da' boot

you know it's going to be a good day when, eventhough it's pouring outside, a construction worker stops his jackhammering to yell down to you, "hey, miss! nice booties!" at least that's what i think he said...

SF Ballet, The Sleeping Beauty, 2/24/2007

Smells like teen spirit
San Francisco Ballet’s “The Sleeping Beauty”
Saturday, February 24, 2006, 8PM

As a teen, the first full-length non-Balanchine story ballet I saw was The Royal Ballet’s “The Sleeping Beauty.” One of my fondest memories of this was the awe factor: the first time the fairies entered, Aurora balancing during the Rose Adagio, and later the celebratory wedding scene. Last year’s rendition by the Kirov Ballet didn’t quite hold up to my adolescent memories, but this weekend, San Francisco Ballet stood up to the challenge with its own version.

Choreographed by Artistic Director Helgi Tomasson (after Marius Petipa, of course) in 1990, this Sleeping Beauty paints more than just a pretty picture. Sure, there are attractive sets, happy corps de ballet dancers, lavish yet understated costumes and wigs, and the well-known story, but what’s more, there are also dancers with determination and spirit. Yuan Yuan Tan, Saturday’s Aurora, showed us that beauty is more than skin deep. While not completely believable as a genuine, sprightly 16 year old, Tan performed with grit and flow, with jaw dropping balances in attitude (I think I counted at least 5 seconds in there somewhere. Thank goodness for the evening’s conductor, Martin West, and his baton!) during the Rose Adagio. Later on, when she came “out of retirement” at the ripe ol’ age of 116, Tan seemed more relaxed and refined, allowing her upper body to flow more and adding a peaceful smile to her face. Maybe the 100-year nap was a good thing. Or perhaps this was her reaction to her newfound love for the ever-able Prince Desiré, portrayed by Tiit Helimets, who partnered her soundly and effortlessly throughout while displaying gorgeously centered pirouettes and fantastically light n’ fluffy (just how I like my pancakes!) beats.

For more, go here.

Photo by Marty Sohl

s is for...

after the whole knee debacle where my primary care doc kept insisting i only bruised my knee and sent me hobbling home on my own to further tear cartilage and bone from limb, i've been looking for a new primary care doc, someone who is a little bit warmer (which in this case might be around 40 degrees on an average day) and, well, intelligent. not just anyone with a phd from northwestern (i think i saw one for sale on ebay last week), but someone who can takes those smarts and wrap them up and spit them out into something that actually makes sense. i've been incredibly happy with the sports medicine and ob/gyn departments at ucsf, so i filled out the online form for a new pcp appt. less than 24 hours later, i got a call confirming my new patient appointment with my new doc. first available appointment? in may. that's right, 2 1/2 months away. but the kicker? the appointment chick says, "your appointment is with dr. stevens. as in steven stevens. that's one steven, then another steven with an "s" at the end of it (giggle, giggle, snort)." it must suck to be him.

buckeyes unite!

work is taking precedence over blogging, but two pictures to share from our weekend journey to ohio and back.

my grandparents were celebrating their 80th birthdays (that's right, they coordinated their births so they're only 5 days apart. you'd think their parents arranged it or something. but they didn't.), and they collected all of the cards sent by well-wishers on the shelves. just amazing. it's good ol' fashion midwestern love.


it snowed 7 inches or so by the time we got there and a few more by saturday evening, but luckily for us, we could still find the bbq in case of a grill emergency. phew. i was worried.

cream, sh-boogie bop

this year, with the exorbitant prices all the restaurants were charging for 3 lettuces leafs, some bland pasta, a dessert to share, and a stuffy waiter in our face for 2 hours, we decided to do v-day in. to best all those suckers who are now poorer than panhandlers, we ordered in paneer tikka masala, popped open a bottle of $5.99 italian sparkling wine, and watched the worst romantic pseudo-comedy ever made. to top it all off (and to add more cream to our already happy yet full stomachs), i made a variation of this chocolate mousse recipe. semisweet shavings replaced cocoa powder and i used extra bittersweet chocolate in place of just plain ol' bittersweet. the result? a very happy and super, yet sleepy, boyfriend.

i heart you

you know your grandparents love you (or at least my sister) when they happily shovel snow into ziploc bags and store them in the freezer for your next visit.

mesh frex

dear chevy's at 3rd and howard,

a group of officemates and i dined at your restaurant today. the occasion? to celebrate a coworker's birthday! she had a huge craving for your enchiladas, and we all thought, "¡celebremos! ¡vamos a la chevy's!" yet that's where the cheer and good fun ended. practically 2 hours later, we left scratching our heads and staring confusedly at each other, and so, for the future, to help you help your own customers, i put this little list together.

* 7 people sit down at a round table. 1 server takes everyone's orders. 40 minutes later, 1 order arrives. still another 40 minutes later, no more orders arrive. deduce how long it would take train A and train B to meet. confused? yeah, so are we.

* please train us, your customers, in the appropriate codified Chevy's gestures/hand signals. sadly, we normally dine at other fine establishments (such as Pazzia, Koh Samui & the Monkey, and everyone's local favorite, Whole Foods), so we assume that the general motions of waving our arms, shaking our hands, jumping up and down, and actually speaking to our waiter/server/pseudo manager (see next bullet!) will bring attention to the fact that we're still waiting for los burritos while the tables around us are happily drunk off margaritas and couldn't tell a flauta from a fajita. think of it like we're about to get on a plane. where is our flotation device, and how do we express that we're losing oxygen quickly? and would we get a better response if we just keeled over?

* the manager (we'll call her the big enchilada) doesn't want to approach our table, as apparently 7 young plucky things scare her half to death. instead, she promotes a server (yet not our own) to manager for this "special occasion." what kind of crack is she smoking, and where can we get some?

normally, when we eat at chevy's (which is a rare occurrence in and of itself) or any other food service locale, we note that we need to get back to work in about an hour (as in one or 1, not 2 or 3!). this is pretty typical for the fidi and soma areas, and we've never had a problem. ever. until now. how long is too long? well, we lost one of our party during lunch. not to starvation, mind you, but she had to go back to work (when her 60 minute break was up. her food, on the other hand, appeared somewhere around the minute 100). luckily the rest of us have nice bosses (or at least ambivalent ones), so while we stayed to finally nibble our smoking (literally) food, we felt confident that when we got back to work, we'd still be gainfully employed. if not, though, we feel pleased to know (from experience!) that chevy's may be in need for some competent new employees.

regards,
becca

Stephen Petronio Company, 2/9/2007

They’ve Got Kick
Stephen Petronio Company
Presented by San Francisco Performances
Yerba Buena Center for the Arts
February 9, 2007 8PM

Do you ever wake up and think, “Hey, I have an urge for some New York-style modern dance today!“? Funny enough, I did so just last week, and what timing with Friday’s return of the Stephen Petronio Company (presented by San Francisco Performances at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts). This evening was a night filled with dance (SF Ballet and Reggie Wilson next door presented by YBCA), and I’m glad I was able to see the Stephen Petronio Company’s return to the city by the bay.

The program opened with what happened to be the shortest yet potentially most fulfilling work, Petronio’s 2006 “Bud Suite,” set to the intelligent music and lyrics by Rufus Wainwright. Funky, edgy, and clever, “Bud Suite” explores the poignancy of youth and the multitude of expectations throughout life without ever feeling like a downer...

For more, go here.

Photo © Stephen Petronio Company

the best things in life are free

the celebs get swag, and good swag at that. swarovski crystal pot holders, a harley with its own chanel makeup pouch, and an ipod that doubles as a nose hair trimmer, and while i don't get swag (as i'm a lowly commoner), i love free stuff (thank the jewish grandmother). today at the gym, they had two freebies: stay put hair ties and schick extreme 3 for women. sure, i didn't get 6 pairs of manolos with matching toy poodle, but with the rain we've been having, they'd be ruined (and the dog would fro) in a heartbeat. but with my freebies of the day, i can pull alphie's hair into a bun and shave him (just kidding, although todd wishes i weren't!). life is grand.

muni and the pussycat dolls

I keep forgetting to charge my mp3 player, and lately, this has forced to me to either listen to my busmates or zone out. Preferably, I trank out in my seat, staring out the window for my 41-minute trip. But when I don’t, I hear some pretty great stuff.

on my way home a few weeks ago, the woman next to me whipped out her cell phone:

woman on bus: yo, why you gotta talk ta me like dat, huh? why can chu talk like no adult, eh? what's wit chu? f*&k dat, man, don chu know i got bible study tonight?

Personally, I wanted to join in the conversation, strap on some thigh high black boots, wrap myself around the silver pole closest to the bus' back door, swing my hair (with long wavy extensions) in circles, and sing "don't chu wish your bible study partner was a saint like me. don chu...." but no, I just ground my nose farther into my book of the day. typical becca.

another evening, a bunch of girls were in the back of the bus, listening to a cd on a portable dvd player (i guess it's the new boombox?). the music was loud and, well, crass. I can’t believe I just used the word “crass.” there were young kids on the bus, and one 5-year-old boy asked his mom what a certain word from the song meant. this particularly quick-thinking parent responded: "honey, that's like a little furry kitty cat." boy, had that been me, i would have stammered, turned red, and said "uh... why don't you ask your father?" so if when i have kids, they're wearing super duper noise-canceling-out earplugs on the bus at all times. in fact, so will i.

SF Ballet, Program 2, 2/3/2007

En Fuego. Sort of.

San Francisco Ballet, Program 2
“Blue Rose,” “The Dance House,” “Firebird
Saturday, February 3, 2007, 8PM

This past Saturday evening, it may have been cold and lifeless outside, but the idea of seeing a whirl of high-quality dance brought warmth and excitement to my heart. While some of my newfound inner warmness could possibly be attributed to the recent dinner of miso soup, warmed lotus root, sake, and spicy sushi, my point is that I felt slightly toasty, my thoughts were warm, and I saw red hot, as in San Francisco Ballet’s choreographer-in-residence Yuri Possokov’s “Firebird.”

This new version of “Firebird” hit the spot for what could have been a chilly San Francisco outing, and while it conjured up images such as the Princess and Bowser from Nintendo’s “Super Mario Brothers,” the Phoenix from “Harry Potter,” and the Orcs from “The Lord of the Rings” all rolled into one, Possokov’s “Firebird” conveyed a fantasy all its own...

For more, go here.

Image
Yuan Yuan Tan and Tiit Helimets in Possokhov's Firebird.
© Erik Tomasson

dude, you're so trashed

lately, i'd been feeling guilty about trash. yes, a strange thing to impart guilt upon a 27-year-old professional, but it's true. i would walk by the trash can in the kitchen, and i swear it would yell at me in this high-pitched sing songy voice, saying "i smell! why do i smell? why do you throw away banana peels and moldy cheese in me? why doesn't the massive pile of recycling smell like me? care, dammit, care! you stink!"

last week, sitting in my cube, i had a minor environmental epiphany: i'd get a compost system. ah, but this is not as easy as it seems, young padawan. a compost system can be large in size AND worms AND costs. and we don't want worms. or have space for something big in size. i hit cole hardware in search of an answer, and after intense thoughtfulness (aka staring at a wall of electrical sockets and debating whether or not to stick my fingers in them), decided on a formula for success.

biobags + garbage can with good lid and handles + trash co.-provided green waste bin = composting achieved!

now, funny enough, when i looked up, there were light bulbs over my head. karma, eh?

after watching an inconvenient truth and hearing the latest global warming reports, i know i should have started earlier, but at least it's a start!