Hello Little Girl!

On Sunday, I met my new niece Cottrell. She is seven weeks old, and only weighs 8 pounds!















Sometimes pictures say more than words ever could. Smitten.

M is for Mondays...and Music: Musical Memory - Jump Little Children's Cathedrals

Musical Memory: Jump Little Children's Cathedrals
Saint Thomas Aquinas High School, Dover, NH - Autumn, 1999

Two 90'stastic musical memories in a row!

This morning, just as I was pulling into work Cathedrals by Jump Little Children came on. Immediately, I was 17 years old again, and my heart melted.

You see - Jump Little Children was introduced to me during the fall of my senior year in high school by a fellow who we will call "S." Even though we had been in school together for three years, I had never quite noticed S. Then in September of '99 we were both put into Select and Jazz choirs together. We were elected co-presidents of our class and became good friends. S was intelligent, funny, musically talented and impossibly tall. He might've been the first in a long line of awkward gangly musician types to make my heart go pitter patter. It's a horrible horrible weakness of mine.


At our fall coffeehouse, S played and sang a beautiful song that I had never heard of. It was Cathedrals. He shyly (and adorably) performed with his eyes closed and his soulful tenor voice filled the cafeteria. At this juncture, I was fairly smitten.

We talked after the show about the song, and the band behind it, Jump Little Children. I immediately went to my local record store and picked up a copy of their album Magazine - which may be one of the greatest unsung albums ever. (90's rock marrying a string section? Yes please). JLC became an obsession - and a common interest to strike up discussions with my dear crush, S.

Alas - S was oblivious, as most 17 year old boys are, and I was shy. A terrible combination. He was snatched up by a bolder young lady than I and they embarked on one of those saccharine sweet romances that only happen in high school. The kind that caused the nerdy girls (like me) to shoot glares of envy at the blessed couple as they walked hand in hand through the hallways and then scribble woeful poetry about indefinite solitude into their journals. Probably while listening to Bjork. Or Tori Amos. (Whaaaaaaat?! I never did anything like that. Ever.)

Regardless, S and I remained friends throughout the remainder of our senior year. He was a gentle, lovely soul and this song will always remind me of him and that sweet time.

The project that has to happen before the REAL project

Do you ever embark on a home improvement project, only to find that there is ANOTHER project that has to happen before the REAL project can get started? (I'm sure you have - such is the way with home improvement).

One of the items on my 29 before 30 Birthday List is to give my bedroom a makeover. First up - painting. However, in order to get the painting project underway, I had to clear my bedroom...which literally had stacks upon stacks of books and magazines (yes, mostly of the crafty/cooking variety) leaning up against the wall.

Sigh. You see, when I left Boston, and did the great division of STUFF (by MYSELF I might add), I did not take any book shelves with me - because they all "belonged" to the ex. (I'm too goddamned nice). I couldn't handle just moving the stacks of books to another room to lean against another wall and gather dust for a few more months, so I had to buy bookshelves.

Then I had to figure out where I was going to put these bookshelves.

And then I thought - "HEY, I'll turn my landing into a craft room!"

See what I did there? I've artfully managed to turn moving a stack of books, into giving another area of my living space a total facelift before doing a damn thing to my bedroom.

I AM THE MASTER OF A) PROCRASTINATION and B) CREATING MORE WORK FOR MYSELF.

This was my landing "before." A hot mess of Christmas explosion, dry cleaning explosion, moving box explosion.

This is my "in progress" landing now - on it's way to being a crafty space.

It's not complete - but well on its way. I'm especially stoked that each item I used to spruce up the space, besides the bookcases, was something that I already owned. The "wallpaper" are curtains that were too long for my living room windows, so I pulled them off the windows and tacked them onto the walls. My mini milk glass collection provides a place for me to consistently throw my keys. The little plastic deer, a Christmas gift from the fabulous Amy, makes me smile whenever I come up the stairs.

I'll get to the bedroom. Someday.

WSCA Dance Party!

On the way home today, I was tuned in to my uber awesome local radio station, 106.1FM - WSCA. I was almost at my apartment when my ears were bombarded with awesomeness.

For posterity:

Dance party magic.

"I Don't Know"

Ahh, dear readers, let's embark on a navel gazing post, shall we?

adequately "emo" photograph

Over the past few months, one of my colleagues at work has posed a certain question to me more than a few times...

Where do you see yourself in the next five years?

What are your personal goals for the next five years?

And each time my response has been -

I don't know.

Until now, I feel like my entire life as a dancer/dance educator has been on this upward trajectory to land a high caliber job at a top company, like my current position. If you would've asked me the aforementioned questions five years ago - I would've been able to spout off a laundry list of things that I would've liked to accomplish. I always, ALWAYS had the next step in mind.

Today - I can think of a laundry list of goals for the program that I manage, but I am beginning to wonder how many of those are just practical goals for the program - and how many are personal goals that I want to accomplish for MYSELF?

The journey to get to where I am professionally was arduous - filled with many bumps and setbacks. I feel as though getting this job was akin to climbing Mount Everest. I *should* feel on top of the world. Instead, more often than not, I feel a sense of, "Okay, well, now what?"

I think it is fair to say that professional restlessness runs in my blood. My father runs his own business, because he's too cranky-pants to work with anyone else. My brothers are renaissance men that have dabbled in more professions than I can count. On the one hand, I do not want to submit to a life of bouncing around from job to job...on the other, I do not want to ignore my feelings entirely for the sake of a steady paycheck either.

I do not expect I'll figure out the answer anytime soon...but those are the thoughts that are currently tumbling around in my head!

Gratitude: I *AM* thankful that I got to speak to both of my brothers AND my sister today. A rare treat indeed!

M is for Mondays...and Music: Musical Memory, Motorcycle Drive By

Musical Memory: Third Eye Blind's Motorcycle Drive By

Saint Thomas Aquinas High School, Dover, NH - May 2000


In the fall of 1999, I was 17 years-old, a senior in high school, and (NERD ALERT) the president of the Swing Dance Club. At the club's first meeting of the year - a gaggle of freshman girls tumbled through the door all swarmed around a lanky, tall, handsome kid.

That's when Mark walked into my life.

"Freshman Mark," as he came to be known amongst my friends, was one of the few boys in Swing Dance Club, and I claimed him as my partner - much to the chagrin of the aforementioned gaggle of freshman girls. We became fast friends. He was different than any boy I had ever met. We read ee cummings poems aloud to each other for fun and passed notes in the hallways between classes. We could spend hours talking about music and books and life. We both loved to sing. And we loved each other.

Philia is one of the four ancient Greek words for love.

Philia in Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics is usually translated as 'friendship', though in fact his use of the term is much broader. Aristotle gives examples of philia including: young lovers, lifelong friends, members of the same tribe, etc.

All of these different relationships involve getting on well with someone, though Aristotle at times implies that something more like actual liking is required. When he is talking about the character or disposition that falls between obsequiousness or flattery on the one hand and surliness or quarrelsomeness on the other, he says that this state: "has no name, but it would seem to be most like [philia]; for the character of the person in the intermediate state is just what we mean in speaking of a decent friend, except that the friend is also fond of us."

Aristotle takes philia to be both necessary as a means to happiness ("no one would choose to live without friends even if he had all the other goods") and noble or fine in itself.

I took Mark to my prom. Although he was old for his grade and I was young for mine, our two-ish year age difference raised many an eyebrow. Scandal I tell you. I didn't give a crap! I had one of the best-lookin' dates in the room.

At the end of the year, I knew that I would be heading off to college, and that I would be leaving Mark behind. It filled me with dread. I felt certain, that whatever special moment in time that we had shared, was exactly that - a moment in time. I was convinced that the magic of our friendship would dissipate. I was becoming an adult - and he was stuck back in childhood...and I did not have words for the sense of impending loss that I felt. I did not know how to bridge the gap.

So I sang him a song - at my final coffee house performance.

And this is our last time
We'll be friends again
I'll get over you, you'll wonder who I am

And there's this burning
Just like there's always been
I've never been so alone, alone
And I, and I, I've never been so alive
So alive

At 17, those words (though melodramatic in retrospect) seemed true and right...and summed up what couldn't be said. And he got it...he always did.

>

***

Nearly 13 years later, Mark and I are still friends.

We wrote letters back and forth to each other while I was in school in Virginia. He was there when I came home at 19 - suffering from a near-quarter life crisis, i.e. head up my ass period. When I lost Liam, my mother asked me if I wanted her to call any of my friends. I told her "Call Allison (my best friend from dance), Shannon (my best friend from college), and Mark." He was there for me through all of that too.

When I got married, and had to choose my bridesmaids, I asked my ex if he would have Mark be a groomsman. Mark ushered me down the aisle alongside my best girl friends.

When all of that fell apart, years later, Mark was one of the first friends to come swooping in and prop me back up.

Aristotle calls it philia...and that is as close a word that I can use to describe my long-standing friendship with Mark. We have often signed correspondence to each other "Love/Miss You Madly", and I love him madly to this day - his birthday!

Happy 27 Mark-o...this one goes out to you! You are my life-long friend, a member of my tribe.

That doesn't take balls...

Last night was the dress rehearsal/preview night for The Vagina Monologues. We had a small, invited audience.

I mentioned, the other day, that my role/monologue is very, umm, not me. Or not so much, not me, but a very hypersexualized, lady-loving, overt version of me. What I did not get in to, is that this particular monologue is also very CHALLENGING to deliver. During the monologue, I talk about helping other women orgasm, (something I've never had experience with as a heterosexual lady), and then the piece culminates with me making a series of increasingly loud, ridiculous, sexual noises. For perspective, you can read my piece here.

Directly after the performance, I was approached by quite a few audience members. Some congratulated me, some hugged me, but a particular woman said something that really made me smile.

This woman, who looked like she was in her sixties, approached me from across the room. As she came toward me, she pointed a finger at me and exclaimed, "YOU! You, missy, have got some serious GUTS...You are BRAVE..."

She went on,

"You know - I'm going to tell you something. I have a friend, who is a massage therapist. She is a worldly woman. She has had a lot of adventures and done a lot of daring things. One day, she was discussing something with a group of friends and someone turned to her and said. "Wow, that took a lot of BALLS!" She replied, "Hold on there...that took a lot of OVUM." And what you did on stage, my dear, that didn't take balls, that took a lot of OVUM!"

Then she patted me on the arm, and walked away.

Ovum. I love that, and I love this show.

Opening night tonight! EEEEEEEEEEK!

The Vagina Monologues

I have not had the opportunity to discuss a wonderful project that I am involved in this year. I am a part of the cast of V-Day Portsmouth 2012. V-Day Portsmouth has joined the global effort to end violence against women and girls. This year we will be performing The Vagina Monologues written by Eve Ensler. This piece is fun and funny but does not hesitate to expose its viewers to the serious issues of physical and sexual violence that impact women not only every year but every day.

You can find more information about V-Day at www.vday.org

WHAT: The Vagina Monologues

WHEN: Friday February 17th 7pm (8pm showtime)
Saturday February 18th 7pm (8pm showtime)
Sunday February 19th at 6pm (7pm showtime)

WHERE: Seacoast Repertory Theater
125 Bow Street
Portsmouth, NH 03801

COST: $25.00 General Admission
$20.00 Students/Seniors

To purchase tickets online visit http://www.seacoastrep.org/
Box Office: 603-433-4472 Box Office Email: boxoffice@seacoastrep.org

* PLEASE BRING EXTRA CASH WITH YOU!
In addition to our performance of the Vagina Monologues, there will be many delightful items for sale in the lobby, including a Raffle, Beautiful Locally Handmade Art, and Delicious Goodies.

*SPREAD THE WORD!
Share this event with your friends on Facebook!

*****

Tonight was the first technical rehearsal for V-Day. My role is The Woman Who Loved to Make Vaginas Happy - a monologue about a lawyer turned sex worker who only did work with women. Not. me. at. all. The role is FUN and challenging, and I had a blast rehearsing it tonight - corseted up and workin' some fierce heels. The cast is amazing, a truly joyful and talented group of women doing good work for a good cause. If you are local - I urge you to join us this weekend. If not - I encourage you to look out for V-Day events in your own community.

A conversation with one of my 12 year-old students

Student: Miss! You got a Valentine?
Me: No.
Student: You want me to hook you up?
Me: (laughing) No thank you - that's okay.
Student: What? He's older. He's 16 and he's CUTE!
Me: (((DYING)))

M is for Mondays...and Music: Musical Memory, I Have Nothing

Music Monday is a day late...I started writing this yesterday, and it got a little too epic to finish in one sitting. Sorry!

I was shocked and saddened to hear that Whitney Houston had died over the weekend. While I did not live and breathe for her music, she was just one of those artists who was always there. I remember sitting in the back seat of the school bus around first or second grade with Walkman (remember those?) blaring Ohhhhhhhhhh, I wanna dance with somebodaaaaaay! I wanna feel the HEAT with somebodaaaaaaaay! Yeahhhhhh I wanna dance with somebody - with somebody who loves me! You'd better believe my six year old self used to step touch it out to that shit!

Then came The Bodyguard, and my cousins Amy and Erica and I would spend HOURS in their basement recording warbly covers of I Will Always Love You (and other gems such as Janet Jackson's Again and every song on the Les Miserables soundtrack). I would literally maim people to have a copy of those cassettes - I'd bet they are PRICELESS.

Whitney taught me that I was every woman and that Chaka Khan was awesome (right on both counts, Whitney). Nobody, not ANYONE that came before or after her will ever sing our national anthem like that again.

Whitney was beautiful - and talented, which is why it is such a shame that it all fell apart, and fell apart too soon. Thanks for the music - Whitney.

Musical Memory: Whitney Houston's I Have Nothing

M+O's Bakery, Portsmouth, NH - Autumn 2008

When I left Ballet New England in 2008, I floundered for a bit. With no local dance jobs to be had - I drew upon my love for making food to get myself a job that would pay the bills. And that is how I came to be a baker at M+O's.

I was a "sweets" baker. The bread bakers came in around 2:00 or 3:00AM and stayed until 11:00AM or noon. I had the much easier shift, sweets bakers were in from 11:00-7:00PM. The bakery would be crowded and bustling during the shift overlap, but after the bread staff had left it would just be K, M and me.

K and M were the most fun co-workers, and we were an unlikely, tight-knit trio. K was 21 year old petit girl with long blonde hair. She dressed mainly in band tees and bell bottom jeans and had a husky deep, monotone voice that sounded hilariously wrong coming out of her tiny body. Also, she was stoned or hung over 85% of the time. M was 18, tall skinny, gay and flamboyant as all get out. He had an outstanding snarky, sharp tongued sense of humor and a penchant for pop divas (Britney, Madonna, Whitney).

M and I would wile away the hours by having intense singing-dancing-bake-offs. K would always look on with mild bemusement...not participating, but not exactly disapproving either.

On a particularly dull day - M put on Whitney's greatest hits. I Have Nothing started to play - and something took over me. I sang. I danced. There was tossing of flour and singing into rolling pins like a microphone. There were episodes of running through proofing racks and spinning with brooms.

Thus - the I Have Nothing Interpretive Dance was born. Essentially - I do the most ridiculous literal interpretation lip synch extravaganza to this song. I gave an encore performance at my best friend, Allison's 27th birthday party because she loves Whitney Houston. She laughed so much that she cried. I still bust it out occasionally at parties upon request. My friends think it's a friggin' riot.

I do not know what it is about this song - but it brings out my inner clown...and it will always remind me of M and K and the days that we spent together listening to pop music and tossing flour around the bakery.

Belly Laughs from the Teacher's Desk

I usually do not talk about my work life here...but this was just too good not to share. This week has continued to be challenging with my little tween nuggets. Yesterday - the lesson plans were put aside for the day, journals taken out, and questions posed as to how we can work together to make our class environment a little more positive.

To give you a little perspective, the following journal entry is written by a twelve year old girl. She is well under five feet tall, still has a baby-ish look about her, cute as a button, and barely speaks a peep in my class. She participates, takes impeccable notes and is an A student in my class. Yesterday afternoon, she wrote the following...

"What do I like about this class? What I like about this class is doing across the floor and warm up. EVERYTHING. I come so happy to dance in this class, because I like to dance, but the majority of the class doesn't pay attention and they don't fucking shut their fucking ass mouths when we come into the room.

What I don't like about this class is that people just talk and talk and they don't give a FUCK. That's what I hate...because I come all proud that "Oh, I'm going to dance!" but people FUCKING RUIN IT. That's what gets on my nerves.

I would like it if they would leave, and change their schedule, because it's annoying when they don't PAY FUCKING ATTENTION.

P.S. Sorry, Ms. D that I wrote inappropriate words, but I'm so mad today. I'M. SO. MAD. TODAY. "

Needless to say, I was HOWLING.

Also - there was a very large mad face drawn underneath this entry with sharp angry teeth and crazy eyes.

I think that she missed the constructive goal of the essay assignment, but I'm glad that she feels like her journal is a place that she can express herself freely.

Still laughing...I may have to photocopy this and hang it in my office.

Let the Crusade Begin...

On Tuesday my hoodlerinas were, well...hoods. Rough class.

That evening I came home and proceeded to have a great night to make up for a challenging day. I had delicious veggie pot-pie for dinner, washed down with a tasty chocolate ginger stout. After dinner, I tossed a Joni Mitchell album on the record player, and dragged out some sparkly paints and a brush.

Last year, I didn't have the heart to keep up with my little Holiday Handmade Crusade, (read all about the crusade's beginnings here), but this year, I'm feelin' it again. I don't have quite enough craft-tastic strength to rally the whole internet to join me in my endeavors, but this year I'm starting a little late, and a little quieter - for me.

After the dishes were washed, the paints were put away and crafty WIPs were drying on the kitchen table, I practiced some yoga, then settled into my soft bed with a book - so grateful for a full and wonderful day.

Homemade Doughnuts - Check!

When I put "make homemade doughnuts" on my 29 before 30 list - I decided to do a little cook book shopping for recipe inspiration. I picked up Donuts by Elinor Klivans. When I flipped Donuts open to page 65 - I knew exactly what recipe I would be using for my first doughnut-making foray...

I present - Maple Bacon Doughnuts.

Oh yeah, it's just a delicious homemade doughnut, with maple glaze, and maple-candied bacon on top. No big whoop.

Friggin' orgasmic I tell you. These doughnuts are the bomb diggety woo-ha!

Another item checked off of the birthday list - wahoo!

M is for Mondays...and Music: Song Crush of the Week/Ani DiFranco's Overlap

The Out of Range album has been in heavy rotation in ze Jeep lately - and this song is just perfect and beautiful for right now.

I'm going to let this one play me to sleep...G'night!

M is for Mondays...and Music: Musical Memory, Teach Your Children Well

Musical Memory: CSNY Teach Your Children Well/Stone Environmental Camp

Madison, New Hampshire - Fifth Grade, 1993

I remember connecting strongly to big issues as a small child - especially, environmentalism. A few times a year my parents would take me to the Museum of Science in Boston. At the end of each of these highly anticipated trips, I was allowed to pick one thing from the gift shop. After a visit, in second grade, I chose Going Green - a handbook on green consumerism for children.

The little radical within was awakened.

Shortly after reading Going Green cover to cover - I staged my first protest. Yes...in second grade...at seven years old. I found out that my elementary school was NOT serving dolphin friendly tuna. I drew morbid little pictures of dolphins with X's over their eyes caught up in nets - and stood at the front of the lunch line with my best friend Kailey - urging my fellow students not to choose the tuna roll, but the clam strips instead.

The teachers thought it was cute...kind of funny...until the cafeteria ran out of clam strips and there were 50+ grade schoolers refusing to eat the tuna. I was promptly dragged to my seat, fist pumping in triumph. Not so cute.

Fast forward to fifth grade - 1993. I was the dirtiest hippie of a 10 year old you would ever meet...therefore it was with great jubilation that I received the news that our entire class would be spending five days and five nights away from home at Stone Environmental School. Environmental camp?! Yes, please.

We spent five glorious days learning about water conservation, composting, and yes, there was literally some tree-hugging action. It was a wonderful experience for me. The counselors were awesome, all-knowing, greenie gods and goddesses - and I felt like I had found my tribe.

Me and my classmates at Stone. Want to find me? Look for the happiest kid in the picture - beaming front and center in the green and navy striped shirt.

Alas - my tribe and I were not destined to be together forever. The five days came and went, and on the last evening of camp, our counselors encouraged us to take what we had learned and teach it to others. In true hippie-crunchy style - they conveyed this message to us in a song...

Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young's Teach Your Children Well

To this day, when I hear Teach Your Children Well, I am filled with nostalgia for environmental camp. I remember a warm sense of belonging, but also a sense of importance. It was at Stone that I developed a deeper connection to the big issues, and learned that even a 10 year old could play a tiny part in affecting big change.

Dance-spiration Friday: Zero Gravity

Saw this on Facebook today via San Francisco Ballet's feed. This one needs no words. Beautiful.

Zero Gravity from WE MAKE THEM WONDER on Vimeo.

TMI?

The good: I just scarfed two double dark chocolate cookies and am now washing those down with a delicious big coffee sprinkled with cinnamon.

The bad: I'm also trying to see how much Aleve one person can consume in one day without getting an ulcer.

The ugly: I think that this is going on in my uterus RIGHT NOW. Can ya dig it, ladies?

TMI?

Post Script: OW OW OW OW OW OW OW!

The 60-Second Joy List for 2/1/12

• Yesterday one of my students was speaking Japanese all day, and insisted on calling me "Sensei" because I am her teacher. I had no objections.


• I get to see my sweet Dorchester girls today.


• Cassie was so cute snuggled up on an issue Whole Living magazine this morning. She's researching how to be a better cat-self.


• Hobbes was so cute curled up in a pile of laundry this morning. She researches nothing - she's just a goddamned queen and knows it.


• It's a GOOD UNDERWEAR day.


• My pear smoothie was delicious this morning.


• I love my colorful vintage sheets.


• I am glad that I’m doing yoga again.