Weekend Recap

Just to keep this from being an all dance all the time blog, here's a quick run down of my weekend.

I was feeling itchy and claustrophobic in my apartment on Friday so at the advice of the Scotsman I headed over to his place, making a pit stop at Trader Joe's and the liquor store along the way. Since I got to his house kind of late, we spent Friday night noshing on chips and queso and watching cheesy action flicks.

Saturday we spent the day checking out various tattoo places in The Scotsman's area. The Scotsman has a hankering for two new tattoos (he currently has one of a dragon on his left calf); one of the Celtic Tree of Life [similar to this image, only without the outside border], the other of another dragon, with more detail. The Celtic Tree of Life he'd like to get on his right shoulder and the dragon on his inner left forearm. So we went to about three different places, checking out the portfolios of different artists and getting price quotes. In the end, he decided to go back to the place he got his first tattoo, and so today at 4:00, he's getting the Tree of Life done on his shoulder. I am bummed that I can't be with him, but he's wanted this Celtic Tree of Life tattoo for close to 15 years, so he's antsy for it.

After our tattoo excursions, we headed to Temple of Gaia (the Scotsman's coven) for a full moon ritual. The ritual was supposed to be closed and I was content to just stay at the Scotsman's house and wait for him to come back, but I think he felt bad about leaving me for 4+ hours. So he asked his High Priestess if she minded me coming, and since they were only doing the ritual and no lessons and only expecting one other coven member to attend, she said it was fine.

Sunday we headed to New Hope and spent the entire glorious day in the sunshine shopping. Remarkably, I had never been to New Hope before. We had a great time, and I spent my money a little too easily, but managed to buy things I really needed. I finally found a chalice for my altar and got a second emergency back-up chalice (for travel mostly, since my main chalice is ceramic and easily breakable). The chalice was the main thing I've been missing and despite all my searching had been unable to find one that "felt" right to me.

After coming back from New Hope, we spent Sunday evening in the Scotsman's back yard, just hanging out and talking. He lit a fire in his fire pit, lit all his tiki torches and we sat in the garden with drinks and a few clove cigarettes. It was a lovely night, not too hot, with lots of stars in the sky.

Monday morning The Scotsman's Tae Kwon Do club was marching in a local parade, so I went along and walked the parade with them, handing out fliers. It was hot out there, and every time the parade stopped, the students would do their forms and demonstrate self-defense moves. The Scotsman was leading them (he is quite handsome doing Tae Kwon Do, I must say) and sweat was just pouring off of them all. The parade went for over 2 hours and we were beat by the time it was done. We spent afternoon in the air conditioning, napping on the couch and watching episodes of True Blood. We had a cook out that evening with yummy summer foods.

Hope you all had a lovely Memorial Day!

Catching air

When one door closes, another one certainly opens. Last night was to be my last night at the McDade workshop, but Sheila announced that she's extending the program for another 4 weeks after Memorial Day. Which is, frankly, awesome. I get another month of step dancing before going into ceili for the rest of the summer with Timoney.

Sheila worked us hard, too. She made us go over our jig steps and ran us through the ceili's we've done (High Caul Cap and Siege of Ennis) and then quickly taught us the beginnings of the Fairy Reel. After we ran through the Fairy Reel twice, she stared us learning reel steps (they have a very easy but very pretty beginner reel step that I quite enjoyed) and then taught us Jump-2-3s.

Jump-2-3s are one of my favorite things to do in Irish dance. It's those big leaps you see Irish dancers doing, and they are a staple of reels and slip jigs. 10 years ago my dad bought me ankle weights to help with the lift of these jumps. It's important to get high and have your front leg at a 90° angle and your back leg tucked under you, before switching out and landing on what was your back leg. Diddly Magazine has a nice little post on that moment in the air where dancers seemingly float before landing, complete with a video to demonstrate.

Jump-2-3s are kind of hard to learn, though, because in order figure it out at first you need to go slow to grasp the mechanics. But Jump-2-3s are best done with momentum; it's truly easier to do them faster than slower. The poor students in class last night who had never done a Jump-2-3 were really struggling. For awhile they looked like they were goose-stepping with little gallops in between and I remembered vaguely how hard it was when I first learned these in the basement of a Baptist church in Hershey. It's not something that happens overnight. Your body truly needs time to suss out the mechanics of it.

Eventually, Sheila had us line up and Jump-2-3 around the room to music (which, again, if you don't know how to fit it to the music, can be very frustrating). Imagine my surprise on my third Jump-2-3 when I started catching some serious air. I mean, I used to do these all the time, and I could get pretty high. But now I am 50 pounds heavier and out of shape. But muscles must really remember, because I could feel the air pushing against my face and felt the floaty moment happening. I caught sight of myself in the mirror for my next Jump-2-3 and even with jiggly belly, I was high. I mean, not as high as I could go if I was in shape, obviously, but certainly higher than I thought I would be able to go.

It was a nice moment, especially after last week's frustrating class. Reaffirmed for me that I am glad I am doing this and should have sucked it up and done it sooner.

However, I still suck at the treble reel.

Owowowow

I just had my first dancing class and all I can say is: OW.

I am so ridiculously out of shape, the warm up alone took a lot out of me. Making matters worse, there are large mirrors along one side of the studio. When I was dancing before we were dancing in church basements and fire halls, not fancy studios, so I find mirrors a bit distracting at first. But after a few minutes, I can usually focus enough to ignore the mirror completely.

However.

What I could not ignore was the reflection of every part of me jiggling: tummy, thighs, etc. Ugh. I can't believe that I've let myself get this overweight.

No matter. Dance classes are a part of trying to control and reduce that weight, so already I feel better about it. But for vanity's sake next week I will wear a looser t-shirt and longer shorts/pants. Good grief.

The class is large, and a nice mix of people who've never danced before and people who have. We didn't go around saying our names, backgrounds, or anything so I have no idea who anyone is. As we were leaving class, I thought I detected some Irish accents among three of the ladies, so it seems we have some authentics in this class. We also have a boy!

Having a guy in the class is sort of exciting for me because they're so rare – at least in my old school. I think at Coyle we had maybe two boys. And one of them was my cousin, Sean. Any guy who gets into Irish dancing is smart because the ratio is so awesome (in my class tonight, it was 26-1), so he can have his pick of the ladies.

This guy is somewhere around my age or younger, and you can tell he's previously danced or still currently dances. He seemed chummy with several of he girls already and they all seemed to know the instructor. So maybe he does/did dance with McDade? In any event, boy has jumps to die for – excellent height, fantastic control. Also: Calves of rock. It made me long for my calves in high school, which used to be so muscular and slender.

Since I'm looking at this class as a primer for beginning with Timoney in June, I tried really hard to focus on small things throughout the class: pointing my toes, my posture, turning my toes out, kicking up high in the back. Which is, admittedly, hard when you're just starting up again after 10 years (oy).

The class moved quickly: warm up, jump-2-3's, simple soft jig step, beginnings of a ceili dance (High Caul Cap, which I know I learned with Coyle, but for the life of me could not remember). The class just whizzed by, and even with my out-of-shape, dumpy self, I couldn't believe it when the instructor said the class was over. Further proof that I need a class environment and fun movement to trick myself into exercising. Because for me an hour at the gym is an eternity, but I was begging for more after this class.

I came home and had so much pent-up energy from the class, I pulled out my Jean Butler Masterclass DVD. Jean Butler* is the former principle dancer from Riverdance, and while the DVD can be used by anyone, it's really beneficial to dancers because she breaks down a lot of the fundamental components of Irish dance steps. She has whole workouts devoted to toe points and arches or leg lifts and balance. It's really something I should have been doing all along, but I rarely pull this out because I lack proper space to truly dance. Finding space in my apartment to practice is really tough and truly frustrating. Still I did the best I could in my bedroom.


Already I can feel my legs stiffening up, and I know tomorrow I will be hobbling about the office. The other thing that happened in class tonight is that during some routine 7's in the ceili, I landed wrong on my weak ankle – the right ankle, the one I badly sprained in my final year of dancing. I was able to recover quickly, but this serves as a lesson that I should probably start doing ankle exercised daily and maybe think about wrapping it for the next class.

So to recap: Dancing fun but my body needs to slim down. I feel clunky and sore, but happy and exhilarated. Siamsa!

*My fun Jean Butler story: My first feis (competition) ever, the authenticator was Jean Butler's teacher. Needless to say, I was geeked and intimidated, and add onto that, a bundle of nerves about my first ever competition. I ended up taking three first places (jig, reel, hornpipe) and one second place (slip jig) in the competition, which still makes me proud to this day. I don't know if this is a reflection of me or the other dancers, but I still can crow that Jean Butler's teacher liked me the best in three dances!

Beltane reflections

Last year at Beltane I was feeling a bit lost and most lonely. Things with Brisket had just fizzled out and I was left contemplating why. I have a habit of turning things around on myself and it wasn't because he was emotionally immature or using me (both things which are very true), rather it was because I am wretched, fat, dorky, and not worth his time.

Going into Beltane I was trying to change that perception of myself – repeating mantras that I may be flawed, but I am also beautiful, like a Persian rug with a mislaid thread. Telling myself that I am kind, clever, giving and fun, having much to offer in friendship and love. For whatever reason, the nice things are harder to believe about yourself, especially when you've just been spectacularly rebuffed by a 28-year old knob who lives in his mother's basement and works at a movie theater. Still, I practiced saying these things to myself, over and over.

When I arrived at Beltane, I sat for awhile in a corner, weaving myself a crown of flowers and repeating my mantras. And then he walked in.

I noticed him immediately and as cliché as it sounds, my heart palpitated a bit. I had never seen him at an Open before. He was dressed in all black, with a simple pentacle hanging around his neck. He looked muscular and fit, and he had deep dimples when he smiled. I was smitten.

Trouble was, I had no idea who he was and I was seriously lacking confidence to just go over and talk to some stunningly hot guy who randomly shows up to Sabbats. And yet, a little voice in my head argued with me, remember your mantras. Remember that you are worth his time and consideration. So I compromised. I would flirt with him from afar and make him come talk to me.

All through the ritual I gave him come-hither eyes. As we danced around the maypole, I would smile and wink at him when we came face to face while weaving our ribbons. When the drumming and dancing began, I made sure to wiggle my hips a bit more when I was near him. During the feasting I sat close-ish to him and hoped that he would overhear parts of my group's conversations and join in.

It didn't work. Even though we locked eyes several times and even though he always returned my smiles, he never spoke to me. I left Beltane feeling rejected again. I tried to comfort myself, acknowledging that I knew nothing about this person – he could be married, or have a non-pagan girlfriend, or be gay, or turn out to be a jerk. It was cold comfort, to say the least, and if you read my entry from last year, you can sort of tell how sad I was feeling.

I'm not going to draw the suspense out any longer: That hot guy turned out to be the Scotsman. I didn't see him again for another 5 months. In the interim, I learned that he had "asked" about me, but that he was going through a divorce -- making him off limits in my book. I promised myself I wouldn't flirt with him because he was emotionally scarred and probably not ready for a relationship. I would be nothing more than a rebound girl. I would behave and be only a friend to him. But when we met for the second time, it was like we were magnets. We couldn't keep away from each other.

I just woke up in his arms this morning, and I couldn't be happier.

===

This year the Scotsman and I were asked to be the May King and Queen for Beltane. I was ecstatic, to say the least. But the Scotsman was unsure – his personal coven had their Beltane the same day. "We can do both," I told him. "We can fit both in, the times don't overlap that much." I encouraged him to tell his high priestess that he had been asked to do this, sure that she would be pleased and proud and insist that he be the May King. His coven is so tiny (only 4 people) and they never start on time. If he just asked, maybe they would push their Beltane back an hour.

But the Scotsman was unsure and wanted to be loyal to his coven. As someone who is well-versed at scheduling lots of things into her life, this was frustrating to me. I so wanted to do this with him – it felt like a perfect circle to last year's Beltane.

But I held my tongue. I let him decide where he wanted to be for Beltane and make the call. We declined to be May King and Queen. And he planned on being with his coven and I planned on being with both the IP and his coven. I swallowed my disappointment.

Then yesterday, two hours before the IP Beltane began, the Scotsman called me and asked if he could come with me. I was simultaneously thrilled and frustrated. See, I thought. We will have time to do both.

Since we declined on being May King and Queen, the IP hadn't found another couple to take on the roles. So the May King and Queen would be decided by fate. During the ritual the single ladies lined up and drew stones from a pouch.

I drew the odd-colored stone.

Some things are meant to be. I obviously chose the Scotsman as my May King (how could I not?) and led him on a merry chase for my crown.

Happy Beltane, everyone.

Super Excited

Things are happening and I like it:

• UBER SEKRET THINGS, that I don't want to jinx. Keep your fingers crossed.
  
  
• One word: BELTANE.
  
  
• Come Sunday it looks like Brian and I are headed to the Fairy Festival in Glenn Rock.
  
  
• You know who else will be there? Tree, Lilly, Dave, Justina, and Amy.
  
  
• PAGAN GOODTIMES, FTW!?
  
  
• Irish dance classes start Monday!
  
  
• Oh, then there's THIS, which, now that I figured out SQL and a bit of PHP, I am having a blast making. Looking to launch in a week!

That's it, really. Love you guys.

Less than two weeks 'til I get my heels up

I bit the bullet and signed up for Irish step dancing lessons again.

As it will come as no surprise to you all, I've been itching to do this for AGES. In February I discovered the Timoney School in Glenside takes adults and that was it. It was all a matter of getting together with some money to make it happen.

And then, an inquiry I sent out over a year ago came back to me from the McDade School – which happens to be one of the most respected dance schools in the area – saying they were offering a month-long workshop for adults. I can remember dancing against McDade in feiseanna and what tough competitors they were. So I thought I would take this workshop with them to get myself back in fighting condition before starting full time with Timoney.

One thing I am super-excited about with Timoney is that they offer both step dancing and ceili dancing instruction. A lot of places that teach adults only teach ceili dances, which are fun and all, but doesn't include all the dances I love – slip jig, treble jig, hornpipe, etc.

I just plunked down $50 for a new set of soft shoes, as my old shoes have cracked soles and holes beginning in the leather. Let me just tell you, the price of shoes hasn't gone down at all. It was hard to resist the siren call of the fancy $65 soft shoes, which look like they're so supportive and give you amazing arches, but I just can't reason spending that much money on what is, essentially, a slipper. I will probably need a new set of hard shoes as well, but I think that $140 investment can wait a bit.

You guys, I am unbelievably stoked about this. I am considerably more dumpling-shaped than I was when I was dancing (...oh Christ...) 10 years ago, but I am hopeful that getting back into dancing will help slim and trim and make me want to work out more (as well as fool me into working out since I hate going to the gym).

I also have some other creative juices flowing with this whole dance thing, I'll keep you posted if I can get it together to do this/get what I want.

===

In other Irish-like news, Inis Nua's latest show, Bedbound is getting some seriously good press.

The play itself is sort of depressing, but in typical Inis Nua fashion, it's also funny, hopeful and weirdly beautiful. It's also ambitious, having the most expensive set in Inis Nua's history, complete with a wowwee special effect.



Toby Zinman of the Philadelphia Inquirer said that it was a "thrilling, searing production" and then went on to say this:

Inis Nua ("New Island" in Gaelic) keeps providing us with startling new theatrical voices from England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales. Tom Reing has tapped into a deep wellspring, giving us playwright after playwright we might never have otherwise seen or heard. Bedbound is one not to miss.

I KNOW. Isn't that just one of the most flattering paragraphs to read? I am so proud of my brother!



Bedbound has three more shows left. You should go see it.

I feel like Inis Nua is on the verge of some pivotal awesomeness. They keep getting better and better, and next year's season is going to be amazing. I feel privileged to be apart of it, even in my small web maintenance/photography way. They're planning to mount Dublin by Lamplight, which is a play my brother has been itching to do even before Inis Nua had been developed. Speaking of which, Inis Nua has found a donor willing to DOUBLE any donations made to the theatre in the coming year, and if they want to do Dublin by Lamplight, they are going to need it. Won't you consider helping out a bit?

Luke and Leslie: Married!

Things have been relatively quiet around this blog. Because...well, I don't know. I guess because I don't have a whole lot to write about? It's winter, so I'm not doing very much aside from actively trying to stay warm and eating many starchy cheese-filled food items. And...my laptop broke, so I can no longer update at home. And my boyfriend's soon-to-be ex wife is kind of cyber-stalkery. Also, none of you are exactly commenting these days and we're all locked down and shit, so I think there's exactly 4 of you reading this right now. HELLO.

All of those things contribute to the perfect storm of me not posting.

But, in an effort to distract myself from the snowicane* we are apparently not getting, I thought I would finally (FINALLY) post the photos from Luke and Leslie's wedding.

I'm not going to lie to you. I was terrified about this wedding. Of all of the weddings in Wedding Palooza '09, I worried about this one the most. Because while, I adore him and while he can sometimes be a bit hammy, Luke isn't always thrilled by a camera. He can be very shy, especially when it comes to things like "smiling." And posing him or asking him to smile just make it worse. And add on all the romantic mushy stuff? Well Luke turns into a turtle practically, all hiding in his little shell. I knew how important this day was to both of them and I was desperate to do well. Adding on to the pressure was the fact that Luke and Leslie had a completely private ceremony, all by themselves, with the exception of me and if they were kind enough to let me see them get married, I had better not fuck it up so help me god, I'd never forgive myself.

So that's basically what was going through my head the entire time I was prepping for this wedding.

But I need not have worried.

Because the day? Was awesome. And Luke? Was so joyful about getting married to Leslie that he didn't have time to be self-conscious about the camera and the two of them were just so freaking sweet the entire time, I kept Awwwwww-ing behind my camera and tearing up.

Luke and Leslie asked me to come over to photograph their "getting ready" for the big day. When I walked in, Luke was watching episodes of "Married with Children," which I thought was hilarious. They started off with a doughnut breakfast for their last un-married morning:



Luke and Leslie both incorporated mementos of their grandparents into their wedding outfits.



Chucks and rings!





Leslie rocked a corset.



LOOK AT THE STYLISH MOFO THAT IS LUKE:



Then it was time to go get married.









Yeah, I totally cried behind my lens. I'M A SAP, SO SUE ME.





I adore this picture of Luke smiling so wide as Leslie slips the ring on his finger. Look how happy! Real Luke smile! With TEETH!



You guys, awwwwwww.



Love them!




Onto the reception!





Their cake was a haunted house!















The Stevenson men, showing their love for the Phightin' Phills! (Who at that time, were well on their way to the World Series.)





Instead of smashing cake into each others' faces, Luke and Leslie smashed it into the best man's and maid of honor's faces. Surprise!







The rain couldn't stop us from getting our dance on.



All of us Cabrini Kids, together. Aww.

Congrats, Luke and Leslie! Thanks for letting me photograph your big day!

*Cecily Tynan literally called it that.

My boyfriend can totally beat up your boyfriend*

So, The Scotsman? Just got his third degree black belt. Bear with me a bit, because I'm going to brag.

It was kind of a big deal this test, because he'd been waiting to take it for close to 9 years. He should have actually taken it about 4 years ago but between his own students and Tae Kwon Do club, not to mention his full-time job and family responsibilities, it kept getting pushed back and pushed back. So the fact that he was finally able to take it was pretty damn special and I was honored that he asked me to come and take photos**.

The test took over 4 hours, which I sort of can't wrap my head around. Don't ask me how he made it through the ordeal, because I would have given up after the first couple of forms and sat myself down with some girl-scout cookies or something and just been satisfied with my two degrees. But he kept going and going and was generally awesome the entire time.

The final portion of the test was the breaking. The Scotsman was the last to go and he was the one breaking the most boards. Prior to The Scotsman's turn, the other students (who were mostly testing for their first degrees) kept not breaking. And they were only trying to break one board. As each of them hit difficulties and had to re-try over and over, I got more and more nervous. Because The Scotsman was breaking 4 boards with his elbow, immediately followed by 3 with a kick, followed by 2 with a different kick (technical term). Grand total of 9 boards for those of you not adding along.

By the time The Scotsman got up there to do his thing, I was pretty edgy. A hush fell over the entire room as he set up the boards, and I overheard a little girl say with awe, "Mom, you HAVE to get a picture of this. He's going to break 4 BOARDS!"

The Scotsman's mom was biting her nails at this point, and I was holding my breath.

But of course, I had nothing to be worried about:



If you look in the mirror, you can see that it takes the strength of 3 burly men to handle the impact. Those boards? Completely broken.

The two kicks went perfectly too:



And let me just tell you, the cheer that went up afterward? Epic. After my heart started beating again, I realized that I had been silly. The Scotsman has been known to break up to 6 boards with his elbow, so those 4? Were like butter.







I might be just a bit proud, you guys.

And then, the next day, The Scotsman cooked me breakfast:



Wearing the belt, obviously. Because you kind of have to.

<3

*He wouldn't, of course, because that goes against the tenants of Tae Kwon Do. But he could, is my point.

** I'm fairly disappointed with how the pictures came out, actually. Too bad his girlfriend is an amateur. Ugh.

Haven and Mike: Married!

I cannot believe how many months it's been since Wedding Palooza and I'm still – STILL! – working on photos from that month.

So, let's go through this supper-quick, but with some love for what a great day that was. Huge photo mega-post: GO!



A handsome groom with delicious flower.




A stunning bride with lots of smiles.















Oh my goodness, are they so freaking cute or what?





I sort of did a poor job of capturing this, because I had my 50mm lens on at the time and couldn't really zoom in, but if you look close you can see the Haven and Mike are thumb wrestling while the priest blesses their vows. That right there tells you everything you need to know about Mike and Haven as a couple.















Brother and sister duke it out!











Please ignore my unplucked eyebrow, but above the intrepid photographer with the lady who first handed her a camera (Justine).











It was such a fun day. Not even the rain could get our spirits down. I still have about, oh, a hundred more to scan in from 35mm and Holga, but you get the idea. Congratulations, Haven and Mike!