Who needs feet, anyway? Not me.

You learn something new every day. For example last week I learned that trying to do chaînés turns  in your jammies is a great way to have your glasses fly off your face and possibly to step on them at the same time.

Tonight in class we were doing a new turn across the floor: attitude turns. And I guess my foot decided to cop an attitude (har har, see what I did there? I kill me. Okay, no. Sorry. Never mind.) because I suddenly felt something go "POP!" and for the rest of class it felt remarkably like I was being stabbed in the foot. The internet tells me it was probably a ... something something digital something tendon. Annnnnnd... great. Another foot injury. Hrmph! I swear, if it isn't one thing it's another.
It still hurts, though not as badly. I am trying to go easy on it tonight, anyway. I am telling myself that it was probably brought on by all of the intense driving I did over the past few days (Easter visit to my dad's place in the hills) regardless of the fact that the trouble is quite clearly in my LEFT foot.
No, no! It's driving that did it! It's driving that is terrible for me!

Also: tonight for center practice we did a little piece of choreography from Raymonda. We looked just like this, only not even at all:

the toes know... s?

My first ballet-related toe injury, my ring toenail (is there a ring finger equivalent on your foot?) tore up my middle toe during class tonight. And thus a lesson was learned about cutting your nails before class.
At least it was an honest ballet injury. A badge of honor if you will. At least I can clutch my proverbial fist dramatically to my bosom while sighing about sacrificing myself for my art. Which is more than I can say about my badly bruised and formerly bleeding big toenail on the same foot. 'Oh no. That one was accomplished via the most physically graceful moment of my life.
I... stubbed it. On the floor. While I was sitting down.

Sigh...

Proceed only if you want to see the gruesome evidence (and you promise not to judge how callusy my toes are) I'm also not entirely sure if my baby toenail is bruised or what the heck is going on there. Edited to add: after seeing this entry pop up in the blog aggregate site I use, I noticed that it doesn't protect the innocent from the picture of my yucky toes. So I added a photo of my cat's tummy in an attempt to rectify the situation.

Pretty Annoying Week

This past week or so has been really off the charts, pain-wise. I would like to blame it on the CLAM and the other stupid exercises I am supposed to be doing, but in all honesty I haven't been doing it as often as I am supposed to. Still, though, we are talking more knee pain in the past week than in the past several months. I went to class, anyway.  It adds another awful dimension to the deep hatred I have developed of assemblé.
Oh assemblé, I hate you so.

In other news I would like to share this bit of wisdom with you:
Never, after applying icy-hot/bengay/etc, no matter how much of a rush you are in to get to class, forget to wash your hands before using the bathroom.
Just... don't.
Trust me. 

Stupid Sun, Who Needs it Anyway?

So several of my medications have photodermatitis warnings. Photodermatitis is when your drugs make you super sensitive to UV light and you burn easily. It can be bad. Like, BAD bad. When the western US was being settled and farmers were first raising cattle here they discovered that their cows were basically burning to death in the fields because they had been eating a native plant (which we now call St John's Wort, and use as a tranquilizer-type antidepressant) which caused this type of sun sensitivity. I bet they were some mellow cows, though. Anyway. it's not usually that bad. It usually just means you need to be really careful about wearing sunblock and a floppy hat or you'll get extra crispy on a fine Summer's day. My forearms tend to get tanned and freckled and in the past I have had the freckles stick around for a year or more. But I am usually pretty careful about it because I am so horribly pale, anyway.
But I totally forgot about all that this weekend.
It was Sunday and I was thinking to myself "aw man, I am super pale. These legs here, they are so pale that shaving doesn't solve the problem. These legs need some sunshine if I am going to wear skirts in public this season." so I popped out on my patio and had a little half-hour break reading mystery novels and magazines and letting my legs catch the sunshine.
And now my upper thighs are bright flaming red! Half an hour, guys! Half an hour.
Also? Not even at all comfortable to wear tights over a sunburn.
Not even at all.

Is There a Doctor In The House?

Okay so I don't watch TV much.  I mean, I have a TV. I watch Netflix streaming. I watch reruns of Star Trek TNG and Princess Tutu and the like. I have lots of TV shows on DVD. And my husband might conceivably arrange to acquire in a perfectly legal and aboveboard way the latest episodes of Doctor Who and Sherlock.
But as for modern American television programming, I am a little in the dark. I don't want or need cable or a mini dish, so I basically have to take your word for it if you say some new show is great.
But ANYWAY.
So everyone has been talking, for years now, about House. And how I ought to watch it because it's AMAZING OMG. So. Fine. I tried it out. I was at my parent's house doing laundry and there was a House marathon running, so why not?
UGH.
First and foremost. Hugh Laurie. I have nothing against Hugh Laurie per se. Hugh Laurie + Stephen Fry is a joy to behold. But his American accent is Deeply Annoying. Also, I am sorry, but to me he will always be George:

And so taking him seriously just isn't going to happen. I know, I know, House is supposed to be funny. And he's a good actor with great comedic sense. But. That doesn't make his character at all likable. He's just a mildly amusing SON OF A BISCUIT. You know what I mean?
But the point of this whole post was that during the House marathon that I forced myself to watch while using mom's exercise bike there was an episode with lots of discussion about autoimmune disorders.
And OH BOY. I am SO GLAD to learn via the medium of vastly intelligent medical procedural televison that autoimmune diseases can be instantly diagnosed by these two fabulous methods:
1) put some blood in a test tube. Then plop a paper clip in the tube. Shake. You have now diagnosed your disease. And,
2) Go outside on a cold day. If you have an autoimmune disease you will instantly feel better.
Wow. Thanks House! I am so glad to know that it is easy and amazingly fast like that! I don't know why my own doctors have spent the last five years pooking around with blood tests and x rays and experimental treatment when it is actually SO EASY.
Thanks, TV! You are amazing!
/sarcasm

Of Gray Tights

Nylon. It is an interesting fiber. It is man made, synthetic, and has a unique property whereby it attracts and absorbs dye readily. Which is great, because that means it is one of the only synthetic fibers that can be dyed at home. BUT, it also means that if you wash a nylon garment, let's say two pairs of pink tights, in a washer which also contains dark colored garments, let's say two black leotards, then your nylon will suck up as much of the dye the dark colored items shed as possible.
Which I know, because I was the first person in something like five years to graduate from Textiles class with an A. And also because I was a total idiot yesterday and washed all my delicates in the same load. And now I have peachy-gray tights to wear to class.
:-/