Christmas

I have now celebrated 25 Christmases, and though they've varied wildly in terms of location, company and gift quality (the bubble gum pink shoes were a nadir), every celebration has been marked by reconnecting with people I haven't seen in a while. This year, Christmas sort of turned into this domino effect of families latching onto other friends and families to converge in Vegas. At one point, we had a roving horde of 20 asian people. Seriously, if I weren't part of this group, I would be scared of us. It was loud. I tried to get people to form battle formations, but this proved to be too complicated/people were inept at making rows of four. Then, I assigned everyone a number and tried to get people to count off. This was also a formidable task because people kept forgetting their numbers. Le sigh.

Three years ago, when we gathered with this set of relatives, we put together a gingerbread house. Since the constructing-something-gingerbread thing clearly needs to become a tradition, I picked up a gingerbread tree this year. The piping of the icing was surprisingly tricky, the green icing didn't look at all like leaves (the way the box looked) and the overall effect was sort of like slime dripping down steps.

Here's the finished tree, with a snowman on the bottom-left and presents in front. Some of us (high school boys, ahem) looked at the presents (upside-down) and immediately started making comments about boobs.

Then of course, we immediately dismantled the entire thing. The gingerbread was pretty tough to bite, but it was still edible overall. Mmm, sugar, preservatives and Red 5.

That's right, we were all drinking (mock) mojitos by noon on Christmas. What better way to celebrate a birthday??

As a reminder that we are in Vegas, the house down the street has this ridiculous 90,000 light display, synchronized to music broadcast on 95.9 FM for a four-block radius. According to the hand-out, the owners begin work on the lighting system after Halloween, and the light show goes live after Thanksgiving. There are 16 dedicated circuits of 20 amps each powering the lights, and the electricity bill is comparable to one month of heavy summer a/c. You can't see it in the video, but there is a custom made Ferris wheel, built in pieces similar to an erector set. During the off-season, the lights and equipment are stored in a large barn. Why do they do it? "We are both still kids at heart, and enjoy seein the smiles on all the children, especially the "adult" ones. This is our Christmas gift to everyone." Let's hear it for public goods.

Roots

In case you are wondering, I haven't been blogging my Las Vegas escapades extensively for a few reasons: 1) the density of WTF-I-must-blog-this-now events is lower compared to Tokyo, 2) I have comparatively less control over my downtime and by extension, blogging time, and 3) sheer laziness.

Let point #1 in no way undermine your opinion of Vegas however. The thing is, though Vegas has strong potential for hilarious shit to take place, the prospects for ridiculousity are rather muted if one is traveling with one's parents. At least, that is what happens with my parents. Moreover, I am here with a good deal of extended family, most of whom are well-meaning but fairly conservative, typical Asian parents. And well, if it is no fun to drink alone, it is not much better to drink while surrounded by a dozen sober/underage people. It is a darn shame that none of these cousins are legal. Ironically, I somehow got suckered into playing bartender and making mocktails for everyone.

This is not to say that vacation hasn't been fun, but simply that this is much more a family vacation than a Vegas vacation. Which is fine, seeing as I haven't seen my family in 6 months and my cousins in about 3 years. I actually arrived a couple days before Chester (something about a minor snowstorm on the eastern seaboard...), and for that period, I felt like I was an only child. I can't remember the last time I had the undivided attention of my parents, and it felt pretty weird. On the other hand, I did enjoy catching up with my mom on family gossip, and it feels good to speak extensive amounts of Chinese.

Much to my relief, Chester arrived soon enough, and pretty much the second thing he said was "Hey Crystal, feel my pecs!" Apparently he's been making ample use of his gym pass at school, and can now bench his own weight. Um, what happened to the scrawny nerd I left behind in MA?

All was not lost though, as Chester whipped out a DVD with the Christmas special for It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. We've finally reached the point where our interests have converged and we find the same things funny (IASIP, Hipsters Discussing Cyclocross). Six years is a significant age difference for siblings, and as the older child, I always took the lead in Making Shit Happen. This week, for the first time, it dawned on me that Chester is all grown up and I could afford to take a step back.

My cousins have also grown by leaps and bounds, losing rounded baby faces and gaining height with shocking speed. It seems that longish hair is in these days for guys. Or maybe it's just the recession-friendly option.

Where's Chester?

My mom (#6) is closest to her two younger siblings (#7-8), so we tend to hang out with their families and shun the others. The second generation is pictured here in a classic sidewalk self-portrait. We run the gamut from 8th grade (Marilyn) to two years post-college (me). I was mildly taken aback when Marilyn told a masturbatory joke, and also when she began laughing uproariously and pointing at a sign advertising Hot Babes with the number 696-9696...kids these days.

My aunt brought along her dogs as well, two pint-size chihuahuas. Apparently, shelters in CA are flooded with chihuahuas, not surprising given the popularity of toy dogs in purses on the west coast. We never had pets at home other than the cursory goldfish because my mom thinks they're too much trouble. As it turns out, she used to have a dog when she was a kid (my uncle kept teasing her, "Remember that time you made me go buy five cookies, and gave one to me and four to the dog?"). Then somewhere along the way she went grinch. I'm not firmly planted in either the pet or no pets camp, but I could kind of see her point when we got back one night to find that Lucy had gotten out of the kitchen, where we had penned her, and had proceeded to pee in four places, poop in several more, and her sweater had somehow disappeared. Oh and, she dragged a pair of my underwear into the living room, where Chester found it. Awk.

Holiday Shorts

After the frenetic pace of posting in Tokyo, I haven't been updating, partly because I needed a break and partly because I've spent an embarrassing number of hours watching Fullmetal Alchemist in the last couple weeks. But due to popular demand, here is what I've been up to in the last weeks of 2009:

• For the first time, I hosted Thanksgiving dinner this year for assorted friends and Thanksgiving orphans. Since my rule of thumb for dinner parties and potlucks is to never cook anything I haven't cooked before, I immediately ruled out turkey and substituted beer can chicken instead. Besides, beer can chicken looks theatrical and complicated while being really easy. In essence, you put an open can of beer inside the chicken's chest cavity, and the beer evaporates into the chicken and keeps it moist. My other concern was carving the chicken, and I spent a while reading the wikihow on how to carve poultry. Luckily, Sean volunteered to cut up the chicken for me; this kid is definitely getting invited to all future dinner parties. The rest of the menu included sun-dried tomato hummus, vegetable crudite platter, acorn squash-apple soup with pepitas, zucchini cups stuffed with cannellini bean, mashed potatoes, sauteed mushrooms over cheese grits, cornbread stuffing, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie and pecan pie.
• Due to a series of (un?)fortunate events, I recently got a stand mixer. That's right, this is the Kitchen Aid stand mixer, something I've coveted for years but could never justify buying myself because I don't bake nearly that much. But now that I have a shiny cobalt blue stand mixer, I have been making an effort to bake bread once a week. The results have been mixed (har), and I have yet to duplicate restaurant quality bread, but hopefully it will get easier with practice. After I get tired of breads, I plan to move on to macaroons, meringues and marshmallows. Or, maybe it's time to splurge on the attachment appliances, which you can use to turn your mixer into an ice cream maker, pasta roller, meat grinder, grain mill, etc. Pictured below is focaccia topped with Bergkase mountain cheese, rosemary, red pepper and onion flakes.

• After seeing this amazing barbershop video and Tomas' Lymph Notes project, I was inspired to do some singing of my own, and decided to rope people into going caroling with me. I tried to recruit people who either a) were strong musicians and would be able to read music or b) were ballsy enough to sing in public with me. Unfortunately, the two sets did not really intersect. This meant that the people who were singing correctly were far too quiet, and the people who were out of tune were singing quite exuberantly and enthusiastically. I did my best to belt out the melody to cover up any discrepancies. At any rate, it was still fun and I can now say that I've caroled under the Millenium Park Bean.
• With Chester off to college and out of the house for the first time, the parentals have been relishing their newfound status as empty nesters/having a mid-life crisis. For instance, my mother informed me the other day that she signed up for belly dance lessons. (Do not make comments on how my mom is a MILF.) And for the holidays, we are abandoning the traditional New England Christmas for Christmas in...Vegas. Yeah, this will be hilarious. My uncle (#7) and his family are coming too. Also my aunt (#8) and her family. And their two dogs. And also my aunt's brother in law and his family are coming along. And my mom's friend from St. Louis and his brother. I have been assigned the task of finding family-friendly activities to keep the not-yet-legal high schoolers entertained. Do you think we can go looking for the stripper mobile? No?? Ok, I am also planning an excursion to see Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon. As it so happens, J&P will also be in Vegas at the same time, so I might sneak off for a bit to hang out on the Strip with them.

Hey, Remember that Time...?

My mom and I did some cleaning today, sorting through old files and trying to throw things out and mostly failing. Amidst the detritus of yellowed receipts and cobwebs, Mom uncovered things like my hospital bill from 1985 and my dad's journal from his first few years in America. The segment that most neatly wraps up my dad: "1979. We are living in a boarding house with 6 other families, and it is always terribly noisy. More than anything else, I wish I had my own study so that I can read in peace. I am determined to make enough money so that my kids can have rooms of their own."

Elsewhere in the department of things I had no idea about: apparently, my dad used to be a champion ping-pong player back in high school. Sadly, I have yet to see him demonstrate this prowess at ping-pong.

Upon reflection, I myself was a pack rat/budding archivist from an early age. I'm not sure if this is normal, but I kept meticulous files all throughout childhood with stuff that I thought was interesting or significant: 1st grade report cards, math awards, ticket stubs, my sticker collection, a long Starburst wrapper chain, a Jigglypuff gummy snack from a crush, a piece of the wall from Meyzeek Middle School that I took when I graduated...I have at least 5 boxes in the basement simply labeled "Memories."

Today, I rediscovered a few old photo albums that I'd stored and completely forgotten about once digital cameras came into fashion. Since digitization is FTW, I started scanning some of the photos for kicks and giggles. Here are the fruits of my labour:

Me, blissfully unaware at age 3 that this outfit is totally stereotypical

Chester and me, circa 1994. At this point, I hated dresses, lace and anything pink. I assure you, my smile here cloaks a simmering rage at the domination of adults.

Standing in front of the White House in 6th grade or so

Chester, cracking a lot of eggs

8th grade--Is it bad that I still have this shirt?

As much as I hated having my picture taken while growing up, I have to say that looking at old family photos was hilarious.

Quote of the day:
"I was talking to my tai chi master, and he asked if I was religious. I said, well I believe religion is best suited for extremely wise people, or extremely stupid people. I fall somewhere in the middle, so no." -Mom

Reason #238 Why Being Home Rocks

I consider myself a pretty good home cook, but there's nothing like getting home and being welcomed by a ginormous bowl of bún riêu, or rice vermicelli with crab. This is usually done with a spicy seafood broth, and my mom shelled a dozen crabs for this, so it's extremely flavorful. In this cannot-be-bought-in-restaurants rendition, you can see huge hunks of crab meat, accompanied by tomato, bean sprouts, lettuce, mint and thai basil.

Blood is Thicker than Water

Last Sunday, I checked my phone to find three voicemails in the span of an hour. The first was my mom, frantically telling me that my cousin Fong was in town, and that we should hang out and could I please make sure my apartment was clean if he came over. The second was my aunt, telling me that my cousin Fong was in town, and that we should spend some time together. The third was (surprise!) my cousin Fong, who said that he was in town and we should get together. All right, all right...

To provide some background knowledge, Fong is one of the cousins on my mom's side that we don't particularly keep in touch with. I hadn't seen him since about 6th grade. I didn't know what he was doing job-wise, or where he was living. I couldn't remember how old he was. Hell, I didn't even know his (English) name. This was pretty much like a blind date except for that sharing genetics part. Hesitantly, I picked up the phone and tried to tease out what he liked to do, so I could get a better sense of what form this hang-out would take. After all, this is Chicago, so we could have done anything from seeing Jersey Boys to jeering in the bleachers at a Cubs game.

I threw out the idea of a brewpub, and Fong was on that like white on rice. (Go figure, beer is almost always a sure-fire common denominator.) Since I've been meaning to go back to the Publican, I billed the restaurant as the ultimate anti-Semitic temple to pork, oysters and beer and Fong readily agreed to meet me there. He also said that he would eat anything. So far, so good.

On Monday, Fong gave me a call to find out what time I would be free. "Well, I'm about to go to a lecture by Michael Pollan right now, but that should only last an hour. Um, he's an activist who supports sustainable agriculture and eco-conscious eating. He wrote Omnivore's Dilemma, if you've heard of that...Actually, you don't need to give me a ride to the restaurant because I'm going to bike."

At the restaurant, I waited and nervously scanned the incoming crowd for Asian guys. Finally, there was a tap on my shoulder. "Fong, what's up? It's been forever!" I hugged Fong and looked him over. A little shorter than I remembered (or maybe I had simply grown), but still a recognizable fit with my hazy memories. Fong took a look at me and said, "Ok, so how much of a hippie are you?" I cringed inwardly and tried to explain that I wasn't that much of a hippie, just environmentally conscious. (Oh boy, has Ithaca done a number on me...)

The rest of the conversation proceeded smoothly. Fong has always been the self-proclaimed black sheep of the family, and the most prominent story about him in the family is the time he went to the wedding reception for Terri (my oldest cousin) and got ridiculously drunk. I wasn't actually there, but I've definitely heard about this from several relatives. In his defense, Fong simply said, "Well, I was 19, and there was free alcohol, and oh yeah, I spent most of my time hitting on one of Maggie's friends...yeahhh."

As you might expect, Fong's antics tended to raise eyebrows amongst my conservative Chinese relatives. In contrast, I was always upholding the "perfect" child, academic superstar mantle. Hence, I was somewhat relieved when Fong sized me up and said, "Well, I'm glad you turned out cool. You drink beer."

Fong went on to say that while he may have experimented lots in college, he was much less adventurous these days and mostly just stuck to smoking. Besides, while he may not be considered a role model by his Chinese relatives, compared to the Cambodian side of his family, he was a friggin' genius. Most of his cousins on that half of the family were working blue-collar jobs and didn't have college degrees. So really, he was doing quite all right for himself, thank you very much, Judgmental Chinese Relatives. Then, he may have strongly advised trying mushrooms just once in my life, so long as I was in a safe environment with people I trust. Say, how about a family vacation in Amsterdam?? I giggled as I pictured traipsing through Europe with my cousins on the ultimate family-unfriendly vacay.

Hedonism aside, Fong shored up his nerd cred and cemented my respect for him when he mentioned that he'd set up an FTP server at his parents' house, since they were one of the first households to get access to Verizon FiOS, and so he gets insanely fast download and upload speeds. "There's 1.2 T of space on that computer! I'll make you an account when I get home and you can check out all the media that's on there." He went on to describe his extensive collection of jazz, french rap, indian music and anime. "Wait, French rap?" I questioned. "Oh, I'm fluent in French. I even spent a few months in a Bhuddist temple in France one summer."

It's funny to think that I really don't know many of my cousins. For a variety of reasons, we never meet as a group. We're geographically dispersed across the country, and there's never been a tradition of getting together around the holidays. Also, since there are 8 siblings on my mom's side of the family, various factions are always feuding with each other at one point or another. In fact, every year when I send out Christmas cards, I ask my mom if there's anyone we're currently not talking to.

My mom is known informally as 老六, or Number Six, and she is closest to her younger siblings (#7-8). Fong's mom is 三姨, or Aunt Three, and since she left Vietnam to study abroad when my mom was pretty young, they were never very close. Thus, we've had little contact with Fong over the years, but I know my youngest cousins pretty well (e.g. we're Facebook friends). Fong, on the other hand, couldn't name any of the younger cousins, and drew a blank when I mentioned Chester. "Who's Chester?" he asked. "Um, my brother?" I replied. "Ohh shit. Don't tell your mom I said that."

We went through the list and tried to figure out everyone's ages. I was shocked to hear that Terri now has two kids (I haven't seen her since I was maybe 3.) For the record, here are all the cousins on my mom's side of the family: Terri (36?), Maggie (34?), Al (31), Jun (30?), Fong (28), Choy (28?), Chris (26?), Yogi (26?), Me (23), Jenny (21), Chester (17), Steven (17), Stanley (14), Evelyn (15), Marilyn (12?), Dino (10?)

I mentioned that for the most part, I disliked talking on the phone but was logged into some form of instant messenger 24/7. In a classic dork moment, Fong said, "Oh, me too! What's your screenname, what platform(s) do you use?" Then we bonded over our mutual use of Pidgin. Perhaps it will be another decade before I meet up with Fong (legal name: Sornak) again, but at least we will keep hanging out on the internets. Or maybe Amsterdam.

Rare Instances of Phone > IM

About once a week, generally on Sunday afternoons, my mom and I have a long, lazy chat. There's never any purpose to the conversation, unless you count catching up on family gossip. Half the time, we put each other on speakerphone and casually throw out topics, as I chop vegetables and she sorts through laundry.

Sometimes I'll get stories from the past, from my mom's childhood in Vietnam, or my parents' struggles as fresh-off-the-boat immigrants. Today, my mom recounted how she excelled at dance class in elementary school, but the teacher wouldn't give her the lead role because she couldn't afford to buy the costume. "You could be a flower or a strand of grass, but those outfits were more expensive. What did I end up as? An insect!" Then she wistfully said that had she been born in a wealthier family, or a different country, she would probably be an excellent ballet dancer today.

Sometimes I'll get stories from the present, the latest juice on my brother's prom date (Korean & ditzy?) or my renegade 20-year-old cousin who eloped and ran off to Italy. Apparently she came back recently to give birth to a daughter, to ensure her claims to American citizenship, then immediately went back to Europe.

Often, I get unsolicited advice, gentle probing questions, and reassurances. Despite seeing my family once, maybe twice a year, they continue to shape and influence my decisions with an invisible hand. And these days, I pass on plenty of suggestions and knowledge too, from technical help, to how to make sushi, to reminders to buy extra-long sheets for my brother for next fall.

Mostly, I just want to say I'm grateful that my mom has always been super supportive, even when I posit crazy proposals, like quitting my job to do a master's in gastronomy in Italy. Not too many parents would immediately throw their weight behind something like this, and then suggest that I take advantage of Italian voice lessons while I'm over there.

I can only hope to someday be as great of a parent.

Things to do on Christmas Eve

Originally, we wanted Taco Bell, but it was closed. Luckily, IHOP was still open and hopping, and in fact, while we were there, a group of 20 people walked in.

Our waitress seemed a bit harried, so in an effort to spread some holiday cheer, we left some drawings of a Christmas tree, a unicorn (cut off in the picture), and a nice tip on the check: "Don't play leapfrog with a unicorn. =)"

Fear not, we also left $7 on the table.

Homecoming, MA version

I'm "home" (e.g. in Massachusetts) for the first time in a year, and I like how my mom has now begun making moonshine. (It must be the Kentucky roots.) Unfortunately, the results leave something to be desired. Namely, you could not pay me to drink the onion-based alcoholic concoction she has come up with. The grape-based "wine" is slightly better, but that's not saying a whole lot either.

Like last year, we are doing a lobster dinner for the holidays. In case you hadn't heard, due to a decline in demand from the recessionary economy and a bountiful lobster haul this year, the price of lobster has fallen to ridiculously low levels. So, when our fishmonger told us that lobster was $4.75/lb, my mom decided to double her intended order to 20 lobsters. That's right, there will be a 2.2:1 lobster:human ratio at this meal. And let's not even get started on the soft-shelled crabs.

Thanksgiving, "Tradition" Edition

Thanksgiving is, in fact, our absolute all-time favorite holiday, being as it is devoid of political, religious, or romantic overtones and instead focusing all its holiday powers on the consumption of food. Much of which is covered in delicious, delicious gravy. -MenuPages Chicago blog

Although I could have crashed another family's Thanksgiving (last year with the Meckels was a hilariously good time), this year there were sufficient numbers of people hanging out in Chicago, so it made sense to cook our own meal. My first Thanksgiving without adults doing the cooking! Fear not, unlike the last time I cooked with a group of people, there were no fires this time. In fact, I'd say we had all the elements of a classic Thanksgiving day, including:

I. A megaton of food

As it so happens, everyone else was vegetarian, and I am pretty much a flexitarian, so that meant this would be a beast-less feast. However, Ricky still wanted a "traditional" meal, or as close to it as you could get sans turkey. (I scrapped my plan to have a fondue party instead.) The menu was as follows:

• Soy "chicken" cutlets
• Mashed potatoes
• Gravy
• Green bean casserole
• Pumpkin pie
• Biscuits
• Cornbread and broccoli rabe strata
• Curried lentils with sweet potato and napa

Can you guess which two items I was responsible for? I am actually a little sad that the lentils got scarfed down and were gone before dinner had even begun; I was hoping there would be leftovers to take home. On the other hand, there's nothing like seeing people fight over the last scraps of something you cooked.

II. Heated argument in the kitchen

I'll just say that there was quite a brouhaha over whether we were serving pumpkin pie versus pumpkin scones or pumpkin bread. In this case, the conservative movement won.

III. Declarations of thanks, preferably inappropriate

As Ricky and I were mid-fork and about to chow down, Chris interrupted us with the obligatory "let's go around the table and say something we're thankful for!" He then launches into tirade of sorts, giving thanks that we were gathered here today not under the guise of religion.

IV. Relatives, preferably ones you see no more than once a year

Chris' mom, brother, and the brother's girlfriend stopped by for a brief visit after their own Thanksgiving fete, which is unusual since he rarely talks to them (even though his mom lives nearby in the suburbs). I can't say too much about the kin because after a brief round of introductions, the Family started chatting in the kitchen, while the Friends retreated to the living room. However, Chris' brother does share his uncanny knack for memorizing lines from TV shows. Perhaps the highlight of the visit was when Chris brought up the recent election (purely to agitate the waters some more). His (Republican) mom said something to the effect of, "Sometimes you need a Democrat in the White House, but I don't know..."

Chris: Yeah, we don't want the minorities getting too much power. I mean, look at China!
Family, in kitchen: [dead silence] [crickets]
Friends, in living room: HAHAHAHAHA!

Since the off-color political joke didn't go over so well, Chris then tried to navigate to safer waters, namely, embarrassing childhood stories about himself.

Mom: Yeah, like the time they elected you class president and then the school decided they couldn't possibly have someone like you at the head of the class. They called me and said, "We know this is supposed to be a democratic process, but with your son's behavior record..." I told them I completely understood, but they still insisted that a formal disbarment had to take place. The teachers were there, the principal was there, the school psychologist was there...

V. Staring at the TV in a gluttonous stupor

In my younger days, I used to be a big fan of watching whatever "Wonderful World of Disney" or "Charlie Brown" special aired at night. This year, post-meal digestion was accompanied by a season of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" DVDs. If you haven't seen this show, it's excellent, and has the irreverent humor embodied by Lucille from "Arrested Development." We were also on a roll with the PS2 playing, until we broke the Gran Turismo disc. Oops.

Finally, on an unrelated note, the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade Rick Roll was awesomely executed. It never ceases to amaze me how an obscure '80s star has found new life with the popularity of this seemingly-random internet meme. Go Rick Astley!

The Great Wall

My mom and uncle just got back from a month-long trip to China. As my mom excitedly told us, they pass out certificates as proof that you expended the effort to climb to the top of the Great Wall. I should ask her what was tougher, the Great Wall or the 161 steps of McGraw Tower.

Among the other things she peppered me with (did you call about wisdom teeth? why didn't you talk to your brother more?!), she mentioned that she felt like she didn't know enough Chinese. (Oy veh, I thought, what does that mean for me?) Mostly, this referred to lack of cultural knowledge. Apparently in Anhui, there is a sophisticated traditional table setting that neatly combines table objects and directional elements that result in a clever wordplay, imparting "lifelong peace and serenity." She also rambled on about some other ancient Chinese texts and customs (leaving a hat at the entrance to indicate the presence of the host), but it was midnight and I was tuning out.

My parents were born and raised in Vietnam, and this was probably my mom's third or so trip to China. That means heritage-wise, we're sort of an unconventional amalgam of SE Asian (probably half the stuff my mom cooks has Viet roots) and Chinese (which is hard to define since the country is ginormous). So where does that leave me, oh hapless chimera of American-Born Chinese Twinkie?

It leaves me wishing I'd had time to take more Chinese at Cornell (probably the best academic decision I made at college), but now that I'm out of undergrad and not working abroad in the foreseeable future, realistically it's not so much an option. Funny how the certificate I got threw up as many hidden barriers as it opened doors.

(Unwanted) Birthday Presents

My aunties Julia and Nancy have forgotten the exact date of my birthday (they thought it was today), but no matter, they’ve graciously given me a rediculous TV for the new apartment. My jaw hit the floor when I saw it: 32” HD widescreen TV/DVD combo, and they included a wall mount with it. And here I was sifting through Craig’s list for cheap/free 20” TVs.

Why do I say “unwanted” then? Because I know they’re not doing so well these days, and they can’t afford it. I shudder every time my birthday/Christmas rolls around and I get packages from them, because it invariably means a pricey gift that is well-intentioned, but is something that they can’t and shouldn’t pay for it. When people give me gifts, generally I say something along the lines of “Oh thank you, but you really shouldn’t have.” Well, in this case, I mean it.

It worries me that they feel the need to give expensive gifts, even though their own finances aren’t in great shape. Part of it is pride and the need to keep up appearances, and part is just bad judgment. I reiterate this every year, but I wish I could convey for once and for all, that a simple card or phone call would express their love just as well.

They included the gift receipts. I’m crossing my fingers that if I return the TV, the money can be placed back on the credit card, since they undoubtedly put it on one.

Debutante Ball, of sorts

It is my firm belief that every true Southern belle needs her own debutante ball. Basically, this is a combination coming-of-age and presentation to society gala. Obviously, they don’t happen in New England, nor would I have wanted one, but some of my classmates from high school did carry out the tradition.

My grandma and I headed over to July 4^th feastivities and bbq hosted by Great Auntie Mei. She’s one of those elder statesman figures in the Louisville Chinese-Viet Community; I’m actually not sure what her name is because everyone refers to her as the Great Auntie. Yesterday, she invited us over, particularly so that she (and a lot of others) could see me. When I arrived, the driveway jammed full with cars and small children. I pulled in with trepidation.

Immediately, I was waylayed by a few people who recognized me, and although I had no idea who they were, I nodded and smiled with recognition. My god, the last time I saw you, you were this tall! (*waves at the ground) I was introduced to several new children and husbands, but unlike years past, was spared being poked, prodded or pinched.

At this “family” reunion of sorts, people can roughly be divided into categories by age. Let’s see:

• 60+: This includes those venerable elder figures who brought their families to Louisville when it was impossible to buy bean sprouts and locals couldn’t tell the difference between Taiwan and Thailand. Children have mostly intermarried those from other families and taken over family businesses. Have acquired all sorts of nicknames due to being a different relationship (Great Aunt, Grandma, Mother in Law, etc) to everyone in town. English skills are just sufficient to pass the U.S. citizenship test, and all is promptly forgotten afterwards.
• 40s & 50s: Kids are mostly in high school and college, and they are free to spend weekends playing mahjong or cards for hours on end. English is proficient enough to establish careers and businesses. Speaking voices tend to be loud to the point of yelling, gossip circulates faster than a newly released Potter book.
• 30s: Young moms (and dads) who try to maintain a hipper look and trendy dress. May have blonde-ish highlights in layered hair. Have a decent command of English and tend to speak to kids in English if they don’t respond to Chinese.
• 20s: um, that’d be me. Most of the other people I can think of in this range are currently not in this state. Including myself by the end of the week.
• Teeny boppers: sufficiently assimilated into American culture, often to the detriment of language skills, which is inversely proportional to fashion sense. Sparring cliques are heard to remark: “Sophia and all her friends, they’re so snooty.”
• Younguns: still in diapers, but smart enough to strategically scream when ice pops are being passed out. Beware being excessively fat or skinny; you will be summarily examined and your parents’ negligence discussed over the mahjong table. Actually, this last rule applies to anyone in the previous categories too.

Needless to say, I felt a little out of place, but ended up hanging out with the old people and playing foosball with the kids.

I was struck by the number of people who spoke to me in English at first, then switched to Cantonese once they realized I was sufficiently fluent. Moreover, I garnered some praise for graduating and landing a good job, but was roundly commended for the language fluency. It’s a little discouraging to see that so many kids in my generation have aural but not oral proficiency in Chinese. Not only these kids, but most of my cousins have limited Chinese skills as well, which is a shame. Even my brother’s Chinese is not exactly fluid.

It’s a shame that the language isn’t being passed down, not only for the practical value of knowing another language, but for the rich oral tradition that gets lost. My Chinese isn’t perfect, but I can easily join into conversations, understand jokes, hold my own and generally chew the fat with any takers. Without this background, how would you ever develop any meaningful relationships with the older generation?

I came away with $100 tucked into a red envelope from Great Auntie Mei.

Shopping like it's my Job

Aside from talking, there is nothing my Aunt Binh likes better than shopping and finding great deals. Naturally, when I mentioned my new job, she immediately scented a shopping extravaganza opportunity and announced that she was taking me shopping for that business casual wardrobe. I protested weakly that I already went shopping and had a few pairs of slacks and appropriately professional attire in my closet. Also, I’m working at the Fed, not an i-banking firm or something involving sales. Nonsense, she said, we’ll set you up properly! Even brides aren’t getting this great a makeover! You will not get passed over for promotions because of any sort of attire slip-up! It's rather a shame (or a blessing, depending on how you want to look at it) that my aunt never had daughters.

So, the next day, my aunt (along with one of her sisters and my grandma) plopped me down at the nearest mall and went to town. I have to hand it to her, she has some kind of radar for clearance sales, and we picked up pants, blouses and jackets for absurdly low prices. Nice pants for $4.97? As she pointed out, even if you were a seamstress, the fabric itself is worth more than that. I hope some poor sweatshop worker is getting paid overseas.

At the end of the day, she eyed my (unprofessionally large, colorful, eye-catching, cartoon-playing) watch and hinted that I needed a nice silver one. I waffled and said I had one at home.

I now have lots of garment bags full of clothing of the type I haven’t worn since my hotelie days. My aunt has lots of bragging rights to stories which demonstrate her shopping savvy. “Your Auntie Lin was practically drooling over the phone when I told her last night!”

Homecoming

Louisville has grown and matured in the last seven years, and I suppose I have as well. The skyline is dotted with new skyscrapers that weren’t there when I left, there’s a new baseball stadium downtown, empty fields have been converted into shopping plazas and restaurants, while less successful storefronts have been replaced. Simultaneously, people have moved up and onward. Skinny schoolkids are now hulking teens, and the toddlers are so numerous I can’t keep track of their names (surprise). Many of the people I knew here moved out of state for college and haven’t come back. And a few people’s parents and grandparents have moved up and beyond, and are never coming back.

I went to see Caroline today, who is an old family friend, to reminisce about old news and gossip about new news. Her first comment was, “Well, you are lookin’ good, girl!” and her second comment was, “You look the same!” Apparently she has a new man, and hasn’t told Bill (the old man) about this, but simply has dinner with him once a week and lets him assume that she wants more time to herself. “After going with someone for 20 years, sometimes things just get old, you know? And I don’t want to hurt Bill’s feelings, so I still see him once a week. Sonny understands there’s nothing between us, and that I’d like to keep up the friendship, so it’s been working out fine!”

I hope I’m that feisty when I’m old.

For kicks and giggles, I then decided to drive by my old house and my old old house. The latter had been painted white with maroon trim (it used to be yellow), and the former had a funky African statue in the front. Also, the trees were too big, or, bigger than I remembered them. In either case, it looked like the houses were well-maintained, so I won’t begrudge the owners some styling modifications.

On impulse, I drove by my old daycare and stopped in. Spying an elderly teacher in the hall, I accosted her and said, “When I was this little girl’s age (*waves), I used to go to this preschool.” I told her my name and she said, “Why, yes, yes! And you had a brother, his name was…” “Chester,” I prompted. “His name was Chester, and he’s turning 16 this month.” “Oh my word, well I’m so glad you stopped by!” I asked if she was Miss Goldie (the only teacher I remember), and she was indeed! I mentioned that my brother and I still remembered her, and Miss Goldie laughed and said, “Well, I sure hope they were good memories!” To be precise, my strongest memory happened immediately after the release of Lion King, with my brother exclaiming, “Aunt Donna is Simba! Miss Goldie is Scar!” However, I thought it better to refrain from mentioning this.

The Joy Luck Club

At my grandma’s house, I was greeted with far too much food (“It’s only leftovers”) and cheers of “Happy Birthday.” The kitchen was crowded with women gambling at cards. Note: these aren’t the usual cards, but the thin kind without numbers, skinnier than a finger and decorated with symbols I can’t comprehend. I’m not even going to pretend to understand the game itself.

It is beyond me how they manage to track the progress of play, bluff and gossip all at once. Upon our entrance, my dad and I were inspected and pumped for information. How’s your mom? Has she gotten any fatter? No? That’s too bad. How about your brother, how tall is he? How are his grades? I heard he went to China last summer, how’s his Chinese? Oh, he didn’t really learn anything? Well, you’re the smart one in the family anyway. That’s not true, both of them are smart. Is he working? Oh, that’s good; my son is such a lazy bum. What’s your new job? The Federal what? Wait, what’s that again? Oh great, so you can give us stock tips, right? Is that your new car in the driveway? How much did you pay? Let’s see your hands. Wow, you will be rich in the future! So, do you have a boyfriend? That’s okay, you’re still young! Just be sure to bring home someone Chinese, haha. Just kidding, the only thing that matters is that they are a good person!

As I spoke, comments, judgments and compliments were volleyed across the table at near-yelling volume. And you thought I was loud? I’m telling you, it’s a survival mechanism.