HadashiWorld

where i've been (writing)

abandoned blogs are not all the same, you know. some are like pieces of lovely driftwood; floating into and out of the life of the writer with peaceful ease. others are like an old pair of socks, pushed to the back of the internet dresser by newer concerns, eventually forgotten but still there. then there are the ones that are like an old dirty jacket on the side of the freeway; who knows how they got there, but when you see them, there's a sort of embarrassed pathos surrounding them.
I'd like to hope that if you're reading this, you see that this wasn't so much an abandoned blog as it was simply lying dormant for awhile. in the beginning, when I didn't have much to say here, I felt like I should apologise for this (see two posts ago) but beyond that, I felt rather mute. you see, life took some very unexpected turns and most of my writing energy went into making sense of it.
I still can't tell you what will become of this blog, HadashiWorld, but I don't feel like it's become driftwood yet, and I'm not going to toss it out the window of the speeding car of life. meanwhile, if you'd like to see what I have been writing, you can look over at www.tummymuffin.net. it began as a private sort of communication with my "village," but that village has expanded in ways I didn't expect. I will warn you that its primary topic quickly becomes about two very basic human experiences: loss and grief - but maybe that's what we sometimes need to read about -- and write about -- because we are human. and you need this invitation because although grief is personal, it needs to be worked out in community; however, unless you're invited, it's too uncomfortable to look at. it's like seeing someone's underwear in public.
so here's my (clean) underwear, I suppose; why you haven't heard much here for awhile. I hope to find more to say here in 2010, and have the time and interest to perhaps experiment a bit with what that may be.
wish me luck.

fish or fowl

"Perhaps I'm neither fish nor fowl because the world now accommodates flying minnows."

-me, in a recently-unearthed journal from years ago

hiatus

there's been a great void of silence here at HadashiWorld, more than ever before. i'm not giving up though; it's just that due to some unforeseen life events, including a pregnancy loss, i have done most of my blogging elsewhere and haven't felt like i've had a whole lot to say here. i'm hoping that will change soon and that i can come back here to reflect, comment, and otherwise spout off my opinionated thoughts. thanks for your patience; sorry for the hiatus.

the goldening of America

i've written here before about interracial relationships and racial identity, but just in a few short years much has changed. there are now a million more Americans identifying as mixed-raced than only 8 years ago, in 2000 , when the United States census finally allowed people of multiple races, like myself, to come out of the "Other" shadows and into the more honest daylight of "Check All That Apply." the dawn of the Obama presidency has caused an immense amount of national reflection on race & identity, and i rejoice that the most powerful and public face of America is not only dark-skinned, but a mixed-race and mixed-culture one at that.

]]> recently, Newsweek magazine ran an article chock-full of fascinating new statistics about race relating to "Who We Are Now." apparently, the community i live in, Los Angeles, barely lost out to the Bronx as the nation's most diverse community. if you choose two people at random in my county, the chance they will be of different races or ethnicities is a whopping 89%. (the Bronx came in at 89.7%.) i've long held the belief that L.A., and large urban centers in general, are more tolerant/liberal in general because if you aren't even vaguely open-minded and not threatened by people Other Than Your Kind, you cannot survive in such cosmopolitan centers. i always give the example that if you go to the post office, out of the ten people in line, there will be at least one representative of each major ethnicity there with you...and you won't even notice. and now, here's this spiffy statistic to back me up!

since i'd begun reading this article at the gym (a run on the elliptical = catch up on Newsweek reading time ) i decided to do an unscientific experiment to prove my post office theory. i counted about 20 people in my field of vision, and here's how they broke down: 11 were not white. 6 were white. 4 were of indeterminate ethnicity. forty-five minutes later, at the end of my run, i counted 20 people around me again: 8 were not white. 10 were white. 2 were indeterminate. (i say "unscientific" because "white" simply meant "light skin & generally Caucasian features," and i only had profile on half these people, plus a lot of sweat in my eyes.) now, maybe the only thing in common all 21 of us had at those two counting moments was our decision to exercise in public, but otherwise, i think i can safely say that all of us found it completely unremarkable that the person puffing away beside us on the next treadmill probably didn't share our skin color, home culture, or possibly even first language.

and this, says Newsweek, is who we are now. this is the present and future America, like it or not. perhaps some swaths of America have yet to experience this, due to geography & history (Slope County, North Dakota: 0.8% diverse), but given the growth of immigration, minority birthrates, and - i think most importantly -- societal acceptance of minority & mixed-race people, even Slope County may start getting more colorful within the next generation or two. in 1995, acceptance of interracial marriage was 54%. i find this astonishing, that as late as the mid-nineties, half of Americans still had issues with my parents' relationship - but today that acceptance rate is 80%. perhaps this is because the percentage of people who say they know a mixed-race couple has risen from 58% in '95 to 79% today, and over a third report that they or a close family member are married to or live with a partner of a different race/ethnicity. personal relationships and experience go a long way towards multicultural acceptance - i've had more than one conversation with people whose attitudes about Those People changed dramatically after rooming with, or befriending , or even falling in love with One Of Them. suddenly, Those People simply become people, and that One Of Them is just "my friend" or "my roommate," or -- my favourite -- "my love." perhaps the media would like to paint this "new" multicultural tolerance as a generational sea change, but i still think that this is really where peaceful diversity starts: one person at a time, one relationship at a time, one comfort zone expansion at a time.

Raina Kelley, a writer for Newsweek who herself is in an interracial marriage, has a biracial baby whom she calls "golden," after his neither black-nor-white skin tone. contemplating the nation that he, and the other 4.9 million multiracial Americans are now living in, she asks, "Isn't the real secret of American freedom that we don't have to accept the roles that society assigns us? Our newly elected [biracial] president ignored the racial stereotyping that seemed to limit what he could accomplish in this country...perhaps as the number of multiracial Americans continues to grow, there will be a plurality of golden people who are impossible to positively identify as one race or the other." this, she says, will force others to "accept that color does not contribute to the content of one's character because we won't know which set of stereotypes to apply to whom."

i find this concept intriguing, that as my generation of mixed-race kids - well, we're pretty much adults now - quickly becomes one of the last to be considered out-of -the-norm, we'll be somehow leading the way for this huge new crop of little golden babies to never have to "choose one box only," to be proud of and accept all sides of their racial heritage, even as they figure out what kind of cultural identity to have. my kids will have to navigate being multi-racial, multi-cultural, and hopefully multi-lingual -- i want them to be aware of this from the very beginning. sure, i've had plenty of interesting situations in which people don't know how to identify me: American? European? Asian? but i never before thought of my existence - and my willingness to openly discuss racial identity and cultural choices - as a way to move statistics and effect societal change. that's exciting - but let's be realistic: it doesn't matter if you're of one, two, or six ethnicities; it doesn't even matter which one(s): as long as you're willing to have an open mind, see individuals before a grouping, and talk about prejudice openly, you're golden too.

who knows, you might find a new roommate, make a new friend...or find the love of your life.

new year's litany

it has not been an easy year. certainly there were many good things about it, and much to be grateful for, but especially due to the events of the last month (in which i lost three people who were extremely dear to me only weeks apart from one another), i find myself simply wanting to quietly say goodbye to 2008. and as i just as quietly say hello to 2009, i'm glad that i know that at least i am a stronger person than the one who greeted 2008 a year ago.
what i've realised this year is that it's too easy to recite a litany of all that is lost -- people, dreams, health, hopes -- until i feel lost in the howl of grief, crushed under the weight of my own fear and sadness.
however, it is also easy to recite a litany of all that i've gained -- from the generosity of others, from my own life choices, from the hand of God, and yes, even from the losses.

it is entirely my decision if these litanies become a pleading against fear, or an invocation of gratitude. both are part of my story. both must be acknowledged.

but i'm leaning towards the gratitude side...

goodbye, Bobo

this morning, Yu-Ying Eva Lee Chan(g), known to her grandchildren as "Bobo" -- the English transliteration of a Chinese word for "grandmother" -- quietly died. to everyone's surprise, most of all her own, she'd made it to 99 years old, or 100 Chinese years old, since you are counted as 1 year old at birth. she was in her own bed, sleeping (not in the hospital connected to a bunch of tubes), and most of her family had said their goodbyes. she knew she was loved. we knew we were fiercely loved by her. her life was rich and amazing and full of courage: from fleeing the Communist advance in Shanghai to making a new life with a new language and culture in America; from rejecting the old ways of her parents by getting an education and becoming a Christian, to working in nursing until well past traditional retirement age...and most of all, raising my mother along with many other children, both hers and others' -- Eva Chan was a phenomenal woman. i hope i can pass on even a fraction of her strength, faith, and love to my own children.
i'd like to think that this morning when she woke up in heaven, she was quite delighted. Jesus would lean over her: get up, Eva. get up, Yu-Ying, you're home! he'd say. she would laugh: ah, finally! it's about time i got here! Jesus chuckles: it's those long life noodles you ate all these years, he'll kid her. look, you made it to the ultimate Chinese long life year, ninety-nine! my grandmother will lean into Him, still laughing, His arm around her now straight and tall shoulders. Yu-Ying, He'll say, come and see your new home. it's got an amazing kitchen, and i know someone who grows the best tomatoes this side of heaven. i think you'll like seeing him again...
goodbye, Bobo. the day i come join you, i won't be surprised if you're waiting for me there, like you always did here, with a fresh homemade batch of char siu bao...

grown-up kid

yesterday T.T. and i celebrated our wedding anniversary. it was a little rushed -- i've been working pretty steadily on another show, so after wrapping, i rushed home and did my Hadashi's Lightning Makeover, in which i go from being tech girl in show blacks and boots to being a fabulous young thing going out on a hot date with her splendid husband. we had a lovely dinner out, and enjoyed the summery-feeling night (we must take advantage of our SoCal weather, after all), lingering over our meal and catching up with each other...until about 10pm. honestly, we were just too sleepy to stay out any longer. later, as i brushed my teeth, i thought: wow, i'm ending my Big Night Out at 10pm, celebrating a Wedding Anniversary (not a dating one), planning when to do laundry tomorrow, and taking the WaMu collapse rather seriously. how adult! how old!
but looking in the mirror, i still saw a girl staring back at me, toothpaste foam and all. she seemed pretty mischevous -- too much so to be a "woman" -- and clearly was enjoying the discomfiture of her own brain. how could i be simlutaneously a responsible adult and a crazy kid? how am i someone's wife, have a long and satisfying career, and be a responsible grown-up, but still feel, deep down inside, like a barefoot little girl who's just happy to be outside in the sunshine?
recently, i came across a list in a women's magazine titled "you know you're a grown-up when...". i was vaguely horrified to discover, that according to this random collection of criteria, that i was most definitely a grown-up. "you retire your short-shorts, even though you've got great legs, if you do say so yourself." uh, check. "you pass up the cheese fries with the ranch dressing not because they're fattening, but because they're not good for you." check. "the idea of staying in is just as appealing as the idea of going out." well, now that i live with that hottie boyfriend of mine, sure. "it is completely impossible for you to ignore a sink full of dirty dishes." double-check. "rocking out along with the radio no longer embarrasses you. in fact, you turn it up." hey, yeah, check! this one is when it all made more sense: being a grown-up doesn't necessarily mean being boring or having no fun. maybe it's that you're old enough to have the confidence to be who you are without apologising so much for it. and understanding that practicality and joie de vivre are not mutually exclusive.
sure, this is not an earth-shakingly new discovery or a deep new philosophy -- it's something i've suspected for a long time. but somehow, there in the bathroom with a toothbrush in my mouth, it kind of crystallised for me: being a grown-up isn't necessarily a bad thing, as long as i don't lose the girl inside me. as author Ursula K. LeGuin has said, "the creative adult is the child who has survived. " maybe being an adult really just means knowing when to throw some pragmatism into the mix so you can live to play another day.
anyway, i'm still trying to figure this all out, but not too hard. besides, i have a sink full of dirty dishes to deal with -- but i'm going to crank the music and sing along at the top of my lungs while i do them.

the omnivore's hundred

last night, over a lovely meal that Ms. Jen made (involving an heirloom tomato, dates and manchego, and an '06 Zinfandel), we discussed Michael Pollan's excellent book The Omnivore's Dilemma. this morning, i saw this meme on Maki's excellent blog, Just Hungry. here's the idea:

-take this list of one hundred edibles and boldface the ones you've eaten.
-cross off the ones you'd never consider eating for whatever reason.
-Maki put the ones she loves in red. i think this is an excellent idea. i'm going to put the ones i love in a slightly larger font.
-you can then link to your list at Very Good Taste, where this meme originated, check out the initial follow-up of results, and have all questions related to it answered. yes, it's kind of Anglo-centric; it was meant to be. no, i did not know what all these foods were, and that's part of the fun! so here goes:

]]> 1. Venison. i lived in Oregon for a few years, during my miserable junior high days. sometimes, during hunting season, neighbours would give us meat. my mother, very wisely, did not refuse and then did not inform us we were eating Bambi's mom. yes, Bambi's mom is pretty tasty.
2. Nettle tea.
3. Huevos rancheros. i live in L.A. this is ubiquitous on even the most non-Mexican breakfast menus.
4. Steak tartare. i guess it's essentially cow sushi. i considered crossing this out, but i'm undecided.
5. Crocodile. the first show i worked on in Australia had a segment shot on a crocodile ranch. of course they had croc burgers. people, crocodile is delicious, if (important) cooked correctly. it does not taste like chicken. it does not taste like fish. it's sort of halfway in between the two for texture.
6. Black pudding. the first time i had this was on an Aer Lingus flight, travelling to Amsterdam to visit Ms. Jen herself. i liked it. when i found out what it was, i still liked it.
7. Cheese fondue. i would give this the Larger Font Tasty Award simply for being melty cheese, except in the melty cheese category i love raclette so much more. raclette ROCKS.
8. Carp. if you've ever had a Chinese seafood dish that uses the word "bream," you've had carp.
9. Borscht. my Aunt Ginger made me borscht with fresh beets in her NYC apartment and the flavours were so clear and strong.
10. Baba ghanoush. due to an eggplant allergy i was afraid of this dish for a long time. but i recently had it in Turkey (i was in Turkey! i had to have some! damn the potential stomach cramps!) and all was well. recently, i had roasted organic farmer's market eggplants in an emboldened moment. all was well. hmmmm.
11. Calamari.
12. Pho. if this said "bun" i would totally give it the Larger Font Tasty Award (LFTA). pho is good. bun is awesome.
13. PB&J sandwich. i'm obviously a grown-up now because the last one i had was almond butter and Mediterranean fig jam on Ezekiel bread. geez, i'm so fancy pants.
14. Aloo gobi. if this was aloo paneer, it would be the LFTA!
15. Hot dog from a street cart. the best i ever had was a Thüringer wurst from a guy at a train station in Berlin. the "cart" was actually attached to his body as a wrap-around portable grill/sausage stand. amazing.
16. Epoisses. a stinky cheese. i shall try it someday.
17. Black truffle. working on Hell's Kitchen has its perks.
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes. my German in-laws have neighbours that are essentially local farmers. they brew some amazing concoctions from some amazing things. although the fruit wines are okay, it's the walnut liquour that is unbelievable. Nusslikor would totally get a LFTA.
19. Steamed pork buns. the first LFTA! this is my ultimate comfort food, perhaps. my Chinese grandmother would make a huge batch whenever the grandkids were around. in her dialect, it's called "mudoi." i've since learned to make it myself, based on her recipe with my modifications, and do so often. yesterday, my mother made a big batch of mudoi, from my recipe, for my grandmother's 99th birthday. three generations of Chan women, bound together by mudoi. yay mudoi. i love you.
20. Pistachio ice cream. you have not tasted pistachio ice cream until you have had it in Turkey. ice cream, called "mado," is made with goat's milk and holy non-cow, it's good.
21. Heirloom tomatoes. that was a great pasta sauce, Ms. Jen.
22. Fresh wild berries. as mentioned, i lived for a time in Oregon, where blackberries are not even sold because they're so plentiful in everyone's yards and bike paths. i was blessed enough to live at a house that had not just blackberries, but blueberries, boysenberries, raspberries, and loganberries. it is a small bit of paradise to put a sun-warmed, just-picked berry in your mouth and feel it explode.
23. ~~Foie gras~~. not interested. especially knowing how those livers got so fatty. no thanks.
24. Rice and beans. almost every culture has some version of this. i probably like them all. Jamaica does a good one, but Puerto Rico's yellow rice & beans is the most memorable.
25. ~~Brawn, or head cheese~~. the great thing about being an omnivore is that one has a lot of choice. and i do not choose this.
26. ~~Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper~~. although i have made great strides in upping my spicy tolerance, i doubt i will ever eat one of these freakishly hot morsels. however, we did get these for my mother-in-law, who adores spicyness. she now grows these in her garden.
27. Dulce de leche. i remember a rainy night in San Jose, Puerto Rico, having a cup of coffee and some baked item that involved a dulce de leche sauce. the sheer caramelly kick of that sauce was enough to make me forget i was damp and cold.
28. Oysters.
29. Baklava. after eating quite a bit in Turkey, i am convinced that baklava is actually better-looking than tasting. it's quite yummy, but ogling trays of it in shop windows is somehow more enjoyable.
30. Bagna cauda. i would like to try this IN Piedmont, Italy. although i'm willing to find a good Italian restaurant for a sample.
31. Wasabi peas. such a good little snacky treat.
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl. although i think there will be violent disagreement from many, i believe this is one of the most overrated dishes ever.
33. Salted lassi. but i like mango lassi better. because mango is totally a LFTA item in any form.
34. Sauerkraut. there is a giant container of this in the fridge right now. my husband is German. i have no choice.
35. Root beer float. one of my first real jobs was working at an A&W in Japan -- they needed a fluent English speaker to deal with all the homesick American customers and didn't care that my Japanese wasn't great. i served up a lot of root beer floats, and i have to say - -the Frosty Mug is pretty much the finest.
36. Cognac ~~with a fat cigar~~.
37. Clotted cream tea this gets a LFTA because of all that is associated with actually having a high tea in which clotted cream plays a part: the friends, the atmosphere, the tiny sandwiches, the scones upon which said delicious yellow creaminess is... but then again, one of the best clotted cream teas i ever had was a tiny shop in Dublin called Queen of Tarts and i was by myself in full adventure mode.
38. ~~Vodka jelly/Jell-O~~. is it so wrong of me to be proud of both non-bolding and striking this out? although i do admit to not only having, but making a lot of Gene George's Mystery Punch, which could potentially involve Jell-O (albeit in powder form). i preferred blue Kool-Aid.
39. Gumbo. preferably in a small Lousiana town in an even smaller restaurant.
40. Oxtail. in soup. not memorable.
41. Curried goat. i've had goat in a lot more forms than i ever thought i would. the best curried goat was Skippy IV, in Ethiopia, eaten around the very fire that roasted him whole.
42. Whole insects. have i? have i not? i've certainly had plenty of opportunity, and you'd think i'd remember, but i don't. for the sake of veracity, i will leave this un-bolded.
43. ~~Phaal~~. see Scotch Bonnet entry. i don't do hurt-yourself spicy.
44. Goat's milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more. i have, amazingly, had the opportunity more than once (thanks to my days of working in hip-hop music videos), but due to professional/personal dignity reasons, i declined.
46. Fugu. maybe. someday. not a big deal for me. i guess if one day Keizo-san at Sushi Zo serves it as part of his omakase.
47. Chicken tikka masala.
48. Eel.
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut. yes, it's worth the hype. but it MUST be super-duper fresh. as in just off the doughnut conveyor belt.
50. Sea urchin.
51. Prickly pear. again, living in L.A., nopales is a pretty common item on a Mexican, especially Oaxacan menu.
52. Umeboshi. sadly, i never learned to really like this. every other Asian person i know does, though. i do, however, like it when it's in the center of an onigiri (rice ball).
53. Abalone.
54. Paneer. ooh ooh ooh! and here it is! i love paneer in almost any dish it's put into.
55. ~~McDonald's Big Mac Meal~~. luckily, this says "Meal." i've had the Big Mac, long ago as a child in Japan when McDonald's was a huge treat because that Big Mac cost something like $10 at the current yen rate. i can't remember the last time i ate McDonald's food, and i would like to keep it that way.
56. Spaetzle. i plead German husband again. you know, i got a spätzle maker as a wedding gift. i think it's still in my in-laws' basement.
57. Dirty gin martini. martini, yes. dirty gin, no.
58. ~~Beer above 8% ABV~~. here's the deal. i have never liked beer. i have tried to, especially because if you live in England and you don't like beer, you are seriously socially hampered. luckily, i do like dry cider, so i survived. but even now, when people talk about a cold beer, i think "yuk!"
59. Poutine. i am sure the minute i go to Quebec or any bordering area thereof, i will immediately order this.
60. Carob chips. thanks to my mother, i was brought up believing that carob chips were actually a very superior type of chocolate chip. she was, in some ways, correct.
61. S'mores. i have to give this a LFTA simply for all that a s'more implies: campfire, friends/family, roasting marshies, the sticky finger leftovers. i am proud to have been the one to introduce T.T. (the husband) to s'mores. now he is the championest champion marshie roaster of all time.
62. Sweetbreads. here's the deal. i've had stuffing in the U.K. numerous times. chances are, i've had this. but i'll leave it unbolded anyway.
63. Kaolin. i'd try this, but i'm glad i don't HAVE to eat it.
64. Currywurst. i blame the German husband again, but holy moley, it's so addictive and deliciously bad for you and an awesome street food that i can never stop eating. i have a gigantor bottle of Curry Gewürz Ketchup in the fridge that i now put on any sausage to recreate the yumness. there's a currywurst stand next to my father-in-law's office called the Currysau ("the Curry Pig") and let's just say it gets a lot of business.
65. Durian. had it in Thailand. smelly, yes. surprisingly tasty, yes. i thought it was better than papaya.
66. Frogs' legs.
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake. all of the above. but i do not think you can lump all these together. each has its own delicious merits.
68. Haggis. i wanted to try it in Scotland, but never got a chance. this will be remedied if i ever return.
69. Fried plantain. this deserves a LFTA as it is so often the accompaniment to a full LFTA-worthy meal. with Cuban slow-roasted pork. with Brazilian lamb chops. with the aforementioned Puerto Rican yellow rice & beans. etc.
70. ~~Chitterlings, or andouillette~~. not a big soul food fan, especially when it comes to pig intestines.
71. Gazpacho.
72. Caviar and blini. but not at the same time. does it still count?
73. Louche absinthe. i don't know if it was "louche," but it was a bottle smuggled in from Morocco by my friend Gretchen. i was not at all excited about it.
74. Gjetost, or brunost. it's a cheese, so i would try it.
75. Roadkill. in my life of travels, it's possible i have. but don't tell me.
76. Baijiu. had a small sip in China, and i thought my lips were going to fall off.
77. Hostess Fruit Pie. i liked the lemon one. this was a HUGE treat in my childhood, and it still smacks of pure Americana to me.
78. Snail.
79. Lapsang souchong. the smoky warm goodness is not for everyone, but i love this tea. if looseleaf, mix 2 parts lapsang souchong with 1 part high-quality earl grey for an amazing cup of goodness. this was, thanks to a tea-loving craft service guy, how i got through as many seasons of Hell's Kitchen as i did.
80. Bellini. although i do not regularly have these (perhaps i should change that), the LFTA is awarded thanks to the one i had in Milan that made my eyeballs roll back in my head it was so earthshakingly good.
81. Tom yum. an LFTA if this was Tom Kah Kai.
82. Eggs Benedict. but not a fan, really.
83. Pocky. the LFTA must be awarded simply for the warm fuzzy childhood nostalgia of it all. nowadays there are so many varieties, it's almost impossible to choose one, so i seem to always just go for the original red box.
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant. if Gordon Ramsay makes food for you to taste, does that count? he has 12 Michelin stars... i will leave this unbolded anyway, and hope that one day someone will pay for me to do this.
85. Kobe beef. and then i found out how it gets to be Kobe beef. it sort of lessens the enjoyment.
86. Hare.
87. Goulash.
88. Flowers.
89. Horse. i'm pretty sure i've had opportunity. i'd try it.
90. Criollo chocolate.
91. Spam. an LFTA if this said "Spam musubi." i can't help it; i grew up on an island that consumes huge amounts of meat-in-a-can.
92. Soft shell crab.
93. Rose harissa. i know i had this in Ethiopia, but i don't know if it was rose.
94. Catfish. but not Southern-style -- steamed, Chinese-style.
95. Mole poblano. thankfully, the first time i had mole was in a small town outside of Chihuahua, Mexico. so it was authentic and unlike anything i'd ever tasted. in a good way.
96. Bagel and lox.
97. Lobster ~~Thermidor~~. the Chan family, of which i am a part, loves lobster. we grill or steam it and eat it whole and then fall over in a food coma. Thermidor-style, while all fancy and stuff, seems to be a tragic waste of a lobster.
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee. so there i was, working for a little more than a month in Jamaica, with a camera crew originally from Seattle. do you really think i could have escaped having Blue Mountain coffee?
100. Snake. one of those things, like crocodile, that was better than i thought it would be...probably because i was in Australia again.

so there it is. i think i scored pretty high for someone who does not at all consider herself a "foodie." i've realised from doing this that i have a huge advantage from 1) having a German husband, 2) having an Asian mother/growing up in Asia, and 3) extensively travelling. (oh yeah, and 4) working on a show with Gordon Ramsay.) it makes me grateful for the opportunities i've had to put potentially bizarre and wholly delicious things in my mouth and eat my way into some fantastic memories.
however, the biggest lesson in this is that the ultimate LFTA would have to be:

101. any meal of any food shared with people you love.

maybe i need GPS

since the show i am currently working on is an NBC Universal property, we shoot quite a bit on the Universal Studios backlot. now, if you're a normal human, you probably would love being there -- you get to see cool things like the phenomenal carnage of the giant plane crash site from War of the Worlds, or the Bates Motel from Psycho, which, very oddly enough, immediately adjoins the cartoony marshmallow-looking snowy world of Whoville from How the Grinch Stole Christmas. however, if you're me, you do not love being there. no, i am not some crusty jaded below-the-line crew person who does not care about movie magic; it's because the place is best seen by professionally-driven Universal Studios Backlot Tour trams. it is not meant to be navigated by innocent non-crusty crew members in their own car, as i learned last night.
now, the last few times we have shot there, crew parking is at the gate, and we're shuttled in to location, usually becoming completely disoriented by the time we get there. however, for reasons still unknown to me, we were told this time to drive all the way into the depths of the backlot to "Falls Lake" (most recognizable as the giant artificial lake where Jim Carrey ends up at the conclusion of the The Truman Show), where our big nighttime shoot was going to be. the gate guard told me (and i quote) "follow James Stewart here straight into Six Points Texas, turn left at Steven Spielberg, and go up the hill to Falls Lake." um, okay. at this point i should explain that Universal Studios is huge (230 acres or so) and old (been there since 1915) and pretty much built into wilderness land (so it's an incredibly confusing, hilly, twisting layout that is random film sets surrounded by brush). so yeah, these directions were pretty much useless.
but off i went, hoping to actually just find "Steven Spielberg." luckily, a tour tram turned right in front of me. sweet! i thought, i'll just follow that! this turned out to be an amazingly bad idea, as it was only at the last second that i realized i was about to drive straight onto the Jaws dock and get attacked by a giant rubber shark. i awkwardly reversed, ignoring the stares of the tourists, and squeezed around the tram, humiliated.
T.T. will be the first to tell you that when it comes to being directionally challenged, i am VERY directionally challenged. i admit this freely. so is it so surprising that next, i managed to somehow get stuck driving in circles around Jurassic Park? when another tram passed me, i wretchedly hoped that it wasn't the same one that watched me almost follow them into the gaping maw of Jaws. quickly becoming a tragic tourist attraction myself, i finally found a nice security guard on Wisteria Lane at Desperate Housewives, who told me he'd been there only a few days, but that Rosa down the hill and to the right could help me. thankfully, Rosa did, and i managed to barely make my call time.

now, remember that i said this was a nighttime shoot ? we wrapped sometime around 3am, and boy was it DARK. you'd think i'd have been more nervous about finding my way out, given how much trouble I had getting in, but i was cold and tired and just wanted to go home. instead of waiting to follow a less directionally-challenged person out, i foolishly peeled out of the parking lot thinking of nothing but a hot shower.
had I been starring in a horror movie, this is where the menacing music would have started. there were no streetlights. a light fog blanketed the roads, reducing visibility to barely a few feet. condensation was obscuring my windshield faster than my defrost could keep up, and i almost immediately took a wrong turn. a very wrong turn, as i found myself suddenly trapped... in a tunnel.
not just any tunnel - a claustrophobic "stone" tunnel from The Mummy, only as wide as my car, with no way to turn around, and ditches on either side. i stopped the car in disbelief, thinking oh craptastic, i have to actually drive through this. i slowly crept forward.... and my headlamps illuminated NOT the end of the tunnel, but a huge, riveted iron door. great, i thought, if this was Indiana Jones, right now would be when the giant boulder would start rolling towards me and i'd be crushed in my faithful wee Honda and dear God how am i supposed to get out of here? i had to inch my way backwards, visibility almost zero, out of the evil tunnel. despite the cold, i was sweating when i finally emerged and turned around. and that's when the coyotes started howling.
no, seriously, there are packs of wild coyotes that roam free on the Universal backlot (remember this is wilderness land) and when they start baying, it pegs the creep-o-meter right off the scale. completely spooked and exhausted, i blindly drove ahead, just wanting to put the tunnel behind me. as I passed the massive wreckage of the crashed War of the Worlds 747, i thought oh please do not let me get lost near the Psycho house where is Rosa when you need her?!?! only there were no Rosas. not even at Desperate Housewives, which i thought ALWAYS had security around. apparently not tonight, because after aimlessly weaving around Wisteria Lane, i began to completely resent Universal Studios, all stupidly named roads of Universal Studios, and any show or film ever shot on Universal Studios. oh yeah, and all coyotes of Universal Studios.
somehow, thank God, i miraculously popped out into Six Points Texas, the western town, which blessedly signaled to me that I was close to the gate. after making my way through saloons, wooden clapboard houses, and hitching posts, i emerged, exultant, at the exit gate. i knew i had just escaped certain creepy death by fog tendrils and coyotes, and cheered quietly for myself.

too bad i then spent the next 35 minutes pathetically trying to find my way onto the correct freeway going the correct direction...

connection

some of you may remember that about about a year ago, T.T. had to undergo neural reconstructive surgery to repair the damage from a botched outpatient procedure in which a major nerve was severed by a surgeon we'll call Dr. X. he had lost all use of his left trapezius muscles, and his left shoulder was caving in from the atrophy. initially, we were told we would know in about six to eight months if it was a success -- what was actually meant was that it would be a minimum of six to eight months before we'd know anything. for there to be any hope of him regaining movement and usage of that shoulder, several things needed to happen. first, the graft would have to "take," then the nerve would need to "wake up," and then the slow growth process would have to begin: nerves grow at the snail's pace of one millimeter a day. if all that happened, THEN we would have to wait and hope that the deadened trapezius muscles would not be so atrophied beyond repair that they could not begin to regenerate with the newly firing nerve.
in these long intervening months of waiting, T.T. has been doing physical therapy to try to keep his left shoulder in the best condition possible, but there has been no conclusive evidence anything was happening. this is when we really appreciated everyone's patience and concern: you would ask "how's the shoulder?" and we'd have to say: "no news yet." meanwhile, i watched T.T. struggle with the new reality of the landscape of his body: men relate to theirs so differently than women, and there were many times when i could simply feel him grieving, or letting it go...again, or even gathering himself for battle against the creeping dread that there was nothing happening under his scarred skin. there was nothing i could say, though; no magic words of consolation that would do any more good than simply putting my hand on his ruined shoulder, or gently kissing the white, twisting line that now runs down his neck.
my own private grief would sometimes bubble to the surface in odd ways, but mostly i have kept it to myself, because hope is much shinier and easier to carry like a shield in front of your tender parts. my faith tells me this is not self-delusion; this is how life is and i can either choose to trust that there is some kind of good even in the smelliest cesspool of circumstance, or i can give up and wallow. (honestly, wallowing could be easier, but i'm just a stubborn ornery girl sometimes and that's saved my sorry arse more than once from despair.) we're still fairly newlyweddish, i think, enough so that it has been scary learning to navigate the big wide chasms of soul distance that yawn wide when you look at your beloved and realise: as much as i could drown in these eyes, i will never, never see the world through them and thus i am essentially alone. but, cheesy as it sounds, love does build a bridge over those pits somehow and we have learned to be closer through this. i still can get a little emotional when he comes back from surfing -- rehab in and of itself -- and i can tell by the way he holds his face a little too steady, that he desperately misses the days when paddling out to the break wasn't the Herculean effort it is now. but i've seen his back become less hollow; he can put shirts on now without contorting to get his left arm in the sleeve, and his range of motion has improved. we've remained hopeful -- he's a stubborn ornery guy too -- yet subsequent visits to the neurosurgeon have been inconclusive. so it was decided to schedule another neural conductivity test.

]]> now, an EMG, or neural conductivity test, basically involves sticking an electrode into the affected muscle (looks like acupuncture) and seeing waveforms and hearing feedback as to whether or not there is electrical activity (nerves firing) to it. when T.T. was initially diagnosed as having had that major nerve severed, his trapezius was literally flatlined -- no electrical activity going to or from it whatsoever. the screen showed a straight line, and just white noise emanated from the speakers. i remember feeling like something was flattening my insides so i couldn't breathe. i remember T.T.'s face going cold and steady. i remember thinking somewhat detachedly: wow, this is the worst air gap situation i've ever experienced. ("air gap" is common audio-tech speak for "not plugged in or connected." as in: "why can't i hear anything on this mic?" [pick up disconnected cable end] "uhhh... it's an air gap. sorry.")
i tried not to think about this the morning of the test. i deliberately did not apply any eye makeup, knowing that if i heard that white noise again, knowing that if that flatline saying: all this, this whole year, has been for nothing came up on the screen, i would utterly dissolve in tears. the night before, we had held each other and talked about hope and about the future and about simply looking forward. "it's no use praying for a result," said my wise husband, "prayers should be for the ability to accept and face whatever the results are." we thought about all the people who have been our supporters, cheerleaders, concerned askers, pray-ers, sources of humour and comfort and encouragement. as we learned in the immediate aftermath of the surgery, our community is trusty and amazing and are the grace of God in visible form: we are far from alone in this.
we arrived early at the hospital, and as we passed the coffee cart at the main entrance, T.T. squeezed my hand in surprise. "that's him!" he said. "that's Dr. X." he kept walking. i pulled my hand out of his and doubled back: i'd never seen Dr. X, and in my mind he was a shadowy figure of destruction that i had more than once envisioned as a recipient of a good strong kick in the head, courtesy of my hadashis.
and there he was, in his white coat, putting sugar in his coffee, unaware of me staring at him. i was surprised by the total lack of anger i felt, now that i was looking at him. he was just another man who had made a horrible mistake that we were paying for. he didn't start out that day intending to destroy T.T.'s body like he did, just as T.T. didn't walk into that appointment expecting to lose his left shoulder. bad things happened that day. in some ways, both were victims. i took one last look at Dr. X, who was taking that first tentative sip of hot coffee, and realised that no matter what was about to happen on the 4th floor Neurology department, i was not going to have any bitterness or anger towards this man. i felt oddly buoyant about that as i rejoined T.T. in the lobby.
the buoyancy was short lived, once we went into the examination room. the EMG hulked in the corner, all wires and hardware and for now, a blank screen. we took deep breaths. we kissed. and then we held hands, silently, waiting for the neurologist to come in. he did. T.T. took his shirt off. the neurologist made small talk. the EMG was connected up. and then the needle went in. i literally held my breath. T.T. closed his eyes.

the screen now filled with lines; huge, jagged peaks of electrical activity, and the noise of that nerve firing, over and over, into newly repaired muscle was constant. "fascinating!" said the neurologist. i felt like an entire garden inside me was bursting into bloom. T.T. opened his eyes. "does this mean it's alive?" he said.
yes, the nerve has re-connected, woken up, and started repairing the muscle. the neurologist was very certain that we were seeing the formerly damaged muscle and not healthy muscle underneath, as apparently muscle that has been dead and is now reconstructing has a very distinct electrical signature. while the muscle repair has just begun -- it's a radius of about three or four inches around the graft site -- and has a long way to continue to go, we are incredibly, relievedly thankful that it is there at all.
we are thankful for healing, and for hope. while T.T. will probably never have full movement of it again, he may recover a good deal of it eventually, and we all know that Anything is a good deal better than Nothing! we realise we're no longer holding our proverbial breath, and just to know for sure that there is resurrection and regrowth going on gives us a great deal of optimism for the unknown future.

two things i do know: one: without God and without our community -- you, our family and friends and even strangers -- we could not have withstood this. thank you for being our fireworks of hope. and two: good that i left off the eye makeup -- after we walked out of the office, we fell into each other's arms and then i bawled anyway.

relieved

i didn't realise quite how much i was invested in the presidential race until tonight, when T.T. and i were having a nice boba milk tea and the tv monitor in the coffee shop suddenly started flashing the words "Barack Obama" and "presumptive Democratic nominee" together. i suddenly realised i'd been more or less holding my breath ever since Super Tuesday.
i don't normally wear my politics on my sleeve, or my (woefully-underposted-to) blog, but this election feels like such a crux for the state of affairs not just in America, but for this weary globe, that i'll go ahead and just plead:
please, if you're an American citizen, get informed. be part of the dialogue. get registered. and for heaven's sakes, VOTE.
if you're not, do as T.T. does and get informed. be part of the dialogue. get other people registered. get them to vote.
as exhausting as this year's election cycle will now continue to be, don't opt out.

(yes, i've been an Obama supporter from the beginning, ever since i read Dreams From My Father and later, The Audacity of Hope. but i've continued to solidify my position over the course of the long Democratic primary slog, especially after that speech on race in America that i think should be required listening for all American highschool and college freshman. there, now you know.)

of baths, baklava, and balance

as some of you may know, we once again ditched the country -- and this time we went to Turkey. why? because, well, we could. since we're still working on the kids thing, we don't have a mortgage, and we're both freelancers, we figure while we have this freedom of time & finance, we'd be foolish to waste an opportunity to see more of the world.
but why Turkey? honestly, ever since i was a small wee Hadashi, i have had the map of Turkey floating in my head as a Land of Wondrous Culture and Mystery. it's been at the top of the Places To See list for ages...and i trace the allure back to being a child sitting in a hard pew on a Sunday morning, trying not to fall asleep. as those of you who had childhoods in church will know, one of the Approved Activites During a Boring Sermon That Will Not Incur Your Parents' Wrath is to look through the pew Bible. now, at the back of any Bible worth its proverbial salt are maps. they sport fun titles like "Palestine in the Time of Christ," or "The Twelve Tribes of Israel." but for some reason, these did not interest me half so much as the one entitled "Paul's Missionary Journeys." perhaps it's because Paul, quite the nomad, did three of them, plus a one-way trip to Rome, so there were lots of colorful lines criss-crossing the page. perhaps it's also because since i was living in Japan, i was attracted to the large label that said "Asia Minor." i would pore over the map and try to impress myself by pronouncing tough words like "Smyrna" or "Pamphylia."
in any case, i made it to adulthood with the map of Asia Minor still lurking in the corners of my travel mind. the glowing testimonials of people who'd been to Istanbul plus genuine curiosity as to what East meets West really looked like made the answer to "where do you want to go next?" easy. i have to hand it to T.T. -- he wasn't immediately sold on the idea of Turkey, but he agreed to it when he knew how excited i was. to him, Turkey was this murky land of overpriced beach resorts and home to the largest population of Germany's guest workers -- basically, Turkey is to Germany as Mexico is the United States. if your whole idea of Mexico is Cancun and an immigrant workforce, you'll understand the initial reluctance. however, when you travel in a country and get to know it on its own terms, instead of through foreign perception and prejudice, it's a really freeing experience -- which is why he got excited too. so off we went, for three weeks.

]]> the thing about any travel - and probably why we love it so - is that it utterly resets your sensory receptors. you step from the familiar into a metal tube that flies and you step out of it into a place you don't know and no one knows you. there's a heady freedom in all that newness and anonymity, and it gives one a certain weightlessness of being - on one hand you float on the edges of this new place, a stranger - and in some cases, to the locals, just plain strange - but on the other, you are never this fully aware and present when in the familiarity of home.
so we flung ourselves into Turkey with that excitement, exploring back streets, eating street food, talking to random locals (Turkish people are exceptionally friendly and curious, and many speak english), going to big tourist spots and small off-the-beaten-path destinations. we ate fresh baklava and giant legs of mutton, experienced a public Turkish bath not once, but twice, and T.T. even got an old-fashioned shave and haircut in a tiny barbershop somewhere in Cappadocia.
what we found was a country that is at once ancient and modern, secular and sacred, and yes, East and West. after awhile you just get used to seeing women in full chador on the street next to girls in big earrings and miniskirts. you become accustomed to the 5-times-a-day muezzin call to prayer, beginning at 5am, but also to seeing happy groups of late-night revelers crowding into taverns for shots of raki, a particularly potent local liquor. you realize it is not an anachronism to be walking down a cobbled street and see a woman in traditional Anatolian dress chatting on a cell phone.
Turkey has long prided itself on being a democratic, secular country that is still officially 99% Muslim. the constitution calls for freedom of religion, the government is heavily involved in making sure that radical branches of Islam do not flourish (imams get sermon topics from the Ministry of Religious Affairs), and separation of church and state is taken seriously (no overtly religiously affiliated political parties, faith-based public schools, no religious garments in government offices, etc.) we saw that while many people take their faith seriously, they are almost more serious about their role in being the public face of a modern, more moderate Islam -- and they are now in the middle of a huge struggle with what that entails. the current prime minister and the government's ruling party are pro-Islamist, and there are actually lawsuits filed against them for being the "focus of anti-secular activity." Turkish people we spoke to were very worried about the religious direction that Turkey is heading in: afraid it would become another Iran, afraid they would lose any chance of ever joining the European Union, and very afraid that the last hundred years of progress gained from establishing itself as a modern, secular state would be undone.
i think this is what struck us the most about our time there: that as rich as the culture and history of the country is, it cannot be viewed only on the merits of its past. it can't be dismissed as simply another country striving to find its place on the 21st century global stage. increasingly, that region of the world and its dominant religion --Islam -- influence and bend world affairs to its demands for attention. Turkey occupies a highly unique position with its connections to the West and its secular, modern constitution. for example, only in Turkey could a project like this one take place -- a huge step towards reforming the world's perception of Islam, both by Muslims and non-Muslims.
so what's my point? i'm not sure myself -- originally i thought i was going to talk more about another naked with strangers experience (sorry Turkey, Germany & Japan's public baths are better) or the joys of a tiny glass cup of hot Turkish tea, but instead i got all serious. i think we were caught by surprise, though. we went expecting a fascinating cultural immersion -- which we got, and then some -- but we also came to really care about this country and its people and what will happen to them in the near future. some of the world's most intense, vexing forces -- questions of religion, democracy, freedom, economic expansion, ethnic identity -- coalesce here. perhaps the world would do well to pay better attention to Turkey: after all, in these global times, we are all neighbours with much lower fences than we might think.

A hui hou

he was driving home from work, so they say, when he fell asleep at the wheel ten blocks from his house. when his car hit the tree, he was instantly killed. i'd known him for almost ten years; we'd adventured our way together through the crazy world of making television. he was a camera operator; as an audio mixer, i'd been paired with him before, and our jobs together were always more fun than work. he loved life with a fierceness that made people take notice; a native Hawaiian, he truly embodied that famous aloha spirit. he was generous too; with his time, his smile, his possessions. sometimes we would talk about what we were going to do after we retired from tv production. he was re-launching a clothing line he'd started, and would lament that he was a bad businessman because he just wanted to give everything away.

his sudden, unexpected death has hit our little community of production folk really hard. T.T. knew him too; when he was with me on a job in Hawaii, they'd gotten to know one another over the generous lending of a surfboard. it seems impossible that someone so alive, someone whose life burned so bright and strong, would be gone, in an instant, without warning.
i struggle now with why his story had to end now, so swiftly. i struggle with seeing the grief of my work family. i struggle with knowing that we daily live life on the razor edge; it takes not much at all to tip our fragile selves into the end of our earthly existence. i struggle with my deeply-held belief in life after life; "i know that my Redeemer lives and i will stand with Him on that day," but what about THIS day? what about the gaping loss and all the questions and whys now?

and so this weekend, at the memorial service, i waded into the Pacific Ocean, tore the lei i had made from around my neck, and tossed the flowers into the water. as i watched the waves take the blossoms out to sea, i said A hui hou -- until we meet again -- to my friend.

Keoni, thank you for all you gave to so many; if we can live life with even just a little more aloha, a little more fearlessness, it is because of you.

reduce, reuse, recycle...resell!

when T.T. & i got married, thus not only adding our lives to one another, but also our worldly goods, we tried to pare down all the Stuff we'd accumulated. we thought we'd done a pretty good job of it, but the garage was still pretty full. this began a saga of three years of being embarrassed by our garage and then talking about Having a Big Yard Sale. the key word here was Talking.
T.T.: we should just have a yard sale and get rid of this Stuff.
Hadashi: great idea!
T.T.: maybe next weekend?
Hadashi: no, i'm working. how about the weekend after that?
T.T.: i have a huge deadline.
(silence)
Hadashi: well, you're right! we should have a yard sale!
eventually, as time passed, this conversation would degenerate into:
T.T.: we have to have that yard sale soon!
Hadashi: um, i have to wash my hair.
-or-
Hadashi: we need to have that yard sale!
T.T. um, i have to organise my DVDs.
then we would generally moan about our accumulated Stuff and sometimes make a pathetic attempt to sort it some more. in a massive effort, we got plastic bins to "organise" everything, but that basically meant the garage stayed full of Stuff in Plastic Bins, as opposed to Stuff in Random Cardboard Boxes.

]]> now, my big excuse is that since i don't have a childhood house intact anywhere, all my tangible history lives with me -- this includes the baby scrapbook, those handprints on construction paper projects from age 5, old report cards and schoolwork -- you know, all that Stuff one's mother saves, thinking "someday my grandkids will want to see this!" however, most people i know have all that Stuff, along with the stuffed animals, speech trophies, yearbooks, etc. stashed at their parents' house. my parents have had about a squillion houses since i left home at age 17, so this option has never existed for me. in fact, since i'm the one family member with a semi-permanent garage, i've accumulated quite a bit of family history.
but i digress. the History of Hadashi section of the garage notwithstanding, there was still way too much -- dare i say it? -- total crap cluttering the place. okay, not total crap, because then we'd just recycle or throw it away. no, this is that special class of crap that We Might Someday Use, or worse, is Potentially Useful to someone else. you know, an old CD player (we're all iPod, all the time now). a pair of rollerblades (going to the beach now means surfing). a toolbelt that T.T. will never, ever use (we don't think his skill set will extend to contracting work). nice picture frames (enough artwork on the walls already). a hookah pipe (no wait, that was the neighbours).
ah yes, the neighbours. thank God for them. we've had dinner a few times with our fairly new next-door neighbours -- we'll call them the NDNs -- and consider them friends. we were rather surprised, however, to get a call from them saying they were having a yard sale This Very Weekend and did we want to join them? yes, they'd already put ads on craigslist and in the Pennysaver and gotten neon posterboard for signs and yes, even a permit from the city. what? why yes, you have to get a yard sale permit from the police department...
thanks, NDNs, for the kick in our sorry pants! now we had no excuse. T.T. managed to do all the heavy lifting of assembling the Stuff to get rid of towards the front of garage, and i spent a long afternoon pricing and cleaning it. i was vaguely aware of the ridiculous nature of some of these objects -- why had we held onto a jellybean dispenser for so long? -- but it wasn't until Saturday morning, setting up in the yard, that i was fully aware of the absurdity of what we'd been keeping.
for those of you yard sale veterans, you know that the first hour is the busiest, when the True Yard Sale Believers swoop upon you and scrutinise your offerings for the choicest deals. some bargain, some don't -- i think the ones that don't, see your low low ignoramus price and just grab & go before you realise you just sold a bazillion-dollar angel figurine for a dollar. (eh, whatever; it was ugly beyond kitsch.) T.T. had pulled an all-nighter -- literally; he hadn't slept at all -- for someone who needed a rendering at the TED conference (yes, i'm client-name-dropping), so he was sort of wandering around in a dense fog of sleep deprivation. this left me to handle the swarm of buyers who seemed unnaturally interested in our enormous collection of USB hubs. cash exchanged hands, items went into strange cars, cries of pleasure upon spotting the black-and-white Nintendo GameBoy still loaded with SuperMario filled the air.
when the proverbial dust settled, i felt strangely exhilarated. i had an almost-empty yard, a box of cash, and a seriously loopy husband. i made the husband go to bed, took the two small boxes (!!!) of unsold items plus some clothing straight to Salvation Army, and came home to count the loot.
i was utterly stunned. we'd made almost (drum roll please) $250 in a few hours, selling things that literally had no value to us anymore. now, you yard sale vets are probably pooh-poohing our take - i bet you guys rake in the cash -- but to us newbies, this felt like winning the lottery. i mean, all this Stuff that started the morning as Special Crap was suddenly now someone's new Special Treasure. and i realised: this is sort of the ultimate recycle. the guy who bought the CD player now has no need to go to Best Buy. the woman who was so overjoyed to take all our unused picture frames won't need to hit that Aaron Brothers sale. only hours ago, the jellybean dispenser was collecting dust; now it was bringing a lot of joy and a serious sugar high to a couple of excited kids.
there's a big empty clean space now where boxes of Random Special Crap used to be. it's the perfect size for parking my bicycle and stashing the spare chairs we only pull out for parties. it feels like a new land to discover, this blessedly-almost-clean garage. it makes me seriously consider the objects i still own: do i really need it? do i really need to acquire another one? can i reduce my Stash O' Stuff? reuse something instead of purchasing a new one? our yard sale, i think, is making me a much more thoughtful consumer. which is a good thing.
and by the way, if my parents are reading this: don't worry -- i didn't sell the family silver. at least, not yet...

(new year's) resolutions vs. goals

i've written before about how i hate the idea of New Year's resolutions, but i can't deny that a new year rolling around does motivate one to think about changes, growth, and goals. i realise this may sound like semantics -- goals vs. resolutions -- but there is a difference. "resolutions" tend to be big, unfocused, and possibly, ultimately out of one's control: common ones involve losing weight, getting a better/new job, paying down debt or saving money, or even finding a mate. it's just setting oneself up for failure -- conventional wisdom says people make resolutions simply to not keep them.
however, "goals" are incremental, realistic, and potentially fun. i wasn't originally planning to post about this, but after a phone conversation with a good friend who challenged me to do so, here goes with making them public:
1. give up the coffee.
2. cook at least one recipe from every cookbook i own.
3. take at least one -- maybe two -- trips to visit & catch up with old friends.
4. finish my self-study German language lesson book.
5. and one secret goal that i just can't share. sorry!

so far, number one has gone really well. it helped that i was ridiculously ill the first few weeks of January and had no desire to drink anything stronger than chicken broth, but i still miss the gorgeous aroma of fresh-ground coffee. sigh. one day i will maybe go back with decaf, but for now, cold turkey is cold turkey. i'm glad we got some really good teas in China!
as for number two, it's more of a use-it-or-lose-it goal. i want to cook more, be more creative/adventurous in what i try cooking, and also cull out the cookbooks that are useless to me. this seemed to be a good way to go about it.
number three is why my friend wanted me to blog this: i've said so many times i'd love to visit friends of yore, and yet haven't gone because of schedule issues, sheer inertia, or a false sense of how complicated it would be. so with T.T.'s blessing, i've decided that if i just go for a few days by myself, i could start doing one or two...dare i say three? trips a year to visit far-flung friends that i'd just love to have a cup of coffee with. oh wait. i guess it'll have to be tea.
numbers four and five are pretty self-explanatory -- i really want to continue to improve my German language skills, and it's just laziness that has kept me from doing so. as for number five...well, a girl's gotta have some secret skills up her proverbial sleeve.

so there you have it: my goals for 2008/Year of the Rat. i challenge you to come up with five realistic, positive goals that are actually achievable and go for it! and any encouragement for me is welcome...