cozy home stuff, woodsy walks, and foods shot from above

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The air is getting crispier, the leaves are burning up the last of their fuel to light the quickly darkening sky, and our house is feeling cozier every day. Every room seems to be progressing at once now- we hung a mirror on the landing! put a rug by the porch doors! stacked figgy up on a stool (thanks mom!)- but that also means every room has a new project all at once, too- more lights in the living room! and the dining room! and the office, for that matter! But ah, the bliss of cohabiting with my bff…

Pumpkin bread, pumpkin pancakes, tiny pumpkins by the fireplace. Movie nights and warm beverage mornings, bike rides on the boulevard. Neighborhood walks, new neighbor talks, carrot-ginger muffins and rainbow-colored zinnias welcoming us in. Bristol beehive snackin’, mini-botanical stackin’, moody reds outfit trackin’.

October, you’re a fine thing.

life on mars

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It’s starting to feel like fall around here! We are into Week 2 at the ballet, and I even when apple-picking with M’s family over the weekend…

After sweating through the sweet early season apple harvest, M took me to a place unlike any in other in Rhode Island. The sky was burning red and it felt like we were looking back at the sun from another planet…our own green rock somewhere in space. A quiet, breathing range to reflect on this new season of dancing and of life.

I’m spending my days in a soft-shoed Plotnikov-Douglass-Yanowksy-Kozadayev shuffle, connecting the dots between slack-legged lifts and angular pirouettes. Winding around Beethoven and plucky piano with the familiar and foreign feeling of palms on my body.

I’m spending my nights counting down the hours before our BIG MOVE. Just 5 minutes down the road, but hurling into a whole new chapter. It’s one I am just itching to write.

here comes the bride

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Lace on the ceiling, lace on the floor. My, oh my, I hear wedding bells for sure.

The planning is well underway- venue, florist, caterer, photographer, band, dress, check, check, check, check, check, and check! My Type A personality has even picked out the china, chairs, and napkins. The blank canvas of July 27, 2019 has quickly filled with color running towards every edge. I’ve never so clearly been able to see, taste, hear, feel a single day so far in the future.

And so the countdown begins.

tchaikovsky dreams


The other night I dreamt I was rehearsing Tchai Pas.

It was very clear: In the Grand Studio on Hope Street, the romantic music of the Adagio softly sang and I skittered across the room on my toes, fingers seeming to sprout from the hand of my attentive partner. I was wearing the blue silk rehearsal skirt that Ruth made for me. The one with the “magic in the fabric,” so she said with a wink.

I woke up with the corners of my mouth curled and Tchaikovsky purring in my ears.

I thought about ending this post on a sweet gushy note, but instead I’ll write about what happened when the clock struck seven and the dream dust cleared from my eyes. I felt anxious. Every day as a professional dancer can bring its own brand of nerves, but the return to a new season (after 4 long months off) is always particularly daunting. What if I can’t pick up the choreography? How do we usually learn contemporary movements? Am I really supposed to do all of that en pointe?


This year’s preseason jitters have been especially active, bouncing from my belly to my lungs like winged daggers. For a career that requires such immense physical preparation, the mental readiness becomes a quiet killer, lulling you into Balanchine dreams before yanking the wool from over your eyes. It’s a battle between dark and light, this tug-of-war to keep your thoughts as happy ones. But being your own cheerleader can be hard in a world so depreciating. Mental health struggles abound and sometimes it feels really good to just give in.

But instead I’ll choose the light. I’ll bask in the goodness of ballet. I’ll cherish the jitters and enjoy the glow of being a fiancé and soon-to-be-homeowner (eeeep, stay tuned!). I’ll pierce the sky with my winged daggers, cutting through clouds until I reach the sun.

Will you join me?



photos by Samantha Wong.

itchy feet

Hi. It’s been a minute.


I’d like to briefly interrupt this parading of European travel pictures to just say…I miss dancing. I know, you’re not surprised. We do this every year, right? August rolls around and my feet start to itch…

For a studio, a routine, a day-in, day-out. Every morning with my best friends, every Friday night exhaustion. Or just one afternoon in sweaty pointe shoes, an evening with my legs up the wall. I want to get a score stuck in my head satin stuck to my toes. I’m craving creativity that connects mind, body, spirit…

Tans and lazy Saturdays are great and all, but now I’m wanting for the work. So I thought I’d check in and ask…are you?

un rêve à retenir


greeted by her eiffel highness
midnight mark
historic park
rumbling, rolling, romantic, righteous

bite for bite on a sweet, cheap crêpe
across the seine
sneaking then
to a quiet bench, we two escape

noses close, we chat and laugh
minutes pass
french rats dash
la lune illume on your cheeks abash

with a tuck and a roll, you’re on one knee
brown eyes wide
some dreamy ride
I watch my body float up over the trees

madame Tour winks and twinkles on repeat
hands clasped
running fast
we rush to recieve her blissful bonne nuit

along the river, smiles bloom and steep
bartered bubbles
foreign doubles
who look like us, but with a promise to keep

strolling towards “home” in the middle of the night
this living love
hovering above
the greatest hour of my favorite flight.

11:04 pm — on a rainy porch in providence, one week later.

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You know those moments in life when everything seems to fall into place serendipitously? A stranger reaches out on Facebook, timing is right, and good vibes effervesce abundantly…

This was my Cinderella story. On Tuesday we drove to Connecticut and made a variation (with 3 menages!). On Wednesday we tasted a giant pretzel, then hit the stage with lights and fog. And glitter. On Thursday we dress rehearsed and dress rehearsed again. Followed by margaritas and tacos in the rain. On Friday we took a Tesla to lunch, we ran-through et voila, on Saturday, we performed for a sold out house. We signed autographs, we took pictures, we performed again. We ate tapas and crossed paths with old friends while forging ships with new ones. On Sunday, another sold out show, more signatures on playbills, and sweet words from the kindest of people. Goodbyes were harder than anticipated, for this crew I spent just 6 days with. But isn’t that what it’s all about? Experiences that leave you wanting more, and checking your toes for magical shoes, as you lay half asleep in your bed, wondering if the whole thing had perhaps been a dream…


performance photos and beautiful experience via Ballet Theater Company.