Category Archives: a picture is worth a thousand words

Sundays in My City

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I have not yet participated in Unknown Mami‘s Sundays in My City weekly feature that I so enjoy on her blog. (Actually, I love all her weekly features: the I Comment Therefore I am on Mondays and the Fragmented Fridays) I thought I’d give it a go this Sunday, seeing how I need a good excuse to show off my “AWESOME” (Notice the quote fingers?) photography skills.

Unknown Mami

Disclaimer: These were not taken on a Sunday (as you could see my son was heading to school…) nor in a city (as clearly as the day it was taken we live in a very suburban suburb… I need to learn to not apologize for it…)

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How I relax

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Visual Representation of My Thought Process

To all the people watching, I can never thank you enough for your kindness to me, and I’ll think about it for the rest of my life. All I ask of you is one thing: Please do not be cynical. I hate cynicism: it’s my least favorite quality, and it doesn’t lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen.

– Conan O’Brien

p.s. The picture is from our vacation in Maui in 2008. It was warm. No snow. I was on vacation. No work. My job was secure then. No impending doom. And my kids were still just kids. No freaksoid preteen (Such a category is not even named in Chinese so how do you expect me to deal with this phase?!).

p.p.s. Great. The picture was supposed to help me relax. Now it simply reminds me of things that once were.

p.p.p.s. If I were given $32 million dollars, I could probably also afford to be un-cynical.

p.p.p.p.s. Ok. That sounded VERY cynical.

p.p.p.p.p.s. Sorry. Coco.

Random pictures I took with my phone because I could

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This post should be filed under “Random pictures I took with my phone because I could” and “I am swamped at work but I need to feed my Tamagotchi aka blog so I am taking the easy, FINE, lazy!, way out” and “I am taking 6:30 am flight out, again, which sucks ass, and I just did grocery shopping because there are only three things in the world that my kids would eat, cleaned up the whole house, did the dishes and the laundry, packed their lunchboxes, left notes all over the house to remind them of trash day, so my kids will NOT grow up to become serial killers, and I needed to go pack for my trip wondering what I could wear that would not make me look pregnant” …

Mr. Monk, my 7 year-old boy, told me to come over so he could give me a very important lesson.
He was very proud of himself. I, like a good mother, was very proud as well.

Mr. Monk gave me "a very important lesson" the other day...

Mr. Monk decided to write a newsletter when he first overheard about what happened in Haiti. Only that he did not know at that time it was an earthquake and not a tsunami that destroyed Haiti. (He was probably also thinking of what happened in Indonesia in 2009…) He also did not know how to spell Haiti then.

Mr. Monk decided to be a Newspaper man...

The 21st Century Phone Booth - What would Super Man do?

Yes, I took this picture in a bathroom stall...

Velcro makes it so much easier to change the price on the fly

WTF Wednesday: Year-End Clearance

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I have all these wonderful posts ideas for posts lined up for before the end of the year. Alas, I am in turbo-boost Catch Up mode: In less than 10 days, I had the wonderful experience of flying on 6 different airplanes. Not accustomed to being a road warrior, to rapidly adjusting to different time zones, or to packing/unpacking in quick succession, I feel like I am walking through a mist, on unstable ground. Or it could simply be I am walking through crap collected from my trips strewn on the floor in my house since I soon gave up on unpacking. Nevertheless, I do not want to miss my once-a-week WTF Wednesday feature.

(Naturally I am cheating by Backdating this post. Good thing Sarbanes–Oxley Act does not apply to blog posting…)

So here is a composition of random pictures taken at my random WTF moments:

Considering how you call yours a Chinese restaurant, I surely hope one of you are, or at least, the food is...



A question we will still be asking next year, and the next, and the next...



"The Dog and Bentley"

This picture may deserve some explanation: I was enjoying a nice bowl of frozen desert with large dark tapiocas aka “pearls” (which I am completely obsessed with and would gladly tell anybody that I had 6 bowls/cups of those in 2 days when I was in Taipei, on top of everything else I ate) at a sidewalk stand/shop. The shop owner during the day keeps his dog on the sidewalk, as you can see, with a makeshift cardboard-box doghouse. Just as I was admiring the very well-behaved dog, I saw that across the street is a Bentley dealership with a fancy showcase room. I found this an interesting juxtaposition. It says so much about Taipei.

Serisouly. How much do you want to discuss your menstrual cycle?

This is the “Menstrual Care” section at a drug store. I have not “lived” in Taiwan since 1993 and I am intrigued by the resurgence, modernization, and popularity of herbal medicinal health culinary supplement drinks dedicated to menstrual care. This belief has been around for thousands of years, that beauty (read: SLENDER FIGURE, YOUNG-LOOKING, GOOD and PALE SKIN) needs to be cultivated from inside. Not the “inner beauty” crap, y’all. You need to take the herbs. And you need to take care of your menstrual cycles. THAT is what I have been missing for living abroad. Seriously. Mine is all out of whack. Only I did not realize that until I was confronted with shelves of herbal drinks. Nowadays it seems to be OK to openly talk about the “condition”, and though I am far from being a prude, the “openness” caught me off-guard. The WTF yet heart-warming moment came when my nephew, who is only 9 years younger than I am, brought me a case of these drinks, telling me, “These are very effective! My girlfriend takes these. They taste really good, she said, and she does not suffer from menstrual cramps any more. Her skin has also improved a lot. You need to start taking these yourself!”

Christmas Eve Shuffle

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Every year we come back to my husband’s childhood home for Christmas. We are fortunate, I guess, in that we never have to worry/argue/agonize about splitting time between two sets of grandparents since mine are 7,500 miles away. It has become a holiday ritual:

Santa goes to grandpa and grandma’s house.

This year I let my 7 yo, Mr. Monk, pack his own backpack for the plane ride. Not surprisingly, “practical” was not his top priority…

Packed with Love by Mr. Monk



I have been doing the holiday the right way: I did not accomplish a thing since we arrived here on Monday. It certainly feels good to not have to be mindful of efficiency 24/7 because now I have plenty of time to burn… I am after all, as the British calls it, on holiday.

My mother-in-law on the other hand makes the gingerbread house, does arts and crafts, plays “pretend games”, bakes cookies, plays cards and Scrabbles, in short, provides great childhood memories for the boys. And in all honesty, things that I am not good at. I do however remain an accomplished “efficient” dishwasher, as my father-in-law commented appreciatively. Here’s the thing: I don’t mind helping out when I am at my in-laws because they are always so appreciative, making sure I know that I “don’t have to do this or that”. They actually thanked me EVERY TIME I did the dishes. Because of my own anal retentiveness, I cannot sit around watching the mess built up anyway. I volunteer to vacuum the house while they entertain the children. I consider that a more than fair trade.

There is no rest for the wicked as the cliche goes, especially on the day when baby Jesus was born: I do need to pay the piper today. Christmas Eve. An entire holiday tradition of my own: Frantically wrapping all the presents that have been arriving at my in-laws since November and accumulating in the basement. The “DO NOT ENTER” zone for my kids until December 25, aka, Santa’s Workshop…

Santa'w Workshop...

The most annoying part of “Santa’s job” is to open up all the packages, tear open the plastic wrapped around the items and discard the cardboard boxes and the said plastic thingy. Seriously, Amazon.com, have you not heard of global warming or any environmental alarm about our impending doom? You do NOT need to wrap books in that fashion: they do not break! One of the boxes has an elongated shape, and is about 4 feet tall. You wonder what it contained? A nylon kitchen spoon for my mother-in-law, wrapped in giant bubble wraps! Yes, yes, yes, I do feel guilty for being part of this… But they (Amazon.com) make it so easy to just order everything and have it shipped to my in-laws rather than lug them all the way from Chicago…

So. Now you know what I will be doing the whole day on Christmas Eve: Hiding in the basement. I only wish that Santa’s Workshop came with a bar…

If you celebrate Christmas, here is wishing you a peaceful Christmas Eve and a very Merry Christmas.

My treasured James Garfield card from The Bloggess

WTF Wednesday: Christmas Presents Don’t

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If you must, get the hand wipes.

Your pending divorce. Or the future bildungsroman written by your children. Courtesy of CVS.

While you are at it, get one of those cards strategically positioned by the cash register at any liquor store to go with an item you carefully selected from this section.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas: Jackal & Hyde Style

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This post was written on December 20, 2009, the Sunday before Christmas…

I am a gullible cynic. Or rather a cynical _______ (Fill in the blank for “a gullible person”). If it is possible to have such a conflicted personality. Or I may just be plain crazy.

Despite the making fun of the over-exposure of the so-called holiday “shop till you drop because the economy needs YOU!” season, the rampant commercialization of Xmas (not being Christian, I don’t really lament the secularization of Christmas but I do sympathize), the frenzy and stress we arguably inflict upon ourselves, I do look forward to the holiday season.

It is a time for family to gather around, for friends to get together. And for each one of us to marvel at how much the children have grown, even just through the sending of the holiday cards, or the much-lampooned holiday letters. For snow: always nice to admire from inside a heated house even though we curse at it when we shovel. For hot cocoas. For fire in the gas fireplace. For remembering how blessed one is. For thinking of the others, even if only once a year. Better than never, really. For teaching your children to think of the others, hoping the once-a-year lesson will stick with them as they grow up. Better than not even trying, really. For vacation.

I go through the holiday season playing Jackal and Hyde. Flip-n-flopping. Thanks to the “Stolen Day” and my will to procrastinate till the last minute, I am enjoying an atypical day of leisure and peace, and I am feeling especially schizophrenic. One minute I am all cynical and wondering how hilarious it would be, albeit absolutely not advised, to give my mother-in-law one of these ornaments…

Come on. You know you want one of these...

Or how “wink wink ain’t I hip and cool” it would be to hang this on our Christmas tree, at the risk of DCFS pounding on my front door (since I assume they have such a law against passing down cynicism against Xmas to children under the age of 18)…

For truth seekers only

The next minute I am merrily humming, going through Bing Crosby’s Christmas song repertoire inside my head. Driving through the burbs, appreciating the snow-covered trees and rooftops during the day, admiring the twinkling lights by night and, as much as I am tempted to make fun of the enthusiasm, the extravagant Christmas displays some families put up. The radio in my car is turned to the Christmas music station (though back to NPR on Saturday mornings). I sing along to almost every song, and I feel… *gasp* HAPPY. *ashamed* HOLIDAY-y. Except of course when they play “Christmas Shoes“. I cry so hard every time this song comes on that I am unable to catch my breath. Sappy? Sure. Do I feel manipulated and stupid? Of course. But is it the saddest, most depressing song ever and your heart is made of stone if you don’t cry when you hear it for the first time? YES!

The next minute, not satisfied with the old Internet meme of “creepy/scary Santas and crying kids” photos, I am spamming the Interweb with the new meme called “Santa Gone Wild”:

Annual Santa Speedo Run in Boston

Santacon in UK, complete with a pub crawl!

And the next minute I am wistfully looking outside at my boys frolicking in the snow while Sinatra crooning “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” in the background…

What reminded me of the true spirit of what has come to be known worldwide as “Christmas”, yes, the secular holiday that is widely celebrated in say, China, Taiwan, Japan and even India, the non-Christian countries, ironically, is when Mr. Monk, my youngest, observed out loud,

“Why did they call the radio station ‘Holiday Music Station’ when everything they play is about Christmas? How come they don’t play music for other holidays?… Shouldn’t they just call it Christmas Music?”

Mr. Monk, who still steadfastly believes in Santa, unknowingly expressed, IMO, what a true Christian should reflect upon– the existence of and the respect due to the others– as Christmas fever sweeps the nation, nay, the world. Faster than you know. Whether you like it or not.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you…

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I was thinking since I am all over the map going from warm fuzzy pictures of my kids smiling like angels to crazy ass inappropriate jokes and cursing to crazy ass all-out ranting on people/events/things that piss me off. I either have ADHD or Bi-Polar, I realized, or as my husband would gladly tell you, “Insane in the Membrane”. I was thinking, perhaps I should create a Warning System for my blog.

Straight from Homeland Security

Don't you wish there is such a system for everything in life?



I really like how Homeland Security did the color coded chart because, as we all know, homo sapiens (“Not that there’s anything wrong with it.”) are visual animals. Really, when I see the ORANGE color at the airport, I become appreciative and understanding of the 1-hour wait at the security line. When disaster strikes, nothing is going to get my fat ass moving faster than seeing a RED flag waving in the air.

Won’t it be cool if I have a Warning System for this blog, before you start reading a post, you would know what to expect:

Blog Advisory System: Don't say I didn't warn you!

Blog Advisory System: Don't say I didn't warn you!



Of course, after an hour of working on my Blog Advisory system, I realized that no Advisory System is going to reach the goal of MECE: Mutually Exclusive and Collectively Exhaustive. Mock ye not. This is something the McKinsey & Co. consultants live and die by. And they get paid big bucks for being anal retentive. No shit. For instance, it worries me that the heartless dicks and grouchiest bitches amongst you will need a special warning such as this one:

Danger Ahead

lolCAT

Well, like I said, don’t say that I didn’t warn you…

Hello, December!

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"Ma! There is nothing inside!"

"Ma! There is nothing inside!"



If not for the end of NaBloPoMo, I would not have been so eager to see December, in all honesty.

Who's your daddy?!

Who's your daddy?!



Sorry, December. It’s not you. On second thought, actually, it is you.

I am just remembering the things I need to accomplish before we get on the plane to DC for Christmas on December 20. I am too scared to start making the list. Christmas shopping is the least of my worry right now. (Hello! Walgreens and CVS!) Real Fear #1 is that I may need to send out a Christmas card, NOT with the adorable picture of my kids smiling after I yell “DAMN IT! SMILE NOW OR I WILL DO IT FOR YOU!” which sadly is an annual occurrence, BUT of a picture of James Garfield since it is extremely tempting AND it just seems so much easier than trying to capture the smiles of my kids in the midst of whining, grabassing and soon sobbing.

(Do we have an English teacher in the house? I am sure the above sentence is a prime example for teaching your students how to fix grammatic errors. You can use it for free. You are welcome).

Real Fear #2, or perhaps it is simply Annoyance #1: Advent Calendar. HOW TO FILL THAT SUCKER EVERY SINGLE DAY MORNING? Oh, and REMEMBER TO FILL IT EVERY MORNING. That would help.

I forget, the way I forget that “tooth fairy brings a coin the night you lost your tooth”, saved only by crawling under the bed and yelling, “Oh, honey, look! It is here all along. It just fell!”

An advice to you out there without an Advent Calendar but are considering it: Do NOT do it. But if you must, make sure you get the Advent Calendar with BIG spaces for the stuff. Ours has itzy bitzy spaces that are meant for the Lilliputians. I kid you not. It is a great source of stress for me every year, trying to figure out WHAT in the hell I can shove into that tiny hole, for TWO kids.

I decided on Quarters last year. I was so proud of myself: Who does not like cash?

Well, my kids don’t.

You think I can get pieces of coals that can fit in that box?