New Zealand Photo Diary

Posted on March 13, 2014 by 4evamaria

Hello lovely readers!

I’ve had quite a doozy of a day so far. Then again, any day will seem like a doozy if it’s preceded by the following during the night:

Attacked by mosquitoes. Two flew in to my ear as I was sleeping. Have bite on my face.
A noisy, middle-of-the-night duck fight (outside my window, no less)
Loud neighbors (having a chat, outside my window)
Upstairs neighbor strikes again. In heels.

So, forgive me if I’m a little out of sorts.

Let me preface this by saying that this will be the first installment of my little photo diary. I saw so many amazing things and had such lovely experiences, the thought of relegating it to one post is incredibly daunting. So, why not many? I also have to explain myself. Some of you know that my New Zealand adventures took place in January…so why wait this long? Well, dear reader, I can attribute it to one thing: the minute I start summarizing my trip and unpacking my bags- it’s over. And I’m somewhat inexplicably clinging to that “just back from vacation” feeling as long as possible.

Why New Zealand? I’ve been wanting to visit New Zealand for the last 10 years of my life, if not more. I’ve dreamt of its summers during our winters, and imagined its beaches and rolling hills. When I was 15, I decided the ultimate revenge for misbehaving parents would be to threaten going to college to New Zealand. I had the brochures in my little hand, and would brandish them about like a weapon (If you’re curious, my school of choice was University of Cantebury in Christchurch). My dream was to literally move as far away from home as possible. But, I digress. On January 1st of this year, I grabbed my little carry-on suitcase and headed to the airport.

(My lovely little Hawaiian Airlines plane all set to take me to Oahu on the first leg of my journey.)

(I’m an aisle seat person. I also have a Dance Arts Project tank on, but you unfortunately can’t see the logo.)

I get asked a lot about the duration of the flight, and, having once spent 14 hours on a plane non-stop, my flight to New Zealand felt incredibly reasonable. I spent five hours flying to Hawaii, had a small layover, and then another eight from Oahu to Auckland. I was so excited and nervous when I arrived- having never traveled outside of the country on my own, I had concocted all sorts of worst-case scenarios that I might have to get myself out of. I’ve also heard that going through customs in New Zealand is quite the process. I walked through, almost completely alone, and somewhat confused as to where to go, because there were no crowds of people to follow. Possibly the oddest customs experience of my life. What was odder, however, was the fact that the plane was fumigated upon landing. While all the passengers sat there. Much like you would Febreeze a cabin, they sprayed us with pesticides. I don’t really want to think about the health repercussions, but if anything it was amusing. Once free of customs, I enjoyed the lovely humid night while I waited for my friends to meet me. I can’t really describe the feeling of seeing a good friend of yours skipping up to you half-way around the world. I was so utterly relieved she had found me, and we promptly bear-hugged. I would be staying with my good friend Maren, her boyfriend Aaron, and her parents on their sailboat for the next two days before we took off on our official adventures. But everything about this trip felt like an adventure to me: adventures to the bathroom, adventures to Countdown (the New Zealand grocery chain), adventures trying to find the boat among all the other boats in Half Moon Bay.

I was standing on the bow of the boat, Pacific Coast Highway, when I took this photo. I was also letting my hair air-dry, sipping some coffee and reading in the morning sun. Now it was a vacation.

The lovely Half Moon Bay in Auckland. I can now say I’ve been to two of them, in Auckland and in California!

I’m on a boat, ladies and gentlemen. And no, I did not get seasick!

After my arrival, we sailed through the Hauraki Gulf to drop anchor just outside of Rangitoto Island. Relatively undeveloped and uninhabited, you can access Rangitoto by ferry from Auckland, or, in our case, just take the dinghy in. I took a little video on my phone below of our view just outside the island. New Zealand weather is awfully temperamental, from searing hot, to overcast and cloudy; that particular day it was also incredibly windy. I apologize in advance for the shoddy camerawork, hopefully I don’t make any of you nauseous. I love that you can see all of our hiking boots all lined up post-hike, pre-beer. If you listen closely, you can also hear me contentedly humming in the background.

Tui- a local beer. Not only was it delicious, but if you looked under each bottle-cap, you would find a trivia question. We had quite a fun happy hour, to say the least. Maren’s parents make a fantastic team and were such amazing, generous hosts. Both obviously avid sailors, they are living the dream. Sailing around the world, they’re spending hurricane season in New Zealand before heading to their next location. Before New Zealand, they were in Tonga, and at one point, their rudder fell off five hours out to sea. They jerry-rigged a new steering system using plastic buckets. I still don’t know how that works. You can read more about their experience here. Crazy amazing.

Me at the top of Rangitoto! You can see the outskirts of Auckland in the background.

We hiked all the way to the top of the inactive volcano, and even stopped to explore some of the lava tubes along the way. I’ll admit that I was apprehensive crawling through narrow dark caves, but with both Maren and Aaron leading the way, I felt incredibly safe. Thanks to their bringing a headlamp, we even took some fellow tourists through the caves we explored. Now I can say that I’ve been cave spelunking! Amazing!

Well, that’s a quick recap of my first days in Auckland. I can say one thing for certain: if you get the opportunity to go to New Zealand, GO. It was the trip of a lifetime, and, even better, I made it happen along with one of my dearest friends.

That’s all for now. Off to enjoy the sunshine.

Love,

EVA♥

5 Things

Posted on March 12, 2014 by 4evamaria

Hello everyone and happy Wednesday!

Do you ever have those kind of weeks where you feel like you have so much to do, but nowhere near enough time to do them? I’m in the middle of one of those weeks right now. I am desperately trying to tie up all my loose ends well in advance, but with my plans constantly moving and changing, I find it hard to focus on just one task at a time. One thing that I so enjoy about blogging is that it forces me to focus on whatever I might be thinking or wanting to write about at the time. I try to get from beginning to end in one sitting, as often as I can. I have a horrible tendency to over-think a lot of the work that I do, so it’s very liberating to sit and “crank out” the work that I can, without too much intense scrutiny from yours truly.

With all that, let’s get to my five things of the week! I could also rename this: “Things I Saw This Weekend,” but where’s the fun in that?

(Miss Moscow Mule and Lady Greyhound had a night on the town. There may have been some disco pants involved.)

(Nothing makes a late-night walk home simultaneously more pleasant and more difficult than the smell of freshly baked donuts. Delicious.)

(It’s starting to feel like spring! Admiring the blooming tree-lined streets on my way to Alameda Beach.)

(Oh, yeah. That’s why I live here. Look at that spectacular view! Impressive even on a cloudy day.)

(Am mildly obsessed with this song cover by the lovely Lily Ahlberg. Pause it, play it…)

Love,

EVA♥

Adventures in Juggling…

Posted on March 11, 2014 by 4evamaria

Hello all!

Things have been a bit nuts in the “Watch Me Juggle” household.

My bed, as you can see, has become my work space as of late, accumulating clutter as I dash about. I captured a quick moment before running off to rehearsal, with my shoes not yet sewn, my CBEST test-prep book open, and an embarrassing collection of half-drunk water bottles strewn around. Last week, although productive, seemed to drag on forever.

First off, I took (and passed) my CBEST last Wednesday. While called the California Basic Educational Skills Test, I have to say, this exam was somewhat infuriating. I took a number of practice tests, and occasionally scored higher in the mathematics section than reading, which is astonishing for me. I found myself often over-thinking multiple choice reading comprehension questions, debating between choice “A” and “B,” because both could technically be correct, and who are we to assume to know what the author of the passage is trying to say from a stylistic standpoint?! Frustrating, to say the least. I also spent more time than necessary on my two essay questions, and in the end I liked my responses so much I’m hoping I can somehow get my hands on my writing from the test people. Test aside, now I am trying to navigate applying for a substitute teaching permit in Alameda County, which, in all honesty, I thought would be a little more straightforward. I’m incredibly lucky in that I have numerous friends that have had to jump through the same hoops (and have done so successfully) that can help me out. And there’s always Google.

Meanwhile, I’ve been dancing quite a bit, rehearsing for our upcoming show, and slapping choreography together like it’s no big thing. My life has suddenly become a mixture of sewing and gluing shoes, with a few happy hour get-togethers thrown in for good measure. I’ve managed to pick up some extra classes, and also scheduled a quick Las Vegas getaway with my girlfriends. I’ve turned down last-minute trip opportunities like this in the past, and have always regretted it. In this case, my dear friend Susie is celebrating her new-found freedom before heading off to grad school in southern California in April. It is definitely a chance to celebrate her, and I happened to find really reasonably priced tickets, so off I go! Another adventure…

Until next time,

EVA♥

Coffee Talk

Posted on March 10, 2014 by 4evamaria

Good morning everyone!

Today I write to you in the haze of a post-daylight-savings ridiculously busy weekend. I am still in my pajamas, with a face full of makeup on, and am not entirely sure at the moment as to what my life is about. But that’s just fine. How do I know it will be fine? Because I have an entire pot of coffee brewing for me as I type this. Let’s be frank: this isn’t just any old coffee. Lately, I have developed a mild obsession with the Trader Joe’s Coffee á Cocoa, which boasts not only a lovely dark-roast, but has unsweetened cocoa blended in to it as well. I’m never sure as to whether I want to drink it, or rub it on my face. In short, it’s delicious.

I deviate. Today, once I’ve had my cup of coffee, I would like to tell you all about my lifelong relationship with coffee. I mean, lifelong. “Ah,” you might think, “that explains why you were under five feet tall for such a long time.” Well, dear readers, maybe it does. I’m not here touting all of coffee’s health benefits. All I know is, long before my inexplicable love of dance came to being, there was an inexplicable love of coffee. This need for coffee at a young age has become one of my main conversation starters; not only is it amusing, but it’s often relevant in one of our most common social gathering spots: the coffeehouse. I recently met someone, who, when I began my ode to coffee, told me he no longer drank coffee. I was at a complete loss as to what to say and conversation came to a grinding halt. In the more common situations, I usually begin with this tale:

One of my most prominent memories from my very young life (around the age of two or three) consists of myself, running around at just about eye-level to my parent’s coffee table, snatching the half-drunk mugs of cold coffee the grown-ups had long abandoned. These were tepid, often cold, mostly black, and occasionally instant cups of coffee (thanks to my father’s preferences). The hyperactive little thing I was relished them, but for God-knows what reason. Fueled on the dregs of coffee, I can only imagine that I must have been a nightmare to deal with.

When I first told my mother this story, she came back at me with an even better one. Before I could even remember, just after I had learned to walk, and that the utterance of the word ‘please’ could magically get me whatever I wanted, I would cling to her in the kitchen, with my little hand out. “Please….please,” I would say as she was grinding the beans. She would oblige, giving me one. No sooner had I crunched the bean she placed in my little hands, they were out again, repeating the ritual over and over again until she had brewed all of her coffee for the morning.

Okay, this is perhaps more evidence as to why I was more of a strange, little reincarnated Mediterranean man as a child than anything, but my odd preoccupation with coffee has never gone away. It’s an odd sort-of bond. In my adult life, I have come to enjoy other elements of coffee besides the taste. I love the way it warms my hands, and would have never been able to get through an entire year of waking up and trudging to work in the dark of the night without it. Its soothing qualities have transformed it into my version of “comfort food.” It is, admittedly, my cure-all:

Feeling tired? Drink coffee.

Headache? Drink coffee.

Eat too much? Drink coffee.

Listless? Restless? Bored? Hungover? Drink coffee.

I honestly don’t know what it is. If someone was to ask me as to the things I would want to bring with me on a desert island, number one on my list would be coffee. Number two, would be dry-shampoo. As a matter-of-fact, during my first foray into camping this last January in New Zealand, I was utterly content with just that. Just ask my friends. No matter what the circumstances, you’ll be able to find me in the backseat of your car, contentedly spraying my hair, clutching my travel mug of coffee, hoping no one notices.

EVA♥

An Afternoon with SFB

Posted on March 6, 2014 by 4evamaria

Hello everyone!

(The beautiful San Francisco Opera House)

(My program, in the dark. Yes, my ticket is for standing room. Can’t beat that deal!)

(My standing room partner-in-crime, my mother, on her birthday!)

I first set out for this post to be a review of the recent San Francisco Ballet mixed bill production I had seen this last Sunday. A program in three acts that combined a little bit of everything: Kingdom of the Shades from La Bayadère for the purists, Yuri Possokov’s Firebird for those who love a visually stunning storyline, and Christopher Wheeldon’s Ghosts, for the more contemporary tastes. Days later, all I can think about is Ghosts.

When the curtain was dropped at the end of the piece, my mother and I turned to each other agape, and she exclaimed: “That was it?! I wanted it to keep going!” I felt much the same way, and even a bit of despair when the house lights came up. Undoubtedly, I would have sat through hours of Ghosts had it been longer. It was a contrast to La Bayadère in every way, from the flowing dip-dyed dresses, to the metamorphic set, to the eerie rolling music. It’s temperamentality fascinated me, as did the looming sculpture suspended above the dancers. What was it? The wreckage of a plane, a haunted ship, the ruins of an old building; it could have been anything! I believe this was entirely the point. Like finding shapes in a cloud, we see what we want to see in this ballet.

Without a doubt, dancer-turned-choreographer in residence for the New York City Ballet at the early age of 27, Wheeldon has a flair for harnessing the metamorphic nature of choreography. From the initial process of creating a ballet, to the As Cheryl A. Ossola eloquently put it in the program, Ghosts is Wheeldon’s sixth commission for San Francisco Ballet and full to the brim with “rich […] imagery and connotations.” She describes it as being highly influenced by the poetry of Edgar Allen Poe, all thematically haunting, which Wheeldon used to “create an atmosphere of a mass gathering of souls, such as might occur after a tragedy. ‘It’s more like perfume than a heavy sort of ghost story,’ he says.” Despite Ghosts reveling in the ethereal, the movement is incredibly human; the dancers audibly gasping for air, reaching out for one another, and curling around each other on the floor. The piece went from short well-lit bursts of solos, to suddenly dark, foreboding multitudes of dancers. It never slowed entirely- it’s sections blending effortlessly together up until the moment the curtain comes down over the still moving dancers. In short, this ballet made me a huge fan of Wheeldon’s work. He has won my steady affection, as it were.

“What’s so great about his work?” you might ask. Well, in an effort to locate (and watch on repeat) sections of Ghosts, I turned to the good-old Youtube. While unfortunately not finding concrete clips of the ballet itself (you can see a preview here, however), I stumbled upon a wealth of interviews and rehearsal footage of Wheeldon and the dancers. Give them a watch and you tell me.

Until next time,

EVA♥

Things Eva’s a fan of….

Posted on March 6, 2014 by 4evamaria

Hello everyone!

Today’s post is exactly what it sounds…a little bit about me! I’m not as big on lists as many of my friends, but I thought I’d try my had at them for a bit of fun today. While sitting at Rouge et Blanc in downtown SF one afternoon, I came up with a list of my likes and dislikes, all random, but aimed to make them a tad more sensory oriented than most. Quite honestly, don’t ask me to explain, because most of the things on my list are inexplicable- they’re just things I’m drawn to (or quite the opposite) naturally.

Things I Am a Fan of:

Leopard print. Stripes. Polka dots. Separate or together
Champagne. Anytime.
Rainbow sprinkles. On anything
The smell of books
The sound of ice rattling in a plastic cup
Flannel shirts
People watching
The smell of freshly ground coffee
Stretching/sweating
Snapping my gum

Things I Am Not a Fan of:

The last sip of beer
Hypocrisy (but really, who likes this?)
Walking slowly
Timid handshakes
Men in flip flops
Too-big diamonds (gum ball machine jewelery, anyone?)
Being overdressed
Stiff hair
Chalk
Overhead lighting

Happy Friday, all. I’m off to dance!

EVA♥

5 Things Wednesday

Posted on March 5, 2014 by 4evamaria

Guess what day it is?

It’s Wednesday everyone. It’s also CBEST test day- wish me luck! I hard the hardest time reaching back into my elementary school math for some of the topics covered on the dang test. I confessed to my students the other day that my mathematical skills now consist of determining how much the shoes are now that they’re 25% off, and how much I should tip the waiter. And, of course, counting to eight.

Without further ado, here are my five things of the week:

(I am amazed that no one at Target gave me a strange look when purchasing 10 pairs of Easter Bunny ears along with my makeup remover. They must get a lot of teachers. Wonderland wouldn’t be complete without baby bunnies. )

(My Suffolk Spotlights. Hands down my new favorite shoes, especially since I managed to stitch them so beautifully in just 15 minutes before rehearsal. I’ve certainly come a long way with my sewing.)

(Two things in one: Earrings & Sunglasses)

Okay, everyone. I don’t want to hear it, I am aware that I look like a fabulous bug. I decided to jump on the fancy-reflective-aviator bandwagon. They’re just so darn fun. On another note, my mother gifted me the pair of earrings I’m wearing in the picture saying: “These make me look stupid and I feel conspicuous in them. Take them. Happy Valentines Day.” Gee, thanks Mom. I do love them, despite the wonderful sales pitch.

(A new favorite evening snack: tiny Haribo gummy bears.)

Please forgive the awful yellow lighting and drab background. It’s difficult to take a decent picture late at night at a Bart station….on your phone.

Thanks for stopping by!

EVA♥

Letters to Everything

Posted on March 4, 2014 by 4evamaria

Dear Upstairs Neighbor,

Must you wear heels while vacuuming? I have no idea what’s going on in your apartment, but I doubt this is necessary. It’ s 9am on a Tuesday.

Dear local high school,

Do you have a radar of some sort? Do you somehow know when I need to go out for groceries and then have events? I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to come back to my house and not find any parking within a three block radius. Especially when carrying groceries. In a broken bag. In the dark. Don’t even get me started about your band room being right next to my building.

Dear Covered CA,

Thank you for providing a young, self-employed person healthcare. I love you so much. Except you think my social security number doesn’t exist. And you won’t stop sending me nonsense letters. Also, maybe you should let my provider know that I have insurance through you guys. They seem to think I don’t, despite sending me a new card and everything…? Please stop being difficult.

Dear Spotify,

Will you quit interrupting my songs with ads?! It’s really rude, and really hard to concentrate on whatever I’m doing when you’re pinging me with 30 second ads every two minutes. Rude. Also, do you not consider that since I am currently using your app to listen to music, maybe you don’t need to advertise Spotify? I’ve clearly figured this out already, and perhaps this isn’t the best use of your resources.

Dear woman across from me at the coffee shop,

I understand that this establishment has comfortable couches. I enjoy them. What I do not enjoy is seeing you with your knees sprawled 3 feet apart as you type on your laptop. You are not at home. And for your sake, I hope you do not have roommates that you subject to this behavior. If this is in fact a clever scheme to monopolize an entire couch, it is working well and I applaud you.

Dear espresso,

I love you so much. Will you marry me?

P.S. Coffee can come to the wedding too, if that’s not weird for him.

Dear dishes in my sink,

Do you multiply every time my back is turned? And forks, how do you all manage to go down my drain at once? It’s quite frightening when I turn on the garbage disposal and you somehow manage to launch dishes out at me? I don’t think we understand each other and suggest we do some sort of third-party counseling. As in, maybe I call someone in here to just wash all of you? All the time.

Dear Beyoncé,

How do you manage to spin your hair around and dance like that simultaneously? Every time I attempt this, I fall over. I could use your expertise right about now, because I think it is imperative that I have some of your moves in my arsenal.

Sincerely,

EVA ♥

Celebrating 20 Years and One Month

Posted on March 3, 2014 by 4evamaria

Hello ladies and gentlemen!

This last weekend has been so hectic, today feels oddly like a Sunday. I’ve gotten all my necessary cleaning and errands done, and finally managed to have a bit of time free to write a recap of the last two days. In short, it was filled with ballet.

Saturday was ultimately a “work day.” I use captions here because, having worked in an oppressive corporate office for one year, my Saturday workday can be qualified as the least work-like day ever. I began my day teaching the little ones (as usual), and followed this with a quick run to San Francisco Dancewear in the East Bay to pick of a pair of pointe shoes that I had ordered. I then returned home to get ready for the highly anticipated Smuin Ballet 20th Anniversary Gala. 20 years! And I get to work for them! (On a sidenote: this is a ballet company I clearly admire above others, so I was beyond thrilled to be a part of their big anniversary gala). Held at the San Francisco Design Center, and boasting a beautiful set up, I arrived just in time to catch a bit of the dancers rehearsing prior to the official start time. I primarily assisted in getting the 300+ attendees registered and set up for the silent auction. It was fairly straightforward and some of the best people watching of the night, which honestly distracted me at times. For the most part, everyone was beautifully and impeccably dressed. But, I must say that blue eyeshadow and glitter eyeliner does not and should not fly after the age of 11, and is never black tie appropriate. Aside from that faux pas, I saw some gorgeous Valentino and Alexander McQueen little numbers. I admired a woman who had let her waist length hair go naturally silver, topped it with a black fascinator and delicately beaded cap-sleeve bolero. I want to be as stylish as her when I’m older.

Following the silent auction, there was a performance featuring a little bit of everything Michael Smuin, dinner was served, a live auction was held, and the night ended with the live band playing and an open dance floor. The evening meal was provided by McCalls Catering and consisted of a spring pea gazpacho and ceviche starter; braised short ribs on a bed of barley risotto; and a little flourless chocolate cake-thing topped with raspberry sorbetto and chili sauce. I tell you all this because it was delicious. I had to dash out early to meet a friend in another part of town, but the whole evening was so lovely.

The front desk, a view of the main stage, and Allen, the boss man. He’s officially the Patron Services Manager, but more friend than anything. I considered it part of my duty to provide him hugs when it looked like he was too stressed. He in turn insisted that I drink additional glasses of wine when I was done working. A good boss.

The view from my workstation. (My apologies for the awful computer glare)

Let me preface this by saying these did not both belong to me, and yes, this is still my workstation. Alternately: this is how everyone’s desk should look at the end of a successful day at the office.

Some of the fabulous auction prizes: Shannon Hurlburt’s tap shoes, a signed Smuin Ballet sweatshirt, the now Artistic Director’s signed pointe shoes, and copious fine bottles of wine.

The radiant Erin Yarbrough and Josh Reynolds performing a pas de deux from “Frankie and Johnny;” making it look easy. This was one of my very favorites. I’m also going to take this moment to say that she trained me. That lovely lady right there. I know her, and am a big fan.

You know you’re at a fancy event when the bathroom sinks are filled with gardenias. It smelled amazing, but I believe everyone felt guilty running the tap over these delicate things.

What I wore! In the bathroom! There never seemed an appropriate time to ask anyone to take a picture, so I snuck a quick one in. I insist on being fully independent, so you get to look at my phone in every picture that I take of myself. Sorry!

Illuminated tulips served as the centerpieces to every table- very unique.

This was all just one evening; my Sunday consisted of some additional celebrations, namely my mother’s birthday and our attending a San Francisco Ballet matinee together. I promise I will elaborate later on this week. I would also like to take a moment and acknowledge my 50th post on Watch Me Juggle! I blogged every single weekday of February, and with this post, I’ve finally made it to number 50. It seems like no time at all, and I fully intend on continuing to post everyday! Thank you all for reading up to this point, and thank you for all your wonderful support. I would have never thought that I could write about my life and have so many people appreciate it. It’s really a great feeling.

Lots of love, from me,

EVA♥

That Time I Met David Sedaris

Posted on February 28, 2014 by 4evamaria

Hello all!

Today has been rather eventful. I write to you after trudging back from our local Big-O Tires, where my poor Charlie is getting a flat repaired (I will go more in to the merits of naming your car at a later date). If you are ever in a jam, those guys at Big-O Alameda are fantastic, just to let you know. Luckily I avoided the rain and managed to grab a latte to keep me company on the walk home.

As many of you already know, I adore the work of David Sedaris. When I was around 18 or so, I happened to absent-mindedly pick up one of his books at a bookstore, and have since accumulated as much of his writing as I could possibly get my hands on. I wasn’t much of a memoir or short story reader before coming across Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, but something about that book changed my mind. It had never occurred to me that you could become a best-selling author by simply writing your own anecdotal essays, or that people would read and appreciate them. Mr. Sedaris himself is quite the character, yet not in the overt way you might think. If one looks at his career path, he ultimately is an artist turned Macy’s Elf, turned house-cleaner, turned award-winning writer. He owes a large chunk of his success to Ira Glass, who first had his Santaland Diaries read on NPR’s Morning Edition. He is a self-described “junk man,” taking ordinary, admittedly self-deprecating, stories and transforming them into works that almost anyone can appreciate. I’ve been able to identify with his work more times than I can count. When my childhood pet of 21 years passed, I remember dejectedly sitting in my car reading one of his books, and coming across a story recounting his having to put a beloved cat down. There’s a great sense of comfort in realizing a grown man can relate to your blubbering sorrow over the loss of your elderly cat. To this day, I am an unwavering fan.

Which brings me to the story of the day I got to meet him. I was in my junior year in college, and had come across a notice in the school “Arts and Lectures” brochure advertising a reading with David Sedaris at the Arlington Theater in downtown Santa Barbara. I went along with a fellow dancer, who also happened to be an English major and appreciated David Sedaris’ wit as much as I did. Reading to a completely sold out theater, his reading prompted more laughs than most stand-up comedy shows. The nut/fan that I am, I was pleased to see some of the stories he read that night published in his most recent book Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls. I waited in line for over an hour to have him sign my book, and was ridiculously starstruck when I found myself face-to-face with him. Should I play the adoring fan? No, too obvious. Should I regale him with stories of my own, or perhaps tell him of something as random as Engrish.com, in a nod to his Japanese adventures in When You Are Engulfed in Flames? I wish I had been that quick-witted. I let my friends chit-chat with him, interjecting occasionally, nothing special. He signed my book with the cryptic message pictured above. The book itself has since become a treasured possession, but as to the writing inside: WHAT DOES IT MEAN?! Everyone I shared it with had their own answers, and I think that was his entire point. Is it because diabetes stereotypically is linked with an over-indulgence in sugar? Are lovers sweet? Is it advice? Or is it a line from a poem? Who knows? It could be anything.

When Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls came out, I leapt at the connection.

“Diabetes! It says diabetes! Like he wrote in my book! There has to be something to that!”

He goes on to explain the logic in one of his essays. He plays with words, and what his thought process was for writing that in my book, I guess I’ll never truly know. But it’s good to think about. Because I can.

TGIF everyone,

EVA♥