Tiger Attack

This one is freaky.

Did you hear about the tiger getting out of it's enclosure at the SF Zoo and killing one man and injuring two others? Yikes.

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/12/26/MN0LU4M2T.DTL

I am fascinated by this. I wish there were video. I know it's gruesome, but how interesting it would be!

They don't know how the tiger got out. They say the door was not open. So, she must have jumped out. Chills down my spine.

I've been to the zoo plenty of times and have always loved checking out the tigers. The moat always seemed big enough to me. They say it is a 15 ft. moat and a 20 ft. wall. I wonder.... if the tiger (same one who ate her keepers arm last year) was motivated enough (mad?) could she have taken a running leap and made it? Wow......isn't it creepy? And what was that guy doing in front of her enclosure that would make her want to attack?

So, she's dead now, poor thing. I don't blame the cops for shooting her. They were probably pooping in their pants when she started towards them. Though, the zoo might have had the forethought to have security on site with sedative guns. But do those sedatives work immediately? Perhaps in a real attack you do need to shoot to kill. Man.....

How sad that it happened on Christmas.

Nutcracker

The dancing roses were always my favorite part. Picture a dozen or more ballerinas in flowing costumes of teal, purple, rose, blue and gold floating in and out of symmetrical formations, leaping and dancing in unison to Tchaikovsky. Pure eye candy.

For my mother and me, the San Francisco Ballet Company's Nutcracker has been an annual tradition since I was four years old. Sometimes with friends, most times just the two of us, we would dress up in our holiday best, bundle up and set out into the cold winter night. Walking down Van Ness in formal attire can be quite an adventure for a youngster, what with all the homeless beggars. But it was always exciting to see so many folks bustling about in their finery.

I have such warm and fuzzy memories of magical Nutcracker evenings: Christmas lights sparkling everywhere, special dinners out and time alone with Mom. Plus, as a season ticket holder, Mom could always score the best seats in the house: front row, Grand Tier.

After the performance we would always relish discussing the show during the dark ride home.

"Did you see that snowflake fall?"

"What did you think about the Cavelier?"

During my rebellious teenage years, the Nutcracker was a night sacrosanct; any ugly thoughts or feelings I had towards Mom were forgotten. And throughout my Deadhead phase I felt an extra-special appreciation for the patterns and formations of the dancers. Anyone who has been a deadhead, or known a deadhead will know what I mean. As a young adult I began to realize how precious our Nutcracker tradition was, and my feelings of affection for my mom and the Nutcracker deepened.

But it has been as a mother of my own kids that I have really come to love and cherish this special night. My son, and then my daughter have been coming with us since the age of five. The first year was a bit dicey for both of them; that cannon can be scary! And sitting still for over an hour is a trial for any five year old.

Oh! how they love to go out to a special dinner at Max's with Nan Nan and me, ordering and eating whatever they want. My eleven year old son especially loves this part; this year he consumed an appetizer, soup, salad and an entre. Luxury!

The sparkling, glittering Nutcracker store inside the opera house dazzles them. Joe spots the kids some cash each year so they can buy my Christmas present there. Then finding our cozy, red velvet seats and gazing down onto the gallery and orchestra is sweet. Now that they play violin, the kids have an added interest in observing the musicians.

Then, the show! If you have never seen the SF Ballet's Nutcracker, you'd better make it a point to get there. It is full of magic and beauty: dancing bears, soldiers and rats, lush Edwardian and classical ballet costumes, magically appearing and disappearing dancers. Of course the solo dancers are breathtaking, achieving spin after spin after spin across the stage (I counted 17 for the Cavalier) on one foot. The rollicking dances from different parts of the world - Spanish, Arabian, Chinese, Russian are all amusing.

A few years ago they rechoreographed the Nutcracker. And they changed the setting as well. Originally it took place in an 18th century Russian noble's home. The gowns were to die for. But now the setting is circa 1900 San Francisco; it is very chic, but not opulent.

The worst part of the change is the Dance of the Roses. Oh, the dancing is still exquisite. But the dresses! They lost all those heart achingly beautiful colors, and now have only gold, peach and yellow. It makes me sad, because I loved the flow and blur of so many colors.

This year during the Dance of the Snowflakes, they dropped so much "snow" we though the dancers would drown. Usually it showers down lightly onto the stage. I don't know if it was intentional, but the amount of stuff dumping on the snowflake dancers was hysterical. Truly, I was a bit worried for them. The only other tidbit from this year's show was in the show finale, when a rose ran smack into Herr Drosselmeyer. She didn't fall, but the look on her face was priceless.

I guess I could sum up the elements that make the Nutcracker so meaningful to me: family, tradition, good food, beautiful dancing, fun, kids, dessert, shopping, dressing up, cushy chairs, great music, exquisite costumes, people watching and Mom. I hope we can keep going together for a long, long time.

pre-school overachievers

Yesterday I went to my daughter's preschool holiday party. About ten little ones, plus their parents crammed into the tiny but sweet room. I managed ot avoid having to sit on one of those little chairs (you know, the kind where you derrier hangs over all sides?).

The "show" the kids did was too cute for words. Miss Emily, the teacher, led them in Christmas and Hannukah songs and dances. Jingle bells all around.

The most adorable part was when they sang The Twelve Days of Christmas. Miss Emily gave each child a laminated picture of a Partridge, or Maids-a-Milking, or Lords-a-Leaping; so that each had their own special part in the song. When the song got to their part, they were to raise their picture above their heads and then put it back down. It went pretty well until Four Calling Birds.

Five Golden Rings completely forgot to raise his picture. And from then on it was bedlam. Kids just couldn't stand to wait for their part and ended up raising their picture whenever anyone else did. Or they did get that they were supposed to lift it. Or they didn't want to. Which is what my daughter did. Every time it came to her turn:

MISS EMILY: "Eight Maids-a-Milking.... Marie! Marie! Raise your picture"
MARIE: Thumb in mouth, looking back skeptically.

I stayed out of it. I just laughed my head off. The scene of little kids raising their pictures and putting them down chaotically while most of them sang their heads off was too precious.

When it was all over, and the kids had been sufficiently filled with sugar, we began to leave. That's when I saw with a sinking feeling, all the other mothers popped up with baskets full of wrapped presents for all the kids.

What? Presents? Preschool kids exchange presents? Since when?

There were cookies, bird feeders, candy canes, picture cards....oy! I felt like such a shmuck. Did I have anything for anybody? Of course not. Because, aside from the fact that I wasn't let in on this little secret, Marie is my 3rd child. My attitude towards preschool is: I just drop her off and pick her up. I don't want to volunteer. I don't want to bring snacks. I don't want to go on field trips. I don't even really want to go to all the parties. I just want to get back home to have precious alone - school time with my big kids.

So, I prodded Marie to say "thank you" a million times and then ducked out of there with my tail between my legs.

Happy Holidays!

Six Million Dollar Man

Check him out! or should I say... Check US out! ?

http://www.ronpaul2008.com/

Yesterday, on the anniversary of the Boston Tea Party, supporters of my main man RP donated over SIX MILLION DOLL HAIRS. Wowie Zowie. And I didn't even donate this time. Tea Party Reenactments were held all over the country, and even world-wide. Cool.

The creativity and daring of these people is so refreshing and fun to watch. Did you know RP people have even rented a blimp which will fly over states that have early primaries? A blimp. I mean, come one - who thought of that? That is thinking WAY out of the box.

Please don't worry about me becoming unrealistic about his chances. I'm not. BUT - I have to say that I have already been pleasantly surprised by how well Dr. Paul is doing. Aside from the enjoyable sideshow of watching this uncontrollable, decentralized, voluntary grass roots campaign, I am deeply satisfied to see a man I respect and trust amongst all the other creeps running for president.

McCain may not be a liar, but I disagree with his position on the war. All the rest of them are soulless, pandering, packaged losers IMHO.

I wish I had TV so I could watch the MSM ignore RP some more.

Hallelujah!

Haaaaaaalleluja!.... Halleluja!....
Halleluja!
Halleluja!
Halle-e-e-e-luja!

They're here! My Christmas cards finally arrived.

The triumphant moment came this afternoon when my daughter Rose intercepted the UPS man on his way to the door, grabbed the packaged and ran to me.

"I have a present for you!" she sang.

I opened the box, and YES - they are actually the ones I ordered. Sigh. Completion feels good.

Well, I guess I'm not totally complete since I have to address them and send them now. But my seemingly-never-ending process with Shutterfly, UPS, Jayashree and Ebony is at an end.

Halleluja!

Christmas Card Purgatory

This year, as I have for the past few years, I vowed to "get it all together", to "be on top of things", to "be ahead of the game" for the holiday season. Ever since the year we moved on December 7 with a six month old baby and had to forgo most of the usual holiday festivities, I have endeavored to be "organized" and "with it" for Christmas.

I usually try to buy Christmas presents throughout the year, to spread the costs out over a few months. I managed to do some of that this year. I ordered my Christmas cards unusually early this year, so as to have more leisurely time to address them and send them. Ha. Ha. Bleeping Ha.

This is the unfinished story of my Epic Christmas Card screw-up.

I ordered them on November 10 - along with some prints. The prints came, but not the cards. I assumed they took a bit longer to process, so I waited. Then we left for a weeks trip to San Diego, and I wasn't able to check on my cards' progress until late November. Because I was unusually lame that day, I wasn't able to find the phone number of customer service for Shutterfly (NEVER USE SHUTTERFLY), so I emailed my enquiry.

Days passed. I emailed again. Finally got a response; "We show that that order was cancelled and the amount of $&*^ was returned to you." Arg! I emailed back in the requisite all caps screaming mode - NO! I WANT MY CHRISTMAS CARDS! SEND THEM TO ME ASAP!

More days passed. When I checked my account on Shutterfly, it showed that my screaming email had been labelled "No Reply Needed". Apparently Jayashree my excellent customer service rep. didn't quite get it.

Finally I managed to find the actual customer service phone number through byzantine mazes within their site. I believe it was Gupta who helped me that day. I explained the situation calmly and politely and said,

"Gupta, here's what you need to do. You need to reorder my Christmas cards, at a reduced cost and send them to me overnight with no shipping fee."

"OK, we can do that." she replied reasonable.

There. That was done civilly. I would get my cards at a reduced rate, just later than I had hoped.

Each day I eagerly tracked my package through UPS, anticipating the moment when I could rip it open and beam adoringly at my gorgeous children. Then, I was a bit confused when the UPS tracker claimed the package had been delivered to my front door yesterday. NooooooOOOO...

So today I have become Sherlock Holmes, ruthlessly tracking down my Christmas cards:

2:00pm Me to Montara post office lady (who was very nice): is there any chance my package is in the back somewhere? (we have PO boxes) - No luck

4:00pm Me to Shutterfly: WTF? - after waiting about 10 minutes on hold, I'm told that my
package was delivered to my front door....the front door of the condo we lived in ten
years ago.

4:40pm Me to lady who currently lives in that condo: um.......did my package come to
you? - As a matter of fact, MANY of our packages go to her and she is sick of it. But
today she returned this package to the HMB UPS store.

4:45pm Me to the UPS store: do YOU have my package? - well, they did have it, but the
driver just left to take it back to the South SF Hub for return to sender.

5:00pm Me to Ebony, the UPS rep: please....help me save my Christmas cards....sob!

The end result of hours and hours or emails, phone calls, angst and hair pulling is that there is now a UPS "investigation" about what happened to my package which could take 8 - 10 days. Uh huh. That would be Dec. 20 - 22nd. This is not very helpful.

On the semi-bright side, Shutterfly did agree to reprint the cards and overnight them to me again. But since processing takes at least two days, and "overnight" apparently has a different definition than the one I know, I am told not to expect the cards until at least Dec. 18. sigh.

The sad thing is that I am so attached to these blasted cards. Why? Why do I care? What is the magic in these things that makes me go to such lengths? I don't know. I just love them.

I'll let you know if and when I ever get them.

Toddlerisms

My three and a half year old daughter, Marie, is entering into the transformative phase from toddler to little girl. It is magical, funny and heartwarming to witness. But it is also a bit sad. No, really sad. My baby is disappearring. No matter how wonderfully cute and funny the little girl she is becoming is, my baby is still going away.

I remember the first night she slept in a big girl bed. I was so happy to get her beautiful pink bed. And she went into it perfectly - no residual missing of the crib - no getting out in the middle of the night. But that first night after I put her to sleep in her new bed, I shut the door behind me and unexpectedly burst into tears. My baby was growing up!

I think it is especially poignant for me as she is my third, and last, little one. I'm never going to go through the magical gauntlet that is babyhood of one of my babies again - ever. I know I'm wierd, but I'm already starting to think about grandchildren. I know! I know! My oldest kid is 11. So I'm reaching a bit. But it consoles me to think that someday in the next twenty or so years I'll get to hold and smell another snuggly bundle of smooshy cuteness.

In honor of Marie transitioning into her little girl sefl, I am sharing some of her collected toddler "gems". You know, those so-cute-you-practically-fall-off-your-chair things that toddlers say?

Here are a few of her best:

When something fell on the floor...
"It can't break because it's not glassable."

One time at dinner, Joe had just nailed Richard for disrepectfully interrupting and then rolling his eyes when corrected. Into the tense silence at the table, Marie blurts,
"Mama, everyone has a bottom!"

Her description of boogers:
"Hard nose roller things"

Trying to avoid getting in trouble for name calling:
"Rose, you're STU–"

Her interesting sense of the aging process:
"When you're little again, and I'm big......"

Hugging me tightly:
"Mama, I want to be with you ALL OF DA TIME"

Waving goodbye:
"See you later crocodile!"

Dictatorship

I was perusing some of my favorite political blogs a few days ago and came across a very disturbing article: http://www.tpmmuckraker.com/ A democratic senator from Rhode Island got a chance to sit down with some classified documents from the Dept. of Justice. They were position statements describing the president's powers in relation to the DoJ and executive orders.

In a nutshell (according to Mr. Congressman, who was a lawyer before), the presidents is saying:

1. “I don’t have to follow my own rules, and I don’t have to tell you when I’m breaking them.”

2. “I get to determine what my own powers are.”

3. “The Department of Justice doesn’t tell me what the law is, I tell the Department of Justice what the law is.


This, my friends, is what is historically known as a DICTATORSHIP.

Just in case you doubt, here are a few dictionary definitions of dictator:

- a ruler who is unconstrained by law

- a ruler who has absolute, unrestricted control in a government without hereditary succession.

Now our beloved Prez does not have absolute control yet. But anyone who has studied history can read the writing on the wall and see where we are headed (if we don't do something soon!) The cycle goes something like this: Republic, Dictatorship, Empire, collapse, anarchy, conquest by outside force or disintegration of the state.

Sound like fun?

Why couldn't I have been born in 1760? It is depressing living in an age of decline. Is there anything beautiful or redeeming in a decadent culture that is abdicating its power to creeps?

I better stop before I get too depressed.

Go Ron Paul.

Holiday Work Party

Every year I am obliged to accompany my husband to the annual work holiday party.

Now, we have seen some hum-dingers, real blow-outs. Back in the day (can you say 90's?) we went to one party hosted by AMD that was at a huge tent / building in SF. There were dancers, acrobats, people in costume, live statues. The food stations were gargantuan. Whole BUCKETS of jumbo shrimp were dumped onto platters and consumed by engineers and their partners. There was even a live concert that night, I think it was Rod Stewart. The whole thing reeked of decadence.

Since then, we have come down a notch or two. One year I wasn't even allowed to go to his work party. It was employees only - bused up to a bar in the city - no meal, mind you, just drinks and hors d'oeurves. I wasn't too sad to miss that one.

For the last three years my better half has been working at a small "shop" in the city for an online game and indie movie company. Most people who work there are what I call "tragically hip". They are either 1). gay 2.) transgender 3.) super artistic 4). young. My hubbie Joe probably qualifies for number 3, but he doesn't look like it on the outside.

So, the holiday parties for this small company (which sadly just got bought by evil, mammoth entertainment company) have been at super cool spots and always with a theme. Yes, a theme.

The first year we went the theme was hats and headware. One guy dressed up head to foot in a white suit and top hat as Mark Twain. Marie Antoinette was there, hair and all. Many fun wigs were to be found at that one. I put butterfly clips all over my hair - weak but still in the theme.

Last year the theme was ties. I don't believe either of us participated in the theme festivities. I mean, come on. A tie? for a straight woman? Though one girl wore a backless dress with a tie on backwards. She was hot so she could pull it off.

This year....wait for it....the super creative, excitement inducing theme for the holiday party is.....RED. Snore. So... I had some red in my top. Joe got a cool Jerry Garcia red tie at Ross Dress for Less and we were good to go.

Anyone who knows me knows that dressing up, going to a party where I know NO ONE and trying to mingle, make small talk, not embarrass my husband all while a DJ plays deafening house music is not exactly my cup of tea. But duty calls you know? Flowing margaritas help.

I actually did remember one guy from last year who liked me for some reason. I think because I speak Spanish. And I seem to get more and more fluent as the night goes on, if you know what I mean. We had a nice chat in spanish and I asked him all about how he knew he was gay. It was great.

Then I had a lengthy conversation with the guy (I learned later) is my honey's arch-nemesis. Joe is actually trying to get this guy fired, and he knows it. Yikes. And there I was, blabbing away about kids and whatever. Cringe.

One very nice young man talked with me for some time, all about his girlfriend who works at the company, and is at the party, but he can't acknowledge because she doesn't want anyone to know. I checked her out and sent her "you are crazy" vibes, because her beau was very cute. But I totally blew it by asking him how old he was twice. Doh! The second time he said,
"31. And you are 39 and have three kids and stay at home. I know." Double cringe.

One strange thing I kept noticing; Joe and I would approach and converse with a couple or small group of people, and after a while (who can conceive of time at this point) they walk off. Ditch us (as I would put it). Joe says it is normal, that everyone is trying to mingle and talk with everyone else.

Joe and I tied for the Most Embarrassing Moment Award.

Joe's story: We are sitting in a booth with a very nice young couple talking about who knows what. Joe is struggling to open up a lobster tail and pry the meat out. All of a sudden - FOOM - the tail explodes all over Joe and the lady next to him. Oops!

Sue's story: We are sitting with another couple, one of whom is a lady Joe manages. I am pacing myself, drinking a bottle of water in between each drink. I chug my water, ...oh.......no..........down...........the..............wrong...........pipe! I convulsively cough while trying to keep my mouthful of water IN my mouth. Pretty soon I lose the battle and - SPLOOSH - out it goes all over my pants and the couch next to me. Joe's lady was very nice and empathetic. Hopefully she was the only one who saw. Joe didn't notice, so I can hope that no one else did.

On the positive side, we did dance. I can't help it. If I have any amount of alcohol in me and there is a beat playing. I have to move. Really. I can't stop myself. So we had fun boogeying. But actually I don't think I can call it that, because there was no disco! The DJ was totally stuck in the 90's. Rapping and heavy beats. That was about it. When I requested KC and the Sunshine Band, they didn't even have it! Puleeze! Even young people can enjoy disco. It's true. Next year, I am getting Joe to have a talk with the HR lady who plans this thing, and get a DJ who plays disco.

Joe and I both agreed that not only did the music completely stink, but it was SOOOOO LOOOUUUDDDD!!! Our secret code for deciding to leave was me leaning into Joe's ear and screaming,
"WANT TO GO????"

And so, we made our departure. Wonder what the theme will be next year?