Last week I was in Paris and then Athens. On the plane ride to Athens I sat near a young mom and her daughter who was probably 6 years old. The young girl had made friends with the boy sitting in front of her. The boy was probably 4 or 5. The two kiddos chatted the ENTIRE time…non stop on a non stop flight. If it wasn’t so freaking adorable I would have been annoyed. It helped that i didn’t understand a word of it since I don’t speak much French. I noticed that French kids just seem smarter. I have decided that hearing French results in an increased perception of one’s intelligence. I suppose it’s kind of like putting on a pair of dorky glasses.
The little girl in my row was a charmer. While her mom was snoozing she had the boy in the isle in front of her standing up, turned around, and dancing with her. on his seat dancing with her. I think they attempting the tango, and it wasn’t half bad for dancing on airplane seats. The boy had a red face and pinchable little red cheeks and dimples. He looked as if he was incredibly embarrassed while concurrently having the time of his life. The girl casually sang a french song to him and guided the movement of the dance. She was having a blast, too. At one point she attempted to twirl him around but she didnt’ get very far, he got stuck mid twist. I had to stop myself from clapping because it was so damn cute. It was probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen on a plane. ever.
A bit later the young mom went to the restroom and the young girl started chatting with me. I had no idea what she was saying because she was speaking French (but it sounded very interesting, because she was speaking French…) so I just smiled and nodded and said “oui” a lot (Oui means yes). I almost got away with it, almost. At some point she was on to me and stopped talking for a minute, looked at me like I am strange ( I see this look often) and said something regarding speech (I know some French you see). I’d like to think she said “what is wrong with you, can’t you speak stranger lady?” or something equally as sassy. I was busted. I said “I speak only a little French” in French and she grinned as if to say “silly American girl.”
After the girl knew I wasn’t a native she told me she was going to teach me French using pieces from a game she was playing. At least that’s what I think she was saying. She had a series of cards with pictures on them. So, she would explain what the card was and hold it up waiting for me to tell her what it was. I had no idea each time. First it was an poulpe (octopus), then arbre (tree), and finally tortue, a turtle. She wouldn’t show me the card until I said the word in French. It’s a good thing she was wispering the asnwers to me.She even gave me praise for getting it “right.”
Six year old people are awesome. I was delighted to chat with her even though i had no idea what she was saying. If it wasn’t possibly the creepiset thing I would have ever done (which is saying a lot) I would have taken a picture of the two little ones dancing on the aeroplane seats if only to remind me to losen up every once and a while. I didn’t care much about the peanuts being too salty after that. The things we could learn from brillaint sounding French kids…
Sometimes I have a little bit TOO much fun with food, and condiments, and pretty much any object that I can get my grubby personifying hands on.
And just a picture of me making fun with ketchup and mustard. What I don’t like is that because they are inherently different colors and I put different things on each it makes it seem like I am creating gender positions. I’m sure the “dress” cup doesn’t help much with that.I imagine some people automatically assume one is a “male” and one is a “female. I just see an American versus a soldier from Great Britain during the American Revolution. What do you see?
This makes me think of the “this is your bra”in on drugs commercials. The egg is half cooked and the uncooked yoke is leaking onto the bottom of the stove to meet the slightly cooked egg. I wonder what kind of crazy drug would cause THAT.
- This might be my favorite stain so far. This was the result of an egg flip gone bad.
After having tea with jam and bread with the house mates I went on a quest for tea with crumpets with my friend Ben. We found this place in Berkeley called CRiXa Cakes. We couldn’t find crumpets so we settled for berry tea and a lightly flavored Russian bun (which we referred to as a crumpet the entire time). We talked with British accents while bun eating, tea sipping, and occasionally enjoying slices from a mango we brought with us. It was delightful.
A few days later our plans to adventure to the Exploratorium were foiled and we found ourselves at a music shop in The Mission called Lark in theMorning. After talking about cookie doe (and eating delicious cookies) I couldn’t help but hum to myself “Do re mi fa so la ti do.” I felt satisfied knowing that I could play the notes by banging around a stick on on
e of the funky instruments. I was also delighted that my dream to pretend I am that animatronic (spell?) guy who plays the banjo at the beginning of the Disney ride Pirates of the Caribbean can now be realized. I even found a noise maker that sounded like crickets (the Banjo guy is not complete without crickets). I also played a couple of different harps! At the end of the day I had the most fun singing “The Origin of Love” to Ben playing it on the accordion. It is every bit as awkward on the accordion as you can imagine.
I highly reccomend trying these silly things out with fun loving friend. It’s amazing what a little imagination can add to otherwise ordinary experiences.
This past Sunday I shared some tea with jam and bread with my brother Kelly and his friend Lo. Before we indulged we were greeted by a strange visitor. As the water was heating my brother heard a rock hit our housemates window. A rock! Actually, we found out it was a penny. A penny!
My brother went downstairs to investigate. There, standing foolishly confident, was a guy that briefly dated our housemate. Weeks back he was practically stalking her with texts and calls. Until Sunday he had left her alone for the most part. While Kelly talked to him Lo and I wondered if was he trying to be romantic by throwing something at her window. Did he have a boom box with him? Was he playing “in your eyes’ by Peter Gabriel? Apparently not. He just wanted to get our housemate’s number again (dramatically). Fortunately, he’s harmless. Just an aura junkie with not so cool ideas about his perceived “connections” with people. We could see it in his eyes all along. I wonder, at what point is it OK to judge someone based on the intensity of the eye contact they initiate? How much of our perception of someone as “creepy” is a self-fulfilling prophecy inspired by a preliminary judgment (e.g., He’s got the crazy eyes!)? Also, what happens when two people putting out the same extreme intensity hit it off? Do they ever make each other uneasy? I’m going to need to recriut people with identifiable “crazy eyes” to answer these pressing questions. 
A new friend showed me some adorable movies she made while procrastinating her homework last semester. It got me thinking about priorities and how I wish I’d procrastinated work a bit more over the past couple of months to write this blog. My friend Katie (KrazyKatieArt.com. ) created this website as a graduation gift for me…months ago. I have been so busy finishing the thesis and making (sex)abled that I put off doing posts. I have been excited about trying out this whole blog thing ever since Katie showed it to me but I have done jack
squat, nada, zippity zilch, zero updating…until tonight. So here goes. I’m kicking Procrastination’s ass now, inspired by a healthy dose of thoughtfulness.
<—Aren’t they cute?
This is dedicated to Katie and James, who have spoiled me with their love and affection (and really really cool gifty things). With love.
I’ll write the rest of this post later…