93 years ago today...

April 24, 1915: 300 Armenian leaders, writers, thinkers and professionals in Constantinople (present-day Istanbul) were rounded up, deported and killed by the Ottoman Empire. It gets worse: On that same day in Constantinople, 5,000 of the poorest Armenians were butchered in the streets and in their homes.

That wasn't the end of it: 1.5 million Armenians were killed in the Armenian Genocide between 1915-1923. They were methodically massacred, tortured, and sent out into the dessert to die of starvation and thirst. Women were raped and abused; children were also subject to the same vile and inhumane treatment. Nice, huh?

April 24th - a day Armenians all over the world commemorate this putrid, horrible tragedy committed against us innocent humans by our own species.

Lost in Translation...Again. Sweet!

These candies are so yummy! I found them in an Armenian market and cracked up when I saw the plain version.

Yum! With Pistachio!


Mmmmm...with Walnuts!


Ohhh with Plain!! I love it with plain!!

Lost In Translation...kind of

Our family recently had a scare when when my father had to be taken to the emergency room. He's been there before and hates it, like anyone else would. This night in particular the E.R. was so full that there were patients in the hallways in wheelchairs and laying on tables waiting for a room to become available. Luckily, my father had a bed. He was in a room with another older man who was moaning and bellowing in Armenian, but whose speech was unintelligible and the nurses were trying to figure out what was going on with him. This guy was in some serious pain!

I overheard one nurse tell the other that they need a translator, but couldn't bring anyone in for another 20 minutes. So I walked over and offered to translate the best I could. Three problems:

1. He spoke a dialect of Armenian that I have a very hard time understanding.
2. His speech was muddled and sounded like his tongue was extremely swollen.
3. My skill level speaking and understanding his dialect of Armenian is that of a 2 year old, at best.

His answer to my first question was almost impossible for me understand, so I asked him to repeat his answer slowly. I got the gist of what he was saying. The slurring of his words grew worse while answering my 2nd question. When I asked him to repeat his answer twice, he got frustrated, and in typical Armenian style pointed his finger at me and said, "Shame on you for not understanding how to speak your own language. You must go to school and speak more Armenian so that ..." I put my hand on his shoulder and said,"Hyrig (term of respect for an elder meaning "father"), this is not the time or place to tell me this. I promise, I'll learn to improve my speaking Armenian. Just tell me where it's hurting so I can tell the nurses."

All of a sudden I heard what I thought was crying coming from my father in the next bed. I walked over there real fast to see if he was ok. HE WAS LAUGHING! He had hardly said a word to the paramedics, nurses and doctors and didn't have the energy to speak. He heard every word of the conversation next to him and was lying there cracking up. It was precious.

It's a Dog-Eat-Dog World

I learn a lot about myself by observing my recently acquired Shih-Tzu puppy. And while taking her on her first long walk to a park yesterday she passed by and met a lot of other dogs and kids. However, her trip certainly wasn't uneventful.

She was pissed on by a slightly bigger, ugly puppy that was playful at first; barked and growled at by a smaller, scruffy Napoleon-complex-suffering Yorkshire-Chihuahua; had her paw accidentally stepped on by a 2-yr old playing with her in the park, and hit her head on a bench while jumping from being startled kids running by...poor little thing.

Reflecting on these incidents, I realized that what she went through yesterday was equivalent to my experience in the music business! Welcome to L.A. Darla!

I promise to be more protective of you. You're going to need a good manager.