy" is exactly what I need. Besides, the inactivity of the past week has made my knees seize up something terrible.

Orally Fabulous, That's What

So, I had a bunch of crunky oral surgery last week, right? I mean... it was okay. I had nice "hypnotic" (I didn't even know that was a thing) drugs to make the time go faster, and they let me have a blanket and all... apparently my finger isn't a great place to continually check my pulse and I am oddly sensitive to penicillin, but hey. You learn something new every day.
Anyway. Things went pretty normally. After the first twelve hours or so I didn't need painkillers anymore. Which shocked me, honestly. But, yeah... so things have been pretty good. Except...
You know what the awesome part of auto-immune disorders is? The insanely out-of-proportion inflammatory response to EVERYTHING EVER. I imagine the inside of my mouth will eventually go back to normal... I hope I live to see that glorious future day... right now I am just happy that I only look a little bit like a chipmunk with seeds in his mouth (which was not the case yesterday). Can't worry too much about the fact that my gums look and feel a bit like the inside of a bike tire, right? I'm sure the feeling will come back eventually.

My surgeon is like "take 800 milligrams of motrin!" and I'm like "I can't take motrin, ibuprofen, naproxen, aspirin, relafen, or any other NSAID because I take a fairly high dose of Meloxicam every day and I would rather not have my kidneys fail, mmmkay?" You chop people's faces open every day, how is it you've never met someone with rheumatoid arthritis, before?

This sounds all bitchy but it's not, really! She did a lovely job chopping my face apart, I swear! And, I am not just saying that because she is going to chop it open again in four months and I am afraid for my life!

Blerg

I am going under the knife tomorrow morning, the first of possibly several rounds of oral surgery that I will be dealing with this year. I'm pretty freaked out about it. I was really looking forward to dancing tonight, I need to burn off some nervous energy and I missed last week so I want to get back to the studio...
but apparently penicillin makes me violently ill? Ah, well. That's, uh...good to know? I guess?

Halcyon days of yore, balletversary!

This week is my three year balletversary! And my one year pointeversary (even though I have spent so much time out with injuries that it's more like month 9 or 10)! In celebration I executed my first real, full, honest-to-god pirouette en pointe last night! In truth, I am pretty sure I did it backwards. But, we were ALL doing them backwards (it's easier because the momentum of pushing off your working leg automatically pulls you around toward your center) so I am not going to complain too much. 
I am now going to be out of class for a couple of weeks while I take a well-earned vacation with my hubby and then have (not earned at all!) oral surgery about which I have been having panic attacks (two hours awake with people in my mouth! ARGH!) so they prescribed me an anti-anxiety drug called (I am not kidding) "Halcion". Ah ha ha. I see what you did there.

The Dying of Boredom Swan

Well. There's that, then.
My dad had his surgery today, and I am now playing the good daughter and taking care of him (and cleaning the bathroom because dad, you need to clean your bathroom sometimes) until he's back to driving again. Unfortunately the surgeon quadrupled his recovery time estimate as soon as he got in there. So, I will be here for a good long while, yet. I will try not to whine about missing ballet too much, but it's already taking a back seat to missing my husband. I am basically trying not to think about it. I am physically wrecked (six hours of driving, plus not getting much sleep the last few nights, plus sitting in the hospital lobby for about five hours will do that to you, even if you don't already have janky knees and hands. I eventually had to stand up in the lobby and walk around for a while just so my knees wouldn't seize up any worse than they already had. I caught myself absently doing a little tiny lunge-from-fifth-tendu-back-weight-transfer-tendu-forward and kinda cracked myself up.) and emotionally exhausted (oh god, you mean it only gets worse as they get older? *whimper*)

So, what is stranger? That my dad just fell asleep to the sound of The Dying Swan on his stereo, or the fact that it wasn't playing my music collection? Or, better still, that I recognized it within about three notes?

Pretty Pirouettes Preface Parental Predicament

*sigh*...
Well, I've taken my last level three class for the next month. I am taking my 1-2 class on Friday and dropping in on another 1-2 class on Monday and then that's it. Tuesday I drive for four hours and then I'm off taking care of my dad until he can drive again (shoulder surgery). They are saying at least a month, up to four. I doubt it will be longer than a month because my father will climb the walls and drive both of us insane if he can't work for much longer than that. If I didn't have to work for a month I would take it easy, but this man is not going to be having it. Not that I am going to be too thrilled about being away from my job, my husband, my cats, and my bed for that long, either. I have four new books to read (plus Don Quixote on my iPhone, which is quite the slog, but it's one of those books you have to read. It's actually got some really clever bits to it, and some quite funny moments that are the prototypes of modern parody.) and six stuffed bunnies to make for Christmas, so I will at least keep myself occupied.
Tuesday night I took class without the splint on my sprained wrist for the first time in over a month! It wasn't all peaches and cream, but it sure made barre easier and I could actually find my balance a few times, which for some reason my wrist has been screwing up terribly.  Also, it means I didn't have to sweat all over the splint, which is good news for everyone.
Head lines are still killing me (so I will be attempting to practice them in the kitchen at Dad's house) but I'm starting to get the hang of pirouettes to a certain extent. It's quite exciting, of course, as pirouettes are so integral to what most people think of as the essence of ballet. At Romeo and Juliet on Sunday I was thinking, though, that pirouettes are actually kind of odd looking. They require a definite gearing-up moment and almost look best when performed by a man, or in an energetic period piece. Maybe piqué turns are more girly, I'm not sure. I think most people are just using the term "pirouette" to mean a ballerina twirling around, and of course there are so many different ways to twirl around! Anyhow, I shall be practicing those, as well, because I am damn well going to have something down pat by the time I drag my wobbling, squodgy self back in to the studio!