Grandma’s 100th Birthday on Aug. 13, 2011

On Saturday, September 17th, a little over a month after my grandma turned 100, she passed away peacefully in the company of family. I was supposed to go over to her house that night and see her one last time, but I just couldn’t do it. I knew I should, but I just couldn’t get myself to go. I went to work instead. And while I was there, I got a text message at 8:44pm telling me she’d just passed away. I went right back to work.

I wasn’t close to my grandma. We didn’t speak the same language so we couldn’t communicate, but her sons and daughters, my aunts and uncles and my mother while she lived, loved her like mad. They all took care of her as she got older. She was the family matriarch and ruled over all of them. She was fierce and unpretentious, and expressed her unabashedly uncensored opinions freely. She was a kind of hellion and smoked and drank beers all day until she was in her 70s. She still drank beer even at her 99th birthday.

She had an arranged marriage to my gangster grandfather whom I’ve never met. He died when the kids were still young. My mom was nine, but she was the 2nd to youngest. The older ones took care of her and the family. She was of a generation of women that were completely uneducated. She didn’t even know how to count money. But her kids all grew up to be successful, and they all took care of the matriarch.

At her 100th birthday, I noticed one of her socks had fallen off. She sat in a wheelchair, and used an oxygen tank. She slept a lot. Her mind had been sharp for a long time, and she’d been physically fit into her 90s, but by 100, she was less sharp, more quiet. I wasn’t sure she recognized me at all.

I put the sock back on her foot. I told her I was going to do it then bent under the wheelchair and she lifted her leg up. Her foot was so small but swollen. I put it on and she left her foot up until I set it back down for her. And I wondered if it was because she was so used to having people physically manipulate her body for her, or if she couldn’t tell I had finished putting the sock on, or if she hadn’t understood at all what I was doing. I wondered if the simple act of replacing a sock and the physical motions involved and the physical sensations it produced was now out of the range of comprehension.

And that’s what I think about now. Her swollen foot. How small and fragile it looked without that sock on. How cold it already was from missing that sock for just a little while. And that’s what breaks my heart. That and the fact that my aunt called me today to make sure I knew the funeral was tomorrow and then broke down crying. I can deal with the passing of my grandmother. She lived a long life, surrounded and loved by family. But I can’t deal with the pain my aunts and uncles feel. I can’t do anything for them. And it makes me feel useless.

I was reading this article in the New Yorker about bugs as food. And delicious food from the sounds of the some of the ways they were being prepared: beetles fried in butter, soy marinated crickets, fritters adorned with worms, a spider roll w/fried tarantula instead of soft shell crab. My favorite sounding dish is available in Los Angeles at Guelaguetza: chapulines a la Mexicana are grasshoppers sautéed with onions, jalapeños, and tomatoes, topped with avocado and Oaxacan string cheese (though it doesn’t seem to appear on the menu on their website). But mmmmm….it sounds lovely.

Entomophagy is what bug eating is officially called. And it seems to be a hot topic right now. The thing about bugs is that they have as much protein as meat, sometimes more (fried grasshoppers have three times the amount of protein as beef), and have vitamins, minerals, and fats, and are less ecologically damaging to produce as a meat source than our traditional cows, chickens, and pigs. And breeding insects is more humane, “bugs like teeming, and thrive in filthy, crowded conditions.”

Isaac gleefully eating a giant grasshopper in Bangkok

The problem is getting over the disgust we as Westerners have for eating insects. Eighty percent of the world eats insects for food. That’s most of the world except for us. Me personally, as long as it doesn’t look like a little bug, I’ll eat it. We ate bugs in Bangkok. Well, my friends did, I picked at them a little. They looked too much like exactly what they were. I’ll be happier when they can process out bug protein and it doesn’t come in the shape of a giant grasshopper.

All I wanted to do was tell him this sexual harassment story I’d heard recently that was related to it and wanted to know if he knew the reference. Someone in a work place was fired or reprimanded for saying something along the lines of “cup,” but someone overheard and knew it was a reference to 2 girls, 1 cup and complained to HR. It seemed ridiculous to me that anyone could file a complaint on such tenuous grounds: a word uttered; an assumption made.

But I do appreciate that he and I can openly talk to each other about things. Even when they are completely uncomfortable.

There are studies that have shown that being outstanding at something has more to do with years of practice and training than with any innate ability, and Chua’s parenting method takes advantage of this to drill sargeant her daughters into what they are: amazing students and amazing musicians.

My parenting method is as Western as it gets. According to Chua, “Western” parenting comes in a variety of forms, and she uses the term “Chinese parenting” to not only mean Chinese mothers (and not all Chinese mothers), but also some Korean, Indian, and other mothers using this parenting method.

The parenting involves strictly regimenting the child’s life, allowing her only limited social time. It includes harsh criticism when the parent’s high expectations are not met, hours and hours devoted to studying and practicing, and an expectation she will excel at everything and if she doesn’t it’s because she didn’t try hard enough and not because she can’t. The possibility that she can’t excel at everything doesn’t exist: a tiger mother believes her child fully capable of achieving what she expects of her. The desired outcome is a child who grows into a successful adult who believes she is capable of anything she puts her mind and focus into. Now, who wouldn’t want a child that grows into that kind of self confident, high achieving adult?

I think we focus on the belittling and the harsh words and forced hours of work, and get caught up in how abusive and cruel those things seem to be. But we see it from a very Western perspective that teaches us that we are all individuals and should be respected to make our own choices. But children don’t make good choices. They’d eat candy and sit in front of the TV all day if you let them.

I haven’t finished the book yet, but so far, I think it may be limited in scope. Chua’s girls are good girls so the outcome of her parenting — whatever we think of it — is positive. But what about those kids who have been parented like this and don’t succeed? I wonder if they exist and if there are any studies about them.

I don’t think I could parent quite like this, but I could definitely benefit from some of the lessons from this book. Because kids do make poor choices and a parent’s role is to prepare them for adult life.

I always say that I was such a rebellious teen because my parents were so strict. And that may be true, but I also grew up into a strong and independent person who believes she can do anything she wants to. But success requires hard work. “Chinese” mothers really just want their kids to live the American dream, just better than everyone else.

I haven’t been to Vegas in a long time. I think the last time I went it was to see Justin Timberlake in late 2007. That was fun. This was also fun, but much less debauchery. I had a really nice dinner with an old co-worker, drank a very conservative amount of alcohol, placed a $20 bet on red in roulette (and won :) and otherwise spent the time working. Which, oddly enough, was a nice change of pace for Vegas.

I guess it’s been long enough that CES was exciting again for me. I didn’t see the entire floor in all the halls, but it was mostly 3D TVs and cameras, wireless home systems, some touchless user interfaces (all still somewhat rough and imperfect), electric vehicles, health & fitness & mommy tech, and iPod/Pad/Touch accessories out the wazoo. I saw one session for software that lets you touchlessly control your computer using a regular webcam, but the guy was showing a video of it instead of demo-ing it live (it’s not very convincing if you don’t demo it live).

Audi’s e-tron at CES 2011

I saw a couple of the glasses-less 3D tvs and they’re cool, but they have such a limited range of view — you have to stand right in front of it in the center in order for it to work and it’s still imperfect. The GE smart home wasn’t as smart as I wanted it to be, but was interesting from an energy efficiency standpoint. With a little communication module for your energy efficient appliances, you could see, for example, how much each load of laundry costs you in real time. The smart meters utility companies are starting to install signal when prices are at the peak, low, or midrange so your washer won’t run unless it gets the signal that it’s the cheapest rate, and if that rate changes mid-load, it’ll adjust itself to save you money. You can override this of course if you desperately need to wash something. And your city needs to have upgraded to the new smart meters in order to use this technology, but seeing the hard data like that all day long could really change your habits.

The thing I was most excited about was Omek, a gesture recognition engine that is faster than the Kinect and versatile. It’s vendor agnostic and hardware agnostic. With any 3D camera and their engine + SDK, you could develop killer gesture recognition apps. They’re working on a fitting app so home shoppers can virtually try on clothes. I’m so excited about that. My short little ass’ll have an easier time finding clothes that’ll fit :)

• Pho from Thanh Tam II at Valencia and 17th (577 Valencia St, 94110). The other food I’ve had here has been mediocre, but they have the best pho. I sometimes have it delivered to my house, but it’s better to have it at the restaurant because it arrives hot and fresh to your table. They have the most delicious broth and their meatballs are so flavorful. I usually get the special combination beef noodle soup (pho) with the flank steak, rare steak, tripe, and meatballs and I wish I could have it here in Irvine (it’s been so cold lately!).
• Chicken liver crostini from Beretta at Valencia and 23rd. I also like their argula and fennel salad. I find most of their food to be just ok, but I love these 2 dishes with a glass of red wine especially after a hard, early afternoon workout on a weekend day before the crowds start forming for dinner and the place is mostly quiet and I’m mad for a protein fix.
• Carpaccio from Kuleto’s on Powell in Union Square. I have tried carpaccio in a lot of places in southern California and I can’t find anything that comes remotely close to the one at Kuleto’s. It comes with a lovely little Cannellini bean salad, citrus vinaigrette, and two perfectly spiced shrimp. For $13.50 you cannot find carpaccio this good anywhere else. I’ve paid much more for much crappier carpaccio in a lot of different restaurants.
• Chilled tripe at Pizzeria Delfina at 18th and Guerrero. I usually have this with one of their salads (usually the tricolore insalata) but it’s really the tripe I’m there for.
• Kiji shooters from Kiji on Guerrero at 22nd. The oyster shooters with uni and quail egg….mmmm. I love everything at this place. I don’t have a Japanese place in socal yet that I love as much as I love Kiji. Their fish is wonderful, their service is great, the atmosphere is lovely, and Eddie (the owner) is awesome. I miss you, Kiji!
• The white chocolate raspberry bread pudding from Nordstrom Cafe & Bistro on Powell. I’m picky about bread pudding and don’t like most of them, but this one is rich and heavenly, and much too decadent to finish, but luckily makes good leftovers :). I also miss that Nordie’s cafe because they have a full bar and most of them don’t.

It’s sort of funny to think about how cheap the shampoo is. I’m sure there are only that many bottles in the house because she got them dirt cheap on sale somewhere. Dirt cheap shampoo on sale for even cheaper. It’s funny because she liked to dress in Chanel and St. John, carried Louis Vuitton and Gucci purses (the genuine article, not the knock offs). And she took care of her skin with any number of department store brands, but her hair — eh, her hair could stand the cheap stuff.

And now that I think about it — it makes sense. Because our hair is pretty sturdy stuff. Thick and heavy and silky. I guess if you had to skimp on any particular beautifying product, the hair would be the most reasonable choice when it’s as luxurious as ours. Every little penny counts. My mother is quintessential proof of that.

My homestead. That’s me, my honey, and our little girl (mini me!) near our cabin.

Let me just preempt your judgment, caveat the statement soon to follow, and add this proviso: I am not a gamer. I have played games in the past, but am easily bored of them and soon neglect whatever game on whatever platform I’ve ever played. Except for Frontierville: I am a Frontierville addict.

When I was in Japan the only thing I missed was Frontierville. Not my family, not my friends, but Frontierville. Please note that I did miss my family and my friends, but there wasn’t anything I could do about not seeing them while I was out of the country. On the other hand, I had access to internet! I could have played Frontierville! If I’d only bought a netbook instead of an iPad!

I started playing Zynga games a couple of months ago because friends and family work there. I started with Farmville and Mafia Wars. Games I’ve seen other FB friends post statuses about on their walls. I have always scoffed at these posts as wastes of space on my FB home page (I now post Frontierville updates…oh how low we have sunk).

Then Frontierville launched in early June. I started playing. Soon I stopped caring about Farmville or Mafia Wars. Frontierville was better than either of them.

What’s the crack? It’s easy to learn, easy to play, and every single time you play you feel like you’ve made progress. There are little tasks you have to complete and the more experience you have, the harder the tasks get (as in you have to collect harder to find things and/or more items to complete a task). But no matter how long a particular task might take to complete, there are other tasks you can complete faster, and whatever you do, you’re always moving forward on your homestead. It’s instant gratification.

The cows are hungry? Oh, let’s feed them! The crops are ready? Let’s harvest! Oh, we have free land? Let’s plant stuff! Let’s buy stuff from the market and make our homesteads prettier! Let’s clear this patch of land for a new building! Let’s buy baby animals! More baby animals! Moo!

The graphics are better than in Farmville and where I find my farm ugly and inhospitable, I find my homestead perfectly suited to me because I made it all my own. I can literally just stare at my homestead and genuinely enjoy looking at it (though it did take me some weeks to get it to that point).

I play every single day, and usually several times a day. When I wake up, it’s the thing that perks me up out of my morning funk. When I need a break, I go burn a couple of minutes on my homestead. Once a day I spend at least 30 minutes on it tending to my neighbors and sending them gifts. Every single thing I do earns more points and coins. I haven’t spent a single real dollar on the game (I’m not allowed to), but have bought an assload of things for my homestead.

This is probably the longest blog post I’ve written in forever and it’s about Frontierville! This is me — a non-gamer who used to pride myself on my aloofness to mass market games like Farmville…well, that used to be me. (Don’t forget to add me as a neighbor! :)

Takayama is full of historic buildings so it has a very quaint and charming feel to it. It’s also small so virtually everything is about 10 minutes from the main train and bus station ( the two are next to each other ) either by foot or by bus. They have th is city mascot type doll that is called a baby monkey that grandmas used to make for their families for various types of good luck — marriage and family, scholarly success, financial success, etc. It is the cutest thing ever (I’ll post a photo when I can).

And the local cuisine is interesting. First there’s the local Hida beef which is amazing. Then there’s the rice flour balls on a skewer cooked with what tastes like soy sauce on a grill. You can find them everywhere — at the morning market it’s 60 yen. At the corner stands they’re 70 yen and you can smell them cooking on lots of these streets. The same with the smell of Hida beef grilling coming out of restaurants here. There are also bunches of small vendors that sell meat on a stick like Hida beef and ostrich and they grill it in front of you when you order it (the ostrich was gooooood). There’re are also lots of places th at sell little steamed buns with Hida beef in the middle. Mmmmmm….the beef is soooo good. Nice and fatty and delicious. I had a Hida beef steak last night for dinner and it was so tender and delicious and flavorful.

There’s also water everywheree. The Miya-gawa and the Enako-gawa rivers run through the city so there are tons of little bridges and the rushing of water and it adds to the city’s charm.

Josh was sick most of today so I wandered around by myself — he wasn’t sick enough that I couldn’t leave him — and it was nice to wander without feeling bad if i got lost and walking around without any direction – just going where the prettiest streets took me. I visited some museums, two lovely coffee shops, and wandered through the quaint streets and loved it. And Josh was fine by dinner time :)

It’s so humid here, a lot of people carry around little towels or hankerchiefs. I went into my first department store in the Kyoto train station and couldn’t believe how many little towels they had. They vary in size but are usually larger than an American washcloth, but smaller than a hand towel. Men and women both carry these, though I haven’t seen as many women just carrying them in their hands as I have the men. And designer labels make them. I bought a Laura Ashley one on sale. But high end designers like Burberry even design these little sweat towels for the Japanese market.

And their socks! We in the states get a handful of little toe and footsie nylon type socks for our heels and pretty shoes, but here the sock itself can be a stylish element of footwear. They complement the shoe and are meant to be seen. I was astounded and excited to see the immense number of socks in the sock stores in Harajuku. Our footsie socks are plain, drab nude or black. In Japan they come in every color you can imagine, they have little bandaeu socks, they have faux socks that scrunch but don’t cover the whole foot, they glitter, they shine, they have buttons and ribbons and all sorts of embellishments. They have little socks that look like Mary Janes. I saw a woman on the Metro wearing black flats with no strap, but wearing red socks with a strap and glittering little buttons sewn on the strap. It added some cute flash to her bland shoes. And you can change up your socks and make your shoes look different and it costs less!

I also love how stylishly they keep safe from the sun. Japanese women seem to love hats. Their hat stores are amazing and full of a wide variety of hats, including really beautiful, large visor hats for sun protection. I’ve seen women in the states wearing these on occasion — usually Asian women — but the ones I’ve seen in the States are rather unattractive. Here they can be as nice as the nicest hat. I’m so bringing one home and wearing it everywhere in the Mission. I’m also bringing home arm guards! They’re arm warmers except they’re meant to shield from the sun. Again, they have these in the States, but the ones I’ve gotten there are for the cold — not suitable for humid heat. Here they’re light and airy and some are long enough to cover your hand and have a cute little ribbon at the wrist. I love them for that. I hate being exposed to the sun as much as they do. And sunscreen is nasty sticky.

Well it is lighter than a laptop. And I can play games on it and read. But airport security not only randomly patted me down, but also made me take my iPad out and ran my carry on bag back through the scanner. And that was after the security line we were originally in got shut down for some unknkown reason and we had to walk to another gate to go through security and I was starting to get scared we’d be late for our flight because everything at LAX took a bazillion times longer than i thought it would.

Then there was the problem of getting an affordable pre-paid 3G card in Japan. I’d read that it was possible in Japan but should have done more research to be sure because it’s sort of expensive and I’m not sure I need it that much. And Apple hasn’t come out with their USB adapter for the iPad yet so no dumping photos from my memory cards, and of course, no blogging unless there’s wifi somewhere that I can use and this hostels the first place I’ve been able to.

But no complaints! Because it’s actually kind of nice to be disconnected. I don’t waste my time blogging :) Let’s see…the Harajuku girls, the maid cafe, the cute rockabilly girl (and boys) in Yoyogi park, the onsens, the manga museum, the cute hidden alleys full of lovely things, Japanese food, and walking everyday and seeing something new and different…and that’s just the start of our visit! Yeah, really can’t complain.

Last week when I was driving up to San Francisco, I got pulled over for speeding at 90mph. The speed limit on I-5 is 70 so I wasn’t going crazy fast, but I was driving faster than I normally do. Even though I’ve got that shit hot car, I usually drive about 80, maybe 85mph up to and down from San Francisco. Don’t ask me why I was doing 90. It didn’t feel any different than 80 and it was early in the morning and traffic was light, the sun was up by the time I got pulled over (at 8am) and I was about halfway to my destination and feeling really happy. So 90…maybe that was just a sign of contented happiness on my part.

I am a good citizen. I don’t do anything illegal and I hardly ever get pulled over. So somehow that makes me extremely anxious about cops. They literally make me sweat and shake. When I got pulled over, I had to really focus to keep my hands steady as I handed him the requisite paperwork because I’m not only terrified of cops, but I’m terrified they’ll know I’m terrified because that has got to be a sure sign of guilt about something.

But I acted calmly and handed him my paperwork. He took it to his car and I waited for about 10 minutes for him to look up various things about my person. And when he came back, he gave me a present! Look, your driving record is totally clean so I’m just going to give you a warning about your speed and give you this fixit ticket for your change of address on your driver’s license. I was shocked! Then he smiled and said, my brother-in-law has one of these cars. I know how they can get away from you sometimes. I thanked him profusely, called him sir, and wished him an excellent day.

People seem to love these cars. Anyone who knows anything about cars gets really excited about my car. I randomly met a guy who produced shows for the Speed network and he gets to play with all sorts of cars — even he loved my car. And he loved that a girl was driving that car. It made me puff up my feathers and preen myself a bit, I was so flattered when he said that. And people who know people who have STis seem to love them too. It’s such an odd thing to own something that other random people love as much as I love.

But back to that cop. I was surprised at his the kindness of his gift. I was really, really excited — he saved me hundreds of dollars, and saved me a whole day of traffic school. I think people should always pay forward acts of kindness. I remembered this when I got to the toll booth at the Bay Bridge and paid for the random person behind me. But I guess I should have paid for the next 100 people behind me. I still owe for that cop’s kindness.

Since I’m in Southern California, I couldn’t go to one of the gear places I know of up north to buy my helmet. I picked up my bike at Mission Motorsports in Irvine, but didn’t get a chance to look at helmets while I was there because the tow truck driver was waiting for me (no helmet, no ride). So when I got home I checked on Yelp for a place to get gear near my place. Not a whole lot of options turns out. Which I find weird because in San Francisco alone, I can think of at least 2-3 places I can go to for gear, plus the Cycle Gear and Road Rider stores in San Jose. So based on reviews, I picked OTD Orange County Motorsports to buy my helmet, but the guy there (who was very helpful) said they had almost nothing in stock because they were waiting on new inventory. And nothing at all in my size. I thought my head was big, but apparently that’s just wishful thinking cause I wear an XS.

I asked the guy at OC Motorsports where else I could go for helmets and he could only come up with Mission Motorsports (and he told me they got the new helmet models in before he did) so I went back there. I was really impressed with the girly helmets they have available now. And was turned onto Scorpion EXO which is a relatively new brand I’d never heard of before, but they make lots of nice looking women’s gear including both pretty and badass girly helmets (very reasonably priced compared to a Shoei or an Arai).

Brooklyn at the Mission Motorsports was really helpful and I ended up with another Shoei helmet: the somewhat new RF 1100 (Sylvan TC-9). Seems to have gotten lots of good reviews so I can’t wait to get it. I like that it’s light in color, but not solid white like my old one. I wanted something with a little more style and flare this time — something sexier like this:

They didn’t have it in the size or color I wanted/needed so I had to special order it. Hope to get it by Friday so I can go for a ride. All I want to do is go for a little ride. Just a little ride, mommy, please!

My little EX250 has been sitting here in my mother’s garage for three to four years. I think it’s time to ride her again. Today I washed and waxed her — just because she’s been sitting around unloved and unused doesn’t mean she should go to the dealership looking like anything less than the gorgeous princess she is. She is so clean and smooth now. I’ve been petting her freshly waxed gas tank.

Next week when I come back, she’ll be all tuned up and I’ll have my gear and her current registration stickers and she’ll be ready for the open road again. I cannot wait! She and I are going to tear up PCH together.

I found this binder the other day full of magazine and newspaper clippings. Which is a new habit of mine — instead of keeping whole magazines, I rip out the few pages I want to keep and organize them in a binder. I guess I got that from my mom too.

It’s amazing how much of someone’s life you can piece together by her accumulated bits of paper: travel routes via gas receipts, favorite foods by restaurant receipts, personal interests by saved clippings. Some of it I save because sometimes I discover something new or because I want to remember some moment with her, but most of it I shred. Because I’m trying not to be a hoarder.

I am easily amused. I’ve been threatening to get rid of cable TV for like a year now. You know what I’m going to miss the most? The commercials. Not all of them, just the good ones. Like this one.

I’ve heard the computer adaptive test, you know, adapts to the way you answer you questions so if you answer incorrectly, the next question is easier and vice versa*. So imagine my horror when over half way through my verbal test, I get a question with “disappointment” as one of the words. Now, I can’t tell you the actual question, but the word in the analogy was on par in difficulty with “disappointment.” I was heartbroken. I thought, holy god, how could I have fucked up this badly on the test so far that they have to give me baby words?!

But it turned out to be ok because I got the scores I wanted to get on both sections. In one week of studying, I boosted my combined GRE scores over 300 points so that week of studying was well worth it. I focused on practicing math problems over and over again and learning new vocab. I had some old Kaplan GRE workbooks and used those to study, but I wonder how much, if anything has changed in the past decade. I think the books I had came from early 2000.

Not that I care anymore cause I doubt I will ever have to take the GRE again! Woohoo!

* I say “I heard” because the GRE books I studied from were old. I have no idea if the current GREs are the same, but if I had to hazard a guess, I would say they were the same.

Case in point: Macy’s sent me these 20% off all day, one day coupons. They basically want you to shop all day and use this coupon. I get it. And between the holiday sales and the coupon, you could buy a lot of stuff not at retail price. But I’ve been really busy lately with graduate school applications and haven’t had time for shopping, so I basically forced myself to shop on Wednesday. Not only was it their “last” One Day Sale, but I had used the 20% off coupon and now I’d have to use it as many more times as I could that day to get the full value of it. So I have a crappy day of shopping when I don’t want to shop, and I end up spending more money than I want to because it’s a “bargain.” And I love bargains — I went to the ballet this week and the Mr asked if I was wearing new pants. Nope, just pants I’ve had for years and have never worn before. Cause I like to buy shit on sale. Whether I’m going to use it or not.

The other problem with coupons is that sometimes I use a coupon and actually spend more money. For example, Target sends me coupons. I <3 Target, but they’re inconvenient to get to so I don’t go there as often as I might if they were closer. I sometimes buy items I wouldn’t normally buy just because I have a coupon for it. Little things like their Archer brand snacks, or home & beauty products I don’t normally use. The crazy thing is that sometimes I pay more for a particular item (like brand name feminine hygiene pads) because I have a coupon for it when I would actually pay less just buying the Target brand like I normally do. I know; it’s completely illogical! But I’m telling you, the psychological effects of coupons is complex and devious.

I am quite seriously considering going back to my irregular and not very frequent use of coupons to retain my sanity about shopping.

I was reviewing my list last night so I could email my loved ones and was thinking to myself what a random mix of stuff it was. I mean, it’s all stuff I want and I purposely picked items in a range of prices, but I wonder if it takes the fun out of getting Christmas gifts because it takes away the element of surprise.

In recent years, I’ve begged family members to send me Christmas wish lists and sometimes I look at the things on there and think…I can’t get them this as a Christmas present — it’s too practical, or not special enough. My father is the worst to shop for. He has everything he needs, doesn’t send a list, and never intimates he has an especial desire for anything. And this year I missed his birthday because I was out of the country and now I have to make sure his gifts are doubly wonderful. My sister is the best at giving gifts; she always pleasantly surprises me with something. Special too is when you get an unexpected gift from a family member — that’s always sweet.

I’d like to put cash on my Christmas list. I think we Americans are too ambivalent about cash gifts. Other cultures seem to think nothing of it, but we seem to think it’s a cop out or impersonal, and only gift it when specifically asked for it. I say cash is the universal gift. Give it freely people. I’ll distribute it equally into in my writing fund, my whisky fund (almost the same as my writing fund), my new car fund, and my bathroom remodel fund. But before I do that, I’ll buy a drink and toast you for your special gift.

And in case you thought I had no holiday cheer, I leave you with one of my very, very favorite holiday songs. I listen to this song every year and I love both the original Vandals version and the No Doubt one below:

Lyrics:
Where my gifts, Santa? I’ve been good. Better bring me sport equipment like you should! Where you at Santa? I ain’t playin’. I’ve got a nice crib to park your sleigh on. Where those elves, where your wife? You bring me the fancy electric knife. You don’t know me Santa. I’ve been good. I’ve got plenty of milk and cookies in my hood. Fa la la LA LA. Ho ho ho. Fa la la LA LA. Ho ho ho.

By the time I got to Bangkok for my last night before my flight home I was almost desperate for some company. Just someone I could speak some fucking English to. Those 21 hour bus rides and over night trains — no one to talk to. On the local buses I took, I was the only person that didn’t speak Lao. By the time I got to Bangkok, I was absurdly lonely. And for a big, confident, self assured gal, being absurdly lonely is…absurd.

Isaac and Kerry told me they’d gotten prettied up in Bangkok before they went back to the states. So I went to mall. I’d avoided it in Laos because I was busy looking at other things, but I do enjoy checking out malls in different countries so I went to the mall Isaac suggested. Indulged in some Thai underwear because Asian bras fit me (cause I’m Asian) and I spent less than $50 USD for 2 pairs of bras and 2 pairs of matching underwear — unheard of at Victoria’s Secret (and yet they were just as sexy).

I wore my cleanest dress. The one dress I’d brought for special occasions. The one I’d never worn before. It’s a travel dress; I bought it on sale at REI. It’s not that sexy. But at the end of the evening when I ended up at an Australian pub across the street from my hotel (only cause I knew there’d be English spoken there and they were playing MotoGP on one of their big screens), drinking Jamie’s all alone…the one guy who finally talked to me said he thought I was a Thai whore until he heard my English.

I guess part of me has to be proud that I could even pass for a Thai whore.