Lost in Translation

My dentist has a pretty thick persian accent - which I love (some of my favorite professors in college had thick persian accents)...also his social skills are somewhat lacking.  Granted, he knows his stuff and he's a nice guy.  

I had to smile when I overheard him say the following to a patient (who had apparently not had her teeth cleaned in quite some time): 

"See, it's beautiful!  I love it.  You know why it's beautiful?  Because it was ugly before.  That's why."

(Note to self: get teeth cleaned regularly, lest my smile starts to look "ugly.")

Morning Math

1 very sudden and unplanned morning meeting
+ 1 routinely long-winded speaker, particularly prone
to redundancy
+ 1 moderator with a special fondness for long, drawn
out, and often awkward pauses
+ 1 particularly problematic credit deal
x a whole lot of variables
+ 1 female bladder full of oatmeal, strawberries, and
75 oz of water (all consumed between 8:00am-9:30 am)

= certain death (by explosion).

I guess it's technically not certain death. Against all odds, I did survive. Barely.

On the plus side (besides survival, and besides not losing it in my boss' office, of course):

• I learned the true meaning of fervent, sincere prayer and
• I'm pretty sure I set a new record for fastest sprint in 3 1/2 inch heels.

On the down side,

• I couldn't tell you what we discussed in the meeting.

My previous post included some photos of my sister, Anna, on a recent Girls' Trip to San Francisco. For three days my mom, two sisters, and I ate, shopped, walked, rode public transportation (just like the good ol' days when we lived in Boston), posed for photos, chased the trolley, ate, visited museums, rode carousels, and ate some more. My cousin, Jen, who lives close to the city met us for a day.

It was so fun.

Here's some (okay, a ton) of photos. Warning: it was the little sisters' first trip to San Fransisco, so we were hard-core tourists on this trip.

On our way through Golden Gate Park to the De Young Museum we happened across this amazing play ground and carousel. Of course we had to ride it. (Also, there were signs everywhere saying we couldn't be on the playground without the accompaniment of children. Not wanting to be mistaken for pedophiles, we obeyed.) Here Jen demonstrates her mad acrobat skills. The Carousel conductor was not amused. He also wasn't impressed when she hung upside down from her chosen steed. There was some discussion of insurance and potential injuries...I wasn't totally listening.
Sister Becca...

Oh, blessed subway... L.A.'s just doesn't measure up. I dream of the day I no longer have to drive. (Becca and Anna)
Anna dominated my point and shoot camera all weekend, which was cool; I actually made it into some shots...albeit just barely in this case.

Happy to finally be on the bus after several attempts to locate the correct stop.

So much to see in the city...apparently I'm concerned about something.

Becca, Mom, Anna on Pier 39, not to be mistaken for Pier 49 - the pizza place I worked at for a year or so during high school (It was really good pizza...) Waiting for the trolley to paradise (i.e. Ghirardelli Square - chocolate!)
Enjoying the ocean's bounty at fisherman's wharf. (One lucky transient got to enjoy the remainders of my calamari. Aren't I generous?)
Sisters (at Lombard Street. Yeah, we were total tourists.)
We were fortunate to see both the Warhol Live and the Yves St. Laurent exhibits at the De Young. Outside the museum, I'm dreaming of wild parties and couture.
Becca got all the height in the family. Thus, she is a natural model.

My family has a tendency to make goofy faces and weird poses...unprompted. Oh well. (In front of the ferry building where I satisfied my craving for french macarons.)

Here's me in the process of taking the above picture.

Ah, mother.
La mer et ma mere. (translation: the sea and my mother.) She grew up in Southern California but is currently land-locked in Utah. Here she takes a moment to breath in the Pacific. (at Fisherman's Wharf)
Mecca.

I'm sure I'll post more... be warned.

A Proud Sister Moment

Pardon me while I brag a little. (Readers of this blog should be well aware that among my favorite things to do is bragging about the accomplishments of my loved ones.)

Meet Anna. At just 12 years old, she is the youngest of my three siblings. Adding to her long list of accomplishments, she was just elected to be the eight grade class president. Congrats to Anna! And congrats to the eithgrade class that elected her; they're in great hands.

There's lots of reasons to love Anna - her sense of humor, her kindness, her quick wit, her joyful nature - but my favorite thing about Anna is her unpretentious confidence. It might be because I spent essentially my entire adolescence in a state of self-loathing, but I just love that she seems so happy in her own skin and confident in her likability without a trace of arrogance or smugness. She is kind, thoughtful, funny, and exactly herself all the time and never stops to consider what anyone might think of her. She just likes herself and assumes everyone else will, too. And apparently, they do. Congrats Anna. I continue to be inspired by you and I love you very much. You'll make a fantastic class president.

Always thoughtful, I got an email from Anna yesterday wishing me a Happy Easter. Her signature line included this phrase:

"love, anna (or anna spelled backward - take your pick.)"

Don't you just love her?!

Totally Gratuitous

A few of you asked for photos of the Magnificent Sequined Shirt/Cape thing Kenny gave me upon my return from San Fransisco...

Here it is...

Yes, I realize you can't see the whole thing, but the other photos I had just weren't very good - i.e. I looked like poop. (In my defense, I had just gotten off a plane after spending three days walking all over an alternately rainy, windy, and sunny San Fransisco. And the fact that it had been 6 days since I washed or even really brushed my hair was really obvious.) Sorry, but this photo will have to do. If you're lucky, you'll see it in person some time. I promise it will be magical.

Anyway - HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND! Find some eggs, eat some candy, and vacuum your house a million times to get all that awful plastic grass that spilled out of your basket. And (most importantly) remember the reason for the holiday. Also, I'm thinking some John Wayne movies are in order (but understand that I may have been slightly brainwashed by Kenny as he's been sending me emails all morning laden with Old West lingo. And, he keeps signing off as "Kenny the Kid.")

I really like him.

Great movie...

Great scene (and I'm paraphrasing)...

• Little Boy: Mom, [some kid] said I was a bastard...what does that mean? (mom, visibly upset, doesn't answer)


• Aunt Nora: it just means your mom wasn't married when she had you; no big deal. In fact, someday it will be a badge a coolness for you, like, you'll start a band and call yourself the Bastard Sons or something. (whispering) You're the coolest bastard I know.

Great friend /movie companion / conversationalist: Sarah ...

(Sarah is rocking the Geela Wrap, available here.)

Great Story... (but not-so-great story telling)

You know when you're deeply engrossed in conversation and you don't really pay attention to where you're going or what you're doing? Such was the case when Sarah and I walked into the movie theater last night. After deciding that good movie popcorn needs lots of butter, Sarah left to get more for our otherwise dry, bland popcorn. The previews hadn't even started yet. Well, I watched the pre-preview entertainment, the recap, and several (long) trailers (all of which were for kids movies, which was weird considering the feature film was very adult). After downing half a box of Skittles and exercising great restraint in not hurling my phone at the screen when a giant Scorsese reminded me to 'kindly silence my cell phone' (for the thousandth time), I was convinced Sarah had been abducted - or she was scarfing all our popcorn in some deserted hallway. Either way, I had to do something. After all, I still had her purse, wallet, phone, etc. Where could she be?

I waited long enough.

I eventually found her sitting all alone on the front row in the correct theatre. Apparently we're too cool to listen to the doorman tell us which theatre our movie will play in and we sorta followed each other into the theatre playing Monsters vs Aliens. Anyway, it was awesome. In hushed whispers, she confessed she couldn't remember which theatre we had been in after leaving to get more butter. She decided to wait in the correct theatre and was confident I'd figure it out...eventually.

Luckily, she was right. It took me awhile, but I got it. (And the movie was still great, even after missing the first twenty minutes.)

Good times.

Did you know...

Did you know that if you’re Mormon* you baptize people by getting them naked and putting them alone in a room?

Did you also know that if you’re Mormon* your church tells you to hate Jews, forbids you from knowing anything about the Bible, demands that you be skinny by starving yourself, and forces to ride a bike or walk everywhere?

Furthermore, did you know that Kenny apparently looks like a Jew?

(Oh the joys of conversing with the mentally ill and homeless...)

My question now is, if you’re not mentally ill, what is your excuse for these ignorant, asinine, tactless accusations? Also, when you begin these “discussions” by using the following statement “You’re Mormon*? Oh, you believe....” please clarify at the beginning whether you are actually telling me what I believe or are in fact trying to ask me what I believe. ‘Cause I can’t tell. If it’s the former, well frankly, I’m not interested in talking to you. I’ve never been a fan of wasting my time on one sided conversations. Have a good day. See ya later (maybe...hopefully not).

That rant aside, I wanted to say how awesome it was to volunteer at Santa Ana’s Mercy House last night. Humbling, sure; heartbreaking, most definitely, but still awesome. It’s good to be slapped in the face with the recognition of all your blessings particularly in contrast to those who have much, much less. It’s also nice to remember that seemingly mundane opportunities (like a daily shower) aren’t available to many people. Being clean and smelling good is a privilege and a blessing - for you and for those within smelling-distance of you! As tight as it might be for everyone right now, most of us are still relatively living the high life. I hope you take the time to recognize it and enjoy it. It’s awesome.

I’ll leave you with this Depression-era photo that sits on my desk at work (in an effort to remind me to work hard and focus on financial security – and to not to shop online all day).

Remember Einstein, folks: it’s all relative. (Also, your personal satisfaction and happiness lie entirely within the realms of your own perspective - choose to be happy).

*Mormon is slang for a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints - use our real name already; get it right! And for the record, because I can't trust everyone to be reasonably intelligent or to use common sense, the Mormon "Facts" I listed at the beginning of this post not actual truths, contrary to a certain mentally-ill homeless girl. Come on people, that first one doesn't even make sense.