Tomorrow's the Big Day! One more day and I'm old.

Do you share your birthday with anyone?
I do, and I have to say I am in good company.

Bonnie Parker, you American Outlaw, you. She'd be 99 tomorrow if she were alive.

The first Dumbledore would be cutting the cake if he weren't dead.

The Lovely Julie Andrews shares a birthday with me.

Many other people share the same big day as me. From baseball we have Rod Carew and Mark McGuire.
From TV we have Tom Bosley and Christopher Titus. I once stood behind Tom Bosley at WFM. He was buying some roma tomatoes and a loaf of crusty bread.

Oh, also, let's celebrate the right to self determination by recognizing the national independence days of Tuvalu, Nigeria and the Republic of Cypress.

I betcha you didn't know that according to wikipedia, October 1 is World Vegetarian Day. A very happy day to you, vegetarians.


Now, believe it or not there are a few people that I actually know that share a bday with me. I don't know how old they are.

There's Ms. HM. I used to work with her at a bakery called Mary's that no longer exists. HM was, I think, about 16. She lived in the east bay and would take BART in every day. She was a really nice gal. I think she's still living in the east bay. 13 years later, she's got a few kids and from her FB profile looks really happy. Mary's is now a pizza place that is super yummy called Pizzetta 211. Mary's was a great bakery with the best coffee. I lived across the street from it when it was owned by a woman named Mary. She sold it to a woman named Natasha and she and her boyfriend Corey ran it. After that a woman named Karen bought it and eventually closed it. A sad era for that neighborhood, but luckily it looks like the folks who turned the space into pizzetta 211 put the light back into it that that space deserves. Good thing because before it was the pizza place it was a failed bakery, then before that it was Mary's - the Karen years, then it was Mary's the Natasha year, then Mary's the Mary era, then it was a barber shop, but it started as a church that worshipped light.

There's Ms. KG. KG is my hula sister. She has long beautiful hair. When all her gray grows in she'll have the kind of gray hair that all women envy. She's also a very beautiful hula dancer.


Finally there's Ms. SM. SM lives on an island far far away with her baby and her soon-to-be hubby. I don't know why but when we first met each other there was some bad bad vibes going on and passed back and forth between us. We let it fester and our half-hearted attempts to fix it were never successful. I always felt bad and wrong about it, even when it was happening. I found her blog one day and read it from start to finish (OK, I skimmed over some, but it's a really really long blog. she's been doing it a long time.) Reading it I started seeing what kind of person she was / is, and what a beautiful person she was / is on the inside. If I had the chance to do it over I wouldn't have let the negative atmosphere of my workplace get the better of me and I would have been nicer. She probably would have responded in kind.

Hope all of you have a great day tomorrow!

Barry and Me - a dream

Last night I had a dream that I was waiting for an elevator.
When the doors opened The First Lady, her two kids and a body guard were inside.
President Obama got on the elevator. I asked if I could get on too. The President said I could. I pushed the button for the 57th floor. The President and his family were going to the 61st. We exchanged pleasantries and then I asked him if I could take a picture of the two of us together with my blackberry. He said no because the flash would make the walls look weird and the secret service would freak out and have to kill me. I shrugged and said OK. We got to my floor and I got off.

September 29, 2008

Happy Birthday Emily Lloyd. Today is her 39th birthday. She is 2 days older than me. I liked the movie she was in called Wish You Were Here. I know she's been in a few things since 1987 but I can't think of what. The only thing that comes to mind is that during the filming of some movie she confused Rabies with Attention Deficit Disorder and was released from her contract.

Still trying to beat this stupid cold or whatever it is. Hubby and I have taken to calling the Little Mister "Patient Zero". He was the first to come down with this, now he's feeling fit as a fiddle. Little Miss has yet to get this icky cold. I hope she doesn't.To her credit, however, she is pretty easy to take care of when she's sick. Just hand her some juice and the remote and she'll hang out on the couch all day watching iCarly on on-demand.

I was excited to see that today in 480BC there was an event called "Battle of the Salamis". Not as cool as it sounds, however. I has nothing to do with cured meat products.

I got my first birthday present for turning OLD this year. It came from my mom. I got a gift card for Macys. She used to send me a check, then I had to tell her that if she didn't want me to buy groceries or pay the electric bill with her birthday present she had to get me a gift card for a specific store. Now how do I tell her I usually save up my gift cards and buy birthday and christmas presents with them. I do need a new coat, though. Maybe I'll buy a coat.

Until tomorrow.

September 28, 2009 - 3 days until I'm old.

I totally missed out on yesterday. On Saturday afternoon I started feeling scratchy. By Saturday night I was coughing, sneezing and had a big case of the "hot-colds", you know, where one extra layer makes you too freaking hot and one less layer makes you super freaking cold. That continued all day. Shame because it was such a beautiful weekend. While I was either sleeping in the bedroom or watching TV on the couch in a daze, hubby and the kiddies were in Pacifica at a sand sculpture contest, plus I missed hula at yerba buena gardens. Yesterday was a lost day. No big things to report on the 4th day before my birthday.
To celebrate 3 days until my birthday I plan on doing pretty much the same as what I did yesterday; sleep, watch TV and with I weren't a sickie.

September 26, 1970 - the cool side of the day

I think on September 26, 1970 no one had any creative juices flowing. Wikipedia, The Wall Street Journal, This Day in Canada, and random searches of stuff didn't hold anything of interest to me. Sure, it is Brian Ferry's birthday, but who, outside of those of us who grew up in the 80's really cares, except for Brian Ferry's mom, of course.

Flash forward 39 years later, 5 days until my birthday.

Hubby has a bad cold so last night I slept on the couch so that he could have all the blankets, or move over to the cool side of the bed if he got too hot. Also, who wants to sleep next to a sickie? I woke up to the sound of Little Miss and Little Mister digging through fridge looking for left over chinese food from last night. They came into the living room with potstickers in their fists and wonton soup in a coffee cup.

Yay, breakfast served.

September 25, 2009 - The best 6-days before my birthday celebration ever.

I woke up a bit late today. I don't know why. I went to bed about 9:30pm. I certainly had enough sleep. Little Miss woke up about 6am. I heard her tinker around in the kitchen. I thought she was feeding her cat or making herself some cinnamon toast. She loves cinnamon toast. She loves to make cinnamon toast without supervision because her secret ingredient is 'more sugar than thought humanly possible'. When I stumbled out of bed she came up to me, said Good Morning and then told me that coffee was ready. My Little Miss made coffee for Hubby and Me, plus she made her own lunch. It was so sweet of her. I have the best daughter ever.

then

Today my very good friend Prakash met me for lunch.
We met in 1992. He was the first friend I made who was outside mine and my roommates' circle of friends. From 1992 to 1996 we had a class together every single semester, first at City College then at SFSU. We became really great friends. We still are really great friends.
I hadn't seen him in a while so it was such a nice surprise when he called me and told me he was going to meet me for lunch today.
Today has been pretty great so far and it was a great way to celebrate 6 days before my birthday.

I can't wait to see what tonight holds. I hope it includes a big bowl of pho, a really great episode of "are you smarter than a 5th grader" and a few baskets of laundry to fold. that would be a nice relaxing night.

Don't be so smug Bono, my Mom can kick your ass, and you'll like it.

Last night I had a dream that my mom was friends with Bono. In my dream I still lived at our old house in Long Beach - all of us did, me, my 3 sisters but they weren't in the dream, they all just still lived at home, and my parents. One day, the day after Christmas, I walked into the living room only to find my mom yelling at Bono and Bono smiling. She called him 'John' with the same loving tone that Ms. Cunningham called Fonzie 'Arthur' because in my dream-life Bono's real name is John. She was yelling at him to get his feet off the coffee table and to take his jacket off and make himself at home already, what did he need, an invitation? Why did he think he was so special?.

I went into my room and called my friend EAW to tell her that Bono was over our house and if she wanted to meet him she should come over, but she had to be casual and say she was over for another reason. Come over she did, in her pajamas, and without her wig on (huh?). When she got to my house Bono was next door chopping wood with the disabled adults who lived next door to us, Matt and Carl. My dad, the disabled adults' dad and Roy from across the street were sitting in lawn chairs in front of the house. We walked over to say hi to my dad, but really to introduce EAW to Bono. Then I noticed that KH from Camp Wintaka and high school was there except although she looked like KH, she was actually my hula sister KK.
Bono was too busy chopping wood and doing chores that only regular people do so my friends never met him but they did see him and in fact believe me that Bono was at least spending his Boxing Day doing chores on Fairbrook street and getting scolded by my mom, and loving it.

September 24, 2009, "Oh baby, we don't need a piece of paper to prove our Latvian love."

One week until my birthday. Seven Days. 39 years ago today my mom was 35 weeks pregnant with me, her 4th baby. I think she was just about done with this whole "being pregnant" thing. Wow, 35 weeks preggers with the 4th kid, I'd be done, too.

What was happing in 1970 on this day? According to Wikipedia nobody important was born and nobody important died. I'm sure they are wrong, but there  you go.

There is at least one cool thing, however.
Today is the 100th birthday of the guy that created the neon lamp. If this guy weren't born, we wouldn't have neon. Well, we probably would but it wouldn't have been this guy's claim to fame.

Oh, and one thing I found interesting. In the Latvian days of yore, today was the only day of the year men proposed marriage to women. I wonder if women could propose to men the other 364 days (365 in leap year). 
I wasted some time and decided to look up some Latvian wedding traditions.
---Groomsmen "kidnap" the bride, and the groom must complete a simple task to "ransom" her back
---Writing sins on rocks, then tossing the rocks into a body of water, will allow a person to atone for their sins
The most interesting one I found was this -- To honor true love, the Latvin Couple, on their wedding day, puts flowers on the Grave of Maija. The story goes like this
“The Rose of Turaida.”

In 1601, after a battle near Turaida castle, a castle clerk found a surviving baby girl in the arms of her dead mother. (don't worry; it gets much worse.)
Maija – as the baby girl was named – was raised by the clerk and his wife as their own child.
Maija grew into the loveliest maiden imaginable, inspiring the community to dub her “the Rose of Turaida.” In spite of her great beauty and potential for many loves, there was but one man in Maija’s heart: Viktor, a young gardener living in the nearby castle of Sigulda, who returned Maija’s love wholeheartedly.
A certain Polish nobleman (by birth, not breeding) named Adam Jakubowski, disregarding Maija’s and Viktor’s love for one another, decided that he was a better match for the young beauty. Apparently, within Jakubowski’s insanely narcissistic world, coercion, cruelty and deception were acceptable elements of courtship. One August afternoon, convincing Maija that she would be rendezvousing with her beloved Viktor, Jakubowski lured her into the cool shadows of nearby Gutmanis Cave where he then shared with her his evil intentions to forcibly take her for his wife, presumably right then and there.
The clever Maija (apparently lacking all self preservation instincts) quickly convinced Jakubowski that the silk scarf in her pocket was magical, rendering its wearer immune to injury. If Jakubowski agreed to let her go, she said, the scarf would be his. As proof of the scarf’s magic, Maija offered her own precious neck. Wrapping the scarf around her throat, the young girl valiantly told Jakubowski to strike her with his sword, which (the apparently not too bright) Jakubowski did. Within an instant, in the isolation of the cold dark cave, Maija lost her life while maintaining her honor.
Unlike many legends, papers found in the archives of Sigulda castle seem to corroborate this story (with some varying details), as well as to confirm the eventual fate of Jakubowski (which involved his neck, a noose and, I’m guessing, an angry mob).
From that day forward newly married couples have left flowers on the grave of Maija: The Rose of Turaida.

On that note, 7 days until my birthday. Until tomorrow . . . . .

September 23, 1970

Eight days before I was born not a whole lot was happening.

Ani DiFranco was born.

Some French guy named Bourvil died.

It was Mickey Rooney's 50th birthday.

The Vice President was Spiro Agnew

Unemployemnt was at 3.5%

The price of gas was 10% what it is today.

Emperor Norton's Grave.

Today Hubby, The Kiddies and I stopped at the Woodlawn Memoral Park on our way to Costco. We drove around the cemetary looking for Lot H, then to find the final resting place of Emperor Joshua A. Norton I.

We all took pictures next to the headstone.

Little Mister napped during his and hubby's turn.

I smiled and hugged the tombstone

 

and, just like the 'tween she is, she read and pretended she didn't know us.

It was a nice afternoon.

Playing Fetch with Bummer and Lazarus

I think this weekend just might be the perfect weekend to accomplish #41 on The List which is "Put Flowers on Emperor Norton's Grave". 
Today, Septemeber 17 is the 150th anniversary of the day Joshua A. Norton I declared himself Emperor of the United States. A short time later he added "Protector of Mexico" to his title, but then removed it again when Maximilian of Mexico came to power stating "it is impossible to protect such an unsettled nation"

Emperor Norton was this kooky guy who moved from London to South Africa when he was about 2, then came to San Francisco when he was an adult. He had a ton of cash but then lost it all when he tried to corner the rice market and failed. Seems he bought up a bunch of rice coming from China and he was going to sell it at a huge profit, then rice started coming in from Peru, thus bringing the price of rice down and he lost all of his money. He tried to skip out on paying it, was sued and the case went all the way up to the California Supreme Court. He skipped town, only to come back a few years later. Aside from being a crooked businessman, he seemed to be just a normal guy but when he returned something about him was a bit "off". He left San Francisco a broken man with his tail between his legs and returned a self proclaimed emperor. His proclamation follows
At the peremptory request and desire of a large majority of the citizens of these United States, I, Joshua Norton, formerly of Algoa Bay, Cape of Good Hope, and now for the last 9 years and 10 months past of S. F., Cal., declare and proclaim myself Emperor of these U. S.; and in virtue of the authority thereby in me vested, do hereby order and direct the representatives of the different States of the Union to assemble in Musical Hall, of this city, on the 1st day of Feb. next, then and there to make such alterations in the existing laws of the Union as may ameliorate the evils under which the country is laboring, and thereby cause confidence to exist, both at home and abroad, in our stability and integrity


NORTON I,

Emperor of the United States.

17th September, 1859.

He drafted all sorts of other proclamations which can be read here. He abolished Congress. He fired Abraham Lincoln. He called for a bridge to be built across SF's bay (in 2004 an SF Supervisor tried to get the new span of the Bay Bridge renamed the Emperor Norton and failed), He bans the F-word (Frisco), the list goes on. He also created his own bonds stating that at a later date someone could return the bonds and be repaid at 4% interest.

He was arrested for vagrancy once after some cop with something to prove hauled him off to jail. He was released and from then on no cop ever touched him again.

Two stray dogs name Bummer and Lazaurs became loyal members of his court. It is said that they followed the Emperor everywhere. However, it is also said that the Emperor didn't care for these dogs, they were simply groupies.

The character of "the king" in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain is based on Norton, also Robert Lewis Stevenson used Norton as an actual character in his book The Wrecker. RLS's stepdaugher Isobel Field wrote about him in her book "This Life I've Loved" "He was a gentle and kindly man, and fortunately found himself in the friendliest and most sentimental city in the world, the idea being 'let him be emperor if he wants to.' San Francisco played the game with him."

On January 8, 1880, Emperor Norton died on the corner of California Street and Grant Avenue. Depending on the source, anywhere from 10,000 to 30,000 people attended his funeral. Today he is resting comfortably at the Woodlawn Memorial Park in Colma, just 15 minutes south of San Francisco.


Yeah, #41 on Saturday.

An Open Letter to Gravis Footwear - My Orange Flip Flops and How Much I Love Them

Dear Gravis,

In 2004 I participated in the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer 3-day. It was an experience I will never forget. I joined a great team called The Warming Hut Hotties, dressed in pink, wore silly deeleebobbers on my head and walked 60 miles.
In preparation for this event I spent a lot of time and money at Sports Basement. One of the items I bought was a pair of Gravis Flip Flops. I have to admit, they weren't my first choice, but in my haste to get out of the store I grabbed a pair of flip flops and went to the register to pay for my stuff. I was surprised and mad to learned that I had spent $25 on a pair of slippas that I only planned on wearing in the shower. I kept them anyways. I'm so glad I did.

5 years later my Gravis Orange Flip Flops not only survived the communal shower trucks of the SGK-BC 3-Day, they triumphed through the 2006 Avon walk, hula class every Wednesday for the last 5 years, countless trips to the market, a 2-week trip to Hawaii (note - I bought a new pair of Tevas for this trip and didn't wear them at all) and years of enduring my relaxed style of storing my shoes in the closet or under my bed. They are still the perfect amount of squishy, have no ill effects from my pronated feet and high arches, and have never once given me blisters between my toes.

If I ever need to buy flip flops again, I will buy Gravis Flip Flops, and I won't be mad if I have to spend $30 on them.

Also, should you ever need to do consumer research on your sandals, I will certainly help you out.

You have made a fan out of me.

Wordles are fun

I created a few Wordles today.

Here's one of Patrick Swayze's bio on IMDB.com


Lost spoilers from spoilerfix.com


and, finally, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Hula at the South End Rowing Club

Last Friday a few of my hula brothers and sisters danced at the South End Rowing Club in San Francisco. It was fun, the people were nice and the chicken was good.

How You Found Me: because I'm a copy-cat

If you've learned anything from me so far, you've learned that I'm a copy cat. I steal ideas and make them my own. I don't really think it's stealing, though because I do tell you from whom I stole the idea and give you a link to the idea I've stolen. In my head it can't be called stealing, but it can be grounds for calling me a big fat copy-cat. I can deal with that. I copied the MalteseKat with her 101 things in 1001 days (except I'm doing 50.5 things in 500 days and calling it The List). I copied a story from BeerGirl's story she put on Facebook. I also followed various crochet patterns of monsters.

Hubby has a blog on Wordpress. I tried to use Wordpress but I couldn't figure it out. Funny, Hubby said wordpress was way easier to manipulate than Blogger. I say the reverse. I guess great minds don't always think alike. They just think similarly.

He used to have this little feature on his blog about how people got to his site. I always thought it was interesting.

I recently found a tool to do the very same thing.

Here are some of the things that brought you to me ----

10. 2^32 seconds in years

9. 2^32 seconds in days

8. lady sonja blag gum

7. lil miss hula tshirt

6. bazooka zooka bubblegum

5. dancing pregnant lady

4. onaona i ka hala

3. gem donuts

2. 32 seconds to minutes

and finally, the number 1 search term used when stumbling upon my blog

1. AGENT DALE COOPER

If I weren't on the South Beach Diet right now I'd go have a piece of Cherry Pie.

Crocheting

I crochet on muni to pass the time. I like to crochet little things so I can crochet into my bag and although people know what I'm doing, they're not as likely to try to talk to me about it.




Last week and this week I made 3 different Cthulhu dolls. Here's a picture of two of them riding muni.

I only have two pictured here because I gave one to my friend P last Saturday.

I got this lovely pattern from a crochet blog I follow called CthulhuCrochet.blogspot.com.

Dream

Last night I had a dream. I don't remember enough of the dream to describe it but I experienced a sensation that I have never had in a dream before.

I smelled something. As detail-filled as my dream life is, I've never noticed any scents until this dream. It's all murky but I remember being on the roof of my sister J's house (but not her house in real life, it was kinda like the barbie dream house). Some lady who lived next door was mad that we were having fun so she sprayed stinky perfume at us, then my sister yelled at her.

Neat. Dream tricks.

Cause and Effect - a hard lesson learned at Hula

Yesterday was an odd mix of stuff and I'm certainly feeling it today.

I had a pretty long day. Showed up for work about an hour earlier than usual so I could do my regular work stuff, for in place of my regular work stuff I had to set up for two little receptions happening back to back. It was pretty easy, just time consuming. During the first reception for which I was preparing my boss asked me how long I could stay. I told him I had to be at class by a particular time. Some guy from the the company we were hosting at the reception asked me what the class was. I told him hula.
Now folks, I get lots of different reactions from people when they first learn I dance hula. Most of them, though a little bit annoying aren't malicious. They just don't really understand it so they do "pretend hula" and sing Tiny Bubbles or something. Most of the time I just say "yeah, something like that" or, depending on what diplomacy calls for, or if I actually care about the person I'm talking to I take the time to explain to them what it is I try to do every week in class. I find that the longer I dance hula the fewer people I tell that I dance hula, so as time goes on, fewer and fewer people know about this passion of mine.
Anyhow, last night this tool from the company we were hosting laughed at me. He looked me in the face and laughed at me. He said "oh, that's the best thing I've heard all week. Hula dancing. that's too funny". I didn't know how to react to that. I can't say I was offended because he was just some ignorant suit that I'll never see again, but laughing at me? It was odd. He came from a company that does business with my company. He had never met me and he laughs in my face? Didn't he read any books about business manners and how you should just smile and say something fake-sincere and noncommittal like "oh, that must be very interesting"?

The second reception was fine. No problems and when I got to work today most of the clean up had already been taken care of.

I left halfway through the second reception and hauled bootie to class. Got there with enough time to grab a bumble bar, which I love and an apple before class.

Class was 3 hours long last night. There wasn't a whole lot of dancing involved. It was mostly finding out where our lines were, getting those last minute fittings for our dresses, practicing entering and exiting the stage, etc., in preparation for our show in October. I found the whole process interesting; to see a part of Kumu we don't normally get to see. We see Kumu the teacher, but we don't see Kumu the producer very often.

Last week I left class not at all happy with where I was put in the lines for a few of the dances. I'm not questioning Kumu and his judgement. I walked away unhappy with myself. I thought I was a better dancer than I guess I actually am. I know I'm not the best dancer in the class. I know I'm not "first row" material, but I thought I was at least 3rd or 4th. I would have been happy with 5th. Again, I'm not questioning his judgement. If I deserve to be in the 8th row, then that's where I go. It's his show, his school. He has standards and even though I thought I was meeting them, apparently I wasn't. (There is one dance, however, where I totally deserve to be in the last row, possibly behind a bunch of scenery. I have to get on the stick for that one)

Lesson learned. . . . . . almost.

Hula last night was another story, mostly.
I was really surprised, in a good way, to learn my place in line for a few of the other dances. I will make sure I don't let Kumu and my Hula brothers and sisters down. What surprised me and kinda got me all in a funk again was this one particular dance. Kumu was letting everyone who was doing this particular hula where their spots were. He didn't call me. Out of all the dances I know, I thought that this was my strongest. I thought I was a shoe-in for this one. In this hula one has to sit on one's knees. Not everyone in the class is physically able to do this. I am. When he asked for those who he didn't call who could kneel he made us all sit in a line and dance in front of everyone, to try-out for the remaining spaces.

I don't know how to explain this right, I don't think. I'm mad at myself for having to try out for this hula. I thought I was good enough to get picked; not good enough for the few dances that some of my hula brothers and sisters are doing apart from the group dances, but good enough to not have to prove myself to fill an empty spot at the last minute. I tried out and I got in. Yay.

When I got home I was tired and my brain hurt. I stayed up too late watching bad TV and drinking icky wine. I had a hard time getting to sleep and had weird hula dreams I woke up not remembering.

Last night Kumu said something interesting that has been bumping around my brain all day.
"If you think you've got this dance down, try harder." I guess that's the lesson I should take from this experience. It's not enough to love what I'm doing. The love of dance isn't going to make me a better hula dancer. It won't hurt, but it won't put me in the 3rd row. Always strive to do better. I wonder how many other people left feeling similarly.



If you think you've got this dance down, try harder. Lesson Learned.

I TOTALLY stole this.

My friend D wrote this little note in her Facebook. I'm totally stealing it because I like it. Thanks BeerGirl.

"One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches! The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly. So I asked, 'Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!' This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, 'The Law of the Garbage Truck'.He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you. Don't take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets. The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. Life's too short to wake up in the morning with regrets, so...Love the people who treat you right. Pray for the ones who don't. Life is ten percent what you make it and ninety percent how you take it! Have a blessed, garbage-free day! "