I was excited last week to go through a decent aerial practice - my first in ages. With Kate (gymnast) and Ade (ex-Le Reve aerialist) I was motivated to get moving, and even did a couple of basic drops on fabric.
But oh, aerialists reading this, let me tell you how not-fun it is to try to get yourself upside-down when you don't practice for a year. It's not the first time I've tried to crawl back from aerial inactivity (ahem, three pregnancies) but it is always hard on the muscles and on the ego.
I don't have great ambitions for my own training right now. But it's fun to have the opportunity to teach a little again. I informally taught a kids' aerials class the following day to some of the artists' children, and I'll pick that up again more regularly in Amsterdam.
So I was feeling all good about myself till I got home and discovered I'd locked myself out of the house. This was with Isa in tow, several bags of refrigerated groceries, and a brief 1-hour window to unpack and change clothes before heading back to the tent to pick up the kids from school.
I tried all the windows to no avail, then ransacked the yard, finding stepstools, hand tools, and a giant extension ladder that was too heavy for me to move. I studied this rear balcony carefully, thinking, I should be able to do that. Scramble up the bannister, get hold of the railing, and swing my legs up. Right, aerialist?? ... but then I looked at little Isa in the yard, and contemplated what would happen if I slipped. And broke my leg. Not only would my 3-year-old have to learn to call 911 in a foreign country, but the rest of our summer would be miserable.
I sighed, put away my monkey daydreams, got out a knife and cut through a window screen.