The Bicycle-Skirt Dilema

Sometimes I worry Lennon and I are too on the same page.  I've had the skeleton of this "skirts + bicycles" post up and ready for completion since I finished breakfast and left for work, and then I came home to find Lennon espousing the never-before-realized joys of cut off denim shorts on Facebook - all because of his new love for bicycles!  He has a pair of terrible cut-off denim shorts that look like something Huck Finn would wear if he had been alive and playing hookey circa 1970.  Lennon then posted this picture, with a note apologizing to hipsters of the world for all of the flack he's given this hipster-favored look in the past:

Really?  Really?  I am not a fan.  But I can't say that girls don't have the same problem with pants when riding bikes.  I discovered that pants and bicycle chains don't play nice together the hard way, when a gear shredded the bottom half of my linen pant leg.  I still have a vendetta against that bike...                                                                        

Europeans know what's up in terms of practicality meeting fashion, though.  It's not uncommon to find bicycles overseas with large "skirt guards," or if you're male, ahem, "coat guards," for the long tail coats they wear in winter.  Why aren't these prominent in the US?  A company in California has started selling them, and they are quite cute!

The Dutch tulips seem appropriate for a European-inspired bicycle, and the cultural fusion of tulips with cowboy boots is a nice Texas touch, if I do say so.

Both of these images are from Cycle and Style, possibly my new favorite website.  You can see these bikes even have a chain guard so pants don't have to be rolled up.  And if it was a mens bike, the cut-off denim short would not be necessary - hoorah!  Now if only I could find a way to make heels go with my mountain bike, the "bone crusher," it could be an all-occasion ride.

I can't tease Lennon too much, though.  Because I've given the same amount of flack to the tights-with-shorts look, and guess what I've discovered?  It's the perfect ensemble to wear when biking on a cool day!  No ripped or rolled up pants leg, no chill bumps, and no problems.  I just might be converted, so in all fairness, Lennon can keep his Huck shorts without fear of my tossing them stealthily in the dumpster out back, as I've oft considered doing.

Boots: Steve Madden (clearance, yay!)

Tights: Target

Shorts: Target

Lace tank: White House Black Market

Pink shirt: Michael Stars

Cardigan: Banana Republic, and pilled to shreds.

Scarf: from Spain

Locket: from my grandma's dresser

Ring: Target

Lunch break over - back to work!  It's terrible to have a window-less office on a PERFECT day like this is.  At least I can walk about outside once programs start after school. 

More Feats of Upper Body Strength: Aerial Silks in Austin

The E.A.S.T. Austin Studio Tour has not been limited to traditional gallery art; it also incorporates workshops, demonstratoins, and performances.  Last Sunday, a few girls from Blue Lapis Light aerial silks studio hosted an outdoor demonstration of their "in-your-face-Newton" stunts on a large yellow rig with long, ominous, silk scarves flowing to the ground where a single yoga mat stood as cushion between aerial mishaps and the grass.

Rolling in late, per usual, I only caught the last part of the performance, but luckily for me...

Winnie Hsia was gracious enough to climb back up the silks to pose for me in a splits position.  My legs threatened to buckle under me if the thought of attempting that even crossed the frontal lobe of my mind. 

I think I'll hedge my bets on gravity-defying moves by sticking to my beginner pole tricks, since at least a pole is anchored to the ground.  On second thought, maybe I'll just continue to be the girl taking pictures.  I'm ok with that.

At the end, all of the girls came out and took a bow.  There was quite a crowd gathering, and the mosquitos had found us, so it was time to go back to an air conditioned gallery.  Be sure to watch for other events put on by local performers this weekend, since the studio tour extended it's run, and if you find Winnie on facebook, she can tell you of other upcoming aerial silk events. 

Also be sure to check out her boyfriend, Danny Strack, Austin's slam poetry team captain for the National Poetry Slam last year! It's hard not to hold a grudge against talented people who, when combined, have the same affect as the Captain Planet rings joining forces to save the universe, but it's worth avoiding the talent-jealousy-grudge to meet them.

Pole Dancing Escapes the Strip Club + Brass Ovaries, Austin

Sarah & Natasha

A few weeks ago, I signed up for an introductory pole dancing class held at Forbidden Fruit on Wednesdays.  Before getting into the dancing, one of the first things that the two instructors addressed were the stereotypes and stigmas that surround pole dancing.  According to The Flying Studio, pole dancing didn't even enter strip clubs until the 1980's, and the dance traces it's lineage through yoga practice, the Victorian May pole, Chinese acrobats, up through Barnum and Bailey. 

The class was set up in the store, with all of the racks pushed back to the walls.  It was well populated by college students, two strippers, one wife getting ready to give her husband a sexy birthday present, some army personnel, a day care worker, a few returnees, the clerk at Forbidden Fruit, and of course, myself. 

One thing I learned from my first step up to the pole, (which was not unexpected), is that it's HARD, and relies heavily on upper body strength.  Exposed skin aided in sticking to the pole, but it still wasn't enough to merit not needing a spotter on most of the tricks they showed us.  I never feel tall until I try to find the ground behind my head, starting from a standing position, and then the ground suddenly seems quite far away.   

The class was a good introduction to the challenges of pole dancing, but not a place to hone skill or keep up a sweat since turns had to be taken.  The sponsoring studio, Brass Ovaries, does open studio practice, as well as private lessons for 1-3 people at $60/hr. If I had the money, I would totally start going, and I'd never lose an arm wrestling contest again.  Ever. 

The Friday after the class I got sore and stayed sore for the duration of the weekend.  I didn't immediatley experience the feminine empowerment that some of the returnees attested to, but I am writing this article, and I enjoyed myself, so perhaps this is the outpouring of those empowering stirrings.  Either way, who's up for splitting $60?

Yoga & Therapy

One of the things I wanted to try doing as a step towards better self-care was to see a therapist. I went this past week and it was the third time I had ever been to one, the first being my freshman year of college, my second at the beginning of my junior year of college, and then this past Wednesday. I have only been once to each session because I have never walked out of a session feeling "better," usually my feelings are more aligned with words like "exposed" and most recently, "lectured."


I have to be admit that part of the problem each time has been that I always answer the question "why are you here" with the stock response, "someone referred me," thus deflecting responsibility for being there and exhibiting a lack of desire to actually be there, even though that's not true. I felt like this especially set the tone at my most recent session, when I still refused to be honest about my desire to be there and only mentioned the recommendation that I attend from a family member.


The first time I went to therapy I sat clammed up, the second time I cried, and this time I promised myself not to do either of those things, but nonetheless found myself rendered incapable to speak freely, by what mental block I don't know - that's why I was there! - and found the hour veering into directions and topics I didn't find to be issues or worthy of talking about for that long. And it was less talking, and more lecturing about what I should and shouldn't be doing. I left feeling as though I were a weak, uncommunicative enabler. Which may be true, but those aspects would be things I would have liked to work on in therapy, not reasons to be dismissed/accept dismissal. For example, I appreciate being told that it is part of the healthy grieving process to still be angry and sad that my mother passed away, but five years after the fact, I'd like a little guidance in letting off the intensity of those emotions. But according to this therapist, I'm normal. I don't think I'll be accepting normalcy then. I'd like a little more relief than the previous five years have afforded my mentality... or I've afforded myself, I'm not sure which.


Either way, despite my love of reading psychology books, I think my taste for visiting psychologists has soured. I have a few ideas of where my money can be better spent.


Tonight I went to my first yoga class in Austin at Dharma Yoga. I always leave yoga feeling like an untwisted knot, so I don't know why I find it so difficult to commit to regular practice. I've practiced on and off since I was an undergraduate at Fayetteville - perhaps some sort of commitment would be a step in the right direction towards my overall health, since commitment would have been one of the "issues" I would have liked to work on with myself.


In addition to that, I'm interested in seeing a homeopathic doctor who combines life coaching with holistic therapy treatments. Stress and anxiety relief would be my priority. Perhaps I'll go and discover that homeopathy should go the way of therapists, but then I'll just get myself a massage. Which I may do first, anyway. My biggest problem there would simply be choosing one.

nail biting

This morning I got my first offer on the house. With a listing price of $99,900, the buyers offered a price of $95,500 but asked for me to pay up to $3500 in closing costs, making the total net offer $92,000. After a counter, a counter-counter, and a counter-counter, my final price is $98,500 with the closing costs covered, making the total net for me $95,000. I bought the house for $73,500 and paid $1000 of the closing costs. I'm hoping my pre-tax check from the mortgage company will come in at $20,000. That would make me very happy. Right now I have to wait and try to get sleep not knowing whether or not they will accept my final offer. I won't go lower than $95,000 - it'll be too close to breaking even, and I have put WAY too much blood and sweat into this house to break even or (NOOO!) take a loss. The excellent news, though, is that this offer came in this morning, after my house had been on the market for ONE WEEK.

If I get this hypothetical $20,000 check, though... none of it is really mine because I probably owe that much on my credit card between my graduate school tuition, my furniture, re-wiring this house, plus all the other renovation materials and costs - oh, and some new clothes and a plane ticket. My plan is to pay down almost half of the debt and put the rest in my bank account. I'll transfer the rest of my debt to a new card with a year of 0% interest, and hopefully my next renovation will yield enough to pay off all debt and put me on top of where I would have been had I never dabbled in real estate. The goal is to get enough money to pursue some writing and travel. I want to be wreckless in my youth, I also want to be well and independently funded. My grandmother had to loan me money this month in order to keep my head above water. I could have done without it, but it would have cut very close to the danger zone. Neither borrowing nor having $100 dollars to my name feels very good. Come on, accept my counter-counter-counter offer!

I had been planning to go to a teacher workshop tomorrow called "Worksheets Don't Grow Dendrites" which is supposed to be amazing, but sadly I realized that it is 1.5 hours away in a rural elementary school cafeteria. This location for the workshop makes no sense to me, and I decided to bow out. I'll spend the day tidying up my yard in case the offer doesn't go through and more buyers need to come through. Friday's workshop, "Shouting Won't Grow Dendrites" is by the same lady, and is actually being held in a place I know - my own school! I'll go to that one. I need sixty professional development hours per year, and I'm on the cusp of throwing in the towel on finding another job. The towel is pretty much in the hamper. An extra year of teaching will probably be better for me in the long run - but I'm sad to say that I am not looking forward to it. I hate the commute, and as much as I like English literature and most of my students, (I adore quite a few), I hate repeating myself literally six times a day. My goal is to eventually have a job that neither makes my brain numb nor gives me cotton mouth. Again: come on, accept my final price! Patience is overrated.

The big accomplishment for today, though: I got my bike tuned up at Chainwheel and purchased (spending my profit again) a bike rack for my car. The bike is back, and I couldn't be more excited! This evening I went around part of the River Trail - I saw two skunks (a safe distance away) and birds sweeping the sky at sunset. Biking is surely the sport of dreamy nature lovers.

Sweating... in mulitple meanings

I just returned from my first (and last?) kickboxing class. This was not the kickboxing class I attended in high school. That one was led by an aerobics instructor, included lots of synchronized movement and was full of women who seemed too skinny to be working out that hard. It was a great work out - don't get me wrong - but I'm not an aerobics kind of girl. This class had about 5 women and the rest were big, burly men who wore real boxing shorts. I have not been this sweaty in a VERY long time. I want to believe I can commit to going at least twice a week, but when I signed up for Sunday yoga classes, I ran out of steam after the third week. I would REALLY like to build up the determination to go regularly, as I've been feeling uncomfortable with my body and dreading wearing a two piece. Perhaps this is bad, but I feel like buying a one piece is admitting defeat - it's saying I'm resolving that working out is no longer part of my life so I'm going to take measures to adapt.

In other sweating news, I'm supposed to close on my house on Thursday. There has been lots of issues with repairs of the foundation and the electrical work, so I simply reduced my offer, and haven't heard back yet. I also discovered, to my extreme chagrin, that my bank only accepts 3% of the closing costs from the seller's party, which is going to put me at least $1000 in the hole right off the top.

In double sweating news - I'm trying to work up the courage to compete in a poetry slam in May. I have no expectations to win, but I'd love to be active in the slam rather than simply an observer/supporter. I've brought two different slam poets into my classroom and my kids have loved them. I keep telling my kids to be courageous in both their writing and their sharing, so perhaps I could try taking my own advice.

Fearing the Bikini

With the knowledge that spring is just around the corner, I decided it was time to put my two month exercise slump behind me and move my butt. This determination was sparked while riding in the car today, poking at the part of my stomach hanging over my jeans, and recalling a line from the novel Bridget Jone's Diary when an almost-lover told her, "you're all squashy!"

I do not want to be squashy.

It is a lot harder to exercise regularly since I have moved away from the neighborhood of my college-town into a city where there are too many cars to go for a neighborhood jog, and I have to drive almost twenty minutes to get to the nearest trail. I have had a gym membership since May, but at $50 a month and with little to no use in the past two months, I've decided to bid it adieu.

In it's place, I'm purchasing a Tony Little Gazelle on Saturday - used, and found on Craig's List. My dad and step-mother have an older model and I enjoy using it when I visit because the motion is fun, but it seems difficult to break a sweat while on it. But at the price of one month of gym membership and the prospect of saving gas, it's worth a shot. I'll report back on how it goes.

Perhaps with any luck, the cool weather will last long enough for me to work off my squash before heading out to the lake. It's amazing how frightening three small triangles of stretchy fabric can be.

>