Riot and Frolic

Things I’ve Learned From Facebook

February 7, 2013

I'd love to say "nothing", but it's just not true.

– What's funny is funny. Baby laughing at bubbles? There's a reason it goes viral. IT'S FUNNY!

– What's inspiring is inspiring. The disabled veteran dude who "never, ever gave up"? It's been viewed 7 millions times. IT'S INSPIRING!

– Politics are the WORST. You are either with Them or you're an IDIOT. And it's Their job to tell you WHY you're an idiot. Often. With vehemence. It's one thing to have an honest conversation with someone, it's another to make sweeping one-sided statements and expect the other side (or ones undecided or people still debating or anyone who's willing to discuss things) to accept what you're saying. Most often, political FB rants just entrench everyone's beliefs further.

it's just the worst

– No one likes a complainer. *scroll*

– Oversharing, however, is not so bad. Some far-flung friends have shared cancer treatments and their side effects, others have shared pregnancy/parenthood stories, some have disclosed other big-time woes (or wins). Since I don't get to see most people these days, it's actually great to hear about the big stuff (bad or ugly as it may be) that one might feel weird about throwing out on the internet. As much as I'd like to know what you had for lunch today, I'd rather know you had a 503 hour delivery and you're tired as shit and I'll bring you some dinner (or at least order a pizza to be delivered to you).

– Birthdays are the best.

all the feels

– Morgan Freeman is NOT dead.

still kickin'

– Nothing will happen if you type "jump" in a comment.

he doesn't get eaten either

– Someone will always take an awkward photo of you. And post it. AND tag you, just to make sure everyone sees how awkward you are. Relish the awkwardness. Make it more awkward by posting an awkward comment. It's now a game. Which you are, duh, winning.

duh

– I'm a racist. And a classist. And an ageist. And a genderist and every other kind of "ist" there is, I guess. I believe one's ____ often gives them certain characteristics. Nature/nurture sort of business. For example, I'm anal-retentive and have a hard time shaking my booty (because I'm white). I also worry constantly and have food on my shirt (because I'm a mom). Of course there are exceptions. Are all Asian people bad drivers? No! Are many of them? Yes! But seriously, I don't think most Europeans, Americans, or Australians are very good drivers either. I wasn't even aware that I perpetuating stereotypes. Most times I do it in jest. Most of the time with those people standing right next to me. I mean, why would you make a blonde joke unless a blond is right there? If they're not there, then you're being mean. But seriously, I'm going to cut that shit out. Unless you're standing next to me. And then I'll make a joke about how white men can't jump.

wait, how'd he get up there?

Until Facebook ends, I'll gladly post riveting status updates ("After a delicious breakfast, I treated myself to a really sub-par dinner."), ask intelligent questions ("What's the difference between a muffin and a cupcake?"), share my food pictures, roll my eyes at rants, and generally feel a little more connected to a lot of interesting, different, and lovely people.

Peace, yo.

miss you already, mr. jordan

One year ago: The Finisher.
Zen and The Art of Toenail Maintenance

February 6, 2013

I started meditating.

It's surprisingly hard.

But I'm letting that go.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

I don't meditate like that, btw.

There's no "ooommm"-ing.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I just like the silent kind of meditation.

It's a nice way to start, or end, the day: the silence and the non-thinking. I didn't do it yesterday morning and, though it might be a coincidence, YESTERDAY SUCKED.

Lesson learned: sit on your ass in the morning and zone out.

On a totally related note: cut your damn toenails.

It is very hard to create a Zen-like atmosphere in your head while running on a treadmill when the sensation that your shoe is filling with blood keeps creeping in.

"Wwwwwwwwhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyy wooooooooooooould mmmmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyy sssssssooooooooock beeeeeeeeeeee waaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmm annnnnnnnnnnd mmmmmmmmmmmoist?" I chant in my head as I bob along on the treadmill.

I'll tell you why.

Because I hadn't cut my toenails in… too long.

[Gah. Feet are gross, even when they're pretty.]

[Those could never be my toenails. They look lovely, but would be jabbing through my running shoes or into the hardwood floor when I'm dancing.]

After my run, I take off my sock to discover a not-very-long, yet very sharp toenail had been gouging at its neighbor's toe flesh. Not nice, little toenail.

Despite my good intentions to cut it when I got home, I forgot.

Then I wore thick, warm socks to the studio, put my teaching shoes on, and remembered all over again.

I self-pedicured that night.

My second toe is healing nicely, thank you for asking.

I think I'm going to ask Siri to set a weekly reminder.

"Siri, remind me to cut my toenails."

Totally necessary.

One year ago: LLLL.
Ah, Nuts

February 5, 2013
I've been on another kick this week. It involves a lot of nuts.

…

In the interest of saving some dough, I stopped buying "treats", like crackers and other random snacks awhile ago. It's been a great thing for so many reasons: I save money not buying them; having them around gave me something to mindlessly snack on; chips and whatnot are not the healthiest things to nom on.

It's great having less processed food around.

It's great.

Really.

Great.

Except I LOVE TO EAT!

Dear Lord, if I want a snack, I'm going to end up eating carrots. Or making something.

It's like I'm on Little House On The Prairie.

aaah, pa, couldn't we have a cookie for a wagon ride?

Yet it turns out, baking and cooking up treats totally satiates my appetite. So does licking the spoon. Weird!

I went ahead and made some peanut butter cups, which were G-Money-tested and approved.

still delicious

I made them 36 hours ago and have only inhaled 1.5 of them. Well done, me!

This almond milk recipe was also fixin' to be made. The cost comparison between store-bought and homemade is pretty close, but the homemade wins on several counts:
1. Ease – Blend almonds and water. Done. Don't even have to put a jacket on [to go to the store].
2. Ingredients – Almonds, water, vanilla extract. No sweeteners or preservatives.
3. Taste – It tastes almost identical to store-bought and I can make it sweeter or chocolate-y or almond-y (just to be ironic) or keep more of the sediment or strain it away.
obviously, i keep it in an old coffee growler

Has anyone else made almond milk at home? The only problem I had was the "by-product" of sedimentary, foamy cream. It seemed wasteful to dump it out, but it definitely wasn't "milk" consistency. Chime in, peoples.

the very wet "almond meal" by-product

I had another handful of nuts leftover, so I whipped up some almond butter. The cost comparison on this is ridiculously in Homemade's favor, plus all the pros listed above apply.

The problem with my homemade almond butter is I can never get it creamy enough. I use a food processor and run it for minutes. Is this an equipment problem? Or do you know some trick that I don't?
List of Last Week’s Labors of Love

February 4, 2013

– the last jar of tomatoes from my garden. At the time, it didn't seem like I had canned or frozen that many, but my supply lasted until 2013, so I win. This year? I'm canning for a two-year supply. Oh yeah!

smells like summer, not teen spirit

– picked out a rutabaga, which is not the only "big weird looking thing in the produce aisle"…

rutabaga – near the potatoes, covered in wax, heavy as fuck

… because there are these, too.

jicama – near the peppers, ugly, still pretty heavy

Not that I knew this until last week, but rutabagas are a cross between cabbage and turnips and are a root vegetable. Whether or not they are delicious is to be seen, but it is a hot topic to debate via The Facebooks.

Apparently, people find them a pain to prepare. I don't see what the big deal is. I just hacked that thing up with my trusty kitchen knife after peeling it with a vegetable peeler. Good times.

It's going in soup tomorrow, so I'll let you know what the jury decides.

– I made eating healthy a little more difficult by making up these peanut butter cups. Here is the recipe.

they are delicious

– on a totally related note, I ran four times this week. Yes, FOUR TIMES. It's a 2013 record. It's five times if you count that mile that I ran on my mini-trampoline. Yes, I ran a mile on a mini-trampoline. Don't judge me. Well, maybe judge me a little because I looked ridiculous.

– I also made the Pinterest-sensationalized "birds' nests" for breakfast. It's like an egg bake with cuter leftovers. (Look the "recipe" up yourselves, or just put some shredded potatoes in the bottom of a muffin pan, crack an egg on top, and add your desired meats and cheeses.)

chives make it fancy

– since I had only cracked 18 eggs by 12pm on Saturday, I decided to make it an even 2.5 dozen and whipped up

this apple Paleo-friendly cake. I was skeptical because it was my first real Paleo recipe and it called for a ton of eggs, coconut milk, pumpkin puree, and apples. And then it was supposed to turn into cake. Which it kind of did, in a custardy sort of way. I didn't love it. I didn't hate it. Totally edible and forgettable, but fun to try something new.

thank you, toddler finger, for pointing out the brown edge

– Clicking around the Greatist, I found a few fun "life hacks" (also known as "shortcuts" to non-A-holes). One that I totally agree with is this:

… but I think they were a little premature on the label "almost finished". That's a "just opened" jar of Nutella in my book, brother.

– WHAT IS THIS NINJA FOLDING BUSINESS?! I MUST LEARN IT!

WHAT HAVE YOU GUYS BEEN UP TO? WHY AM I YELLING AT YOU?

HAPPY MONDAY!

One year ago: Beyond Ballroom Dance Company- 2012… A Review.
Impressionists

February 1, 2013

Competitive ballroom dancers are impressionists.

That's why there's only 3 hair colors on the floor. (Black, red, or blonde.)

That's why there's a million rhinestones sparkling under the lights.

That's why there's a bottle of spray tan on each person's skin.

That's why there's a can of hairspray keeping each person's hair in place.

That's why there's 12 very fit, posturally-correct people in the final.

We have to make the strongest physical impression we can, in the blink of an eye. We have to look as perfect as we can (hair in place and interesting, fit , pretty /handsome, exotic/beautiful/fierce/sexy/romantic/[insert descriptive term here], confident) because judges start culling the herd before we even walk on the floor.

Then, when we walk on the floor and start dancing, we have to hold on to that great first impression.

Obviously, that's where it gets harder. There's technique and movement and floorcraft and all that.

But if someone squints at you (or sees you from the side of the floor) when you're dancing, what do they see?

They don't see your perfect heel lead, or your amazing ITA, or your pointed toe on your rondé. They should see your hips and shoulders wringing with your Latin/Cuban motion, or your gigantic steps in your Natural Turns, or speedy turns. They see your smile, your well-placed arms, and posture. They sense your confidence and ease of movement.

You know how you can create that great impression?

Practice your technique and drill it into your body. Do exercises so often, you think you're overdoing it (I still practice rock steps while I cook, posture exercises while I brush my teeth, rolling through my heel to toe while I grocery-shop). Do that when you're not on the floor, so when it comes time to perform, you can to let go of your perfection-chasing practice personality and whip out the fun-loving, over-the-top entertainer. Have fun.

Just don't forget to whip it out.

Happy Friday!

One year ago: Knit Picking.
Ideas I Like

January 31, 2013

In the same vein as yesterday's post, here's a less materialistic view:

– The G constantly rapping this song around the house…

– sewing. I love the idea of making this kind of cutiness…

Unfortunately, I have no great love for fabric crafts. I'll throw down a quilt or some fairy costumes once a year, but I'm not going to sit down to make an adorable chicken. Damn.

– HCJ in a really random website tutorial.

Now I'm pretty sure this is not my beloved Harry Connick Jr., but scrolling through Pinterest one day, I saw this photo and was wondering if he did a photo tour of his house or something. No, this is just a tutorial for a "nice idea instead of a window box" that a HCJ doppelganger wanted to model for.

– "that's what she said". It gets me every. time.

– washing my face every night. But I forget! Nah, I'm joking. I just don't care. I seriously have not seen any adverse effects of leaving my makeup on, so I will continue my devil-may-care attitude towards facial cleanliness.

What do you guys like? Have any ideas that you think are GREAT that you always blow off? Any jokes that make you laugh every time? INTERRUPTING STARFISH!

One year ago: Chai It, You Might Like It.
Things I Like

January 30, 2013
In the quest to be more materialistic than ever, I'll tell you about the things I like because I can't think of anything else to write:
- my pants from Express. They're the Editor cut and make my butt look like cream cheese, which is apparently a good thing. Plus, they're super-stretchy and crazy-comfortable. And black. I loooove me some black pants.
  
  not impressive from the front
- my bags – specifically, my Lululemon "Keep On Running" duffel and the MZ Wallace Frankie pocket-laden goodnesses. I am a sucker for bags with pockets and both these bags have so many pockets I don't even use them all. Both bags are sleek and "city" enough where I don't feel like I'm schlepping, even when I have 2 pairs of dance shoes, running shoes, a change of clothes, 3 diapers + wipes, snacks, my wallet, a 32 oz. water bottle, chapstick, Kleenex, pens, notebooks, sunglasses with strangely large case, and more snacks ALL IN ONE BAG. Plus, both work mighty fine as diaper bags and carry-ons.
- my robot shoes. If you've know me, you'd know my robot shoes. They are silver and have velcro. Because I am 3. They are by Le Coq Sportif and here's how you know they have awesome shoes…
  
  obviously i need these!
- my car. We bought a used car about 3 years ago and we have put miles and miles and miles on it and it hasn't given us any trouble and it's a great size for 3 kids in carseats and luggage for 5 people and snowboards and stand-up basses and I'm stomping on wood right now because I'm sure the tire rods just broke in half or the engine fell out or something since I just wrote 'it hasn't given us any trouble'.
- my shampoo. Every time I wash my hair STILL, I think it smells sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo good.
  
  i want to swim in it
- my hat. I got it 4 years ago at Forever 21 for $5 and I love it. It's the reason I want to learn how to knit, becasue it is falling apart.
That is all. What are some THINGS you love? Mittens? Chair? Washing machine?

and this. duh. i love this

On year ago: LLLL.
I Made Them

January 29, 2013

chocolate chip cookie dough bars/fudge/trouble

I made them. I ate them. As Warren vividly suggested, I did not roll around naked in them… but I'm not saying I'm against it either.

They are dangerous and delicious. Or as The G would say, dangerously delicious. Deliciously dangerous?

Go to here to find the recipe.
List of Last Week’s Labors of Love – Assassins’ Creed

January 28, 2013

– killer weather.

my Fº app doesn't have a "-" sign

– killer date.

crayons and chimichangas

– killer offspring. Smart. Sneaky.

yes, it says "unicorn"

– killer pancakes.

lemon ricotta, like Hell's Kitchen, but MY kitchen

– killer friends. Eating. Concert.

i thought we were fun, but they were Fun.

– killer run club. Sleet, rain, snow, wind. Running.

the crazy eyes say it all

– killer weather.

this snow was provided in part by the time during Coffee Run Club

– weather, I'm going to kill you. I mean, come on, MN, WTF?!

53º of separation

How's your week? Going somewhere freaking warm?
Man Dancers Props

January 25, 2013

No, I'm not going to talk about bowties and g-strings. Today's post is all about stroking the male ego.

…

There's not that many men that stick with ballroom dancing. And I'll tell you why: ego.

A guy, anywhere from age 13 to 83, will walk into a ballroom studio and get paired up with a good-looking, sassy 20-something lady and then… have to take directions from her.

If you stopped at the "paired up with" part, ALL MEN would be dancers.

But there's that whole "learning from the weaker sex" thing.

And most ladies involved in ballroom dancing are not what I'd call "weak". No, we're a bunch of sarcastic, blunt, opinionated, strong-willed perfectionists who don't like to be messed with. (You'd never guess it with the smiling and the fake eyelashes and the rhinestones on, but we are often cursing at our partners under our breath. Surprise!)

So, the men come in, and take direction from ladies who are often the age of their daughters, and get smacked down, just, all the time.

They are constantly getting corrected and adjusted and complained about to their faces.

"No… Not like that… Elbows higher… More crunch… You're pushing me… You're pushing me… You're not leading me…"

THEN, we lady teachers have the gall to tell them to "be confident" and "own the floor" when they go perform.

It seeeeeems like we're giving them a mixed message.

Obviously, many men would leave. Who would put up with that?

The few, the proud, and the brave. Yes, these men are the Marines of ballroom dancing.

Any guy who gets past the beginner stage can proudly say he has an ego of steel, the patience of a Zen master, and skin as thick as an elephant's.

But don't let that go to your head…

And for God's sake, stand up straight!

Happy Friday, Man Dancers.

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