More To Life Than Handstand Piroettes?

The summer before last, I got this overwhelming urge to Double Dutch. The only problem was that I didn't know how and no matter hard I tried, simply could not figure it out. I watched YouTube videos of professional jump rope performances (rad!), I tried to learn from a few girls in the crack park near my house (fail)...I even brought Double Dutch ropes to a group campout to see if any of my friends knew how to do it (umm, they didn't). Despite my valiant efforts to successfully jump into the double ropes--and stay in there--I just could...not...do...it.

For those of you who've known me for a while, you've likely cycled through one of my "I'm-Still-An-Athlete-Damnit" phases. Marked by a myopic obsession centering around something athletic (note: can be a loose association), these phases tend to last anywhere from 3 weeks to 3 months. And they usually don't end well.

In fact, one particularly misguided phase (the Of-Course-I-Can-Skate Phase) ended with me entering myself and two friends into a 26-mile skate marathon, convinced that we were "athletic" enough to be competitive despite the fact that we had never skated more than 10 miles in preparation. By mile 12, my poor friends were exhausted and bleeding...and dropped out of the race. Instead, they spent the morning downing beers while laughing at me as I dragged myself to the finish line, ultimately coming in last place...behind a 9-year-old boy. Eek.

I blame this overzealous determination on the fact that I was a serious little gymnast throughout most of my childhood. For about 10 years, I spent three to four days a week vaulting, swinging, balancing and flipping (oftentimes to Rob Base songs, which I'm retrospectively proud of myself for). However, my unwavering commitment to the sport fell by the wayside the minute I hit puberty and realized that there was more to life than handstand pirouettes (a philosophy I'm now questioning).

Long story short, I was never as good at any other sports as I was at gymnastics (plus, it was hard to get pumped for activities that did not require shiny leotards and french braids). Yet, 20 years later, I find it difficult to think of myself as anything other than a "serious athlete," a self-imposed identity that my friend Eric is forever teasing me about. As a result, it rips my soul a little when I try out a new sport and suck hard (which is why I never told him that standing on the flying trapeze platform almost gave me a heart attack when I took lessons last year--shhh).

Fast forward to summer 2008 when I decided I would draw upon my, err, "athletic background" and learn to Double Dutch. Just when I had reached the end of my rope (ha!), I saw that a Double Dutch documentary film (called Jump!) was playing at the Roxie theatre, right around the corner from my house. Was it a sign? I dragged a friend to watch it with me and we were mesmerized. Now I reeeeally had to learn.

Striking while the iron was hot, 2 cute and stylie women about our age stood up at the end of the movie and announced that they were professional Double Dutchers aaaaaaaaaand that they taught lessons to adults right here in the city. I told them about my failed attempts and they swore they could teach me. The minute I got home, I signed up for their Intro To Double Dutch class. Understandably, my 2 friends from skate marathon fame politely declined when I asked them to join me.

Three weeks of Double Dutching stretched into 3 months, stretched into a full year and I am proud to say I can now stay in those ropes for a good long while. Eat your heart out 9-year-old skater boy. Who's got the fancy footwork now? Mmm hmmm. And one year later, I've decided it's official: I am still an athlete, damnit! Woot!

Those Double Dutch girls whom I met at the documentary (now my darling friends) weren't lying when this said they could teach me. In fact, they taught dozens of us. Check out the above video taken at our first recital a few weeks ago. Aren't we...athletic?! And our outfits are just as cool (if not cooler than) shiny leotards, don't you think? All we're missing is a little Rob Base.

So next time my athleticism comes into question (like during the hold your leg pose in Bikram class or the 3-mile run in Boot Camp or when Rick forces me to go down a big hill on a snowboard), my soul shall remain unharmed as I revel in the fact that I can Double Dutch!

Famous! (By Association)

So my friend Sherry is kind of famous, which means I'm friends with famous people...which means I'm, well,.....friends with famous people? OK, fine. It doesn't mean much about me, per se, but it's still exciting!

Sherry is a real, live artist who gets interviewed in trendy magazines and has a bio that includes coverage in The New Yorker and art showings in Mexico City. She practically needs her own clan of Secret Service people to follow her around.

The funny thing is that the agents would be trailing her from places like jumprope class to various Mission dive bars which means that, in order to blend in, they'd have to lose the dark suits and pick up some skinny jeans. And maybe they could follow her around on fixed gear bikes rather than in an Escalade--just to be sure that no one suspected them. Note: Secret Service agents would have way more fun trailing Sherry than Paris Hilton (who basically goes from her esthetician to her dietician to frat-boy clubs and 'round again). Just sayin'.

Anyway, Sherry had an art opening on Saturday night where she showed a set of paintings, including the one above. I'm the girl on the far right, and yes, I was wearing a Hooter's shirt (no comment). The idea behind the show was to feature the city's different creative communities and invite them to interact with one another at the opening. A jumproper herself, Sherry decided to paint some Double Dutchers, and I was lucky enough to be free the day she needed someone to pose for her. (Three cheers for Funemployment!)

The event was way fun, with everything from a sparkly drag performance to a saucy fashion show to spontaneous, Xtreme jump roping. Even the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence were there to kick off the night with a Shel Silverstein reading. (This may be the closest I ever get to interacting with members of a religious order.)

So, if you know any aspiring Secret Service agents lookin' for an internship, let them know the job of the Century is available. Trailing Ms. Sherry would be nothing short of wildly entertaining. Plus, this is who you'd be protecting.

Guns N' Rosé

After having reached what may be the pinnacle of urban life as I know it (I got to jump in at the end of the SFC Double Dutch girls’ performance at the How Weird Street Fair!), I headed up to Dayle and Larry’s vineyard to "take in the countryside." Yeah, we’ll call it that…

While it’s always fun to kick it in Camptonville, this particular visit stepped it up a level. For starters, it was our host couple’s one-year wedding anniversary which, to be honest, had me kinda choked up. Just thinking about Dayle on her wedding day seems to do that to me. Maybe it’s the result of having traveled with this girl down the dating freeway for quite a while before she met Larry (to call it a road wouldn’t convey the amounts of adrenaline involved—even from the passenger seat). Or maybe it’s cause it felt really special, for lack of a better word, to be one of her bridemaids.

Who knows? But Dayle is not a fan of emoting so in her honor I’m stopping short before I start gushing about how happy I am for her. Instead, I'll share a little something I learned about married life en la casa de Dayle and Larry:

Not too long ago, our newlyweds were feeling kind of shameful about the fact that each of them occasionally likes to drink bottles of beer in the shower. Was that trashy? Then one day they saw an episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy where a straight guy’s bathroom was being evaluated for upgrade. Apparently, a beer bottle was discovered perched in his bath rack and the show hosts were appalled. Regardless of the response elicited by said bottle, its very existence validated for my friends that they were not alone. From that day on, Dayle and Larry drank their beer with confidence between shampoo and conditioner application.

Anyway, when Mr. and Mrs. Rodenborn aren’t drinking beer in the shower, they’re busy tending to their vineyard. This sometimes means trimming vines or upgrading the irrigation system, but every once in a while it means shooting loud guns to scare away grape-eating animals. On this particular visit, Larry decided that it was high-time the rest of us (e.g. Lauren and Lisa, who's pictured above) learned how to handle one of those guns. After all, you never know when another bear might hop the fence.

In the interest of limited emoting, all I’m going to say about this experience is that kick-back is no joke. Check out my first You Tube video ever to watch that gun teach me a lesson. It took many glasses of fancy rosė just to calm down afterwards.