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Last night Cooper and I took a trip around the world on Google Earth.  It was amazing.  I almost had moments of motion sickness from all the traveling.  We even stopped in London and had baked beans for breakfast!

 

 

 

Question:  Are 3 liter bottles of wine currently a trendy thing, or now that I have purchased one am I suddenly attracted to the big kahunas?  I bought the above bottle as my brother’s wedding gift (along with 2 wine glasses which are designed to fit an entire bottle of wine per glass….totally my brother). Next to the 3 liter bottle is a magnum bottle of Dom Perignon.  Next to the Dom Perignon is the forever cheap favorite Charles Shaw.  The Dom Perignon bottle serves as a memory which leads me to tell a great story:

It was at the holiday party 2005, atop the Starlight Room in San Francisco.  It was a beautiful clear night with 180 degree views of the city.  People came and went way too quickly for our offices to go through the tab that we had at the bar.  So, what do you do when you have over a $1500 non refundable tab and only a dozen or so people around?  Have a swanky champagne ordering contest of course!  The table across from us ordered a $200 bottle of champagne…silly friends.  We took their $200 bottle and trumped them with a $450 bottle of Cristal.  Our young waitress sashayed to our table in her extravagant evening gown and said we could order that bottle as long as she could have a sip (she had never had Cristal herself).  Twenty minutes later she returned to report that their cellar was out of Cristal.  Ok, then…back to the drink list and on to a more expensive $500 Magnum bottle of Dom Perignon (which also meant back to the cellar for another 20 minutes).  At this point our competition table was nearing the end of their bottle, so the thrill of outdoing their measly little bottle was dying.  While waiting for our bottle of Dom to chill (another 20 minutes) we calculated how much more we “needed” to spend which then required ordering expensive aged glasses of grappa, port, cognac, etc.  Then came time for the Dom.  Our pretty little waitress began to pop the cork and while doing so she started to tell a story, but before we knew it mass chaos broke out.  The cork popped and hit a guy standing behind the waitress in the eye.  Champagne sprayed everywhere (most of which also covered the guys behind the waitress).  The magnum bottle was on the floor…spilling expensive champagne everywhere.  We ended up with an inch left of the bubbly and expensive gold liquid.  The poor waitress was devastated and ran off crying while her manager rounded the corner with fire in his eyes.  He offered us two smaller, younger, and probably cheaper bottles of Dom Perignon to enjoy instead (which we again had to chill for another 20 minutes) and we pleaded for him not to fire the pretty young waitress.  The competition table was long gone.  We sipped the Dom Perignon and relived the night of absolute chaos and frivolousness.  The one thing I learned out of the entire event: Dom Perignon doesn’t taste any better than a few cheap bottles of champagne from Costo.

 

Finney

I love this dog. 

I want a dog.

If I could have a dog I might name him George.

I wouldn’t dress my dog in clothes (unless it was Halloween)

But I would bake biscuits for my dog

Dogs are the one of the top two companions in the world

I like painting dogs (on a canvas, not on the dog)

I don’t mind smelling like a dog (after having been around one)

I like it when dogs lean on people

I wish I could have a dog

 

 

 

big plant little plant

My favorite word of the week: credenza.  Yesterday someone told an office mate to put some files in the credenza.  The office mate said, sure!  Then he looked at me and said somewhat quietly, “Ali, what or where is the credenza?”  I look at him and just started laughing because I had no idea and no one in our office knew what a credenza was.  As always, this brings back childhood memories…My grandmother calls a couch a davenport.  For many years I thought a davenport was a porch.  So, when she would invite me to go sit with her on the davenport I would always run to the back porch.  It took many years and lots of moments sitting on the porch by myself to realize what a davenport really was.  Silly little Assi.

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While walking around in downtown Berkeley, I have seen the following items more often than not:

1.) Pieces of hair extensions

2.) Puddles of water that are not puddles of water.

3.) Mass amounts of spit

3.) Chicken wing bones. Lots and lots of partially eaten chicken wing bones.

I saw a great thing last night: a man going to town on his harmonica while stopped at a stop sign.  Although ukuleles, steel drums, banjos, and bagpipes might be a few of my current favorite musical instruments, harmonicas also have a special place in my heart. I wish more people would rock out on harmonicas. 

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Although somewhat voyeuristic…I absolutely love walking at night because I get to see what people are doing in their brightly lit homes.  With apartments piled on top of one another in the bay area…I have such a huge array of windows to look into!  Just to be clear, I don’t sneak up to a place and stalkingly watch what the inhabitants are doing…no, no. I simply like meandering through the streets and (from a good distance) take a quick glance.  Some people eat together (at dinner tables!), one gal sits at her computer in the corner window of her apartment, a student or two practice their violin, others watch TV.  I love to see how people “make their nests”…some are organized, some are cluttered.  Some are dark, some are light.  Some look cozy and inviting, others are formal and elegant or simple and plain.  Maybe that is what I like house hunting shows or apartment hunting…I like to see how others live. 

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Just a moment ago I had one of those laughs where you are not sure if you are still laughing, or if your laugh has turned into a cry and you now can’ t control your emotions.  I was explaining at work the difficulties that I have with my brain: while in basketball practice my coach was holding a ball and he asked me to hit it.  Rather than slap the ball with my little white hand, I physically ran into the coach (thinking he meant hit him and the ball).  Or how’s about when my knee doctor asked me where my knee hurt and my response was “In the kitchen.”  Yes, things are so hard to understand. 

I have two problems:

1.) I think I need a voice change.  Last night my office went out for drinks at a fairly loud bar.  Actually, it was a Monday night so it was a pretty tame evening. But even so, no one can hear me when I talk in loud crowds.  I know people have a hard time hearing in nearly any noisy environment, but for some reason my voice is always particularly hard to hear.  Perhaps I produce the sort of sound that only dogs can hear (like those silent whistles).  Such a situation seems to cut me off a bit in social environments.  It is kind of like when people age and can’t hear…they either talk too much and dominate the conversation, or don’t talk at all because they can’t hear what the rest of the party is discussing.   In my case, I turn into a mute.  Maybe I should take voice lessons from actor extraordinaire, Jeff Meanza.

2.) It is so hard to be a girl at times.  I am currently lusting over a pair of boots which I do not need at all and probably would rarely wear.  I really love these but they are wayyyyyyyyyyyyyy too expensive.  I also kind of like these.

Oh man, it is so hard to live a creative life when you sit behind a computer for 987987298375293 hours out of your day, then come home without enough time (or energy) to get invested in something artsy.  It is way too common for me to get overly excited about a project that I will start it on a weekend…but when my work week starts up again I get down right distracted and all my creative enthusiasm then dwindles into a sorry state. I clean up my mess and put my half started project away.  Case in point, the following onesie screen prints:

I had an absolute heyday creating images to screen print on little baby clothes, but once my job took over…all the screen printing products went away into a crate in the far corners of our closet under piles of crap.  Perhaps I need to learn how to balance my life a bit better.  This journal is great because it forces my little brain to start thinking in a bit more of a creative “appreciate the joys of everyday” sort of way, but I think I need to lock myself in a studio for approximately 2-3 weeks to figure things out.  I might go insane, but maybe it would be a good sort of insanity…I don’t know.

And old, but favorite site of all time (courtesy of my big bro). If you are ever bored and want to find out what sort of dog you might be in the next life….check this link out.  Last time I did it I was a Portuguese water dog.

*****

My weekend was sweet and simple…
 
Cooper assisted another photographer at a wedding on Saturday so I did my good ‘ol wholesome Assi things (ate Assi foods, watched girlie Assi movies, started reading a book on how to invest, etc).  I realized during my time to myself that I need to make more goals in life.  If anyone has a suggestion or a list of your own, I might need it for inspiration.  So far, my list includes (in no particular order): skydiving.

Yup, I need some goal making inspiration.  HELP!! (I am serious).

Sunday we went to the Thai Temple…a cultish thing to do in Berkeley on Sundays.  The people who go to the brunch are very Berkeley-esque and the community aspect of the outdoor seating forces all the interesting characters to mix together in some odd way.  Love it.

homemade pickles 

I secretly (or maybe not so secretly) really enjoy pickles.  There is something about the crunchiness and the saltiness that really pleases my palate.  As a kid I would always get a kids hamburger meal at McDonalds with “just pickles.”  My brother Nathan doesn’t like pickles. Cooper doesn’t like pickles.  My mom likes pickles…maybe that is where I get it.  Yes, I thoroughly enjoy them.  If you ever get a sandwich and don’t want the pickle on the side…I will eat it! Thus, I take this moment to salute the pickle. 

***** 

Last night was a bit lame (and I feel like a doofus).  Two of the remaining gals from an office in Palo Alto had planned drinks after their last day at work…not a lot of people were on the evite list so I knew it wasn’t going to be a big deal, but because I had talked to one of the girls about meeting up to get drinks, I assumed that they were still planning on doing something and I felt like I should say my goodbyes.  After confirming with one of the gals a few hours before we were to meet, Cooper and I made the trek which was far enough away that it wasn’t too bad, but time consuming enough that it ate up a good portion of the night (all while Cooper really needed to be working on some albums).  We got there about 20 minutes late, but that wasn’t a big deal because the rest of the party had not yet arrived.  We ordered some delectable beer and decided to wait a little while longer.  We waited, and waited.  Our stomachs began to talk louder than my little voice can carry.  Finally after about an hour we decided to get a table and eat dinner.  To make a long story semi short…they never showed.  Not a single soul who was invited showed.  Wahh wahhhh wahhhhhhhh.  Cooper and I ended up having a really good time together (thank goodness he was there with me!), but I did feel a little foolish. I felt like I did when I was in elementary school and my friend had a costume birthday party…everyone else was dressed in elaborate costumes, but I forgot and was wearing just my silly little white sweat pants and white sweat shirt (probably with jelly shoes tied with florescent colored shoestrings).  Yup, it was a lame night.

***** 

In the words of my one and only favorite niece, Amelia: “Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi.”

Amelia’s lunch hour 10.20.2006
 

Papa Beckord  10.20.2006

Who would have thunk it…Alferd Packer the Musical! Not only was I unaware that the life of the notorious Colorado cannibal was material enough to make a musical out of, but his name is Alferd…not Alfred.  I learned a lot today, Mom.

While home in Colorado, I had visions of my dad and brothers becoming an Alferd Packer scenario of their own (without the music)…while the girls played, the boys hunted.  My dad and brothers are by no means hunting specialists, and in their conversations the night before they started their trek…it sounded like potentially a bad idea for the three of them to prance around in the woods with guns.  I am not a gun lover and I am not a “hunting as a hobby” lover, but to each their own.  Luckily they all came back without eating one another, but my big little brother (younger than me, but larger than all the guys in our family) had the most horrific experience.  Towards the end of his day, after departing from my dad and other brother, he shot a deer in the rear with his last bullet.  Being the compassionate guy he is…he decided he couldn’t leave the deer to suffer, so he continued to follow it until the poor thing couldn’t go any further (the deer, not my brother).  He then pulled out his trusty little pocket knife and had a moment I would not like to discuss.  Brian left the deer in the woods (dehydration and fatigue prevented him from lugging the 150 lb animal 2938579237 miles through the woods).  I can’t imagine what my little brother had to go through, but I think it was a sign that he has the guts and to become a doctor.  Once the boys returned with their loot…we went out to a steakhouse.

In other news, Cooper and I shot our first traditional Jewish wedding this past weekend at a hotel in San Francisco.  I wish that all weddings required the guests to link arms and circle around for a half hour…much better than dancing to “Shout” or “Baby Got Back” or the “Electric Slid” (although these are also enjoyable, just not as enjoyable as the hora). The best moment…trapping Cooper in the middle of the circle.