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! "

Cross number 38 off The List

On Sunday (8/30) the fam and I walked the Barbary Coast Trail. Seeing pictures and video of myself dance on Saturday night, although beautiful, seemed to indicate that I am a little "Rafaelite". Little Miss says I am huggable like a Fairy Godmother. God bless Little Miss. I figured a day of being active (followed by many more days of being active) was the thing to do. We had perfect weather. It was a little chilly if you were standing still but quite nice, and even a little warm while we were walking. We drove down to the garage on Mission St. And started our journey in front of the Old Mint. I thought it would be fun to take pictures of all of the street markers point the way. Hubby humored me and took pictures of the first 5 or so. We zig zagged though the downtown streets of San Francisco. At one point we realized we were just going on a nice walk rather than learning about bits of history. We had no guide, no guidebook. So that's what it was, walking a premarked trail. I did see some parts of SF I'd never seen before. I have walked down Grant Avenue through Chinatown, but never any streets parallel to Grant. I took the time to look at the really amazing designs, carvings , mouldings and inscriptions on many of the buildings. About the time we got to the Kearny and Bay intersection we were hungry and tired. We decided to call it quits, walked to Fog City Diner for some Truffle Fries and Asiago Cheese and then took the #10 to Market and walked back to the car. On the way home the Kiddies fell asleep in the car.
When we got home we hung out a little bit, then made dinner. After dinner, and after the Kiddies were in bed we watched "The Cheese Nun" on netflix; a documentary about Sister Noella. Nice Day.

Kumu Robert

Last Saturday (8/22) I was given a gift. I liked the gift but I didn't quite grasp how valuable this gift was until a day or so later. I attended a workshop at my halau (hula school). Teaching this workshop was my Kumu's Kumu Robert Cazimero.
First and probably the most important part of this gift, to be taught by one's Kumu's Kumu is special. Great leaders beget great leaders. My Kumu trusted me (well, all of us, not specifically me) to show his Kumu that I/we had learned well, and not just learned well, but that Kumu had taught well. Just as I go to class every week to show Kumu that I'm taking to heart everything he's taught, he's showing his Kumu that he's done the same. Everything I did that day in the workshop was a reflection of what I'd been taught. Had I done poorly, or had I been disrespectful, it would have shown negatively on Kumu.
The second part of this gift was Robert Cazimero. Not only is he my Kumu's Kumu, he's also a multi-Na Hoku Hanohano-award winner. He has a beautiful voice. The type of voice where you can put your earbuds in, turn up the volume and no matter what's happening, his singing will lull you into a trance, thinking all is right with the world for the next 3 minutes.
In addition to being a popular, award winning and influential recording artist, he's also a Kumu Hula with a hula lineage reaching back through Maiki Aiu Lake to Lokalia Montgomery. Since he is my Kumu's Kumu, my hula lineage, if I may be so bold, stretches back to Ms. Montgomery as well.
I am very thankful and honored I got to have this experience.

More Dreams

Last night I had a dream about my friend P's sister J.

P called me and said that his sister was coming to town and was wondering if I had an empty office at my work that she could use for the day. It turns out I didn't but I got her an office space to use at the company who occupies the floor beneath my floor.

When our days ended we got into my car. Sometimes I was driving and sometimes she was driving. When she was driving I told her that I had heard that she was embarking on a new adventure. I asked her if she was excited. She told me she was. Then she asked me if I wanted a popsicle. I already had some so I didn't but she gave me some anyways, about 50 of them she poured from a big box right onto my feet. I was thinking, gosh, I can't eat that many popsicles.

Someone had a Dream about ME!!!

I don't think this has happened before.
Well, it's probably happened before but no one has ever told me about it as far as I can remember. My co-worker K came up to my desk as soon as I got to work and told me all about the dream she had about me. Here it is . . . . . .

I had two pet hamsters that I put K in charge of watching. She kept them in the pockets of her hoodie. One kept escaping and she was freaking out that she wasn't doing a good job taking care of my hamsters and that I would be really upset if I found out that she lost one of my pets.

yay.

Dream the other night

The other night I had a dream that we were moving into a new house. The road between our current house and the new house was curvy and windy with redwoods on both sides of the street. There were mailboxes along the street and you could catch glimpses of houses off the road.

Our new house was a three bedroom house but for some reason we could never find the 3rd bedroom. We did happen upon a really big room just off the kitchen. It had 4 walls, a nice floor and bunkbeds lining the walls, with 6 beds on each side. The room had no ceiling, just some trees for shade. I thought it was silly to call this room the 3rd bedroom because it didn't have any ceiling but everyone sleeping in the room thought it was a great room.

I was driving back to the old house through the windy road. There were some kids playing a game. They would put on some flip flops, wrap towels around their feet and step into buckets of milk, get all the milk absorbed into the towels. Then they would run across the street with their feet wrapped up with milky towels, unwrap the towels and squeeze the milk into a waiting glass on the other side of the street. There was a lot of talk about the variables surrounding the person's weight, the type of towel used for soaking, the kind of milk used (non-fat vs whole raw milk), the condition of the road, etc.

When I got home the guy who plays Tom from The Secret Life of the American Teenager was sitting in front of the TV playing video games and eating a lot of candy. In my dream his real name was Frank. I made some finger guns at him like Leather Tuscadero and said "Hey, it's F to the rank". He laughed and laughed.

The 5th Grade, Home Depot and Teacher Ming

Today Little Miss started the 5th grade.

Oh my gosh you guys she's getting so old. Just yesterday I was picking up my little girl from preschool. I remember when she'd come home from her preschool with new phrases that she'd learn, some of which were in a thick Cantonese accent. Our conversations would go something like this.

Her: Mommy, will you buy me some O-lee-os?
Me: What are "O-lee-os"?
Her: Cookies we get at school.
Me: Hmm, "O-lee-os" are they chocolate cookies with yummy white stuff inside?
Her: Yeah.
Me: Baby those are called Oreos.
Her: No. Teacher Ming calles them O-lee-os.

I tried to explain to her that Teacher Ming was saying Oreos. I tried to explain to her that when one grows up speaking one language, and then goes to learn a new language, it's hard to get the accent just right, or it's hard to make certain sounds. Then I demonstrated that I can't roll my Rs and told her that I did horribly in Spanish class because of it. I think it took a little while for it to sink in because she still called them "O-lee-os." I think it's also because she loved Teacher Ming. Teacher Ming was a nice lady. I hope she's still there when we send The Little Mister to preschool.

Anyhow, last night we were talking about starting the 5th grade and teachers. I asked her if she had a favorite teacher. She did. I asked her if she ever had a teacher she really didn't like. She did. I told her that she was always going to remember her favorite teacher and she was always going to remember her worst teacher ever.

Then I told her that my 5th grade teacher was my least favorite teacher, ever. By the way she treated me I think I was her least favorite student. In all fairness other people had an experience with this person that was the exact opposite of my experiences with her. She's probably remembered as the best teacher someone has ever had by someone out there in the universe, but it isn't me. Not all personalities blend together nicely. Ours certainly didn't, but I was 10 and she was the teacher. It was her job to take the high road and she chose not too. She just wasn't nice to me. If you want to read about it go here. (I think I might have "issues" surrounding this because looking back on my blog I've mentioned it a few times).

Anyhow, my Little Miss is growing up. She's a 5th grader. Congratulations Baby. I love you.

Grammar in all its glory.

I hate when people screw up grammar. It hurts my ears. It makes me cringe to see how stupid society is getting. The one that screws with my mind the most is when people misuse "I" and "me". It also chaps my hide when people misuse "compliment" and "complement", but that's another story.

I - "I" is used as the sentence's subject. "I" must be used with a verb. "I" is the subject of the verb.

Me - "Me" is used as the object of the sentence. "Me" is usually not followed by a verb. "Me" is the object of the sentence.

Examples:
You and I are going to eat a cheeseburger with David Hasselhoff tonight.
You and I love to hula.
My co-worker gave a can of v-8 to you and me.
Haupia is delicious but not very good for you and me.

Today on thingsIwanttopunchintheface.blogspot.com, the blogger discussed the misuse of "its" and "it's". Enjoy.

Survey

I got a new gig.
I'm still a Worker Bee at the same company. I even still sit in the same spot. I am on a new team and have a new set of team workers and responsibilities.
One of my new responsibilities is to get familiar with Survey Monkey.
To learn the program I created a free account and created my very own survey.
I would be pleased as punch if you would take a few minutes to answer 10 simple preguntas.

Thanks.

My new son - a celebrity dream

Last night I had a dream that Judah Friedlander was my son.


I didn't give birth to him. His mom died and he was left to me in his mom's will. The first time we met he was the dressing room attendant at a bridal shop - the kind where women line up for hours and then storm the building looking for the most attractive designer dress at half the price. Judah Friedlander was the person that stood in the doorway of the dressing room and handed out those numbers that indicated how many articles of clothing, except he wasn't standing, he was sitting on a big chaise lounge.
I went up to him, hugged him and whispered to him that his first mommy loved him more than anything in the whole wide world and wouldn't have given him to me if she thought I wouldn't do the same. I told him I loved him, that I'd see him later and then I got into a giant black tour bus and went to work.

Yup, still hate 'em.

Last night I accomplished #22 of my list (22. Try dolmas again. I hate them but I recognize that people's taste buds change. Maybe mine will and I'll like dolmas one day. I would really like to like them.)

So freaking gross. I almost couldn't go through with it.

We went to Whole Foods yesterday to pick up some snacks for our upcoming vacation. It was getting a bit late so we decided to get dinner from the deli and bring it home (or as Little Miss did, eat it in the car). I ordered 2 dolmas from the deli case thinking last night should be the night I try dolmas again.

Oh my gosh, you guys. It was so disgusting. I picked one up, was a little grossed out by its sheen but nothing I couldn't deal with. What I couldn't deal with is the horrible smell. I put it down right away. I couldn't take a bite. Little Miss picked one up, took a bite and although wasn't grossed out like I was, didn't really like it. I thought 'if Little Miss can do it, so can I', so I did. I picked it up, took a bite, chewed and swallowed.

Worst 20 seconds of my life, followed by the next worst 20 seconds of my life when I realized I had nothing to wash it down with.

Now I know, without question, that I truly hate dolmas. I thought maybe it was just the dolma producer, maybe it was a lingering taste I had in my mouth that made the dolma not taste good, maybe my taste buds hadn't reached maturity. Nope. None of that. I am a dolma hater.

My sweet boy, Oh boy, is he a boy.

Tonight as I was folding the laundry Little Mister decided it would be a great time to show me what a great Godzilla he could do. Charming.

What I'm really writing about is this . . . This morning as I was making oatmeal, Little Mister found a coffee bean on the floor. Just as I was about to take it away from him it squeezed out of his fingers and onto the floor. He ran after it, picked it up and then threw it on the floor again. Then he ran after it, picked it up and threw it on the floor. Five times I watched him do this. On the 6th time he couldn't find where the bean had landed. He turned round and round in a circle saying uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh. He couldn't find where the bean had landed. I pointed it out. He said "oh" in a growly voice. Picked it up and threw it across the floor.

I love my boy.

What a fun day.

I'd never done anything like this before. It took about 38 years but I'm here.

I recently did a photo shoot for the blog I Live Here: SF.
This is a blog that gives a snapshot of the residents of San Francisco. Julie, the lovely lady that took my photos has a blog and website that you can look at and marvel at her talent for taking photos.

Check out ILiveHereSF.blogspot.com, read my feature, then look at her other blogs and buy her portraits or hire her services for your next family photo.

Thanks Julie.

Why I don't eat Hostess Gem Donuts anymore.

Remember the old Muni trains? The orange ones that used to run 3 at a time in the tunnel? Remember how both sides of steps didn't work independently so both sets of stairs were positioned to default to the side the doors opened. So, if the train was on the street, the doors would open on the right but the stairs would be activated on both sides of the train. Remember how the stairwell in the back of the train created a sort of cave or warren for misfits and the anti-social? OK, picture that.
It is easy-peasy to eat a pack of powdered sugar gem donuts. They're very delicious and very bad for you. I love them. I haven't had one in about 10 years.
About 10 years ago I was coming home from work on the L. It must have been right after we moved into our house but I'm not sure if Little Miss was with us yet. If she was she was still a baby because when she was in preschool I took the N to pick her up and never took the L home. A girl got on at Lincoln High School. She was a sloppy hippie type and rather chubby with really messy long hair. She stomped from the front all the way to the back, threw down her over sized satchel and plopped herself down in the stairwell on the side of the train where the doors weren't active. She pulled out a 6-pack of hostess gem donuts, the chocolate kind, and proceeded to eat the entire pack. What caught my attention and compelled me to watch her with awe, which soon turned into wonder and disgust was the manner in which she consumed her snack. She would hold each gem donut, one by one, with her thumb and middle finger and eat the outside. Then when she had what resembled an apple core in chocolate gem donut form she would bite it in half and consume the donut core in two bites. I watched her do this 6 times. She ate the whole pack. It took her from 22nd Ave to Sunset Blvd to consume 6 gem donuts, each gem enjoyed using the same technique. It takes 14 blocks to eat 6 gem donuts in this fashion. After she got off the train I reflected on what I had just witnessed. She had a method for eating gem donuts. It dawned on me, if one has a tried and true method for consuming some kind of junk food, if one is so familiar with a particular treat, one eats too much of it. I was particularly fascinated by her display because I, too, had a method that was not dissimilar to hers.
I thought about the junk food I consumed at the time and decided if I had a method for eating it I would stop eating it.
I haven't had a gem donut since.

2 down

This weekend I accomplished two more things on my list. I did #43 Take Little Miss to a Festa and #49 Ride the Giant Dipper with Little Miss.



This weekend Hubby and I took the Kiddies to Santa Cruz to enjoy the Festival of the Holy Spirit. Oh my gosh we had fun. We got to Santa Cruz about 9:30am on Sunday, found a nice comfy place to sit and waited for the parade to start. Little Mister, of course, was not interested in sitting so the Hubbs and I took turns walking him up and down the street. Little Miss was a little restless as well, but as soon as the parade started she got into it.Tons of girls around her age dressed in really pretty white dresses with trains longer then they were tall. I gotta say, the trains on their capes (I guess you would call them capes) were beautiful.


After the parade we drove to Church then off to the Portuguese Hall, met up with Hubby's aunt and a few of his cousins. I gotta say, I really like his aunt and cousins. Not only are they very nice people, they just look like good people. They seem to exude good, always welcoming, always with open arms. I really like the Santa Cruz wing of Hubby's family. Now all I have to do is get all the names straight of all of Hubby's cousin's kids.



The moment I stepped out of the car I smelled the smelly smell of sopas. MMMM. One of the yummiest things ever. The link above to the Festival of the Holy Spirit has a recipe at the bottom. I'm sure that many different regions of Portugal, The Azores, Santa Cruz, Merced, etc. have versions that are specific to their area, family or terroir, but you'll get the basic idea.



We ate and ate and ate and ate and ate. About a year ago Little Miss gave up beef, except for Festas and St. Patrick's Day dinner. She ate beef yesterday. I was worried she'd get a tummy ache but she didn't, at least she didn't act like she felt yucky. She did feel a little guilty, but she got over it once she smelled the yummy food. Little Mister, it being his first Festa, pleased all on lookers old and young. He must have eaten his body weight in Sopas. Good boy. So glad I've raised two eaters.



We left before the dancing started. I think it would have been fun to stay for a while but we had a 2 hr. drive ahead of us and we needed to make one more stop . . . Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. We totally lucked out on parking. 2 hr metered parking right across the street. Sweet.

I bought tix for Little Miss and me to ride the Giant Dipper. Yay, #49 is done. I don't think I like Roller Coasters. I think I don't mind them, but I don't think I really enjoy them, except Space Mountain. I like that one. Hubby and Little Mister waited for us at the exit. After riding the Giant Dipper we went home.



We were tired, sweaty, dirty, a little cranky, but mostly happy and satisfied. We had a big day. We drove to Santa Cruz, we watched a Parade. We went to Church, we saw family we hardly ever see, we ate a whole cow, we rode a roller coaster, we had some cotton candy. It was a full day.