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?

Girl Crush

This is Nina Baratova, the ballerina I was totally in love with when I was a pre-teen girl:

As Juliet when she was a principal with the Sacramento Ballet.

And here:

Hamming it up as Lady Capulet this year.

What eleven year old girl wouldn't want to be her, am I right?

California is Kinda Just Like That

The studio where I take class is in a strip mall (aren't they all?) and fronts on to a parking lot. The back door opens in to the alley between our strip mall and the grocery store behind it. When it gets really hot in the room, but is nice outside, we leave the back door open.  Usually with a fan in the doorway blowing in.
Today.
Student: *sniff sniff* "uhm... does anyone else smell that?"
All the other students: *sniff sniff* "uhmm.... yeeeeeeah."
Teacher: "what? What do you smell?" *sniff sniff* "oh my GOD"
That's right folks, the studio officially got hotboxed by some teenaged grocery clerks on their break. Thanks guys :-/ Our pas de boureés were a lot less proficient, and yet somehow much funnier thanks to you.

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!

Never Was a Story of More Woe

Ballet! YAAAAY! Kermit flail!

For the past several years I have attempted to get my husband interested enough to go to a ballet performance with me. Our wedding anniversary and my birthday are right at the start of the ballet season, so there are always great shows going on that I would love to see (you know, for the occasion). But, my husband, bless his soul, while he's a wonderful man and happy to attend live musical performances and even some of the plays I work on, is not a dance man. He wasn't really raised with it and to a certain extent it's an acquired taste. So, while he is totally willing to attend the ballet with me he views it as taking one for the team, if you see what I mean. He imagines his boy parts will fall off as soon as the curtain goes up or something. I tell him (repeatedly!) that ballet dudes are super athletic stud-muffins who get to feel up the girl dancers like constantly, but OH NO it's still too girly for him (thank god he isn't a sports guy. I am willing to take almost anything in a man provided he doesn't watch sports).
But this year I decided TO HECK WITH IT and so I bought tickets for my mom and a girlfriend and we went to see Romeo and Juliet! YAAAAAY! Awesome!
I had a thoroughly enjoyable time. I probably haven't seen a live ballet for ten or eleven years, at least. Either they've put down some new and fascinating material on the stage or modern pointe shoes are SO much more quiet than they were 11 years ago. Squeaking and thumping was a constant component of the ballets I saw in my youth (eh, sonny!) and those gals in their pretty pale peachy Freeds were really super quiet. I know, because I got front row seats, yo. The better to appreciate the panting and sweating of the performers, right? Right.
Another cool thing: when I was ... maybe 11 or 12? One of the principal dancers with this company was a ballerina that I was SO in love with, named Nina Baratova. I got to see her dance the Sugar Plum Fairy, and it was totally the highlight of my year. She retired quite a while back but today we got to see her as a guest artist dancing Lady Capulet. I recognized her face on stage before I read the program, and that kind of amazes me. I have a miserable memory for names and faces.
Anyway, a lovely time was had by all, I tried not to fixate on the underarms of that purple dress that was obviously made with a dye that was no match for ballerina sweat, and I've had Pretty Piece of Flesh stuck in my head all evening. It's from the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack, almost the entirety of which (in fact, I hardly ever played this song, I didn't care for it) I used to listen to on infinite loop when I was in highschool, and that probably tells you exactly how old I am. Oddly enough, I didn't watch the movie all that much. But I still have that album on my iPod.

PS: It must be hard to die with your feet pointed so prettily. Twice.

PPS: Forget boys, I am going to the ballet with my girlfriends from now on.

Pretty Pictures

I just found these photos online and thought I would share them here, as there is at least a tenuous ballet connection.
The photographer is Gregory Maiofis, and he has lots of great (and sometimes pretty weird) stuff out there. As for the ballet-related ones I was particularly taken with these two, of a ballerina and bear (you can get down with the symbolism all up in yo bidness or not, up to you):

Taste for Russian Ballet

Figurative Painting

I love them both for different reasons. Anyway, check him out!

Hippo Birdy Two Ewes

I turned 29 years and 24 months old today. Yay? I held off on posting this because I had plans to make pink cupcakes with pink frosting and a pink candle and eat one while wearing a pink frilly thing but my cupcakes turned out ... well... horrible. My ballerina dreams were dashed on the rocks of artificial strawberry flavoring and being too lazy to use a piping bag with a star tip. So, you don't get to see them regardless of how pink they are, sorry!

Anyway.

I feel like I am starting to get the hang of this double frappé business. I'm not saying I'm whipping them out like it ain't no thang. It's a thang. Trust me. And they are still kind of confused. But, at least I am not totally randomly flailing around for the entire combination. Small steps. Small steps.
Head lines are confusing me to death, though. I KNOW which way I should be looking while my foot is in a particular position... I just can't actually hook those things up together, yet. At least not in rapid progression. Left, front, right, front... bam bam bam. Forget it!
Other things to work on: not tipping over during chaînés turns, not deflating halfway through adagio, not getting migraines after every single class.