yesterday, i headed down to china basin for another mri for my knee (lingering pain, be gone!). i arrived about 10 min. early for my 1pm appointment. i signed in and was attached with a plastic bracelet to identify i was indeed who i said i was. by 1:15, my name was called (while i had run to the restroom, mind you. i exited the bathroom with a slew of other mri-waiters saying, "rebecca! rebecca hirschbaum/vitz/stein, they called you!" which prompted me to 1) be slightly bugged that these 5 individuals knew my name and 2) have to explain to the young, humorless imaging tech dude that i was in the restroom and that i felt it prudent to go prior to being stuck in a loud, thumping tube for 40 min.). i was rushed back to the changing area, where the tech had me put on a pair of pants that had part of the front center missing (something about how the pants serve a variety of imaging needs and patients... j. crew, they were not.). i put the front in the back (it was genius, i tell you), and when i came out, he said they were running 15 min. behind, but that i should remove all my jewelry and anything metal. they'd come get me shortly.
i grabbed my library book, a cheesy yet slightly heartwarming chick-lit novel (it was either that or "O, the magazine" on the table next to me), and got comfy in one of the pastel chairs. over a few bus rides this week, i'd made it through half the book. it's pretty generic, featuring a girl who won't face the fact that she keeps dating men who resemble her alcoholic father, and not surprisingly, every time i picked it up, i felt expectationless. yes, the author has a knack for witty banter, but the story goes south when the girl realizes (duh!) that she's been in love with her best guy friend for years. i saw this coming at about page 17.
ten minutes into my backwards-hospital-pants party, i started to have even more feelings about what was going to happen in the story, even when there were uncanny, never-could-i-have-imagined-these-little-details moments. i had the biggest realization, though, another ten minutes in, and sadly, it's the second time this has happened to me in the past 6 months. yes, you guessed it. i've read this book before. i don't know when, and there are certainly parts i don't remember, but my 15 min. of waiting turned into over an hour, and there i was, stuck either with re-reading my semi-feel good book of love, lust, and losers, or giving up and discovering o's secrets for being happy, which may or may not include talking in a loud and bouncy alto voice whenever i enter a room or greet someone. i could picture it right there. in the middle of the night, i'll roll over, and say to todd, "heaeaeaeaeay, therrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre! you've just wohn a snuhhhhhhh-gahl!" with a deep, tiger-like roar in my throat.
looking back on it, maybe i should have gone with oprah instead of the library book, but at least i felt satisfied (that i finished it--twice), and i don't have tyra bank's oprahism disease. if i did, i'd be trying to give away free buicks on street corners and ripping my jeans off on the way to work. actually, that sounds like fun...
Compañía Nacional de Danza
hyatt graciously donated their stairs for the event's spectators.
like this woman, people came prepared with multiple pillows in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors.
this guy brought his a-game and seemed ready to have a throw down with hello kitty. poor kitty...
on valentine's day, why not hug a tree?
let the festivities begin!
this is my cue to swallow a bunch of feathers and then exit, stage left.
lastly, if you ever need the largest v-day balloon bouquet known to man, you can get them at civic center bart. just note they won't fit on bart or muni, or in your car, but if you buy enough you can get home mary poppins-style.
do you know what today is? yes? good for you! it's my grandma's birthday! happy birthday, nana!
i used these to make hazelnut cookies (which i think i underfilled with scharffen berger hazelnut ganache; they'd be just as great with raspberry jam, too!) and easy breezy beautify fake fudge (which tastes more like chocolaty marshmallow than fudge, but my pregnant coworker doesn't really seem to care... and i think that's a compliment...). the cookies were ok, but they seemed a little dry. perhaps a little bit more butter... and tons more ganache.
Company Ea Sola, "Drought and Rain, Vol. 2"
The evening opened with George Balanchine’s “Divertimento No. 15,” set to music by Mozart. Balanchine has become synonymous with American ballet, so perhaps this was the program’s equivalent to my lunch’s apple tart. Showcasing musicality and pure, codified ballet, the work followed a theme of crisp 5th positions, deep pliés, pure balanced attitudes, and long, sweeping penchés. Kristin Long energized the stage with her feet of fury, and Gennadi Nedvigin is a man who knows how to maximize his plié, showing off luscious jumps, beats, and pirouettes that all seemed to melt and then spring upward from his ankles to the rafters. 
Kayoko Everhart, a dancer with the main company, trained for several years here in San Francisco and graciously agreed to answer a few questions about her formal dance training, performing career, and current experiences with CND in advance of the company's West Coast visit.
