happy feet


I’ve mentioned how picky dancers can be about their leotards, their pointe shoes, and their diet.  But, for me, no stronger proclivity exists than that of my selectiveness when it comes to socks.  I have been known to wear exclusively unmatching socks, like the tragic result of a greedy dryer, but on purpose.  Why, you ask?  I wish I had a proper response, but I suppose I’m just an odd duck.

As a child (I’ve been told) my sneakered, booted, and mary-janed days included nothing short of twenty shoe-removal-sock-adjustment breaks.  My little feet just couldn’t bear the feeling of a thick seam traversing the tips of my toes, a wrinkle under the metatarsal, or- mon dieu!- the dreaded heel slip.  Talk about a brat Princess and the Pea situation…

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I wanted to call this post “Nutcracker Selfies and Feet Pics” but it seemed a bit crude lengthy for a Tuesday evening montage of slightly immaterial photos.  So instead I called it “Untitled”, added the aforementioned random assortment of iPhone-captured shots and called it a day.

I was told that (and I quote) some of you will never tire of seeing backstage ballet pictures, so here you go!  Enjoy the reflections and feet of Nutcracker before they disappear for a whole year.

And if you’re wondering, yes those are ice baths my feet are “relaxing” in, yes, I struggled through one every night during the weekend of the show, and yes, they hurt like hell.



(Viktor Plotnikov’s Tea Time)

As we head into the second weekend of Up Close On Hope performances, I can’t help but reflect on how far I have come since the first day of the season.  I can remember being stuck sitting down during rehearsals, half-learning all of the parts I’d been “assigned”, thinking my body could never be ready to perform them in less than 2 months.  Now here I am, embarking on round two of black box performances with fresh calluses growing in quite nicely and pointe-shoe-ribbon-indentations where fuzzy socks used to be.  I have a huge bottle of hairspray in my locker and my brain is filled with choreography and chords.  The best part is, there’s this little voice inside of me telling me that all of this is right.  Can’t wait to get out there and perform Joseph Morrissey’s In Passing and George Birkhadze’s Tzgani this weekend.


smiles, smooches, and smooth toes

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Hello, everyone!  This week has been action-packed…

Date nights at The Grange, pre-gala giggles with my girls, Waterfire smooches with the boyfriend and- GASP- stuffing those feet back into pointe shoes for a few daily relevés.  For any of you who have never gone 5 months without strapping on some of those pink satin bad boys, let me just tell you this:  Calluses disappear fast.  You won’t notice it at first, but one day you’ll try to stand up on your toes and consequently discover that this strange, silky skin has replaced that once beloved patch of crunchy padding on your baby toe.  The thick toupé that used to sit atop your big toe?  Vanished.  Oh and that long strip of hardened cells (aka the built-in-bandaid) that used to wrap around your heel?  Gone with the wind.  So, please, do whatever you can to keep those hardened skin swatches attached to your feet for as long as possible.  Sit around in heels, take cold showers, whatever it takes.  And above all- despite how much your open-toed shoes try to convince you- STAY AWAY FROM THAT BIG COZY PEDICURE CHAIR.  Even if you’re going purely for the massage and polish, that soak/pumice stone combo is going to make you wish you’d never learned the difference between an ouch pouch and lambswool toepads.  So just don’t do it.

Drops mic.