Unexpected Surprise

For the last few Wednesdays, the San Francisco Jazz Festival has been putting on outdoor, lunch time concerts at the park near my work.

Today was the Baguette Quartet. They were so fun, and very . . . Parisien. It was a pleasant surprise on this lovely day.

Tonight, I am geared up to go to Teatro Zinzanni's hurricain relief event. Zydeco music during happy hour followed by their "Love, Chaos & Dinner" show. All the expenses from this evening (artist's pay, ticket sales, drink sales, wait staff salary, even the $10 service charges) are going to the relief fund. AMAZNING. I feel guilty (but just a little) that I only am paying $10 for this $150+ event.
One of my former SFCM colleagues is still in the show, too, so that will be fun!

Reasons I love this time of year in San Francisco:
Strictly Bluegrass Festival
San Francisco Flamenco Festival
Italian Heritage Parade
Fall Film Festivals
Oktoberfest by the Bay
SF Jazz Fest
Ferry Building Harvest Festival

(And that's just October!!!)

Happy Brithday to ...

...random laundry!

Having actually missed the one year birthday of this blog, I am celebrating one year and 12 days! The extended birthday season...gotta love it. I actually cannot believe that I have been doing this for so long. I didn't think I had it in me!

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I went to Cafe Lo Cubano today on accident. I took a new way home from work, and when I realized I couldn't make the left turn I wanted (what? no left in SF? shocker!), I ended up in a parking spot right outside.
I had been by this place with AZ before, but never inside.

I ventured in to get a coffee. A cafe con leche, to be precise. One of the best cups of coffee I've ever had in my life. SO good.

Get your own stapler!

I am totally living in "Office Space".

Realizing that my stapler can do this as totally made my day.

I also think our FedEx guy is hot.

I am such a dork, I know.

The Black Sheep?

You know how they say everyone has a "black sheep" in their family? Well, I wouldn't really say we have one of those, but we do have some characters, that's for sure.
My cousin, H, for example. He is brillant, no lie, and he tends to get himself into those types of situations reserved for ridiculously smart - yet stubborn - people. He is fearless, and lives life with gusto, and without reserve.
2005 has seen him in Eastern Europe (Romania and Poland) and Northern Africa. Just because he wanted to go. I have urged him - many in our family have - to write some sort of book, memoire, something about his adventures.
Here is an email he wrote, details from this last adventure, which I found so utterly amazing and amusing (and, it's all true), that I had to put it up. . .enjoy!
(NB: Keep in mind that H is not one to "blend in" to his surrounding - 6'4'', broad shoulders, and fire engine red hair...)
---
To: K
From: H
Subject: "War's Over: Wermer Dropped the Big One"

It always ends. And usually, it ain't pretty. Thus the Africa Expedition. I only made it as far as Morocco. After disembarking the boat at Tangier, I made my way to Essaouira on the Atlantic Coast, where I spent a few days windsurfing (and yes, I am one dead sexy bitch in a wetsuit), earning renown from the local surf bums as "Le Grand Chat" for my spry handling of the board. We stayed in a guest house overlooking the ocean and there was a girl who came everyday to cook dinner whose skills almost (note: almost) rivaled those of my mom, but I was impressed enough to ask her to marry me. She insisted I would have to give her family seven camels though. Alas, I am not a man of such means.
From the coast I proceeded to Marrakech, where I slept on a roof with a litter of kittens, put to sleep at night by the unremitting pipes of snake charmers and the beat of drums and awakened at 4:30 am by the chants of Muslim prayers. The markets of Marrakech are truly amazing, the sights and smells of piles of fruits, nuts, meats, spices and untold heaps of god knows what extending into an unsolvable maze of narrow alleyways. I am not much of a shopper though, but I did find some kids one day being hassled by a storekeep for kicking their soccer ball in front of the shops, and invariably into his piles of fruit and whatnot. So I assisted them in executing the water over the door trick, sending one to bait the enemy by grabbing a couple of oranges and attempting to juggle them while the other had positioned a bucket overhead. When the old man came running out, the string was pulled, and voila, douched! As we began to crack up though, his expression was decidedly not one of amusement. So he and his helper came chasing after us. We raced up an alley barely wider than my own wingspan, dodging scooters, donkeys, assorted stray animals and Muslims, but a couple of old geezers are no match for Le Grand Chat.
After leaving Marrakech I spent a couple of days crossing the High Atlas Mountains, camping in a river gorge one night, before heading for the desert. A day's drive brought me to the last town before the Sahara begins. I started off staying with some nomads about two hours camel ride into the desert. Forcibly risen at dawn by the sun, wind, and flies, we would get in a couple of ski runs down the dunes. They had skis and snowboards and we would hike up the dunes about 200 feet high and ski down. Then I had to go in to town to manage my fantasy baseball team, so Mubarek and I would cruise by the other tents to see if anyone wanted a ride to town, just like Johnny B at the bustop.
I hate commuting though, and while it might not be as miserable as 395 or 66, four hours a day getting your nuts crunched on a camel hump is somewhat less than comfortable. So I moved from the suburbs back into the city. Besides needing to oversee the team in the middle of the playoff hunt, I had heard rumors of camel races. Now wherever you are in the world, even in the last town before the desert, maybe especially in the last town before the desert, two things you will find anywhere are whores and gamblers. As someone who's skittish about touching the handrail in the metro, I'm not likely to seek out the former, but the latter, they always seem to find me. And sure enough I found myself on the windswept outskirts of town betting on slow ass camels.
The language barrier being even tougher out here, all negotiations (and everything in this country has to be haggled) for wagers, odds, and exchange rates had to be made by drawing figures in the sand with a stick. I weren't too good at picking the winners out though, and the losses were beginning to mount. One afternoon I had skipped one race and I was having a drink when I saw a camel jogging up who was moving faster even at a leisurely trot than any camel I had seen before. Armed with this inside info, when that camel appeared in a race shortly thereafter, I decided to take my shot at the title. I became the center of action for that race, I took every bet I could get my hands on, and ended up with every scrap of redeemable bank note I owned in the world pegged to this smelly hump of fur.
Of course, it turns out I only had half the inside info, because when the race started (the camels start from the down position) my camel didn't get up. He just sat there like he wanted to pick his nose with his hoof even as his jockey tried to yank him around. I started cussin him, cussin his momma, cussin his daddy, cussin his grandmamma and granddaddy, as were the others who had bet on him. So as we stood there, a dozen Arabs and a Redneck yelling our lungs out at this stupid camel, I was on the verge of either balling my eyes out or grabbing the nearest hard object I could find and whipping the snot out of the son of a bitch, when apparently one of my fellow punters managed to peg the fat fucker in the ass with a rock, which got him up and going. And whoosh, he was going, as far as camels going goes (we're not exactly talking Kentucky Derby here). He could hoof it about twice as fast as the other camels, and he was gaining fast. I started running alongside him, screaming, throwing my fists in the air, and he had almost caught up to the leader when I had The Vision.
My particular vision involved sitting at the Colonial Club in Mombasa this time tomorrow, served by an African man in a white linen suit, drinking gin rickeys on the shores of the cool blue waters of the Indian Ocean. But really The Vision is that image of ill-begotten luxury engineered by every gambler right before he finds himself in some distant desert outpost with the equivalent of about 75 cents in his pocket because his camel decides to turn off the track at the last second and just go galloping off into the desert. The inevitable additional insult was that while running my glasses pulled a slip and slide right off my face and under my shoe, and I returned to find the pieces buried in the sand.
And so there it ends: sitting at a café in the dusty streets of Merzouga, sand and sweat encrusted in every conceivable crevice, blind, broke, bewildered, beaten, shoveling out my last loose coins for a mint tea. Against all of which possibly I could have risen to fight again, but against the heat, against the mad, menacing sun, beating down on and baking me all day with no air conditioned refuge in which to repose and fan the bait and tackle, against that maddening fire I was a cowed, whimpering shell of a human. So I had to open up my bag to haggle for a ride to the next biggest town. The driver started at a pair of pants, two linen shirts, and a belt; I started with two pairs of dirty boxers. We settled on one shirt and a belt.
I got back to semi-civilization, got a bank wire, took a 12-hour bus ride packed with screaming Muslims and goats, and some more trains, boats, buses, and planes later made it back to the UK, where I could recuperate under the clouds and winds and drips of Scottish skies.
So I never actually ran any guns to freedom fighters. In fact, I never bought a gun, sold a gun, or even saw a gun. Nor did I import or export anything or become the internet porn tsar of Eastern Europe.
All I seemingly managed to do was get robbed by Hungarians, play cards with Cossacks, and dance the foxtrot in a Paris nightclub. But, you know, did the things in the days. I blew my wad and then some though, so I have to leave behind the world without calendars, without clocks, where morning actually did come twice a day or not at all. On this last pass through London, I've been hanging out with my cousin's friends who work in Parliament, eating at the staff cafeteria, drinking pints at the janitor's pub beneath the House of Commons. And soon enough that will be me again: a Citizen. Working for The Man.
Eating in the Dirksen cafeteria, knocking back cold guys at the Lounge, the struggle for Truth, Justice, and Freedom fading into anecdote. But somewere in the dim recesses of passing time an eye will remain open, a lighthouse scanning the dark waters for signs of hope, dreams of liberty. Because Freedom will live forever in the hearts and minds of The People, and should they ever need me, I reckon they'll know where to find me.
Liberté Toujours,
H

ARRRGGGHH part deux

Thank you, God, for my ENT, Dr. Tipton. He is amazing! Love him.

AS it turns out, I am (apparently) allergic to SF. Who knew?
The doc poked and prodded my face and head, and even did a wicked-cool (albeit a little gross) sinus scope. hooray.

His diagnosis (for today): bad allergies combined with jet lag and slightly inflamed left ear (I'm having a hard time hearing out of it..).

BUT, as well, chronic tonsilitis. ugh. He says I should consider getting my tonsils removed. Elective surgery is fun, yes?

I don't know. What it boils down to is this:
-Every time I catch a bug or a sniffle or something, there is a 50% chance it will turn into bad tonsilitis (bad for singing)!
-My concerns: what does this surgery entail? What's the recovery like? How would it affect my singing and how soon after could I start singing without risk of injury??

Lots to think about. hmmmmm.

ARRRGGHH!!!!!!!

Of course I am getting sick right now.

Of course.

When I have nothing but a month chock full of auditions.

Fabulous.

Please pray that I
1. Get in to see my doctor today or tomorrow.
2. Get adequate rest
3. Get better soon!!!!

I found this on Cassi's site . . .

...and it's pretty funny! Cassi is located here.
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Things to do when seeing Lord Of The Rings:

1. Stand up halfway through the movie and yell loudly, "Wait! Where is Harry Potter?"

2. Block the entrance to the theater while screaming, "YOU.....SHALL....NOT..... PASS!"

3. Ask everyone around you if they think Gandalf went to Hogwarts.

4. Finish off every one of Elrond's lines with "Mis..ter Ander-sonnn."

5. When Aragorn is crowned king, stand up and at the top of your lungs sing, "And I did it.... MY way!"

6. Talk like Gollum all through the movie. At the end, bite off someone's finger and fall down the stairs.

7. Dress up as old ladies and reenact "The Battle of Helms Deep," Monty Python style.

8. When Denethor lights the fire, shout "Barbecue!"

9. In TTT when the Ents decide to march to war, stand up and shout, "RUN FOREST, RUN!"

10. Every time someone kills an Orc, yell: "That's what I'm Tolkien about!"

11. During a wide shot of a battle, inquire, "Where's Waldo?"

12. Start an Orc sing-a-long.

13. Come to the premiere dressed as Frankenfurter and wander around looking terribly confused.

14. When they go in the paths of the dead, wait for a tense moment and shout, "I see dead people!"

15. Imitate what you think a conversation between Gollum, Dobby and Yoda would be like.

16. Release a jar of daddy-long-legs into the theater during the Shelob scene.

17. Wonder out loud if Aragorn is going to run for governor of California.

18. When Shelob comes on, exclaim, "Man! Charlotte's really let herself go!"
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Siblings in Europe, September 2005

I just returned from my 10-day vacation in London, France and Italy. Not nearly enough time to cover all that we did, but we managed, thanks to Easy Cruise.

Here are a few pictures:

1. Mediterranean Sea

2. Spices at market in Nice, France

3. Portofino, Italia

4. Easy Cruise One



I am working on getting all of my pictures online for viewing . . .

Laissez les bon temps rouler...

The Big Easy. RIP . . .

Out here in SF, we are somewhat isolated from the truth - from what is actually happening. We see the escalating gas prices and complain to our co-workers.

This is what is happening:

1. Looting. Not just grocery stores, clothing stores and other dry goods stores. Huge walmarts have been completely emptied. Gun stores cleaned out. There is already violence amongst those still in New Orleans, but now there are gangs armed with AK-47s. People mugging, raping and using violence to get what everyone else is after: food, water, dry clothes, shoes. This is true desperation.

2. Flooding. Not just homes, businesses. But football stadiums are filled with water. Dirty, disease-ridden, waste-contaminated water. Jails are flooded out, the inmates taken to one section of the flooded out I-10, and placed between the floodwaters on one side and guards on the other.

3. Southern Louisiana is bayou and swamp country. Poisonous snakes and crocodiles can now swim the streets. My cousin, working for the Louisiana Department of Wildlife & Fisheries, has been sent to New Orleans with his boat to help round up these animals.

4. The weather: New Orleans at any time of year is humid 90-100%, and especially right now, HOT. There is no clean drinking water, no power, no shelter, to escape the heat and humidity.

5. Poverty rate. About 30% of New Orleans' population were leaving at or below poverty level. People who had verylittle or nothing to begin with, now have even less.

6. No mobility, no exit. People are trapped, many of them sick (diabetic, heart problems) and most dehydrated and without food. It's terribly hard to organize and physically difficult to navigate the flooded streets to actually reach the people that need to be rescued. There is a mandatory evacuation of New Orleans, but people don't know HOW to get out! It's impossible. They are DESPERATE to get out, but there is NO where to go and no means.

I could go on and on. People stranded, the losing battle of the police against the crime, the death toll, as yet to even be considered - there is just too much else to do. I do not mean for this to be a doomsday message. But this is the reality at this moment on the Gulf Coast.

I had some family members evacuate New Orleans before the storm hit. They are safe, and - PRAISE GOD - there is family in East Texas and Northern Louisiana to take care of them. But, they don't know if they'll ever get a chance to go home, or if that home even exists anymore.

Pray, people. Click here to help.

Azucar!

Wow. I just returned from an amazing concert at the Shoreline Ampetheatre.

First of all, it was the perfect day - clear skies, warm and just a hint of breeze. I met my friend, JG, at Serramonte mall. He lives in Daly City, so we met and then drove one car (his) down to San Jose. Outside of salsa class, and the occasional club outing, I've not gotten to spend a lot of time with JG. We had a lot of fun -- lots of laughter, learing new vocab, musica and yes, dancing (and that was just in the car ride down! lol).

Concert lineup:
1. Chayanne. Latin pop/rock. AMAZING. This guy can move and sing like no one's business. He had so much energy, and was so fun to watch. Of course, all the women went crazy when he came on stage (boy is goooood lookin'). His music was fun, lively, with a ballad or two thrown in, for good measure. All encapsulated in a lithe, leather pants-clad, stage-commanding presence. A captivating peformer.

2. Alejandro Fernandez. Traditional Mariachi and then some. JG had made a point of telling me on the way down that Alejandro was probably going to be the most popular at the concert, due to the majority Mexican crowd. I thought the girls went wild for Chayanne.

I was mistaken.

The stage is set - 15 or so mariachi. Then, enter the singer. Alejandro has one of the most amazing voices I've ever heard. Strong, clear, and so easy sounding from the top to bottom. I bet he can sing anything! He was (I would venture to say) the crowd favorite. I was surrounded by voices - everyone knew all the words to his whole set. It was actually frustrating for me, because I wanted to join in, too. The music was moving and very passionate. The energy he put off on stage was unbelievable. Women threw their underwear at him (no joke!).

3. Marc Anthony. Salsa. Those people out there that say Marc is riding on J Lo's fame? They're crazy. He is a frigtenly good performer, crowd-worker and musician. He had so much fun on stage, and we the audience had a lot of fun. Hot hot salsa, amazing back up musicians, and limitless energy made for an exciting show.

Everyone was on their feet for the whole concert. It was THAT good...I had a wonderful time!

Notable story: We got back to JG's truck after the concert, and were about to leave, when he realized he was practically out of gas! After waiting for the stop-and-go situation to clear for about an hour, we took off, and found a gas station JUST in the nick of time.

Road trip pictures

Here are a couple pictures from my trip to Santa Fe a couple weeks ago. I was going to blog about the whole weekend, but decided instead to try posting the first ever photos on my blog!

1. Leaving Santa Fe. The sky is amazing in New Mexico:














2. Just north of the CO/NM border lie the ruins of The Morley Church.

TELL ME ABOUT YOURSELF - The Survey
Name:	Katy
Birthday:	July 11, 1979
Birthplace:	Denver, CO
Current Location:	San Francisco, CA
Eye Color:	Blue
Hair Color:	"blond"
Height:	5'11.5''
Right Handed or Left Handed:	Right
Your Heritage:	euro-mix
The Shoes You Wore Today:	Black franco sarto flats - standard work shoe
Your Weakness:	books, cd's & foreign men (ha! j/k-but not really..)
Your Fears:	ET. tripping on stage.
Your Perfect Pizza:	mushrooms, olives, pesto, feta & spinach
Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year:	sucessful audition season
Your Most Overused Phrase On an instant messenger:	ack
Thoughts First Waking Up:	"Scheisse! I'm running late already!"
Your Best Physical Feature:	Eyes
Your Bedtime:	Should be 11; on average, midnight
Your Most Missed Memory:	time spent with my grandparents
Pepsi or Coke:	Diet Vanilla Coke or Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi
MacDonalds or Burger King:	neither
Single or Group Dates:	depends on the guy...
Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea:	Lipton
Chocolate or Vanilla:	chocolate
Cappuccino or Coffee:	cappucino
Do you Smoke:	NO
Do you Swear:	i prefer foreign swear words
Do you Sing:	OH yes.
Do you Shower Daily:	Yes. But not necessarily wash my hair.
Have you Been in Love:	yes
Do you want to go to College:	Spent 7 years in institutions of higher learning
Do you want to get Married:	yes
Do you belive in yourself:	usually
Do you get Motion Sickness:	only in centrifuge-like amusement rides
Do you think you are Attractive:	sure
Are you a Health Freak:	sometimes
Do you get along with your Parents:	yes. they are great & weird
Do you like Thunderstorms:	yes!
Do you play an Instrument:	voice & piano. used to play trombone & handbells
In the past month have you Drank Alcohol:	yes
In the past month have you Smoked:	NO
In the past month have you been on Drugs:	NO. Well, allergy meds
In the past month have you gone on a Date:	yes
In the past month have you gone to a Mall:	no
In the past month have you eaten a box of Oreos:	no
In the past month have you eaten Sushi:	yes. mmm. california rolls..
In the past month have you been on Stage:	no...but gearing up for auditions this month
In the past month have you been Dumped:	no
In the past month have you gone Skinny Dipping:	no
In the past month have you Stolen Anything:	no
Ever been Drunk:	once (bourbon street...)
Ever been called a Tease:	yes
Ever been Beaten up:	only stage combat
Ever Shoplifted:	no
How do you want to Die:	peacefully & quickly
What do you want to be when you Grow Up:	opera singer. performer. linguist. wife. all.
What country would you most like to Visit:	somewhere latin. and I am in love with France.
In a Boy/Girl..
Favourite Eye Color:	Dark
Favourite Hair Color:	Dark
Short or Long Hair:	just no buzz cuts or flat tops, please
Height:	5'10" and up. (I'm tall, you know!)
Weight:	proportionate
Best Clothing Style:	whatever makes you feel confident
Number of Drugs I have taken:	prescription only
Number of CDs I own:	too many to count
Number of Piercings:	just ears. but eyebrow piercings are sexy
Number of Tattoos:	i don't have any, but have not ruled them out
Number of things in my Past I Regret:	not a lot
CREATE YOUR OWN! - or - GET PAID TO TAKE SURVEYS!

Small World

This afternoon, after work, and before heading off to teach diction here, I had some time to kill. I went to the wonderfully italian Emporio Rulli on Union Square for some tea (I know! Of all things, I should've had the espresso, but I'm trying not to drink so much coffee!).

I sat outside, going over the nights' lesson, when two tourists asked to share my table. They were whispering in German, and I just couldn't resist. I asked "Woher kommen sie?" and they started and just couldn't believe that some random american addressed them in Deutsch. Turns out they were visiting from Bavaria, and were travelling around the Bay and yosemite. The man's English was much better than my German, and we had a funny conversation flowing between the two languages. They were nice folks.

Act II: post diction class. I'm walking down O'Farrell, and I pass a crepe shop. Having not eaten yet, and smelling the delicious scents wafting from the open door, I stop in. Turns out this is no imitation crepe place -- it's the real deal! I ask for a "crepe complete", and the girl behind the counter shoots me a double take, and asks me if I'm French. Anywho...we start talking en francais, and totally have this fun connection for the next 10 minutes. I will definately go back for another crepe, but also just to chat!

In more news...my recent trip to Santa Fe was great fun. I'll post more about that later. Now, it's bedtime.

(NB: AZ-I've been cleaning in my closet!!!)

You know...

...that feeling you get when you're in the presence of someone and you just are yourself? Good side, bad side, stupid side, funny side, serious side, brain-fart side, etc etc? Someone who sees it all and still likes you (in spite of/because of) all of those things. That level of comfort with another human being is special, and I am blessed to have some relationships like that in my life.

This weekend, I had the chance to reconnect with someone very dear to me, whom I'd not seen in 5 years. It didn't feel like five years had gone by, but maybe only 6 months. I hadn't forgotten that rapport, but was a little stunned to have it back (in person) after so long.

Thank God for modern communication technology, as this friend lives in North Carolina, and *you know what?* 3,000 miles is a lot of distance!


(*that was just for you, AZ*)

Questions!

This is an Interactive Internet Question Game. I got it from Blackbird (who thinks I'm adorable! Thanks!)

This is how it's played:

1. If you want to play, leave a comment below saying so.
2. I'll post five unique questions to the comments section of this post.
3. You answer them in your blog.
4. In your post, you include this explanation and an offer to interview others.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Here are the questions Blackbird asked me:

1. You have a terrible rash, the lotion you need will make your entire body blue, for a week. will you use it?
Yes. But only if I can go by the alias "Smurfette" for the week. Or guest perform with Blue Man Group.

2. Snowboarding or surfboarding?
Hmmm. Despite growing up in Colorado, I've never, ever been snowboarding, so why start now? I'll go with surfboarding.

3. (you are so freakin adorable, just scanned your blog!) tell me what the perfect evening out is.
Starts off with dinner at home with a couple friends, then we meet up with a bigger group of people for salsa dancing-preferably at Cafe Cocomo-and stay as late as our feet can handle it. Post salsa, perhaps satisfy any appetite worked up with all that dancing at the Video Cafe, and then head to Ocean beach for a gaze at the stars (unless, of course, there's fog, in which case you just head home and play scrabble).

4. favorite opera? Easy: Carmen. I would LOVE to sing her!

5. sailing on a large power yacht or large sailboat? with crew of course. Large power yacht (I've never been on one! Sounds like fun!) Can the crew all be brazilian?

PS: Blackbird, NOt to worry, I'm *ALWAYS* a good girl! :)

Darfur Freedom Summer Concert

Heads up San Franciscans!

From 5-7 p.m. on Thursday, July 21st, head to Justin Hermann Plaza @ Embarcadero One for a the Darfur Freedom Vigils happening all over the world. San Francisco's will be featuring local bands Tremolo, M.O.V.E., and Paradigm.

Since Feb. 2003, the government of Sudan has employed a militia known as the Janjaweed to eliminate African tribes living in Western Sudan. The Janjaweed's methods have included murder, mutilation, sexual violence, crucifixion, and the destruction of entire villages by fire. Over 400,000 people have died.

Last year at this time, Congress unanimously declared a genocide in Darfur. This year, join people throughout the U.S. and Kenya, Mexico and France as they commemorate the lives that have been lost.

The concert is co-sponsored by Golden Gate Community Church, Genocide Intervention Fund, Jewish Community Relations Council, American Jewish World Service, San Francisco Bay Area Darfur Coalition, www.stopgenocidenow.org , Stanford STAND, and the Office of Public Policy and Social Concerns, Archdiocese of San Francisco.

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Next weekend, be sure to check out San Francisco's First Annual AfroFunk Festival, with proceeds going to the "Save the Children Fund" for Darfur, Sudan. The Festival will take place at the Elbo Room on July 29th and 30th.

El Zocalo

Post salsa class last night, walked to El Zocalo with some of the salsa folk for a quick bite. El Zocalo serves Mexican and Salvadorian food. Cheap and tasty. I had a papusa for the first time (yum!), and tried someone elses' chilate with sweet yams, plaintains and something fried served in the side. The dinner was capped off by wandering musicians who came in a played a few tunes. Good times all around.

Check out El Zocalo: 3230 Mission Street (near 29th)

etc.....

I've many different things I've wanted to post about recentlly. I guess I'll just do a patch-work quilt of subjects, here.

1. London: PRAISE GOD that my brother is safe. He, his friends, classmates, etc are all accounted for, as are the handful of friends I've over there. Hallelujah. Interestingly enough, the cabinet minister for whom he works, has just been appointed the minister for the Olympics, as well as minister for the families of the victimes of the recent bombings. Wonder if he'll be offered a more permanent job there (and if so, if he'll take it...)?

2. Only my mother could use this phrase: "Those jeans are rather butt-sprung, aren't they?" I'm not exactly sure what that means...but let's just use our imaginations, now, shall we?

3. My airport adventure, as taken from the book of AZ's airport adventures, from SFO on Friday, shall be (not so) briefly recapped here:
-Arrive at 5pm sharp for my 6:30 flight (no baggage to check)
-Discover said flight has been delayd until 10:oopm!!
-Return to terminal (I'd already been through security) to speak with a ticket agent about another flight
-Nice United lady says I can get on an 8pm Frontier flight. She prints me out a paper ticket and sends me on my way.
-United is at the far end of terminal 3. Frontier is at the farthest end of terminal 1. I walk, cheerfully whistling, through barren terminal 2 to the Frontier counter.
-Not-so-nice frontier lady tells me that, while I CAN get on the flight, I am missing a CRUCIAL signature from the United lady.
-Walk BACK through barren terminal 2 to the far end of terminal 1.
-Wait in line for 45 minutes. For a 5 second signature.
-Start back towards the desolate terminal 2, to get back to Frontier.
-En Route, am "picked up" by one of the United ticket agents. His name is Sam, he speaks several languages, has lived in SF for 25 years, hangs out with some of the Giants, might know my friend B who works for the Giants and gives me his phone number for when I return to SF. Still undecided on whether or not I'll call....(maybe email).
-Return to Frontier, wait in line and get checked in
-Head to security
-Get randomly selected for a strip search and to have all of my bags thoroughly checked (re: feminine products conveniently spilled out by the guy searching). Great.
-Finally make it to the concourse. And, happiness arrives in the form of my friend Skot, who is making his way to SoCal for the weekend.
-AFter having been walking the airport for close to 4 hours, S and I sit and have a beer, as our gates are right next to one another's.
-My flight ends up getting in late (around midnight) and my folks pick me up and we drive another 2.5 hours to the mountains. My dad snoozing in the back seat, while me and my mom chat it up in the front.

I can't believe I forgot to post this!

San Francisco's Precious Cheese 2005 North Beach Festival was two weekends ago. It was SO fun:

-Food
-Live bands of all persuasions
-Sidewalk chalk art (my personal vote for most tacky goes to a really well done portrait of the mona lisa, with leonardo dicaprio added in beside her)
-Pizza tossing
-GREAT people watching.

HOWEVER, my hightlight (by far) was .........drumroll, please...............

Getting to meet Gianni Russo, aka Carlo Rizzi, Connie's jerk first husband, in The Godfather. I got my picture taken with him, as well as an autograph! AWESOME!!!