Serenity Now

That was always one of my favorite Seinfeld episodes ... George's dad yelling that line at the top of his lungs. Serenity Now !!!!

The last month or two have had so little to do with the blog world and so much to do with life and some of the rough turns it can throw at you. I alluded to a court case which thankfully was settled today. I do not want to talk details but I can say we found ourselves confronting some of the most rigid, bitchy suburban folks that I have ever seen. It had to do with leaving the first pre-school we were in last year. It had to do with Owen's finger getting cut off there. It had to do with poor communication and pretty mean people. It came to a head today in an almost laughable conclusion that had the judge scratching his head, shrugging his shoulders and giving me a little smile. I liked the judge. I am pretty sure the people that sued us (yep, sued us) are branded forever in my mind as assholes. But at least I can unclench my jaw and know that we are done with this matter and that karma will hopefully take care of the rest.

In truth, the whole thing kept me in such a heightened state of stress that I just wanted to run. So, I did. Just a little.



I spent the weekend with my sisters in what I hope becomes an annual ritual, the kind that sisters swear to uphold despite all the layers in life. SF hosts a West African dance festival in the Fall and this was our second time making it. It is held close to Japantown where my sister scored a beautiful room at Hotel Kabuki. It was serene with a fun, diverse neighborhood just outside the door.







We could walk to the dance, we were close enough to visit this French bakery with to die for ganache tart and croissants (and chasson aux pommes .... and baguettes ... and macarons de paris ... you get the picture). We joked that if we ever won the lottery, we would rent the whole bakery for a day and eat our way through it. Heavenly.

And we danced. Danced with Masters from Africa that make your heart sing and your body want to rejoice. Drums and beautiful ringing and legs that jump and twist faster than I thought possible, smiles that stretch wider and wider the faster the movement and sound. It is such an unbelievably release and I know that my body lacks the skill to make the shapes of the dance, but my heart ... that is in the totally right place.

The weekend went too fast, we were tired a lot, we ate too much. But the main part was laughing and gossiping about people in that sisterly way that only sisters can do because it isn't bitchy when you are talking to your sisters. We did not fight. We did not cry. We just enjoyed, which was what we all needed.

And we totally scored Advent tchatchkes at the little Japanese 99 cent stores.


And could not help laughing over the totally crazy collectible imported toys. There was some nutty stuff, like little mini figures the size of a thumbnail that were titled "French cuisine dinner" and "Woodland animals". Hee hee.

No pictures of the dancing, totally against the rules to bring cameras around unless it is approved. No pictures of us because half the time we were sweaty and too tired to lift our arms to take photos.