The Fight Against Frump, Part II

This afternoon on my way home from work I decided to bite the bullet at do a bit of clothes shopping.  There was a method to my madness: with the ball a week away, I needed to find some jewelry to compliment my dress, and I wanted to find some underwear that was properly sized so that my dress would fit as well as it could.  And I loathed the idea of trying to look  and feel elegant with ratty underwear.  Since I was trying things on anyway, I perused the clearance racks in search of something I might consider wearing.

Yuck.  Now I remember why I’m always convincing myself that I should make my clothes.  All the slacks were cut to sit on my hips, which (to me) just emphasizes their wideness (of course, I could be channelling my mother again).  I think they would have looked okay if they were looser.  I have a pair of capris that sit on my hips, but they’re cargo pants, and therefore cut very loose.  I love them.  I found some skirts that I thought were cute, but nothing is really cut as a circle skirt – the only skirt I think I can pull off because of the 10 inch difference between my waist and hip measurments.  At best, they’re a loose A-line, again emphasizing my hips.  This is where I start getting lost again.  The fitting book I’ve been reading says that you should decide what shape you are (triangle, hourglass, circle) and wear clothes that have a similar shape.  I am hourglass shaped, which should mean that if I’m looking at skirts, I want ones that are triangle shaped.  Shouldn’t an A-line qualify?

I did find one gem: a jacket that actually fits! Princess seamed to show off curves, falls just above my hips, 3/4 sleeves.  The sleeves have a wide, loose ruffle, and the pockets have coordinating ribbons (a little frou frou, but I can cope).  The only thing I’m not wild about is that it’s a white and black stripe, which I see as limiting to a potential color palette.  On the other hand, the vast majority of my wardrobe is black and white, so at least it’s an intelligent purchase, I guess.

On a similar note, just for kicks, I took all the fashion quizzes on the “What Not to Wear” website, and scored quite highly on all.  So, I obviously know the rules, I just can’t seem to apply them.

But that’s a different post.

The Fight Against Frump

With my new exposure to cable television (and four days of stomach flu in which to bask in it), I’ve become completely addicted to three shows: Good Eats, Project Runway, and What Not to Wear.  I already knew I liked Good Eats; I upgraded my cable package so that I could get the Food Network.  The two latter addictions, though,  have surprised the hell out of me: I normally hate reality television shows.  I hate the snarkiness of the other contestants, I hate the over the top dramatics, and I really have a hard time believing any of it is “real”.

And yet I find myself setting the reminder function so that I can be sure to catch every episode.  Why do I find these so appealing?

The answer I have come up with is frump.

I have started feeling incredibly frumpy.  It’s not that I think I’m unattractive; I can, at times, look cute, even pretty (I have long since given up the idea of being beautiful).  I think my wardrobe does little to complement me and I have no idea how to fix this.  So, my theory is that I’ve started watching these shows to see how interesting designs can emerge from some unlikely materials and to get some ideas of what can be done to “pop” my appearance.

In order to really benefit from these ideas, though, I have to learn to quiet the voices in my head, and acquire a patience with some activities (like shopping).  I’m going to start from the top.

Hair: Over the years my hair length has gone from long to medium and back again.  When I was a kid, my mom refused to allow me to have long hair (she was reliving her childhood traumas of sitting for hours for corkscrew curls).  So, as a sullen preteen, I naturally rebelled.  I still like longish hair; the problem is that I have no skills with it: I can put it in a pony tail or a braid.  If I’m having a good day, I can pin it into a bun.  French braids, French twists, and curls are all absolute mysteries to me (the last time I tried to curl my hair, I had to cut the curler out).  It has a natural wave to it which can sometimes be a good thing and sometimes be a nightmare.  This inconsistency has caused me to opt for low maintenance hair styles: at most I will blow dry it.  Plus, anytime I go towards any styling products, I hear my mom’s disgusted voice in my head.  This has not stopped me from having a cupboard full of the items; they get used maybe once a year.

My face: almost always make-up less.  When I was a kid (eight, nine?) my mom’s partner sat down with me and explained that pretty women do not need makeup, and I should not desire to wear it.  On the other side is my dad’s wife, who always wears makeup, and even told me once that she put it on “to feel better” when she was sick.  So, two conflicting views, and I’m blessed with my father’s skin, which tends towards oiliness (and acne breakouts).  I do have make-up (cruelty free, of course).  I have absolutely no idea how to apply it, or what looks good on me.  The experiments I’ve conducted have resulted in mediocre results and an acne break out.  Consequently, I usually cannot be bothered.  And yes, every time I reach for the foundation, I hear both of my stepmothers arguing in my head.

My clothes: First, I have never learned how to properly fit myself for a bra.  My sessions in the lingerie departments have been at best “guess and grab” (which I’ve been doing since I watched my mom select my first bras).  Finally, one of my sewing books explained the measurments to take and how to calculate cup and band size.  Armed with this knowledge, I took a look at my underwear drawer.  Half of my bras are the wrong sizes.  All of them are at least a year old; half are missing their underwires.  Everything I’ve read and watched says I need to start here; if the underwear doesn’t fit well, nothing else will.  I’m not even going to go into the state of my underwear – some of them are beyond embarrassing (“rags” come to mind).  Most of my outer wear are utility wear.  Elastic waistband, slightly shaped, p0lyester pants (which apparently are too short, though the “right” length seems waay to long to me), single (primary) color knit tee shirts, a couple stretch button down collard shirts (when I really need to look professional).  I have a few skirts, mostly either circle skirts, or the long flowy “hippy skirts”.  A few sundresses, a couple ball dresses (including the one I just finished – which is the only one that actually fits), the dress I made for my grandmother’s funeral (which is the newest non-formal article of clothing).  For casual wear, a couple pairs of black stretch jeans, a pair of straight leg  black (now gray) jeans and one pair of blue jeans.  Add to this two drawerfuls of printed tees.  The newest jeans are two years old.

Feet: I love socks.  I have a drawer full of just socks: plain, striped, printed.  I use them as my bit of creativity when I dress, or to add a bit of color when I’m in gray/black mode.  I wear Dansko shoes almost exclusively since my injury: I have a pair of strappy sandles and a Mary Jane style.

The problem: I don’t really know how to pull the frump from my clothes.  I certainly don’t have the $5000 the people on WNTW get.  And the sew-er in me has a hard time paying some prices for things that I feel that I should be able to make (though that conclusion has not caught up with the reality of my lack of time to do so).  But the biggest hang up is that I really have no idea what cut of of clothes I should look for and I loathe shopping.  Well, I loathe trying on clothes.  I have to find at least four things that I think have a chance before I will even consider finding a fitting room.  And then, I once again hear my mom’s voice.   “Don’t button that jackt.”  Except, the first thing I gleaned is that the first place to fit a jacket is around the bust and it MUST button.  “That’s too tight.”  Really? Or is that just her perception.  I don’t have the confidence to argue with the voice, so I shy away from anything with little or negative ease (although, perhaps, it’s less the ease and more the shape of the garment?). 

Sooo lost.    

Done!

So, other than snipping threads, my dress for the ball in two weeks is finally done.  This has been a project that I have been working on for two years.  Now, I sit back and look at it.

The good: I love the color, and I love the decision I made to line it with a color that matches the print rather than the main color.  It’s a polished cotton, which means it will be nice and cool through the 18-dance ball program, and since it’s printed with heather sprays, totally appropriate for a spring Scottish ball.

The bad: I wish now that I had made the skirt long.  To be fair, I had initially intended this dress for LAST year’s ball.  Last year, the facility that we were in had a (very steep) flight of stairs between the dance floor and the break area.  After years of tripping over and stepping on the hems of my dresses on these stairs, I decided when cutting to make this dress short (well, knee length).  We lost this facility this year, and have moved south to Lodi, to a non-staired facility.  Now I long for the elegance of a long skirt.  Plus, I picked up a book called Fit for Real People and I’ve spent the entire afternoon picking my dress apart: I feel that it doesn’t fit across the shoulders (something I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t just read that chapter *sigh*), I’m noticing bunches, I wish the neckline wasn’t quite so low (though it still passes all the necessary dance prerequisites).

But there’s always next year…

Emerging from the toilet

I have officially been able to hold food down for the last 24 hours.  Not much food, not interesting food, but solid food nonetheless.  And I won’t say I feel well, but the fact that I am not hovering around the bathroom waiting for the next wave of nausea to overtake me, emerging cold, sweaty and shaky, with barely enough energy to walk the ten paces to my bed is an enormous improvement.  The fact that I can sit upright feels like a miracle.

I spent Sunday violently ill – in fact I don’t remember ever being so sick.  By Monday, clear fluids would stay where they belonged but nothing else would.  Yesterday, I crawled into work to distribute checks and went home three hours later after confirming that no one else in the office felt that it was “stuffy”.  I tentatively tried a few saltine crackers and de-fizzed ginger ale, and then graduated to soup.  Nothing tasted good, but it stayed where it belonged.

This morning, I woke up and took inventory.  Back hurt from days of heaving.  Stomach still queasy (was the soup too much too soon?).  I opted to stay home.  I ate some dry bread.  I drank lots of water.  I had some soup.  It tasted like, well, soup.  It tasted good.  I am on the road to recovery.

The ultimate irony of all this is Monday I had cable and hi-speed internet installed.  I have been looking forward for days to tuning into the Food Network (a channel I love, but could only watch at friend’s houses), and on the day I finally could enjoy it in the comfort of my living room, watching anything to do with food was absolutely not on the table. 

Eureka!

If anyone has fallen into this blog via any of the RSCDS tags, they’re probably fairly disappointed.  In fact, of all my activities and hobbies, I have written the least about dance (even though it probably takes up MORE of my time).  This will undoubtedly change as we start to enter Games season and performances start lining up. 

Our first performance will be in a month.  It is the Camellia Festival, a multi-cultural dance “concert” (the link has stills and videos from previous performances – my group is the White Heather Dancers).  I have always obsessed over this performance: it’s invitation only, it’s a large audience, it’s in the round, it’s radically different than the Games.  I have eight minutes or less to showcase Scottish Country Dance for people who have no idea that such a thing exists.  It is the chance for the choreographer in me to claw its way out (and believe me, sometimes it can be a monster) for a brief spot in the sun.

This year, faced with a dwindling class, I have been concerned about exactly what we’ll be performing.  I always have the option of pulling in some adult dancers, though it means I have to take care to pick dances that are well known so that they can be dropped into position with minimal rehearsal.  This year, I’ve also lost two of my more experienced dancers, which means I have to be cautious about the difficulty level. 

I think I have found this year’s program.  At the party this evening we had to modify the Wild Geese to accommodate a three couple set (first couple led waaaay down and returned to third place, then danced rights and lefts with the threes).  The track we danced to was actually the Flock of Geese (the five couple version of the Wild Geese) from the Memories of a Scottish Weekend CD.  I have always loved this version, from it’s simple beginning with just flute and piano, to it’s expansion into lush strings for the middle tunes, to it’s thrilling finish.  And yes, I’m sure I’m biased because of the heavy flute use.  Nevertheless, I think it is thrilling music and I love to use it whenever possible.  So, here’s my plan: mirror the music.  Start with just three couple set for the first round/tune.  Add a couple for the second round/tune (instruments are being added here), add another couple (we’d now be dancing Flock of Geese) for the third round.  Then start taking couples away as the second and main tunes return.  The B part of the main tune, last round is very exciting, and I’d like to see if I can choreograph an ending that can lead into our bow.  I’ll have to futz with it a bit.  Wild Geese is on our ball, which is the week before the concert, and is immensely popular (never mind easy), so any adults I pull in can, indeed, be dropped into place.

That will take up 2.5 minutes.  If I add a strathspey (I’m thinking St. Andrew’s Day because a student requested it and it will use the space well), that will bring our dance time to just under 6 minutes, well within the limit.  I won’t be presenting a reel this year, but I think I can live with that.  Considering that last year the poor kids had to learn and remember 5 (five! what the f*** was I thinking???) dances, giving them only two this year is a well deserved respite.

February Craft To-Do List

I’m making up for my silence of the past week tonight.

Anyway, on my agenda for February:

I must, I must, I must finish my ball gown.  The ball is in a month and I’d rather not attend naked,which would, perhaps, be amusing, but totally uncomfortable.  SCD has WAY to much bouncing to consider going without support.

And yes, I know that was on my agenda for last month.  This is why I don’t write to-do lists.

But, so you don’t think I’ve been totally idle, I’ve finished five (5!) chemo caps.  And, I hope to unveil a completely user friendly craft/spare room…soon. 

Sleep with South Park

Can I just say that I love, love, LOVE this afghan.  Not mine, but so wish it was!

The Recipe Rebellion

This is really a response to this post.  I found the idea of the use of recipes being a cause of unhealthy weights so totally absurd that I’m rebelling and posting a few recipes.  So nyaaaaa!

The first isn’t my recipe – I pulled it from Food Combining for Vegetarians, a tactic I don’t really follow.  I’m much more the “put lots of colors on your plate” sort of person rather than a “this is a starch and therefore needs to be eaten with a protein and a vegetable” person.  The latter involves waaay too much of a thought process, and my way yields reasonably similar results and is more fun.  Incidentally, while it has not been written down until tonight, I absolutely consider my Salad of Many Colors a recipe.

A warning, this is a VERY BADLY WRITTEN recipe (nutritionists really need to not write cookbooks *sigh*).  I will add notes where I can so that it will (hopefully) make sense. 

Almond, Banana, and Couscous Balls

2/3 cup couscous (I used whole wheat because I’m like that)
1/4 cup currants (I assumed dried)
2 bananas
1/2 cup ground almonds (I used raw, but roasted would work I would imagine)
unspecified extra ground almonds for coating (I had 1/2 cup and ran out, so I’d figure at least 3/4 cup)

1 1/3 cup boiling water

Place couscous and currants in a bowl and add water.  Let stand until all liquid is absorbed (mine took about 15 minutes).  Mash banana and mix with the ground almonds to produce a sticky, but fairly firm mixture – add more ground almonds if necessary.  (My note: the instructions never say when to combine the two mixtures; I assumed before adding any more almonds).  Shape into little balls and roll in almonds. (Uh, no.  I would not consider these balls “little”.  I started making about 1 inch balls and hit twelve – supposedly the recipe yield – with over half of the mixture left.  I gradually increased the size; by the end of the mixture they were about the size of a baseball.  So my best guess is somewhere around 1/4 to 1/3 cup.) 

Refrigerate for 2-3 hours to “set”.

Serves 4

The tastes I stole from my fingers were kinda like a nice nutty breakfast cereal (which, since it’s from the breakfast section of the book, makes sense).  I might add a bit of cinnamon and/or some vanilla paste.  The book also notes that these can be served topped with a bit of milk, and they’re a hit with kids – Yoli you might try these out on little Lyra.

And, okay, because you asked….

My Amazing Salad of Many Colors

2-3 handfuls of mixed greens (I use spinach mixed with whatever salad mix on sale)
handful shredded carrots
handful Rainbow salad or broccoli slaw
1/8 English cucumber, sliced
1/2 bell pepper of any color (I try for red, yellow, or orange – you can also use the sweet Italian peppers).
2 baby beets, raw or cooked
1/3 -1/2 cup canned beans of choice (I usually use kidney or garbanzo).
handful raisins

This is the base.  To this, I add whatever veggies I have kicking around in the fridge from stuff I’ve made.  I will also look for things like artichoke hearts or hearts of palm on sale and throw those one.  Shredded cheese or feta can be thrown in as well.  The idea is to try and get as many colors into the salad as possible.

Top with nuts or croutons (I like crunchies in my salad; I use nuts if it’s going to work), and dress as desired.

Wine and Chocolate

My dad and stepmother are visiting from Arizona.  On their visits, we always drive down to Lodi for wine tasting (and buying).  This trip, we inadvertently stumbled into the Lodi Wine and Chocolate Weekend.  We knew something was up when we pulled into Phillips Farms (home of Michael David, the makers of Seven Deadly Zins), and the parking lot was full with a tour bus parked on the street.  We are quite fond of this stop for a number of reasons.  First, their wine is great (and this comes from someone who is not fond of reds – they make the only zinfandel I will willingly drink).  Second, they are always very generous and happy to sit and chat.  Third, they have a GREAT cafe attached to it – we always eat lunch there.  And finally, they have a very cute country store, filled with baked goodies (pies, breads) and farm fresh produce (in February their tomatoes looked amazing).  I discovered yet another reason today.  Because there were so many people passing through their tiny facility, they set up a tasting station in their arbor.  While my parents tasted (I, due to my dislike of reds, was immediately dubbed the designated driver), I wandered the gardens.  Even in February they were neatly kept.  I could easily imagine their beauty in full bloom (I feel like gardening as my dear friend Yolanda feels about crafting – it’s porn).

We only went to two wineries this afternoon (we did not buy tickets for the festival, you could still taste – for the normal tasting fee, usually nothing- at the participating wineries without one).  The crowds were insane, and two were enough to knock my folks pretty well onto their asses (each tasting has at least five wines, and the tastes are really generous – at least a quarter of a wine glass).

The weekend seems like something that would be great fun with friends, perhaps on a Sunday when it’s not so crowded.  Shall we place it on our calendars? You taste the wines – I’ll taste the chocolate.

One last time!

It has happened again.  My current air mattress has sprung a leak, managing to retain only the consistency of a flattened souffle.  Tonight (and tomorrow) I will proclaim the couch my bed for hopefully the last time.  Friday my long overdue (and eagerly anticipated) mattress arrives (along with some other pieces of furniture).

The last time my mattress sprung  a leak, I composed a commemorative haiku and sent it around (this was pre-blog).  Many people responded back with their own versions, and somehow in the maze of two inboxes  I have lost the submissions (which upsets me greatly, for they were all entertaining).

So, here’s the beta version.  Please free to add your own…

Air mattress is flat
But hark! Who knocks at my door?
Sears, my savior!