My fantastic adventure as a humble blogger attending the Fresh & Easy store grand opening.

Highlights include meeting the CEO Tim Mason and finding out that all their execs know the Temple, and me taking a swan dive outside of the store in front of like a hundred people.

I should be proud that that was possibly the biggest crowd I’ve ever tripped and fallen in front of…

Oh wait. No.  There was always that one night of performance of the Nutcracker at the National Theater where I tripped on my unraveling ballet shoe ribbons as I landed a cartwheel and ate it on stage…

First was my commuter comfort purchases.  My lovely red briefcase got here today.  I’m going to adore its candy red shell for a few more weeks before slapping on one of my Emily the Strange stickers.  Hehee.

Then was the birthday party.  Instead of me cooking, we ordered a party pack from Naples Rib Company.  To our surprise, for $100 from Naples can feed about 15 people easy.  While a visit to the restaurant with 3 other friends might have cost just about the same.  Next time we crave barbecue, we’ll have to get a group together to be worth it.

Brandon’s birthday present is also an online steal.  He desperately needs a new office chair.  His back pain alone is worth every dollar I was to plunk down to get him the chair.  We found one at Staples and I came home to comparison shop.  I managed to find the same chair on Staples website with $50 off and no delivery charge, plus an online coupon that roped me 10 Arbor Day canvas bags for zero dollar.  That’s right.  10 bags for free.  I have enough to supply everyone I know back home with a “Gift of the U.S.”!  (And it’ll be made in China…I’m sure.)

And speaking of Thailand, the big daddy of them all are the prices of our tickets home.  Brandon and I will be in Bangkok the week of Thanksgiving with Brandon returning the Saturday after Thanksgiving and me the Friday after that.  With his bad knee, we have to get bigger seat of Economy Deluxe on EVA.  But then again, regular Economy on Thai already costs more than that even if it’s a real direct flight.

Oh, and good job on Thai Airways in luring people in.  On their website, it lists the flight I want at $903, but miraculously there are fees that makes the ticket in the $1600 at the end of check out.

Flight costs are going to be crazy, people.  It is already unpretty out there when even China Airlines hits the $900s to go to Bangkok when it’s all said and done.  And I thought I was clever for buying the tickets now.  Should’ve bought them in March or something.

This year marks his 3rd cycle, as Thai people call it. He was born on the year of the Rat, and it’s the year of the Rat again. Hence, 3rd cycle.

Here’s what they say about the Rat.

People born in the Year of the Rat are one of the most industrious and hardest working in the zodiac.

Forever busy in pursuit of an ambitious personal goal, at times they may become difficult to work with since they are born perfectionists. Rats must ensure that every “i” is dotted before completing an assigned task. As a result, they are often successful financially, and are good providers for their family and those they cherish most dearly.

Loyal and loving, Rat people inspire loyalty in others who are close to them. They are essentially honest individuals and loath to betray a confidence. However, their quick wit and restlessness can sometimes lead to chattiness, and they can often be relied upon at large social gatherings for a good story or a juicy bit of gossip.

Their energy levels and expert organizational talents are such that it is a rare thing to see a Rat person sitting idly by with nothing to do.

They may even sometimes be viewed as opportunists who cajole others into helping them accomplish a great ambition. In their careers, Rat people can find much success as business leaders or politicians.

Rats are most compatible with : Dragon (That’s ME!!!), Monkey, Ox

Famous people born in the Year of the Rat : Charlotte Bronte, Truman Capote, Catherine I, Prince Charles, Sasha Cohen, Eminem, Peter the Great, Mata Hari, Scarlett Johansson, Wolfgang Mozart, Plato, William Shakespeare, Leo Tolstoy, George Washington.

I’d better get cracking. We’re…well…I’m throwing a party, don’t you know.

Amazing.

Master Greg and I went on our “first date” last night at the Honda Center. We arrived a little early, grabbed a few drinks and headed for our seats. The seats weren’t bad at all for something you’ve won from a contest. And our neighbors were all very cool.

It’s the first time I’ve ever realized how powerful some of his lyrics are. I mean, seriously. I haven’t really paid attention. Suddenly, George has become my songwriting hero. And inspiration.

He sounds exactly like his records. His voice is amazing. Sometime during “Roxanne”, I turned to Greg.

“I want to put him in a gilded cage so he can sing for me everyday.”

“I want to put him in my bed and make him sing a totally different tune,” he replied.

Oh yes.  Gay or straight, the man is still pretty hot.  He still sounds like he does back in the days.  Still shakes his booty the same good way we all remember too.

Oh, how we both loved the concert.

I took a few videos but they were all grainy. So I’m going to borrow some clips from another concert goer just to share the joy.

Well, San Francisco is THE place to be, really.

That, my friend, is the gift from the Commuter Gods.

I am a sleeper on the bus. I usually put my head forward and stay put that way all the way to Downtown. On the way home, I usually lean back on my fleece scarf if I have the front seat, or sideway on the seat with back support. Either way, my neck wasn’t happy about the strain.

Comfort Creature Travel Buddy Pillow may be for kids, but I really don’t care when it’s this comfy. It has machine-washable soft fleece cover and stuffed with buckwheat hulls. The two “horns” fit perfectly on my shoulder so I can rest my head against the window just right. I can also lean back on a lower seat with the “horns” behind my neck and lean again it backward so I don’t chicken-neck around.

My neck is pain-free. And I must say, I have never slept so well on my bus.However, with the addition of this lovely pillow, my already stuffed commuter bag is really, REALLY full. The bag has been a little too heavy to heft around for a while now because of the emergency bottle of water. But along with my neck, my shoulder is beginning to hurt as well.

Ah, the joy of aging. But I digress.

I am now in search for a bag with wheels that are not obviously for a kid (like the Hello Kitty one I found yesterday at Target) or the usual corporate black. There was a lady in my building who wheeled in a lovely red bag. I complimented her on it, and she told me it was Kate Spade…or something fancy like that.

I so don’t have the money for that. LOL. But I hope I can find one reasonably priced one somewhere. Appreciate any lead, by the way.

ETA: The Commuter Gods REALLY love me!  I scored on the first online search and just bought this with zero shipping and super cheap on Overstock. And yes, I bought the lovely red one.

I’m not particularly good at it, as in I could never go to Juilliard, but I wasn’t horrible.

This might come to surprise to some, but I used to be THE choreographer at school back in my days.  Mainly because nobody else would risk the embarrassment to do the job, while I, on the other hand, have no concept of shame.

There wasn’t a school show I didn’t dance in or choreographed or both.  I was in every Christmas pageant since kindergarten.  I was on the “dance team”, a handful of dancers teachers would call on to perform somewhere.

I started ballet in kindergarten and took the standard tests for it up to level III before I decided that I didn’t want to be tested any more.  The instructor didn’t seem to mind me continuing to take classes  with everyone without the test.  As a matter of fact, at some point, for the big multi-school production of The Nutcracker, I was taking 3 levels of dance lessons.  Because of my size, I was to perform as the clowns with the girls one level below me.  Then I’d take my regular class and learned all the moves as Clara’s friends. And I followed that with the advance class, but just the regular class but not the choreography.

Anyways.  By 6th grade, I started on pointe.  First of all, I was the only one left in the class who actually haven’t done any testing.  I was also the only one left who actually didn’t have the goal to go to dance school or have a serious career in dance.   I surely didn’t have the long, lean body for a ballerina.  I was there purely because I love to dance.

The instructor didn’t think the same way.  Pretty much, I was given minimal instructions and largely ignored in class.  I didn’t even know I was supposed to break my pointes so that they would flex.  Conveniently for all, my motion sensitivity set in just about the same time.  I mean, I couldn’t even do a double on regular shoes without feeling dizzy.  It was never like that!  On pointe, the dizzy spell was a lot worse.  I would pretend to sit out in class, blaming it on my toes, when in reality I was so dizzy from all the spins I was ready to throw up.   I would come home and lay down for another hour before I can even move.

That was the end of ballet and the beginning of jazz.  I was enjoying jazz thoroughly when the class I could attend was canceled.  Then the school moved to a new location, no longer convenient.

Despite the fact that I was no longer taking classes, I was still called on to dance and choreographed.  I guess because, like I said, I was the only one up for the job.

I came to the U.S. and I was excited that you can actually take dance as one of your classes!  But then I got to visit the dance class and quickly realized that I would be totally out of my league.  And here, who would want me to do anything.  So I retreated to my own private production of dancing around my bedroom.

Sometimes I beat myself up for having to quit proper lessons years ago.  Same regret I had with piano.  But I still love to watch people dance.  I still feel the music through my veins.  As a matter of fact, watching a dance performance, sometimes my muscles would twitch as if they want to dance too.

And my body was doing that when I watch So You Think You Can Dance, my newest TV addiction.

I can never dance like that.  But I was surprised that my criticism from the couch was the same as the experts on the panels most of the time.

It’s not that I have the expertise.  But I FEEL the dance.  If the dancers couldn’t move me, if they couldn’t get me twitching, they’re not conveying the emotions that should be moving the audience.  And that just can’t be a good performance.

SYTYCD thoroughly entertains me and at the same time it breaks my heart that I no longer dance.

But yes, I am planning on getting my shoes back on and get back out there.  As a matter of fact, a few years ago, I took up jazz at the community center.  No offense to older readers, but the class was paced for seniors.  Not what I was looking for.

Nonetheless, I AM planning to take up the classes again. I have done some research and I know where to go now.  It’s just a matter of money at this point.

Zut, je suis bon!

Frenchy can correct what Google Translate told me to say. Foux du feh!

That’s Brandon’s birthday party invite. He’s a rat. This year is his 3rd cycle. Important to me, not much to him, but given the past few months of emotional roller coasters on his part, this boy needs a good party.

Thanks!

ETA: I like the look and the color now, swapping out the fader pink and gray for the bolder pink and black.  The sidebar elements are still a bit problematic but I’ll get to that tomorrow.  At least everything is in its proper place.