Selling some Wares

Late last year, I saw a friend in Texas and noticed that her nails looked awesome. She said they were actually nail wraps (like stickers, NOT stick-on, plastic nails). She showed me how to use them, and it was fun. These are sold through a company called Jamberry, which is kind of like an Avon/Pampered Chef thing, a direct-sale company. It turns out her sister is a consultant, and now I am too!

After grouting/deep cleaning: one little chip

Jamberry seemed a little challenging the first time I put them on, but as promised, the second time was smooth. In a nutshell, you cut the sticker you want off a sheet, hold it in front of a heater/hair dryer, place it on your nail, smooth it down with a cuticle pusher, then trim/file the sticker down, then heat and smooth again. I love having my nails painted, but since I'm a big DIY-er, they tend to chip in 2 days. My first-attempt Jamberries stayed on over a week, including me re-grouting the bathroom and scraping off stray grout with my nails.

I've been a bit skeptical of direct-sale companies for a while, mainly because I'm usually not a fan of the whole sales-party thing. But my grandmother sold a home decorating product, and was also an Avon lady, and she won diamond rings and trips and loved it. And it was just because she would drop off a catalog and talk to people - no big parties or heavy sales.

So, in my effort to keep challenging myself and trying new things, I signed up to sell my new-found nail art myself. I wasn't quite sure how to get started, but the problem solved itself: my boss noticed my nails and asked me to host a party at lunchtime as a kind of team-building thing (it's a small office of almost all women). A few weeks later, I packed up my cotton balls, polishes, sample Jamberries, heater, and other supplies, and headed to work.

Second try

The party went well overall - I was a little nervous and it was definitely odd being in charge/telling people what to do when those people included my bosses. Instead of fighting this and trying to take charge more, I just decided to go with my own flow and make it more of a communal event, with us all helping each other. It went well, and several people decided to buy product. It was fun to watch the commission reports come in - I've never worked any kind of sales or commission before.

My next time out was a small party for friends at my house. Again, I took the more casual approach and used it as a change to catch up with people I hadn't seen in awhile, and if they wanted to try the nail wraps, they could. It wound up being a lovely afternoon.

I've just been asked to do my third party - a gathering for a co-worker and her teenage daughter and various mom/daughter friends. I'm looking forward to hosting a party in this slightly different atmosphere - someone else's turf and friends.

Am I going to quit my day job? No. With two parties, I've made just enough to cover what I originally put in to get started - not a windfall. And I'm still not a salesperson; I'm really fine with not making more on this project. But I'd told myself that after three months, if I wasn't into it, I'd quit, and I don't see any reason to do that just yet. It's turned out to be an interesting challenge and a fun social activity.

And now, for the pitch! Intrigued? Click here to visit my independent consultant page. Feel free to send me any questions via my email address on the web site, or through this blog.

Learn more:

• Web: http://companies.directsalesaid.com/

Dancing the Night (Well, 45 Minutes) Away

I love dancing. It's a passion I didn't know I had until sometime in college probably, spurred on by my bestie who had a penchant for busting out choreographed moves while hanging out at our apartment. Some favorites were Lose Yourself ('the sprinkler' was key here) and I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) (which as everyone knows, is topped off by actually falling down by a door).

My love for dancing grew at the end of late nights out in bars when I moved to DC, spurred on by some sugary cocktails. After a few years of that nonsense - and meeting my husband, Justin - my public dancing was whittled down to mostly weddings (and some wedding-related events). But I've maintained my original joy of dancing around the house, getting the dogs all riled up and working up a sweat in the process.

Me and Justin, hot messes at a friend's wedding

I also love Dancing with the Stars. It's my one and only reality show obsession. It's got a benefit besides entertainment, too: whenever I watch, I get motivated by the dancers' incredible abs and glutes and ride my exercise bike while watching the stars twirl around the ballroom. It also really made me want to learn how to actually dance - as in a coordinated, more sophisticated-looking way than what has been described by a friend as 'interpretive dance moves' (but is really a bunch of flailing - albeit very fun flailing).

So I recently snatched up a Groupon for a series of dance classes at a local dance studio, which included two private lessons and a variety of four group lessons. We decided to start with the private lessons, the first of which we drove to on a cold Monday night, battling rush hour. Not the best circumstances to get my toes tappin'.

Nonetheless, we went into the stale looking waiting room, with obviously fake flowers and a general tan-ness. A friendly receptionist checked us in, and we waited for our instructor. A few minutes later, a suited-up man with sweat beads around his hairline and a plastered-on smile came and greeted us with a firm handshake. I was a little turned off by this whole first impression, obviously.

We went upstairs to a lofted practice area, and he started by asking a few questions about our goals. Then he started the music and it was go time. Over the next 45 minutes, we did a few steps each of four dances: foxtrot, waltz, and swing, and club step. The instructor would show the basic steps to Justin, then to me, then we would do them ourselves with the instructor guiding Justin's arm, and finally with him letting go and letting us try to keep up on our own for a bit. This had mixed results - neither of us have much have a sense of rhythm or coordination. However, Justin is a martial artist, and his control over his footwork was amazing - I got kind of annoyed by this. Wasn't I supposed to be more graceful and in control as the lady? It was not so.

Our instructor relaxed the fake smile and turned out to be nice enough, although the beads of sweat that were now running down his face were kind of bothering me. I noticed too that his suit was worn and faded, his shoes a few dances past their prime. The whole place started making me sad. Justin asked him how he got into teaching dance, and he said he's studied dance in college but basically couldn't find a job in it so he worked for a while at a video store and then found this dance studio. This did nothing to make me feel less sad at this place.

The end of the lesson was the weirdest part. We were taken into the 'education consultant's office' for a meeting about what 'program would best work for our goals.' What followed was a closed-door meeting in a small office with someone who would have been equally at home selling timeshares. It was a cold sales meeting, with him trying to pressure us to buy a $1,200 dance lesson package (and you weren't able to buy them in increments - it was the package or nothing). We expressed that we really just wanted to learn a few things, and didn't think we needed all that, which extended the meeting by another 10 minutes. We finally nodded and said we'd think about it, and were allowed to go on our way.

We went back just once more, for our other free private lesson. Things went similarly - I do feel like I learned just enough basic steps to feel a little more coordinated on a dance floor at a more formal event, but the experience wasn't worth paying that much or trying to make room in our schedule for a weekly commitment. We do want to try other less-salesy environments, though - stay tuned for that as we intend to explore a local community center's dance classes soon.

Anyone have recommendations for a good, casual, inexpensive dance experience in the Metro DC area? Or just a good dance class story to share? Post in the comments or send a message to theapprentess(at)gmail.com!

Learn more:

• Web: There are a variety of free dance lesson videos on YouTube - just search!
• In person: We haven't had a great experience thus far, so I have none to recommend. Check out your local Yelp or other review site!

Hiking a Glacier

Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Ice

The journey took 10 years. When I first left Texas and moved to Washington, DC, I thought I would never be able to withstand the winters here, let alone anything up above the Mason-Dixon. A few years later, I met my future husband - a native of Buffalo, of all places. It was quite nearly a deal breaker.

I learned to enjoy the fluffy white snow on visits to his family - from inside a warm house, a Labatt in hand, and only for a few days at a time. I have never participated in skiing, snowmobiling, snow-tubing, or any other sport that happens when temperatures drop below 40.

So how did I wind up standing on a glacier in Iceland in February?

It started over a year ago, when Justin and I decided to take our next international trip in the winter, when we could take advantage of off-season fares. This, of course, meant we would not be going anywhere with umbrellas in the beverages.

I don't remember how Iceland first made the shortlist. I had heard it was nice, and had thought I'd like to go someday; but we specifically wanted to branch out from North America and Europe, where we'd been on our last few big trips. Even if it weren't technically both of those things, lying right on the rift between tectonic plates, I ruled out the idea of Iceland in February - surely it was unthinkable, the land uninhabitable for tourists.

And then the photos kept popping up on Pinterest, and there were talks of the Northern Lights shining more brightly than ever. And I thought, what's more different than a land of midnight sun (and noontime dark), where Vikings ruled and there is still a firm belief in trolls? The final straw was an excellent Black Friday deal. We booked, we packed warm clothes, we went with a fairly unscheduled agenda and an open mind. We strolled into a tourism office while wandering about the capital the first day, and my dear husband saw a brochure for glacier hikes, and said, "I'd really like to do that." He rarely has any special requests when traveling.

And that is how I found myself standing on a 200 foot thick sheet of ice with only tiny metal spikes on my shoes keeping me from sliding down one of the world's remaining glaciers into an endless crevasse, down to where only trolls could navigate. I guess you could say I did it for love.

We arrived to the tour company's office around 11:30am, plenty early for our noon tour. However, there was a sign saying it was closed until June. Luckily a man popped his head around the building as we were getting into the car to drive up to the glacier, hoping we'd just run into them there, and said that we did indeed need to just drive to the glacier named Sólheimajökull. We went a few more miles up the road and turned onto a gravel road full of potholes - our car was not equipped for this. Justin stayed strong and soon enough we pulled up next to a row of 4x4s, one a van with the same guy we'd just seen (I want to know what shortcut he took) passing out waterproof pants and hiking boots.

We were issued our crampons, metal frames with spikes on them that lace onto the bottom of your boot, like old-fashioned roller skates. These tied onto the shoe with what was essentially a very thick shoelace. This was not comforting to me - that was what would keep me attached to the ice, instead of plummeting to the bottom of a crevasse?

Justin getting his crampons fitted as Sólheimajökull looms in the back

After suiting up, the guides took us over to the edge of the ice and gave a quick overview of what to expect - basically walk up a bit, stop for any interesting sights/geological explanations along the way, stop on a plane about 1.5 hours up, and then wander back down for a total of three hours on the ice.

Let's do this!

I felt fine until the moment my foot hit ice. It took a few minutes to get used to the feeling of the crampons, and I found I did not trust them at all. I immediately felt my chest restricting, and its message was clear: I choose flight.

But I stuck through! I just kept looking forward and at my feet, not out at the shrinking horizon. I stepped over a small crevasse and looked down at least 40 feet, right into the eye of the beast. I kept going, and learned about the glacier from our helpful guide along the way.

I took a college geology class, but the only thing I remembered about glaciers is that they carve out valleys and that they're melting. Looking out towards our cars, the guide told us that when summer tours had stopped in August, the glacier reached all the way to where we parked. That was startling.

The glacier used to go up to the cars

I am so terrified in this photo

He explained that glaciers move, too - they're just not moving (i.e. getting replenished from more snow at the top) fast enough to keep up with the melting. Glaciers form when snow falls at the top of the glacier, where it's too cold to melt. Over time it compresses into ice, and then gravity starts pulling the ice down a mountain, where it carves it's way over thousands of years. The glaciers in Iceland are relatively young at only a few thousand years. But the actual turnover rate is about 100 years - the ice down at the foot had started as snow just a century ago. This means that occasionally, in a melted spot or at the foot, they'll find a 50 year old sled or a 90 year old boot.

His stories could sometimes be hard to hear; the temperature was about 30 degrees, but every few minutes a fierce Arctic wind would hit, whipping up under my coat and hood, and throwing my balance off. His words would drift off in the wind as I ground my crampons down tighter into the ice.

And yet before I knew it, we had reached the flat part of the glacier that would be as high as we would venture. We wandered around, exploring the ice. The guide had warned us at the beginning not to step on snowy areas - if the snow was sticking, it likely meant there was a hold underneath. A hole that could reach up to the full 200 feet deep. He pointed out a few of these - called "moulins" (windmill in French) for some reason - and aggressively stabbed his ice pick in it to show that the snow would fall away, uncovering a pit beneath. Not reassuring.

Moulin - looks like an ashy pool of death to me

But the exhilaration of conquering the fear and making it to the top started to take hold, and getting back down again was a breeze. I felt like I could do anything in that moment.

Sitting in a warm coffee shop at the base of the glacier at the end of the hike, I felt like I'd done something really special, something I wouldn't have thought I'd enjoy, and did. Our entire trip to Iceland was a revelation - when properly insulated with good winter gear, I didn't mind the cold so much. I definitely want to do more adventurous travel activities - where have extreme hikes and rugged tours been my whole life? Your Apprentess could definitely stand to learn more about geology and nature up close (although I may have to stick a little closer to home for the next ones).

Learn more:

Web: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glacier
Tours:

• Icelandic Mountain Guides: https://www.mountainguides.is/day-tours/glacier-tours/?ref=fb2 
• Glacier National Park (Montana) Virtual Tour (a bit warmer and more accessible!): http://www.nps.gov/glac/photosmultimedia/virtualtour.htm

Sachet-ing to Lavender Class

I recently checked out another LivingSocial class: Making Products with Lavender. Making flowery perfume products isn't my normal thing, and I was flying solo for this one, so I wasn't too sure how enjoyable this was going to be. But I forged ahead, dear readers, for Science. Sweet-smelling, purpley Science.

The crowd in the waiting area was much as I had expected: groups of females. I was surprised at the number of inter-generational attendees though; it appeared as if there were several mother-daughter duos. Since myself and almost all of my friends hail from places far from the Mid-Atlantic, I kind of forget that anyone around here has a mother. I was starting to feel a bit sad about my far-flung family when I found that the woman sitting right next to me was another solo, perpetual class-taker. I felt better.

This could have also been due to the anxiety-reducing properties of lavender, which I'd heard prior to the class. The instructor, a local lavender-farm owner with her mother and sister, explained that it actually has quite a few purported natural remedies. My favorite, for it's trivia value, which has been verified through an extensive internet search consisting of a single Google, is that the Romans carried it to war to use on their wounds for its calming and antiseptic properties. The most useful information though was that it helps some people with motion sickness. As someone who used to be able to read novels in the backseat or ride endless roller coasts and now sometimes gets carsick driving myself home from work, I couldn't wait to try that out.

Learning about the properties and many past and current uses of lavender was the highlight of the course. While the instructor was speaking, we used a burner and pan set up on the tables in front of us to melt wax and make a solid perfume; dried lavender to fill up a sachet; and lavender essential oil to make a linen spray. None of this was particularly difficult, but it kept my hands busy while I was getting educated on the herb's history.

We also learned a bit about how to use lavender in cooking. While it might sound odd, you may have actually had it before: lavender is used in herbes de Provence, a seasoning medley commonly used on chicken in French dishes. We received a sheet with several recipes using lavender in jam, lemonade, and pound cake, and were advised that putting dried lavender branches in the grill with chicken or fish would give it a delightful flavor. I tried it the next day and it gave me a delightful small fire.

Overall, it was an enjoyable hour on a Saturday morning. I don't know if I'd recommend it for the cost, since I feel like buying oils to make other products isn't exactly the same as creating lavender products from scratch. But I was able to read a magazine on a recent road trip while holding a sachet to my nose, with no motion sickness! Maybe it was worth it after all.

Learn More:

Web: www.sevenoakslavenderfarm.com/
Classes: www.918FStreet.com (Washington, DC)