Spare a Rose, Save a Child Campaign

I am not a huge fan of V-Day. But I’ll put aside my disdain for this Hallmark Holiday to let you know about this DOC project.

Between now and Valentine’s Day, the Diabetic Online Community is pulling together to try and raise money for the Life for a Child campaign. I know I bitch and moan about my medical expenses here, but I’m considered a lucky duck just because I have insurance to cover all of my nice things. Some T1 children can’t even afford the insulin to keep them alive. The idea is that you donate 1/12 of the cost of a dozen roses. That’ll probably cover someone’s care who could really use it. (And flowers die, kids! Spend your money on something more worth while.)

You can read more about it here, here, and here.

The image above and the lovely banner on my side bar take you to where you can donate.

To sweeten the incentive, I’m having a contest similar to Karen over at Bitter Sweet. But I don’t knit. At all. (Oh – the horrors!) I do dance. And I like sparkly things. So I’ve teamed up with a dance friend of mine who runs a rhinestone and dress design biz. We’re going to come up with something fabulous, shiny, and Blue Friday appropriate. (Most likely an accessory/piece of jewelry.) All you have to do is donate and then comment below. Then I’ll pick a winner via random draw on Friday. (Please allow two weeks post V-Day.)

These could be fun...

These could be fun…

Wordless Wednesday: Wine on the 2

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Oddly enough, I don’t like dancing Mambo. But – it was a ballroom dance featured on a wine bottle. So I had to buy it! I hope it doesn’t share the same fate as the Tango label wine I bought this summer. (Which was crap.)

Except I can’t have any tonight because I am basal testing overnight and I measured my dinner carbs to a T so I wouldn’t overdo my bolus ratios. (As an aside, I’ve never been so frustrated with a scale in my life.)

I’ve also had “Mambo Italiano” stuck in my head since I bought the bottle. This can’t end well.

And now for something completely different…


There’s no crying in V Waltz…

After debating back and forth on whether this was actually going to happen, I signed up today to be a part of, what may be, my last spring showcase. Yes, I’m aware that I said this LAST year. And said it again in December. But dance teachers always lie when they shout, “one more time!” to a class… why can’t I?

My instructor proposed a song in December that I kind of liked but wrote off quickly because it was a Viennese Waltz. I didn’t want to take on a V Waltz because of all the spinning, the speed, and stamina required for a three minute routine, only to have to quit due to the off chance I end up pregnant some time before May. If open right turns are nauseating now, imagine them with morning sickness. <hurl>

Then I went through the phase that every dancer goes through when picking a song for a routine. I skipped through every single song on my iPod because nothing sounded good. Absolutely nothing. You want it to be good because you’ll be listening to it non-stop for the next three months, not to mention coordinating costuming, make up, emotions, whatnot… It’s a big deal to pick a song. It’s like picking a wedding dress (every 6 months)! After picking all of my routine songs in the past, I wasn’t just going to jump on the first song my instructor suggested. That’s unheard of.

I made a playlist of potential songs, all for different dance styles and routines ranging from lighthearted and cute to melodramatic and angsty. (And one from the Twilight soundtrack… but we won’t discuss that.) I spent two-ish hours with my instructor listening for the perfect song even though we already found it: the song we heard in December.

I didn’t realize it was perfect until I started tearing up in my car driving into work one morning listening to the song on repeat. It happens. You are feeling particularly down, with a lot on your mind (read: hormonal), and a song pops on that just lets the flood gates open freely. I didn’t actually get to the point of crocodile tears during my commute (awkward), but I was definitely at the point where if someone were to ask if I were okay, I’d squeak “I’m fine” when I’m not really.

Here is the premise: it’s a breakup song. The end of a relationship. Nothing fits or feels right because said asshole isn’t around anymore. We’ve heard it all before. But in an attempt to reconcile, the songwriter indicates that if he comes around again, she’ll welcome him back and carry on. (Take the chain off the door, as she puts it.)

Now, I’m not ending any relationships with real people these days (at least I hope not). However, I cried over the song because I am, supposedly, ending my relationship with dance. As much as I would like to continue it full time, the whole “being a diabetic mom” thing seems to be taking precedent. It’s time to move on and try something new. This is more than just a pretty song to me; it’s my chance to say good bye. But it’s one of those hobbies and passions (and families) that would accept me back with open arms, should I ever come around again.

My attempt to explain this today during my choreography session fell short. (And again, near tears.) I try not to make it a habit to cry during lessons and generally do quite well. However I offered my instructor no guarantees for this one.

So I think he needs to practice saying this:

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“There’s no crying in v waltz!”

Okay, maybe not exactly like that… you get the idea…

Weekly Photo Challenge: My Dance 2012 in Pictures

Weekly Photo Challenge:

My 2012 in Pictures. Do I need to say more? And you knew this was going to be a multi-photo challenge! Make sure you include picture captions to explain to people what they’re seeing, and experiment with the tiled galleries I love so much.

Since dance is a huge part of my life, here are my top 10 dance related photos from the year. I had some big moments, so 10 doesn’t really cover it. Click on each for a caption.

One Shoe’d Thoughts

Very Fine Dance shoes… or are they?

It’s Monday. Generally, the weekend after a showcase, I take Monday off to recoup from the excitement, nerves, and lack of sleep. However, with so much to do, and a mini holiday vacation starting Friday, I figured, what would be the point? So I’m gripping tightly to all things caffeinated and plodding miserably through my day. Thank goodness all my launches are NEXT month.

My stomach is fighting me though. Since I was stressed and frantic for most of the weekend trying to accommodate everyone, I kind of gave up on eating all fruits and vegetables for the weekend. Sans maybe a couple raspberries. Oh… and water. And then I indulged in pizza… at least 4 times… this week. Thankfully, the blood sugars sort of stayed normal. Though – the drop from 263 to 45 for no reason really had me second guessing myself.

For the most part, my routines went well. And since this may be the last time I will be doing a showcase like this for a while, I’m glad both routines were memorable in their own ways.

Typically when I do two routines, one generally gets overshadowed by the other. And I usually feel better about one moreso than the other. It happens. So I was convinced that no one would remember my nightclub two step routine once they saw my foxtrot/international rumba combo. And I was fine with that. The foxtrot is definitely one of my favorite pieces of the year! If not of my 4+ years of dancing. The two step was an experimental decision that I fought the entire time I was remembering choreography. God bless my instructor for his patience because I seriously would have slapped myself half way through. (I probably did… not gonna lie.) Being less excited about a piece doesn’t mean I can’t perform the shit out of it. So I did what I do best… smile and have a good time.

And then my shoe came unbuckled halfway through the performance.

I’ve never had a “wardrobe malfunction” during a routine. Particularly one that effects the most important feature of a dancer’s body. (YMMV.) But I dismount from the lift we have in the two step routine and realize… “oh hey… my shoe buckle just came undone.” So as the audience full of dancers have a simultaneous heart attack, I put on my best smile and wonder how the hell I’m going to finish this routine with a half on shoe. My instructor was none the wiser that I was thisclose to tripping someone. (Most likely myself.) Two step doesn’t really warrant itself to quick movements, fast kicks, or sharp turns. (I guess it could have been worse… I could have been doing a quickstep routine.) I couldn’t really kick my shoe into the audience or off to the side without risk of sending the projectile into one of the studio mirrors… or up at the ceiling… or at someone’s head.  So I just prayed that my flailing strap would stay out of my and my instructor’s way.

The routine ended without incident, sans a small ankle roll after a sitting hen dismount. (Which was the first time I was able to execute it correctly… ever.) Post routine, before the walk off, I yanked off my shoe, acknowledged the audience’s panic attack, and limped (because I still an a heeled shoe on the other foot) off stage.

Success is when your instructor has no idea something like that happened. (Though I think I might have modified some of the choreography to keep my shoe on.) And that the routine you deemed in your head as not memorable becomes the only thing that people continue to talk about.

PS – the other routine went great too. I’m very lucky to have an instructor I can “get into character with” and that piece was definitely theatrical. But I don’t think we’ll soon forget my shoeless wonder. At least he’ll have a good story to tell future students pre-showcase.

#Ballroomdancegirlproblems

tanner

Well – that’ll leave a mark.

Topic: Self tanning.

I have a show in two days. There will be stage lights. I’m whiter than a cue ball and it’s the middle of December. So I do what any ballroom dance girl would do – I self tan.

Yes – I understand that tanning booths are horrid. Then there is the risk of being an oompa loompa stunt double for 3-5 days. (Bonus – I’m also really short.) This is why I typically opt for airbrush tans (Thanks Groupon!) or the Versa Spa spray tanning booths. It’s much more effective than this. Trust me.

But I ran out of time to actually make an appointment this year. You’d think I’d have lots of spare time after micromanaging my diabetes, settling in at a new job, studying for my teacher training final, AND practicing two routines. Obviously I must be a total slacker.

Really though, there just wasn’t a good night this week to go in. Spray tans usually last about 3 days and take about 8 hours to “set.” So I have to plan a day or evening where I can be completely free of sweat, water, oils, deodorants, and soap. Generally evenings a better because no one really cares about BO while sleeping. Usually. (Plus this tan stuff smells.)

Why do I do this? Well, under lights with a fake tan, I’ll actually look somewhat normal.

Without a tan…

Okay, maybe not that bad.

So I bought a can of Tanwise from my local beauty supply shop upon the recommendation of my dance instructor. It’s apparently better than other OtC brands because you can see the airbrushed  color on your skin immediately after you spray. Fabulous. I’m always the girl who uses some OtC brand as diligently as possible, only to discover some “skunk stripe” on my arm. And then I’ll make the mistake of trying to fix it, only to end up with a darker outline around the mistake.

I recruited the hubs to help spray me down and then clean up the HUGE mess in the bathtub. (Seriously, that stuff got everywhere.) I also discovered why barrier cream is important on the bottom of your feet. Thank God it’s not flip flop weather right now.

I’m also really lucky I changed my infusion set this morning. Self tanning usually brings up a lot of questions about my pump and the infusion set. The techs usually ask – well – don’t you want to remove that thing? I disconnect when I get sprayed. But I don’t do a set change. If I change immediately after the tan, it usually leaves an awkward white halo on my abdomen as the spray doesn’t seep through the med tape. (I suppose that’s a good thing.) However, since I’m not due for a set change until Sunday, no one will really notice.

So now I sit and wait for my fake tan to make me look like I vacationed in Bali for a week, even though my Irish and Scottish blood would never make that possible anyway.

Oh – and I dance a bunch on Saturday. Ack!