Something old, something new

Today I started my new job. The oddest part about this "first day" was that it wasn't really a first day. I spent five months working with this same small organization last summer, so it was more like trading desks. I am beyond excited to be starting work. The days ahead are laden with possibility (a word I feel I overuse in the blog, but... eh), and the overwhelming list of tasks to be accomplished is, overall, exciting to me. Hoorah for change!

More on my mind, however, is the absolutely beautiful "farewell party" my wonderful former coworkers threw for me last night. It's odd, realizing that I'm saying goodbye to the Ballet. I think, for me, goodbyes are much more epic. The last few times I've said goodbye to a large group of friends, I've been moving 1,000+ miles away, with the full knowledge that I would be unlikely to see them for a while. This time, the "move" is a mere three blocks, the distance traversable within five minutes. This time, the "goodbye" is more like "see you this weekend."

Bearing that in mind, however, I want to share some of the beautiful (and increasingly out-of-focus as the cocktails went on...) photos from my party. This is the first party that I can think of that anyone has ever thrown for me, and I can't thank my friends enough. So... here you go!

Redefining Regift...

As an aside, I feel like I should state for the record that this is the most unflattering photo that I've ever seen of my legs. Or, at least, of my ankles.

That is all. lol

Sis

Somebody's excited about dinner tonight!!!

Definition of Happiness

My weekend in Charlotte was pretty good.



There was lots of cleavage, lots of wine, lots of smiles, and lots of spooning.



Life is good.

Once upon a time...

the San Francisco Ballet was hosting an event at the Four Seasons. The event began respectably. Wine was poured,



costumes were admired by all!



The highly professional staff of SFB treated the costumes with reverence,



fringing on adoration!



But as the night wore on, patience thinned. The ever-eager staff found their energy flagging. Only wearing the crown of the queen from Sleeping Beauty could save their waning spirits! And so, the crown was donned by one and all!



Alas, even the power of such a magical accessory could not revive them. More drastic measures were required! The staff searched high and low for the perfect outfit to rejuvenate their bedraggled spirits. They witnessed the good,



the bad,



the ugly,



and the downright horrifying,



but with little success. And so, they left the Four Seasons, pausing only to harrass one poor bellhop on the way out the door.



Thank you, Four Seasons, for enduring what is, to us, just another day at the office.

That'll make a lot of pie

One of my favorite things

Two cats in a bag...

The scariest thing of my life

Meet my dad:


He's a college marching band director. Now, meet his Mini-me:



His students had a bobble-head made of him as a fundraiser. Seriously, this might be the creepiest thing I've ever seen. At the same time, however, I'm feeling a need to acquire one for myself. Really, how many of us know someone who is a bobble-head?

One more photo, just for good measure.



P.S. - If, for some unknown reason, you also feel the irresistable pull to own one of these fine pieces of history, click the link.

The Smell of Clean

My favorite quote about Stern Grove is from the San Francisco Chronicle, and it goes something like this:

Stern Grove is the only place where the concerts smell as good as they sound.

It's true, y'all. This place is an amazing outdoor venue in a eucalyptus grove. (Side note: is it a eucalyptus grove, or an eucalyptus grove? Neither looks correct to me. Whatever.) But today topped the cake.

Because today I met the Pine-Sol lady.
You know, the woman with the braids who says "Honey, you need the power of Pine-Sol, the smell of clean." She's been on those commercials for like ten years. You know the Pine-Sol lady.

She is apparently a Stern Grove supporter. And so, as I was checking people in today, I met her. I love this woman. I know, I know, how boring can I be? But seriously, she makes me want to go buy Pine-Sol. I trust this woman. She would never let my floors stay dirty! No, not only will my floors be sparkling, but they will smell delectable. I will be the envy of all my retired Russian neighbors! Nevermind that my non-carpeted floor is only, say, twelve square feet in the entire apartment. Pine-Sol will change my life! I am not alone in this. When I told my colleagues that the Pine-Sol lady was on the premises, an embarrassing number of people with Masters degrees rushed to get her autograph.

Come on, you know you want one, too!

Corner of the Sky

Enter the Alchemist Cats

It has suddenly occured to me that I have yet to introduce the Alchemist Cats.


Pierre came into my life nearly two years ago. His life began in Columbia, South Carolina, where he was found living out of a dumpster behind a bar in Five Points. He loves to have his tummy rubbed and to be held like a baby. Pierre's interests include butterflies, mozzarella cheese, and corrugated cardboard.


Puck and I met when he looked like this:

Now he looks like this:
I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm going to wake up one morning and he is going to suddenly be the LARGEST cat in feline history. Puck sometimes sucks on my shirt, like he's nursing. It's completely gross, but I feel so guilty for taking him away from his mom that I can't punish him.

Former Alchemist Cat, Drusilla, has moved on with her life. Like Demi Moore in that second Charlie's Angels movie, Drusilla used the Alchemist Cats to achieve her own agenda: pure, unadulterated EVIL.

Amadou et Mariam

Today Amadou & Mariam performed at Stern Grove. I tried to link the words "Amadou & Mariam" and "Stern Grove" so you could see what the heck I'm talking about, but to no avail. Alas, thwarted again by technology.*

There is something about African drumming that gets to people. All people. Standing on the side of the stage, I had the unique perspective of looking out at 12,000 people going completely crazy. There were the children who had stripped down to their underwear and were flailing around as though they were possessed. High school kids stood awkwardly in groups, bobbing their heads and trying too hard to look cool. Two old ladies in straw hats and cardigans swayed back and forth, waving their arms and clapping on the wrong beat. Staring out into that gyrating mass was incredibly powerful. Having spent two years in a West African dance company, I completely understand the call of the drums. It somehow gets inside you, replacing your heartbeat with this indeniable mass of sound. It is impossible to not get caught up in the pulse, impossible to prevent your body from responding.

As I watched, however, the thing that moved me most was the presence of Amadou and Mariam. Amadou and Mariam are a married couple from Mali. They were both born blind. They speak only French. They would shout out commands to an audience that couldn't understand them, and who they could not see, and yet it was as if everyone was linked somewhere in the deepest parts of their souls. It was the kind of feeling you have where there's a tightness from your heart to your stomach, a feeling that is as emotional as it is physical. Hearing my San Francisco peers screaming out these intensely primal French words is something I can never describe to you, no matter how many words I use. Instead, here are the pictures.






*Thanks to Malia, this is no longer an issue. Until next time. ;-)