A day at the MET opera

I am backtracking a bit with this story ...

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The one before last Saturday I took Geoff to the opera for his birthday! I knew I was going to be out of order after my operation, so we decided to celebrate a week earlier!

I never used to like going to the opera at home, but here, in New York it's different!

I feel such an intellectual just by going/being there!
Of course, I like the whole nine yards of dressing up in a beautiful gown/dress (Have I mentioned in previous posts that I was a princes???), hailing a cab, being dropped off right in front of the Lincoln Center, listen to an aria after which someone shouts out "Bravo" "Bravo" ... ooh I am getting chills just thinking about this grandiose scene ... following a romantic dinner for two in some cozy Manhattan hide away mom-pop restaurant.

Doesn't it sound so magnificent? The Metropolitan Opera ... oh wow ....

Maybe I just like it, because I could never imagine myself in this situation when I was small. Growing up it was more like this: wear the one dress designated for holidays (Christmas, Easter, Birthdays and the day of the communist workers, May 1st!), wait in front of the village mayor's office for the bus, cram into the vehicle with 40 other theater goers, travel for an hour either to Gyor (Hungary) or Bratislava (Slovakia) and eventually take a seat in a nose bleed / oxygen mask row all the way at the back. Sit through the performance and on the way home munch on the pre-made sandwiches!

I am glad to realize, that according to all signs my life standards have been raised! The nose bleed/oxygen mask row remains!

There was a gala show at the MET with Placido Domingo singing and many other stars of the opera world that I have no clue about (judging by the audience one has to reach the age minimum of 90 to be a hard core opera fan). The ticket said that "we're" celebrating "Mr. Volpe" - I was persuaded that he was some mega opera celebrity and that he'll sing his heart out for my Geoffrey's b-day ... just to find out that he was the MET's retiring manager of 10 years (?). No talent there! The guy was a carpenter and only sings in a shower!

The event started at 5:30, our dinner reservations were for 10:15 PM - I was confident that almost 5 hours in between should give us ample of time to hike down to our favorite restaurant, Suba. After listening to 3 hours of arias in Spanish, German and English I wasn't so sure about the previous statement.

Placido (is that his first or last name?) was amazing! His voice fills the space to the extent that we had goosebumps every time he opened his mouth and kept it open for more than 30 seconds.

Intermission: We run for the concessions stand, because even Figaro Figaro Figaro sucks when your stomach sings along in a foreign tongue ....

.... two lines ahead ....
wait for 15 minutes on one
ask for a BIG saaandwich and
we're told "The food is sold on the next line"
- irritated we move one-step right ..
wait
wait
wait ...
... ask for a BIG BIIIG sandwich ---> They're out!
When I pin the barman against the wall with my question
"How is it possible that you have a full house and 20 minutes into the intermission you're out?"
(I throw a mean face)
"I don't know! Why don't you complain to Mr. Volpe"
(There you go b%$tch!) ... he hands me the last brownie ...

Content with a coke and brownie down my digestive system I head for the ladies room -well, I was just going to head for the ladies room, because the line snakes around the bar, the staircase, the elevators and while there is no line in front of the men's bathroom (surprise, surprise!) the women's (even though it's located on the opposite side of the floor) ends right at the men's peepeepoopoo door!

Geoff joins me for a celebratory birthday queuing on the line for 10 minutes until we reach a "ladies only" territory and he waves good-bye!

I walk out of the stall, wash my hands and look at my shortest-hair-boy-image ... just contemplating whether to re-apply another layer of lipstick or not bother
"I look beautiful without" .. no need for additional make-up! .... when this AsianLookingByaPlasticSurgeonDefinition elderly lady looks at me and says
"Oh, dear your hair looks just fiiiine" and with that she gives me a stupid, stupid grin ...
... like I have no business standing in front of the mirror because I have no hair ...

(WHAAAAT?)
("You" horrible old whitch!)

I thank her for the compliment with a smile and step right in front of her ... apply my blueberry lipstick followed by lip gloss, tap tap on a piece of paper ... head tall I walk out ...

(I wished I was wearing the t-shirt that one my Boobee friend's husband had made for her "I may be bald, but you're fat and ugly! (And have Chinese eyes not by default I should add ... )"

You already know that I like opera, but holly shiiit 5 hours of it?

We left!

Stomach still singing in soprano we got to Suba.

The restaurant is below the ground and it sits on water, which runs underneath the seating and by the side of the walls. I am a multi-tasker and so while discussing the evening I was flipping my sandal on my foot, flip-flop and at one flop my red sandal flipped and was taken by the stream of water floating by the couple behind us munching on their arugula salad. ~~~~~Flip ~~~~~~ Flop~~~~~~~~

I then discreetly grabbed our Mel Gibbson look alike waiter and told him what happened ... The manager non-chalantly walked over, poked a hook into the water and handed me my soaking Carlos Santana shoe wrapped in a cloth napkin ..

The End.

P.S. Mr. Volpe what's up with those sandwiches? You shouldda bean fired ;)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Happy b-day tooo youuu happy b-daaay too youuuu happy bbb--daaayyy .. to my CHIEF cheerleader in charge! :)HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

P.S. So, I tell Geoff to look at my blog because I posted something ... he looks at it .. laughs .. gives me a kiss .. apparently "I am cute" .. then changes his face expressions while putting his notebook on his lap, looks at me with a strange questioning kind of raised eyebrows and says "SO, you tell people never to check your blog again and then you post my picture?!" ...

Ihihi ... I guess I just have to carry on writing so I don't hurt his feelings .. Don't ever take me seriously again! I have a double personality :)(the post-cancer bitter Elvi and the pre-cancer happy go lucky attention seeking energizer bunny leftover Elvi).

I started writing a blog entry about my operation in word ... got bored after just a few minutes .. I wasn't writing with the usual zest and energy and there was no reason to look forward to watch the "publish" button turn the computer screen to my life ... There is just something exciting about writing blog entries ...

My last post ...

Thank you all for your "ovewhelming amount of good wishes" in my last post about my today's operation!

I am still alive - achey and not too great, but recovering and this shall also pass in a few weeks hopefully for better!

I wil not be writing here any longer! I feel a little deserted by all, who read my page and would not bother wishing me well. - It takes a few seconds to post a comment even if annonymously, right? Quite honestly, I am sick and tired of hearing that "People do not know how to react" - such a lame excuse! Just say "you" wish me luck and leave it at that ... so easy yet it means so much!

If there is one thing I learned in life is that sometimes not taking action is often more hurtful than just sitting back in your chair and feeling sorry for the other ...

And, with that good-bye blog, good-bye all! I will probably write somewhere else - this time anonymously just for myself and noone else :)

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Here: You can check out my Boobee friends interviewed on CBS Jenna and Steph:
http://wcbstv.com/video/
Search: Roz Abrams reports: Conquering Breast Cancer (May 23rd, 2006)
....................

Penguins' steps ahead

Life is great!

I am becoming a bit obsessed with tango - that is good news, no? Just a couple of months ago I was obsessed with cancer, now I switched to tango.

Despite of my last week's downfall when Will, my teacher told me I walked like a penguin in front of the whole class I did not give up! Mind you, he did not just say I walked like this arctic mammal without pointing at me or without remembering my name, NO! He said it out clear and loud in front of about 20 people "Elvi, you walk like a penguin!" (I looked around like there were 15 Elvi's in the class) ... If that's not an encouragement for a student in a dance class I don't know what is? Maybe if he had said I not only walk like a penguin, but also dance and look like
one???

Anyway, I did not let it get to me! I came back the following week, said "Hello" to Will and when he admitted he had forgotten my name, I said I was "Penguin!" ... Obviously, he did not understand (I guess he does not use "Penguin" on a regular basis) He gave me this puzzled look like I went crazy and said "Why is that your name?" ... and I answered in one single breath "Wellbecauseyougaveittomeandbydoingsoyouspoiledmyentirewee-
kandsoInowhavenoselfconfidenceleftandyoubettercompliment-
meonmydancingtodaytomakeituptome!!!!"

Visibly, somewhat embarrassed Will took my hand and danced about three songs with me - that never happens! I am normally stuck with some mouth-stinking-two-left-leg.

Anyway ... after the penguin incident I have been getting only and only good male reviews and so my ego now is so big with tango that I am ready to switch professions! I went on Friday to a class followed by a milonga (a tango disco) and satisfied most of my partners. Apparently "I was their best partner yet" another one asked "What are you doing in this class? You must be a professional!" (That’s when I almost kicked him in his crotch as I was swinging my legs around) ... and yet another male said "You'll make your momma proud one day!”... WOW ... WOW WOW ...

There were a few uncomfortable moments during the night ... one of them was created by the old man who thought he was the dance floor's Tiger and squeezed me so tight I could barely stretch out my legs backwards (in Tango women walk almost always backwards) ... of course the teacher came right over to correct my moves ...

I love dancing not only because it is beautiful and fun, but because the non-verbal communication between the man and the woman dancing is just such an interesting phenomenon! Like when he is trying to push his chest against mine so hard that it's more than uncomfortable, so I try to push away ... while wondering what kind of a music he is hearing because according to my ears he is completely off the beat... of course though he is leading the dance so I, in an awkwardly manner try to slow him down first just gently by a force of a hand and when I do not succeed I rip my body away from the deaf sinner who just killed the joy of dance ...

I also danced with Mr. Shorty.. He is a surprisingly good dancer, (I've had him before). He reaches up about the under wire of my bra, even hears the tunes and I would not mind dancing with him at all, HOWEVER! This teacher, that we had on Friday decided to practice the close embrace... meaning ... you have to lean completely against the guy without holding (just for the practice round) ... Having to lean against my love or some attractive 5.10 hunk would not be a problem, but looking at Mr. Shorty I was terrified ... Imagine ... Me with 5.8 height, add heels about 3.5 + the fact that I don't dance feet flat on the ground and you can calculate the extensiveness of the disaster. I am not sure what happened ... I think I just ignored the entire block of instructions and told him I wanted to practice some other step instead ... (I am sneaky like that :)

Then there was Mr. Russia - same height, but no experience dancing! I was even questioning whether he learned walking! Now, in tango you supposed to slide on the floor and move with still shoulders... not this guy! ... His every single step was like he was jumping across a puddle of water while his body rocked right and left as the boat in the movie "The Perfect Storm". I was getting seasick just by looking at him, so I asked him nicely to just try walking ... don't f(*(in' rock! walk walk walk! Sposibo tovaris! I am thankful that a song is only 4-5 minutes long!

Guys who dance tango on a certain level, on the other hand are not your regular men that are happy that they did not step on your feet. Here is for example
Mr. Latino ... We just learned a new step and here I am trying to my best abilities not to repeat the penguin walk when he starts rolling his eyes and in broken English, looking down at me like I was some servant of his says "You are doin' it wrong" ... WOW ... I've never seen this!!! I mean, I never EVER experienced anything even similar to this! A man with an attitude on the dance floor bigger than mine!!! Sissy! He should have lead me to do the trick! He is the faulty!!!

OK ... ok .. I'll shut up about tango ...

Here is some post-cancer stuff: I am having my operation on Wednesday! Cross your fingers everyone again!

PS2: Jennifer is being adopted! She is flying to Albania to befriend some other lady with BC! I'll report about her new home when I know more!

Naked

I woke up this morning with a strong urge to get rid of Jennifer. Lately, I've been so uncomfortable wearing her, because she looks awful!

I completely neglected her - never took her for maintenance; washed only when it was really necessary and basically threw her $700 Highness wherever I felt like it.

This morning, I looked at the poor thing again and decided to stop the torture and let her go, live alone on a wig stand and maybe give her up eventually for maintenance and then to someone else in my situation, who will appreciate her better.

I stood in a mirror admiring and detesting myself by every other second. The earrings I bought the other day came handy, found a necklace to match and clothes that reminded more of men than the girlie girl, who I normally am.

I am wondering whether it took more courage to walk into the operating room on Sept. 16th of 2005 or walk out this morning and show my face to the world.

The guy at the lobby did not notice me, the doorman's jaws dropped visibly, Oli applauded my new look and style at work, random people stared, some individuals I know would not even comment (like there was no difference ... ha-ha), some searched for words in surprise and another lady from the building exclaimed "Ooohh wow .. what a great idea! I should cut mine for the summer like you did!”

It feels weird - life is weird ... The strangest things happen.

Last year, the day before my surgery I walked into a boutique on Lexington Avenue and the shop owner approached me with a wide smile, asking me if I wanted to be part of his modeling show for an upcoming event.

I've been walking around that store and living, breathing New York City air for the past 10 years - I never got approached with such a request.... when did it had to happen? A day before they took my booby away! (Uff there goes my modeling career :)

So, keep the thought of the weird way life works .... I am walking down 3rd Avenue today ... Who do I meet? My freakin' hairdresser!!!! She was walking exactly opposite ... I have not seen her since August 05!!! When would I meet her if not the first day without Jennifer?

I am not sure she recognized me at all .. she smiled and may have wondered who the heck I was .. (Surely not her last client)

It feels strange without Jen - I feel naked!

I used to hide behind my hair ever since I remember.
I'd pull my fringe to my eyes and play pick-a-boo - peeking out from behind the curtain only when no-one was looking and I felt safe to "come out".

It was my protection against the world ... I'd pull the curtain and sink into my own world ... I hid so many tears and smiles behind this camouflage!
I miss it! I feel that my privacy is being invaded by every look, every stare, by every questioning pair of eyes wondering why?

Walking to work, I must have looked at every single shop window, every little shiny glass just to check - "How do I look?" "Do I look like I just had cancer?" or "Did I do it, because I am just so cool, hip and trendy?”

I wish I had the self-confidence of those punkers with Mohawks or those obvious neverknowwhatgender transvestites. I wish I was the person that doesn't mind sticking out from the crowd!

Do you remember the idea of the full circle of life?

It comes back to me like a boomerang! I always wanted to be different ... Growing up and even as an adult ... I was always striving to be different. I had to have all the fashion fau-pax's first, and by the time everyone else got it I had already moved on to the next big hit - being it marble jeans or leggings!
I don’t have a proof, but I am sure that even as a preschooler I had the “champignon” mushroom haircut before anyone else did.

Now, that I have the opportunity to start a new trend and be a Sinead O'Connor or a Natalie Portman look alike, I feel so uncomfortable... I don't think I want to be different anymore... I just want to be like everyone else with lots of HAIR! (Minus the the post office clerk nearby, who paints his hair on the scalp!)

Life bites back at times :)

Cosmetics .. Who wants a gift?

<------ My Gift from Burt
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My recent wonderings on the internet led to a website that lists all the chemicals in cosmetics that I (we, you, me, they, your friend, your neighbor and his lover too) use daily.

I checked the products that I beautify my skin with and was shocked!

There are three categories listed that signify low, medium or high danger of use. It only took a few minutes to realize, that most of the cosmetic products I use have a blinding red spot next to it "HIGH CONCERN IN PRODUCT TYPE" ... Just by looking at the data in front of me, I could hear a siren going weeeeuuu weeeeuuuu in my head, a robotic voice calling out "D-A-N-G-E-R" "D-A-N-G-E-R" in RED and happy cancer cells growing and dividing in my body, feeding off that wonderfully packaged cream by Nivea Visage called "Glowing".
(At the end I'll find out that Harry is gay ... what other men would use this crap anyway (or any facial dream for that matter)?)

These creams and stuff all look so innocent and so beautifully packaged - promising flawless and glowing skin, snowhite teeth, finger nails that never break, gorgeous and thick hair and what about that deodorant that will stop you sweat?

I've been using products for as long as I remember, yet I still get zits (so much for glowing skin), my teeth just barely pass the white mark (so much for the extra whitening effect), my nails do break all the time (Isn't that a normal thing? Would I really want cement as my nails? How would I bite them then? ), my hair (from what I recall) was never thicker than Chinese silk (so much for thickening) and sweating?

Oh please ... there is no such thing as a deodorant that's going to stop you from perspiration in New York heat (cold)! The only anti-perspiratory thing that works is the removal of your lymph nodes - an advantage for those with breast cancer! I only sweat from one armpit!
(WARNING: Don't try to remove them at home!)

Getting so alarmed by the findings, I immediately sent a chain letter (not the kind that your cat will run away if you don't send it to 5 people within 10 minutes, or send it back to me otherwise you're not a friend - thanks for not clogging my hotmail!) but more like "Shit! do you know what you've been treating your nails, hair and skin with?”

Now, I feel a bit stupid for doing it, as most likely some of my recipients just rolled their eyes and thought I went Craaazzzyyy (Which of course is partially true - depends how you look at it .) Chain letters seem much more valuable anyway, when sent by a non-existent Dr. Whoever.

If I had received a similar e-mail just a year ago, I'd probably just say "Well, I have to die of something, right? I can't control every single chemical that enters my body, so why bother?" and subsequently press the delete button ... But the situation has changed drastically and instead of pressing the corner X on the screen, guess what I did?

I went to my bathroom cabinet, brought a nice wide plastic bag and cleared out almost its' entire content (Yes love, even those mini soaps and lotion that you collect every week from your hotel rooms! You know, the ones that we have about 500 of them all over, the ones that drive me CRAZY!) ... My reasoning is as follows:I really do not care if I use Nivea Visage or L'Oreal or Revlon on my face - it's the results that should matter! (What results?)

And so in my newly found "go green" attitude I surfed the web for organic products.

$100 later, I was content with my decision and full of expectations to receive the package from Burt's Bees company, that makes cosmetics organic!

I received the package and I am now a proud owner of the following items: carrot night cream, avocado and lemon facial scrub with poppy seeds, lavender and mint toothpaste, cow's milk and honey body lotion, strawberry lip gloss and mint facial mask.
Did you notice some sort of pattern in the names? ... I did also! ..

I now smell delightfully like a fruit and vegetable stand or a Spring market!

I really don't care! I'd rather crack an egg on my head and slice cucumbers over my eye lids than ever wonder again if I fed my left-over cancer cells or killed them! "You guys" will all die one-by-one from not getting your dose of mercury, petroleum distillates, dibutylphthalate and the rest! You get organic eggs instead!

Geoff already banned me from using the carrot night cream when he shares the bed - he claims that he has an allergic reaction to it (so much for Geoff :) ...

Burt's Bees also promised to send me a gift after spending so much dinero ... I got it! A Bonus Gift!!!

A hair comb and a shower cap with bees on it!!!!! It is only with my luck that I get a present which is officially at this stage of my life, with 1 cm hair THE MOST USELESS item in this house!!!!!

Thanks Burt!!!

What's the company's policy on re-gifting?

Naked photo story (notice the good ass :)

As the pictures shows below, I went to Long Island over the weekend to visit my friend Erin, whom I know from College. Well, more specifically from my Spanish classes, si?

The weather, despite of the initial bad forecast was beautiful - made for walking on the beach. On Saturday, we drove to Robert Moses beach, which is on Fire Island, off the shore of Longuyland (apparently I pronounce it like the locals do - the only reminder of my 5 years spent here).

There is a lighthouse at this part of the island standing in between a bay and the wide open ocean. I've been here before with Geoff and I knew that it will be a pleasant trip, especially given the warm weather. I love the ocean and the sand!

Returning from a loop around the lighthouse, the walking path divides - one leads back to the parking lot and the other towards the ocean beach. When we arrived at the crossing, Erin was going the parking lot way and I was rather heading towards the sand dunes in the distance. I knew, that there was a nude beach somewhere "over there" - far faaar away, but it did not even occur in my innocent mind that I will be facing a pair of dangling private male parts of about 65 years of age in few minutes staring up at me!

I was happy just strolling towards the dunes and clicking away on Geoff's camera (yeah .. I still can not operate my new fancy one ) like a Japanese tourist. Click here, click there .. we get to the steps leading down the sand and I see about thirty people scattered on the beach - some just lying, others walking or sitting by the waves making a splash.

"Erin, they're naked!" .. I said in a profound surprise as I noticed the couple nearby (picture below). Looking around I also noticed, that they weren't the only naked ones by far. I started feeling a bit self-conscious and uncomfortable wearing clothes head to toe ...
"Erin, do you think there is some sort of etiquette on a nude beach?"
I asked while zooming on the couple now at a distance ...
"I would say not taking pictures is one of them ... "
Oh ooooohhhhh AAHHAAAA ... I was on the wrong track .. I was concerned about wearing long sleeves ...

But I already got naked ... I took of Jennifer off at the bay ...

Weekend on Long Island with Erin in photos

What am I .... Part II.

Oi todos!

Today was my first day back at Portuguese classes ... YAY ...Rosie, the sexiest and funniest language teacher ever gave me a warm welcome ... My friend Radio and I walked into the class already in session when Rosie virtually stopped in the middle of the sentence squeezing her set of fake boobies to mine, kissing my cheeks "Querida I so gladyou'rehere aaaa " ... "aaaa" .... "aaaa" .... "Aaaaa"

She looked fab as always wearing a light brown two piece suit and lots of fake tan. The first thing she told the class right after I sat down was about my interview on TV Globo in Brazil and that I looked "Maravillosa" ...But of course I did ...

The reporter pointed the darn camera right into my cleavage and kept asking questions that I half understood and the other half I guessed (at times not exactly correctly, which was subsequently portrayed on the reporter's face) ...I have not seen the tape, but can visualize it as being highly embarrassing (not the cleavage, my Portuguese!)

Tudo bom!

Walking into the class I was worried about two things:
A) facing some of my old classmates and having to answer the curious looks about my hair
B) having to answer questions about my whereabouts for the past 6 months.
Heck, I was one of the most enthusiastic Portuguese students (even by my own standards) so what did exactly happen to me and why have I not been coming?

Hmmmm .. I was saving the Earth by not using non-ecological products like shampoos and hair conditioners, getting luxurious revitalizing treatments with loads of private attention, taking sexy modeling pictures for the Tyra Banks show thus helping some "other" unfortunate women, I was supporting the pharmacological industry and retail - most certainly, aaaaand writing a new bestseller called "Just a recipe on how to make lemonade" ...

There! Explanation in one sentence ... I am impressed myself!

Well, as it turns out there was no-one to ask these questions - most of my old schoolmates stopped coming and the other two were my friends aware of the situation.

I am preparing myself for future sanse Jennifer .... Preparation means shopping for my new look: boho-sexy-godess-diva-rock chic-kickscancerGirlsarse ... To achieve this well-defined look I shopped over the weekend for huge .. no, HUGE earrings and necklaces so that I will have some decoration instead of hair locks on my head/neck.
Shopping was a success!
With all those beads I bought I will end up looking like an albino African princess! I hope my ears or neck won't stretch like you see on National Geographic!

I think, I actually look all right .. or as my friend Jara said "You will look luxurious" just as Kylie Minogue does after treatment (yeah, right!).

My hair feels so cute (I know cute is not a word describing sensation, but I swear I feel cute! Darn cute!). I have multiple inspectors at home as well as work, daily checking on the progress of hair growth. I used to be ashamed a little about wearing Jenn, but honestly I don't give a "flying f*&^&^" anymore ... I love the entertainment value Jenn provides when I lift her off my head ("I tip my hat!") to the surprise of those around ...it always produces a good laugh ...

My peach fuzz is now more like feathers on a newly born chicken's head; about half centimeters long creating an utterly shapeless hairmess. You won't believe this, after I wash my chicken fuzz and go to bed as the hair dries I feel every single hair piece springing up ... such a funny feeling ....

Anyways, tomorrow I am off to Portuguese again - fulfilling one of my dreams from before and "Now that Harry's gone".

P.S. I also got my blood results regarding cancer markers in my body and they're lookin' great! By all signs I am healthy for another 4 months YAY!

Don't forget!

TURTLE TURTLE :)