The Cardigan Will Look Cute

I know, I know, this one entry per week is no way to run a blog, but I’ve half a mind these days with looming deadlines (and still no decision on a travel bag for the upcoming trip!). So yesterday while multitasking on my bff (aka my smart phone) while standing in a very long line at the DMV to renew my driver’s license,

I was thinking this very place is the perfect cross section of the Los Angeles population. You see people of all races, sizes, shapes, and levels of sanity here. And with most people in your typical southern Cal sweat-gear, I stuck out like a sore thumb in my very bright Chanel cardi, but hey, you’re stuck with a gnarly photo for a few years so why not at least try to wear something cute in it !

I’d actually made an online appointment for my visit–God help you if you didn’t; with a few closings of DMV locations, the lines are super long now at the ones that do remain open–but it still ended up taking over an hour to wait in line to spend exactly 2 minutes in front of a very bored person, who asked me to read a few lines above her head with my left eye covered, then my right eye. Thank goodness I’d just gotten new contacts so I had every confidence to pass the “eye exam” with my new-found 20/20 vision! Then an impression of my right thumb was taken, a photo snapped, and I was sent on my way. BTW some crazy guy jumped out right in front of me, waving his arms in the air, before the photo was taken, so I’m sure in six weeks I’ll receive my license with a ridiculous expression on my face. Great way to spend $31, but heck, I bet the cardigan will look cute!

I know practically everything (and soon everyone) is made in or owned by China, but some of us Asians follow our own lunar new year, as opposed to the Chinese New Year. And that can get a little confusing sometimes, especially this year, when we recognize two totally different animals. To the Chinese, this marks the year of the rabbit. For those of us who are celebrating Tết Tân Mão, however, it is all about the cat!

Happy meow year, cung chúc tân xuân, everyone and may the cat watch over you kindly this year!

Tags: Chinese New Year, cung chúc tân xuân, lunar new year, Tết Tân Mão

You know how some days you just wake up feeling like how my cat looks? This weekend has been like that for me. I sprained my ankle from a particularly rigorous workout on Friday so I’ve been hobbling around on one good foot for the last 48 hours. But the good news is that I finally got my lazy butt back into workout mode for the full second week in a row. I don’t get on the scale anymore because that’s just demoralizing when you already think your pants are feeling too snug. For me these days, it’s about how consistently I can exercise and resist bad food. Those are actually my two personal resolutions for 2011, like they have been every year. It’s just harder to find the motivation with each year that passes.

Speaking of resolutions, I’ve also made a shopping resolution for 2011. Uh oh, you say while rolling your eyes, here we go again. I know I’m no better than the next untrustworthy addict who swears she’ll not inhale/imbibe/buy again. But this year, I’ve taken a friend’s advice to heart and made two lists. One, a holy grail wish list of sorts, of all the dream items I’d love to find. That list is for giggles. Two, a more practical wish list that I’ve stored on my phone so that when I do find myself in a store, I don’t get distracted by other tempting fillers.

This second list is based on a serious assessment made a couple of weekends ago of my current wardrobe. I went through my closet and pulled out all the items I haven’t worn in years and probably will never wear. In short, about 35.9% of my closet is now in another room marked for recycling. It was both a daunting and therapeutic process, this closet colonoscopy, but I can’t tell you how freeing it is to let go of things that you don’t need. What is is with the emotional attachment to material goods? Is it genetic, cultural, or gender-specific? I don’t know, but it sure is nice to de-clutter every once in a while. Especially when that process turns up a couple of surprises I forgot I had…

but it’s going to be a few days before I can get my fat ankle into any kind of high heel.

Anyway, I’m sure some of you have running wish lists as well as you head into each new shopping season, right? Would love to see what’s on yours!

Weather lore has it that back in the early days of the Rose Parade, officials made a pact with the churches that if January 1st ever fell on a Sunday, they would move the parade to the 2nd so that no one would skip out on church service…in exchange for a sunny parade day. The “contract” must have been somewhat enforced because since 1890, it has rained only about 9 times on the day of the parade. This year, my parents are visiting me specifically at this time to attend the parade as a celebration of a huge milestone for our family: my dad’s 70th birthday.

So you can imagine the anxiety has been rather high for me with our recent spouts of heavy rain all leading up to now. I was still checking the forecast while on my way to the airport. Heck, if I’d known where to go I would have gone to renogotiate that deal for a sunny parade day myself! And if a hundred anti-rain dances had helped, I would have gladly done a thousand. But no need, because as you can see in these photos, we had beautiful weather both on New Year’s Eve as people began claiming their seats along the parade route…

and on New Year’s Day as the floats, bands, and horses began their 9km march down Colorado Boulevard (part of the iconic Route 66)…

Now, about that magic number 70. We tell him it’s the new 40, and with his new meds working and his appetite back, leading to revived spirits, he might as well be 30. Which makes me a mere child…and that’s fine by me, because to acknowledge the fact that he’s 70 is to also admit that I’m no longer 21. Aging is not graceful, not because of the physical changes (ok, I’m lying, it’s totally about vanity) but because of the realization that time is non-negotiable. The irony of rushing to arrive at an age where you finally find confidence in who you are is the futile effort in slowing time down so that you could prolong the relationship you now have with your parents as an adult, free of angst from navigating the muddy waters of parent-child boundaries.

But who am I kidding, perhaps on my father’s 100th birthday I would still feel like an overprotected 20-something child waiting for him to change the windshield wipers on my car while visiting me at law school. Or the kid he held in his arms while tracing the shape of the United States on a map of the world to show me the distance between Vietnam and our new home. I do not know why some of these memories remain so vivid to me still, but sometimes I do wonder if it wasn’t in that moment that the seed was planted within me to chase all those countries we saw on that map so many years ago.

Much has been said about the special relationship between a girl and her father, in any culture, and I believe my sisters would agree when I say that each of us has an unique one with our father. Perhaps for someone who can sometimes overshare in a forum as public as a blog, I probably have the quietest relationship with him out of the three girls. I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve; it is guarded like the Hope Diamond. I keep emotions in check lest I look human. But I think unspoken love has a long tradition in the paternal side of my family…at least till my generation. We are all mellowing out, cousins and all, and I am happy to see my uncles and aunts also reaching out to show the love that’s always been bubbling just under the surface. It is entirely possible to be both stoic and sentient.

So in spite of all the things my shrink told me I’m doing that are emotionally stifling (she, btw, shockingly does not believe in retail therapy as a fix!), the blog entries here that tell stories about my family have always been an open love letter to my parents. I’m still not so good about telling people often enough that I care about them, but today, to my father on his 70th birthday, I’d like say that if I don’t tell him I love him enough, it is not for lack of it. There is no word, in any language, that could describe the depth of my feelings for my parents. They may not want to jump off cliffs like I do, but they’ve taught me courage. They may find stability in roots that I shun, but they’ve taught me commitment. They may see way more good in people than I do, but they’ve taught me compassion.

I don’t know if it’s ever possible to repay your parents for the life they give you. And it’s unlikely I’ll ever know the love of my own child (do cats count?). But perhaps in these few words today my dad can take comfort in knowing that all of his children, in our own ways, recognize his sacrifices and that we love him unconditionally. Happy birthday, daddy.

Tags: New Year's Day, Pasadena, Rose Parade, Route 66

You’ve probably heard that we had almost 7 full days of rain here in California, and for southern Cal, that’s practically as bad as 40 days and 40 nights. But in spite of the horrific mudslides in some of our hills, a full rainbow showed up at the end of the rains…

and the next day we all got into our cars and drove anywhere just because it had stopped raining!

Today, on Christmas Eve, it was such a fantastic, sunny day in Pasadena that I’m pretty certain Santa will wear a t-shirt if not shorts when he passes through here later.

I hope you get everything you wished for–maybe even something in a black box with white letters –

and if there’s still a little room in your stocking, I’m adding joy, peace, and a sunny disposition to your loot. Happy holidays everyone!