My second presidential election in which I'm qualified to vote

I was really nervous when I took the so-called "citizenship" test even though it's a series of verbal questions on standard (read: elementary- Who's the first president of the United States? blah blah blah) knowledge of the US government. Highly charged with stress hormones, I answered all the questions that came my way in one breath. Until, "How many stars and stripes are on the US flag?" was lobbed my way. I took a really deep breath and got really nervous about this difficult question. I couldn't believe how stumped I felt.
"..I-In-n what year?" I finally sputtered and stammered. The woman giving the test gave me a really nasty look. Turns out they were just asking about our current flag. Duh. I made it more difficult than it was.
Now, what's really stumped me is the primary and delegate processes. Yesterday, as I was riding home on the train with Josh, I confessed how embarrassed I was that I had no clue about it. Josh started blathering about the electoral college. No, no, no I said, I want to know how Super Tuesday and all that non-sense works. How does the Democratic party select its nominee? Well of course the immigrant has more natural curiousity than the native. Here is a general guide, a brief historical viewpoint/analysis and a practical FAQ regarding how nominees are selected. It's all interesting stuff but sadly, it's not simple or easily digested. Even after reading 3 articles on this topic, I certainly don't want to be tested on my knowledge of it. Why do voting and taxes have to be so goddamn complicated?!

I should run for office

FS will lose respect for me if I take down my blog or parts of it. BS thinks it's not dirty enough. BL thinks it's inappropriate. An ex finds it hasty and "often wrong". And scores of other people on different sides of the fence.
Apparently, I'm controversial.

Perfect date - poring over a spreadsheet!

I enjoy working with my husband on a project. It's fun to be on his team. Last night I took home some work that can be described as spreadsheet hell. He thought hard about the problem, which means he can't talk to me and has to shush me every now and again since my team work contribution is to laugh, prance around him and prattle non-sense.
I really enjoy watching him work. He's a genius. And he doesn't give up.
Last night, I even got a compliment for setting up the calculations correctly. He told me I was a genius. OK, I might have asked him to tell me. But no matter, I got it. To me, praise from my husband is like manna from god - an unusually sudden and unexpected source of gratification, pleasure, or gain.

Only a few dollars a month will sponsor the mental well being of a senior citizen living in a small town

There was a period of time when we didn't own a TV. Most people were either puzzled, amused or incredulous. The most entertaining conversation around this was:
Jim: You don't have a TV?! Do you have a flush toilet?
Me: Yes. We live in a high rise on the 26th floor.
Jim: Well that's a strange statistic right there. TVs have 99.99% penetration across America; the percentage for flush toilets is a lot lower.
Me:

I'd be happy to get rid of our TV. Or replace it with a nice looking flatscreen. I'm sure my husband will not be party to either of these ideas.

But one thing I can't live without is Internet access. I'd rather give up the telephone, running water (for a half day) or TV over Internet access. I feel sorry for Frank who has to put up with the frustrations of a dial up connection. It's so 90s. But wait, it's worse than the 90s. It's more like hell in the 21st Century. Because in the 90s, everyone else had dial up, so content was designed for lower connection speeds. Poor Frank can't enjoy his Internet experience and on top of that, he has to choose between telephone or Internet. He's also limited when he's online; he can't watch any videos, easily make comments on Blogger, get addicted to Craig's list or online shop. These are some of my favorite distractions.

Please send my father in law some $$$ to contribute to his Internet fund.

What excites my man

Sometimes, my husband is no fun to talk to. No juicy tidbits to reveal and on top of that, - he can be a real conversation killer, especially in moments when you're craving conversation. Whether you start with a benign ice breaker (it should be obvious that it's a plea like, c'mon talk to me, please) or you drop an attention-getting bomb, he can kill the conversation. This happens unknowingly, of course.
Well even though he's above all of us in the petty gossip department, there is one thing he likes to talk about. In fact, he gets pretty damn excited at the mere mention of how to manage a wedding guest list. This is pretty juicy excitement for him. Should I stop talking to the person I'm not going to invite, so that I have a head start on mitigating strained relations? Ie...So that when I don't invite them to the wedding, they would have already been pissed or estranged.
I'll let him comment because he's the expert on this topic.

Is Hawaii right for me?

I want to move some where safe and warm. I want to say I live in paradise. I'm really looking forward to our trip to Hawaii next week because I'm really hoping I'll fall in love. I want to get out of the NY rat race. I want the sun to always shine on my face. I'll move to Hawaii and become a school teacher or some kind of administrator.

My ex-coworker just quit and moved to LA, says that it's one step closer to Hawaii. He thinks Hawaii would be perfect for my personality and lifestyle.

What would I miss about NY? Cheap takeout and proximity to friends/family. I hear that Hawaii has excellent Asian food and a great variety. My mouth is already watering.

I'm going to Hawai-i!

I am a little bit afraid of volcanoes and historical violence (after reading a little bit about Hawaiin history). Is that bad energy or what?!

My daughter keeps crying and complaing about how she doesn't want to go to Hawaii. Does she know something I don't?

Are you getting a kickback?

I'm just curious - is this a conspiracy? There are certain items that are absolutely not necessary but all must have lists mention them. Like a diaper pail. In my opinion, totally unnecessary. Are diaper pail makers paying all list makers? It's pretty clever. I bought one, made myself used it because I had it but I'd love to burn it.
Another questionable (or maybe not?) item -- rain boots. Do my kids need these?
Thanks!
PS - My husband is of the opinion that very few people need Four or All Wheel drive. This philosophy orginated from none other than my ahead of the times father in law, who purchased Gore-tex long before any of us even heard of it.

How does another Star live?

Inspired and completely amused by my father-in-law's recounting of the humdrum of his day, here's my version of a typical weekday.
6-7AM: Either my mother or Josh brings my gigantic 22 lb baby into my bed and I feed her while I'm half asleep.
7-7:30AM: My gigantic baby is writhing aggressively in our bed, wanting to play. I try to stay away because I don't want her to kick me in the stomach but at the same time, I have to stay close to protect her from falling off the bed.
7:30-7:40AM: Mad rush to get ready for work. I'm still half asleep.
7:40-7:45AM: My older daughter, mother, my nanny and I exchange some hugs and benign pleasantries and I leave to go to work.
VARIATIONS: My nanny drives me to the train. My older daughter and gigantic baby are both in bed with me, my husband tries to rouse me from a deep sleep, etc.
The next eight hours go by in a blur because I'm at work.
5:45PM: I walk in the door at home and my older daughter feeds me her current favorite lie: You sleep by yourself (she means, I slept by myself, but it's not true).
5:45-6PM: Eat whatever scraps I can find like a barbarian. Talk with mouth open (just kidding)
6-7PM: Eagerly wait for the arrival of my husband, play with Sadie and Dazee, try to con Sadie to drink her milk and finish up her dinner. VARIATION: some nights, I make dinner.
7-7:30PM: Get Sadie bathed and feed Dazee.
7:30-8:30PM - My husband and I take turns in comforting the children. We switch off, back and forth, praying for them both to shut up and go to bed.
9PM - Hopefully by now they're both asleep, so I can do any of the following: ignore my husband because he's watching TV, nag him about something, blog, eat more, go shopping or window-shopping online or in a store, exercise or maybe talk to my husband.
Sometime between 10:00-11:PM: Feed Dazee
Sometime between 10:30-11PM - Yikes! Where did the time go. How did I waste two hours doing nothing? I have to take a shower, wash my hair, blow dry it, floss and brush my teeth. Can I do this in less than 20 minutes so I can get to bed? I curse myself for not being in bed sooner.
Sometime between 11PM - 11:30PM: Hopefully I'm in bed, clean and refreshed. Now I'm ready to talk to my husband and I tell him I love him and that I'm so glad to be married to him.
Within 2 seconds of his head hitting the pillow, he's asleep and sometimes he snores.
I toss and turn for anywhere from 20 minutes to 2 hours and then I drift off.

Yes, love is for sale!

The Ritz Carlton in Orlando is the pimpiest hotel ever! I told one person my name and soon after, scores of nice and maybe even sycophantic employees started chirping, Hi Miss Star! out of nowhere and everywhere. I was like a celebrity.
I asked a hotel staff member, where can I get a plate for the buffet lunch. I'll bring it to you Miss Star. I asked if there was soymilk. There wasn't. I said that I would be fine with water. But a few minutes later, a glass of soymilk was magically produced. I couldn't get ice out of the ice machine and a cleaning lady happened to be in the area. So I asked her about it and she offered to get ice for me from another floor. I asked someone else where I can find an ice bucket, she offered to deliver one for me or go with me back to my room to show me where to find it. When I first arrived, four men swooped down and offered to bring my luggage up, escort me to the elevator bank and press the elevator button for me. On my way out of the hotel, I realized I needed a plastic fork to eat my breakfast on the go. They were going to produce silverware for me to take with me, but I declined. I did help myself to an apple in the beautiful display of fruits, water and Gatorade that they had in the front with a nice sign: Welcome back joggers and runners!
I flagged down an employee so I could grill her about how hotel staff are inculcated with the Ritz culture and spirit. Turns out the interview process is mind boggling -- she had over 5 hours of interviews and met more than 10 people. And once you join, you go through a rigorous training program that the Ritz even provides to other companies as a money making service. She told me that the name thing is something they strive for, they have to greet guests that are within 20 feet by name; it creates magic and mystique and that's what 5 star service is all about. Have a nice day Miss Star! she tells me after we part. And that totally freaked me out.

Keeping up with the Jones

It seems like I'm cursed to a life of inconvenience and minor frustrations when it comes to giving people my name. I had a 14 letter long last name which meant that every now and again I had to put up with nincompoops who insisted I spelled my name wrong. I don't know why the obvious doesn't occur to them: I spelled my name right but they heard me wrong.
I've always had very little pride in my name, always wishing for a non-ethnic, easily understood name like Smith or Jones.
So when the opportunity came, I happily switched from a 14 letter long last name to Star.
Even though my newly minted last name is short, it's still prone to misunderstandings. Sfar? Whether it's for a credit card inquiry or a car service request, I have to say my name multiple times or even spell it. Today, spelling it didn't even matter because they couldn't find me in the system. I was furious. Turns out, she thought I spelled Spfar. Even though I said Star like in the night sky. I thought about this a lot from the ride home from the airport. I think to be clear, I need to say, Star, like twinkle twinkle little star.
My poor mother has more issues than me with her name and on top of that people don't understand her when she gives our address. GRAND! she yells. They always hear or come up with some ridiculous street name, with no similarity to Grand. You have to hand it to all these creative-think-outside-the-box types. So my mom tries to rectify the misunderstanding by shouting, GRAND, like BIG! But that doesn't help because she mispronounces big. I told her to say, Grand, like Grand Central. She says that that has been effective.
So I'm going to bank on using twinkle twinkle little star, unless you can come up with something shorter or more effective.

Thanks world!

Having kids has made me happier and sappier.
I was thinking about the quote - it takes a village to raise a child...
I've had so many mishaps and misadventures while nursing and with each situation, I've had to ask and rely on the help and kindness of strangers. A sampling:

1. My flight was delayed one hour today, which freaked me out. I'm used to nursing or pumping about every 4 hours. I knew I was going to be engorged even without the delay, with the arrive at the airport an hour before, baggage claim and all that other non-sense. But an extra hour would mean something like 8 hours without pumping. I delicately explained my situation to the lady at the Continental counter. She couldn't really do anything about it, felt sorry for me, gave me a $6 meal voucher and told me about a bathroom that had an outlet. So that wasn't too bad, privately sitting on a dirty toilet, making milk for my baby and thinking about what to buy for $6. [I got a sugar free chocolate bar for my grandma and a dark chocolate square for my husband]
2. I once forgot to bring the AC adapter to my electric pump while at a company function in a hotel. I had a few employees scrambling to find something and in the end they did produce it. Hurray!
3. The best thing really is having the confidence to tell anyone I meet what I do and getting them to help me. A few times I had to ask hotel or other staff if they could put something in the fridge for me. It's sometimes met with a little suspicion. Like maybe they think I'm a crazy or frivolous person: I NEED to have my kit kat bar at a certain temperature or need to keep some weird flammable chemical stable. So I tell them in a voice like I'm talking to a confidante that it's breastmilk. Then it either makes them smile or really uncomfortable. But in the end, they always follow through with the request.

For all you daily followers

I'm going to be in Florida for a day and a half, so no blogging until either Thursday or Friday. Unlike BKNY, this is not a tease, I'm really taking a break tomorrow. I have two new posts below. Enjoy!

Raised to follow the herd

Every time I've heard the Shakespearean quote, "To thine own self be true", I never felt like whoa, now that's a pearl of wisdom. When I graduated from high school, some people had even used that quote in their yearbook entry. Again I was uninspired.
About a year and a half ago, a senior person in my company was leaving a division just when I was starting. I had a lot of respect for him and felt sad to see him go. He gave me these parting words as advice, "Be true to yourself." He gave some examples of what he meant but again I wasn't moved by it. I felt like he was making a big deal about sharing a cliche.
Recently, something happened at work that was weighing me down. I felt like I had to speak up even though it was very difficult for me to do so because it would mean contradicting my boss and other superiors. I reasoned and rationalized why it might be best to stay quiet - it's lose lose, they'll only think less of me and nothing will come of it; I won't be able to change their minds; no one likes to be corrected. But I felt so strongly about the situation that I eventually worked up the guts to speak up. I had to make my case over email since everyone was out of the office. After I sent the message, I prepared myself for the worse. It's nerve wracking to send an email, to hang myself out there, not knowing if someone agrees with you, rejects your ideas or whatnot along with not knowing when you might get a response or not. And to my surprise, I quickly got positive results - my boss and others agreed with my reasoning to revert the decision.
And then something powerful dawned on me; I was true to myself. I couldn't have lived with myself if I didn't say something. But by the same token, it would have been so easy to do nothing. I'm so proud of myself for being true. I hope this trend continues, having the courage to be myself despite whatever fears, real or perceived.

Redin' and ritin'

For some reason, it really annoys me when people pronounce the first syllable of my name with a short vowel sound: Kass- a- mā . Even more infuriating to me is to do that and skip a syllable: Kass- mā. The worse butchering is to use a harsh z sound, Kaz- mā. I'm not asking for much. I don't expect anyone to say my name with a Thai accent like the French expect people to pronounce French words in a Frenchy way. To me, based on the rules of spelling and phonics, there are two acceptable way to pronounce the first syllable of my name, either with a schwa or a long a sound: Kə- sā- mā or Kā- sā-mā. Pronounce it any other way and you've created a lot of scorn and ire within me.

Turns his back on TV after he's done

My husband is a person of consistence. He is the same person in different situations with different people; he does not compartmentalize himself or his life. He doesn't say what he thinks you want to hear (part of that might be because he doesn't know what you want to hear!). He will make strange noises or sing self-modified children's songs to humor himself at work because he's not embarrassed to be himself. Finally, he is not easily convinced of anything but he won't agree or disagree with you; he'll keep it to himself. On and on, numerous examples of his constancy.
Recently, I discovered something consistently inconsistent about him. He will not admit to this, but he loves to watch TV - TV programs or movies. While he's watching, he's pretty riveted. It's hard to get his attention and he can sit in front of the screen for a long time. From time to time, I might catch a big laugh, a smile or other kinds of positive reactions. Once, while he was watching a comedy, where I could hear him whooping and laughing so hard, I thought he was crying. After it was all over, he tells me scornfully, "That sucked." Recently, he's been glued to Heroes. After the end of each episode, he tells me it wasn't any good. He will repudiate anything he watches even though it is apparent to me that he enjoyed it.
WHY WHY WHY?

You know who you are

Anonymous commenters, I appreciate your feedback. I can understand why you might want to be anonymous:
1. Laziness, don't want to fill out the form, etc.
2. Would like to keep it private for spouse, work, etc. reasons
3. All of the above and any others I missed.

I do wonder about a couple of things...
1. In general, do you expect or want responses to your comments?
2. And if I do respond to your comments, how will you know? (If you use blogger or other kinds of logins, you'll get an email when I respond; this is so useful for staying in the loop.)

I suggest you do what my brilliant 21 year old cousin did. Create a pseudonym that will be completely obvious to me who you are. Unless the reason why you want to be anonymous is to keep your identity from me, then that won't work. :P

NY times editorial staff endorses Clinton and McCain

I enjoyed reading this well-written endorsement on Clinton and was slightly amused by the piece on the endorsement of McCain. Although I feel a little funny about a newspaper taking a stance...aren't they supposed to be unbiased? And the comment they made about Giuliani in the McCain endorsement article..."The real Mr. Giuliani, whom many New Yorkers came to know and mistrust, is a narrow, obsessively secretive, vindictive man who saw no need to limit police power. Racial polarization was as much a legacy of his tenure as the rebirth of Times Square.
Mr. Giuliani’s arrogance and bad judgment are breathtaking."
I agree with it but it's also harsh and biased for a newspaper to blithely publish insults like that.

I did not know that!

Quote from this morning's WWD: "Most bloggers are under 30 and are likely to live in the suburbs; only a third live in urban centers."
I guess blogging helps cure suburban boredom. But we're really hungry for good and cheap takeout, blogging doesn't seem to help there.

Wanted: practical answers, stupid questions need not apply

In my younger days, I experienced a lot of consternation over questions like, "Where are you from?" I always wanted to launch into a deep discussion of my family and their migratory patterns and which languages are in our arsenal.
Today, I've taken a 180 from where I was. It's now one of my pet peeves, meeting well-intentioned(?) individuals who say asinine things like "Where are you from?" I tease them by saying, New York. I know the question is really, "What Asian country are you from?" I don't like to reveal the truth as an ice-breaker. I hate to be pigeon-holed or categorized for a first impression. I'd like to think about a clever retort for my kids, surely they will be hit with this innocent sounding ice breaker more frequently than I have in my lifetime.

Chasing rainbows

At this point in my life, I am pretty confident in my ability to nonchalantly state that I'm Thai, Chinese and American. But when I was growing up I had a lot of identity issues -- figuring out who I was or where I belonged was a big deal. I never felt "American" because I'm of Asian descent. And among Asians, it was hard to figure out where I belonged, with the Thais or the Chinese. (There isn't any real "Asian" solidarity, but rather union among national descent.) I didn't speak or write Chinese but had a lot of exposure to the culture. I read and spoke Thai but had very little exposure to the culture. Blah, blah, blah.
Today, I find myself thinking a lot about whether my bi-racial and multi-cultural children will have the same angst towards their identity. I read somewhere that these children tend to choose one or the other culture/race to identify with. I'm hoping that as the human race progresses, all these differences become insignificant; we become more of a rainbow and we don't have to choose.
How can I bring this rainbow to my kids? I think and dream a lot about moving to Hawaii. I heard that mixed race couples and children are common there. I'd like my chidren to grow up in an environment full of rainbow people like them.

Bread and Olive - a good place for lunch (Middle Eastern food)

I'm not accustomed to any kind of VIP service, paid or free. So today, when I ate lunch at Bread and Olive (just wonderful), I was so surprised when they rolled out the red carpet for me. I can only attribute this to making small talk with the cashier. He gave me a free bottle of water and two falafel balls - completely UNSOLICITED! I'm definitely going to be a regular. The food tastes high quality, fresh and delicious.

Hanging on and in there

Even though I'm pretty lazy and feeble-brained, I do believe in perseverance. It sounds so cliched, but I do believe that if you set your mind on something, you can achieve it. Two cases in point: the first example seems to impress everyone but the second one is much harder and garners very little applause.
The first example is birth without drugs. I did this twice. I really wanted to give birth without drugs and experience labor like my long gone ancestors. Not easy but I did it.
The second example that goes completely un or under-appreciated is nursing and related to it is nursing beyond 3 months. Nursing is so hard and painful the first 6 weeks. Just thinking about it hurts me everywhere. But then it gets easier and the pain goes away. Then you like it and then the inconvenience of it all hits you. Can't go to work parties, go on a date with your husband or take a trip without a lot of forethought, misery and planning. You're chained to your baby and it kills every kind of spontaneity.
Yet there's something magical about being able to nurture a baby from my own body. Every day, I struggle with when I should wean. All the pros for it are based on getting my life back. Today, I announced that I was ready to wean. I enumerated at least 4 reasons to quit. It's pretty easy to come up with reasons to stop. But it's also easy to want to cling on to this special time.
Tonight, as I come home late from a "date" with Josh, I am so excited to see my girls. I gingerly walk into Saydee's room. She's sleeping peacefully. I resist the urge to touch or kiss her. I then walk into Daisy's room. She too is sleeping peacefully. I pick her up from her crib and nurse her. She stays asleep the entire time. But I take advantage of our time together, I smell her; I hold on to her soft pudgy hands; I rub her head; I caress her and try to take in as much of her as I can. I know this stage will soon pass. I enjoy loving her this way and I feel sad that it's coming to an end.

Vindicated for herstory!!!

I like re-visiting the past, whether it's dwelling on old pictures, videos or talking about how things used to be or recalling the feelings of significant events, I can get lost in the past. My husband earnestly pointed out to me that my fascination is a waste of time.
Well, something wonderful happened to me today. Someone at work gave me a compliment that I joyfully accepted. He noted that one of my talents is to take history or past events and apply or connect them to the present so that we can focus on where we've come and where we need to go.
Hurray! I feel so good and needed.
Another related passion is curating my husband's history. My explanation for it is that even though I'd rather piece my own history, it's too difficult with few opportunities for successes, whereas his is ripe with rewards but with an appropriate amount of challenge. He grew up in the same town, same house, same parents, same # of people living together with him but he suffers from CRS (can't remember shit)!
I guess feel comfort in being able to put together past events because my own childhood was so disruptive.

Blog-o-mania!

I'm so excited. I'm a successful blog missionary. My father in law now has a blog. My husband will guest star on mine from time to time.
Now, I've got to convince my sister and mother in law to get one. My sister in law doesn't think a blog qualifies as any kind of relationship or connection. I'm trying to prove otherwise...Like back and forth comments are akin to dialogue; blogs are more interesting to me if I know the person; blogs help you stay in touch with people you know, etc. etc.

supercooled water (geeky guest post)

I witnessed some really strange sience this morning:
I left 4 bottles of water in the car when we went to VT this weekend, and before we got in the car to return home, I went out to get a couple bottles to bring inside, to let them thaw before our trip. It was around 10-15 degrees - maybe 20-25 degrees in the car that morning. All the bottles were next to each other in the backseat, and 3 of them were clearly entirely frozen: that whitish color ice filled the bottles. One of the bottles, though, was NOT frozen! It looked clear, like a bottle of water ... so I figured I'd bring that one inside. Unless I was hallucinating, when I picked up the bottle, it froze - right there in my hand. I saw the ice extend from the top of the bottle, right across to the bottom, taking a little under a second to do so. It sounds impossible, like I couldn't have seen that ... but then I remembered something which might have been from highschool science class: I think water can exist in a liquid state below 32 degrees, if it's very still and undisturbed ... and then when it gets disturbed, it will form an ice crystal, which will cause a chain-reaction forming most of the rest of the water into ice. I think this is what happened ... expecially because there was still some unfrozen water in the bottle, while the other bottles were completely frozen through. I think that makes sense because when water turns to ice, it releases heat (I think), and so as a bottle of 25 degree water, it wasn't cold enough to freeze the whole bottle through. Strange, no? Possible?
-JS

Special guest star - Josh

tomorrow we're driving back up to Burlington, where I grew up. I like driving because it avoids the timetables, security, and powerlessness of flying these days. I asked my mom to make sourmilk blueberry pancakes. It's something I've been thinking about for the last 9 years - there was this one restaurant in Chicago that I used to go to on occasion for Sunday brunch - somewhere around the top of the Magnificent Mile - I really can't remember where - but I think we'd eaten outside, and the out-door environment wasn't anything great. But those pancakes were really something ... So that's what I'm hoping for this weekend.
-JS

New kind of kung fu?

When they re-fill the lobster or crab tray at East, swarms of Chinese people 3-4 feet tall have already been waiting eagerly. It's a game of survival of the fittest, because it doesn't matter when you arrive. Once the food is there, these short Chinese ladies skilled in the art of seafood-fu swoop in from every angle, like right under my arm or across my face, to snag the goods. Even though I'm standing in a more strategic spot (stupidly assuming a policy of first come first serve) and I'm taller than them by a foot - I end up with no lobster on my plate. It's must be some kind of martial arts, because it happens so fast. The seafood tray is emptied in seconds. And then the next round of vultures gather around.
A brilliant solution came to me today. I'll bring my own serve ware. The serving spoon or tongs are the limiting factor as to how many aggressive midget Chinese women can get to the food. I know they feel no remorse about pushing me out of the way or grabbing a piece of crab right under or even between my tongs, but I wonder if they would have the audacity to take away my own serving spoon?

26 miles of eating

My mother normally abstains from eating large quantities of food unless we go to a Chinese buffet place like East in Flushing. Then she can down like 30 king crab legs in one sitting.
How is this possible? Eating this much without any practice or training? Why doesn't she throw up? Another tiny Asian lady, my mom's friend, also barely eats anything unless she meets a seafood buffet. We went to a New Year's gala in Thailand where there was an exotic assortment of seafood. She ate through many many plates. My mom remarked in all the 40 years of knowing her friend, she'd never seen her friend eat that much. Josh was worried she might throw up. Of course nothing happened. How come prior to the seafood gorging, she couldn't even eat one little plate of Pad Thai by herself? What's up with these tiny Asian ladies and seafood eating marathons?

I'm burning pretty brightly

I offered yet another New Year's resolution to my husband today - Work on not being grumpy in the morning. He generously let me off the hook - "Your plate is full." Thanks Josh! It really does take a lot of effort and concentration to stick to the ones I already have.

My New Year's Resolutions

1. Think before I speak. (Be nicer to my husband)
2. Think before I buy. (Reduce returns and impulse buys)
3. Be more patient with everyone.
4. Be more organized and keep a neater house.

So far I'm doing great with #1 and have great plans underway with #2 and #4.
These resolutions are all toughies for me.

Don't Bite Green

Japanese lunch

While Beth's head is buried in a Scrabble board, I'm going to have to compensate by telling you what what I ate for lunch. Josh, a co-worker and I immensely enjoyed a lunch at Naniwa (46th between 5th and Madison). I kinda want to keep it a secret because it's busy enough but so few people read the blog anyway. The best time to go is lunch and lunch specials are the way to go. We had today's special: a smorgasbord of grilled hamachi, kamameshi, soba soup, salad, fruits and pickled vegetables, all for $11. They also serve really good popcorn tea. Yum! Prices increase tri-fold by dinner time and the clientele becomes mostly Japanese.

Help me young whippersnappers

For those 25 years and younger (mentally or otherwise), please suggest where I can get these trendified and possibly racy items (If I shopped at my regular venues, they would be old lady and very staid). It would be even better if these items are high quality and can last me more than a few wears. But the most important thing is looks.
1. Black low and high boots (preferably with rubber traction)
2. Low slung underwear (low rider in back and front, but don't want it in my butt and must be cotton - synthetics a big no!)
3. Skinny skinny pants and jeans (the tighter the better, but preferably low waisted so my gut can hang over and I can joyfully eat)

Tight lace dresses, fishnet stockings, here I come!

My mother reacts horribly when I suggest things to her like, why don't you wear a skirt? "I'm too old!" she exclaims. I really don't get it, I think she looks young, thin and fabulous; she can definitely carry most fashions off, if she was so inclined. I used to feel so sorry her and all the cultural taboos she created for herself. Then last night, as I lamented to my 21 year old cousin that I can't find skinny pants any where, she first suggested Express. I didn't miss a beat, I shrieked, "Express! I'm too old to wear Express!"
So I'm going to try to break any taboos that I didn't even know I had. I'll start by shopping in Express, Forever21 and any other suggestions you might have for me. My husband should stay out of this, as this could be too much fun for him.

Diversity

When I first met Josh I thought he had some kind of an accent but I couldn't pinpoint what kind. (And his father thought I had an accent, which really pissed me off because as a child, I was "trained" to eliminate my foreign accent. As it turns out, the training is too successful because my accent is like a phonics teacher - too much enunciation.) When we did a short hike on Snake Mountain or other, we met other hikers. It came to me in a flash that he has a Vermont accent and so does his dad.
Here's a feud we've been having about Vermont, can you settle it? I insist that the word, "creamy" is regional. Growing up in NY, I've never heard of creamy used for soft ice cream. But I haven't heard of a lot of things, so who knows? Josh insists that the term, creamy is not regional. I think creamy is similar to how Philadelphians use hoagie for sandwich. I just realized that I can Google this to settle it once and for all so this post is lame and meaningless. Oh well. It's a nod to you, Haik. I can't help it.

The Fatherland!

We're going to Josh's birthplace, Burlington Vermont during MLK weekend. We're going to be driving to the Green Mountain state. This post is pretty lame as I don't have much to say about VT like I did with Thailand so I'll let Vermonsters comment if they wish.

Cooking

I grew up mostly on Chinese fast food. My mom worked long hours and never had time to cook so we always had takeout. She did make some things every now and again but I didn't get enough experience to actually learn how to cook from her. I used to watch my grandmother cook a lot and I learned how to cut all kinds of meat and vegetables from her. Her cooking was always delicious because she sprinkled magical MSG on everything she made. Today, when people hear that I'm from Thailand and that I cook or like to cook, they get excited and jump to the conclusion that I must make really fabulous Thai food for my Asian pervert husband. Nothing could be further from the truth. I'm intimidated to cook Thai food and my husband doesn't like Thai food. What I actually cook for him are his favorite foods, which I'd like to coin, "melting pot gourmet Americana". They are things like: spaghetti and meatballs, beef tacos, chicken parmesan, etc. I always feel embarrassed telling people about these dishes because they don't seem gourmet enough for someone's who's just revealed she likes cooking. So I have to explain how I sometimes make my own salsa from tomatoes from the garden or the special way I slice and then pound chicken breasts when making chicken marsala. But then again, why do I feel pressured to live up to their image of how I cook? I was chastised the other day by Josh when I proclaimed that olive oil and vegetable oil have the same taste and utility in my kitchen.

A call for your kiss and tell

If you've ever dated or been romantically involved with my husband, Josh, please do tell if you've ever given him any feedback. According to him, no ex has ever given him any feedback on his behavior or information that would have helped him in the relationship.
I find this hard to believe. He claims I'm the only girl to give him any kind of feedback. I did have to hit him over the head a number of times (and even on the same things!) to explain things that to my amazement he'd never heard of. It felt really humiliating to cover off (repeatedly) basic things that I thought everyone took for granted. For example, he claimed to have never heard of paying for a date when you're the asker. I can't believe I actually pointed this out to him while we were on a date. It was so awkward. I remember much of our early experiences simplified in my mind to - is he really that dumb or a big asshole? (Luckily, as it turns out, he's neither.)
And there are even more uproarious things that make me blush to even think about mentioning.

Happy New Year! Happy New Year! Happy New Year!!!!

I think I'm going to make New Year's my favorite holiday. And I get to celebrate it at least three times a year!
1. Conventional western New Year (Jan 1) - time for celebration and resolutions!
2. Chinese New Year (in ~Feb) - this is one of my least favorite New Year's because I have to give people money.
3. Thai New Year (in ~April) - I really should go to Thailand to celebrate this. They really know how to have a crazy good time. During this festive holiday (Songkran) you get to throw water at anyone and everyone does it in public (using pails, buckets, water guns, whatever goes!) It's really hot in Thailand and having water thrown on you while everyone laughs actually feels good; not at all like you're the subject of a humiliating practical joke.
4. Jewish New Year (in ~September) - one of my favorites because I have to think about all my wrongs and try to be a better person.

Trip Advisor - Thailand

Highly Recommended
1. Evason Hotel in Pranburi (Hua Hin area) - Eco hotel; the best breakfast buffet (4 kinds of homemade yogurt, enjoyed by Josh); great room aesthetics.
2. Grand Hyatt Erawan hotel in Bangkok - the best 24 hr gym; great location for shopping and BTS (skytrain)
3. Sukhothai hotel in Bangkok - the best service (even better than the Oriental, in my opinion), room design and this was where we had our wedding.
4. Direct flight from NY to Bangkok on Thai airways - otherwise you'll need at least one stop over in Asia.
5. Blue Mango restaurant in Ao Nang beach, Krabi - delicious, high quality Thai food and Swedish food (not fusion); no air conditioning.
6. Naj Exquisite cuisine in Bangkok - my aunt owns this restaurant; this is not a biased review, this place rocks!
7. Go to Krabi over Phuket.
8. Visit Thailand during the months of Nov-Jan for the best weather.

Thailand and Wedding Pictorial Highlights

Sadie and Dazee in matching swings.
My husband did not even recognize me in the beastly makeup. The make up artist told me ahead of time that he was going for a "natural" look. He must work with a lot of dragons.

My dear brother adeptly adjusting his bride's bustle. I bet most men don't even know what one is.
Check out those cool roots!
Mimi and her bridesmaids. From the left - Liz, ever the sport, wore a dress that had a makeshift lace corset back since there wasn't even enough material to cover her modest frame. Me, I'm in an ill-fitting dress, a sacrifice since my sister didn't want to wear it. Mona, Mimi, my sister, Siri and Sara. My beautiful mother and her grand-daughter, my daughter, Dazee.

My mom's mom, 90+, our oldest living ancestor.

4 generations of girls!
Look at my brother in his pimpin' white suit and pink tie. You can't tell from this picture, but the pimp- suit was completed by white leather shoes and smooth covering foundation (makeup for his face!). Mimi, his bride, looks like Venus! Dazee resplendent in all her glorious size, amply pouring out of the bassinet. With the new obese passenger rules (must buy two seats if you're big), I think we should have bought her two baby seats.

It takes a few adults to get Dazee's thumbprint. A few to hold the hand with the ink, a few more to control the other wildly failing hand. Pre-Wedding prep - My brother, holding two cell phones, a Blackberry and a PDA in his pockets.

For a pics from a professional photog, check out this link: http://www.kmkwed.wedding64.com/

Superbad a good movie, Josh - even funnier

During the movie, I turned to my husband and asked him if he thinks Jewel really likes Seth. (Seth, a "dork" would really like to get with her) He replies in the tone of a lawyer making a closing statement, "It's fiction."
This is more uproarious to me than anything! When I watch movies, I really get into the plot and the characters. I don't need much to stir my imagination. Loose characterizations, flimsy premises, I don't care. I have fun speculating about how things may end up or should end up. Why is my husband so much more logical than me?

I laughed, I cried, I PIMP!

I'm back from Thailand! I had such a wonderful time, I will post updates soon.
I really miss blogging and reading blogs! I was so pleased that Beth posted so many entries, even though I think she's officially still on hiatus.

We asked for our mail to be held for two weeks. I thought we would have to go to the post office to pick up our all of our junk mail. But guess what Sammy, our mailman left on my doorstep today:


A crate full of mail!!! I wonder if I'm supposed to return this crate and if I got this service because I tipped him?

Can't escape my genes

I have been miserable for the past 3 weeks. Unexplained stomach aches and bathroom troubles I won't go into details about. And then I figured out that I had sudden onset of lactose intolerance. That blows! I love dairy.
I read somewhere that like 90-99% of all Asians have some form of it or other. Someone at work remarked that most of us develop it by their 20s, that I got an extra decade or so to enjoy dairy.

The Motherland

Dear gentle and not-so-gentle readers, I'm off to the sin city of the east, my birthplace, Bangkok Thailand.
I used to be one of those "great" and "understanding" girlfriends that questioned when other girlfriends prohibited their beloveds from going to bachelor parties or having one. Well, ladies, I got my comeuppance. My wedding was in Thailand. No way was I going to let my Asian fetish husband have a bachelor party in Bangkok. Back then, the dollar was worth a little more than it is today, so a bevy of talented sex performers or sex geishas who could open beer bottles with their vaginas or write Happy Birthday from their crotches could be had for cheap. Sorry Josh, that your "bachelor" party even degraded to the point where a female friend tagged along.

Addicted to umami

Excerpt of definition of umami from wikipedia:
Umami is a Japanese word meaning "savory" or "meaty" and thus applies to the sensation of savoriness—specifically, to the detection of glutamates, which are especially common in meats, cheese and other protein-heavy foods. The action of umami receptors explains why foods treated with monosodium glutamate (MSG) often taste "fuller". Not only do I love junky soy burgers, but I can't get enough of MSG. I need a daily dose of it, in either sour cream and onion flavored chips or Thai instant noodles. I don't know why MSG has a bad rap. It occurs naturally in things like yeast or seaweed. I think some companies are trying to obscure that they use MSG equivalents by using disodium guanylate or disodium inosinate. Like Utz potato chips or Lipton instant side dishes. I haven't yet seen a product that uses these ingredients with a flagrant "NO MSG" label.
But anyway, I don't give a fuck. Please label "YES! LOTS OF MSG" or "UMAMI FOR YOU".

QUICK - Go see Ben Scaccia in Local Story!

I recently saw Local Story at the Access Theatre. The play is running until 12/20 so go run and get tickets or buy them at the door. Afterwards, go eat in Chinatown!
I really got into the plot. I can't watch TV or movies, they're too slick and irrelevant for me. Small productions are the way to go, they're going to monopolize my very large entertainment budget of like $20 per month.
The actors are all so well cast in Local Story. I have to plug our very own Ben Scaccia. He did some really convincing nerd trying to be a cool kid virgin-smoker sputtering bit. Ben and Leanne, if you're reading this, I'm going to see every play you star in. I've loved every role Ben has played.
After the show was over, Josh and I hung around because we wanted to talk to Ben a bit. Before Ben came out to meet us, some of his co-stars were already milling with the crowd. I like that. I like the intimacy of meeting the artists and I feel cool knowing that I know one of the actors.
As for the rest of the cast, it's a little weird to see them off stage because they were so convincing in their roles. Because the first experience I have with them is in an acting role, when I meet their real selves, the real selves are actually the actors to me. It's kind of like when you're a kid and you see your teacher at the mall. You get so freaked out to see them out of the usual context.
Ben -- GREAT WORK!! We had a great time watching and rooting for you.

Shameless marketing

Whoa! Read this article on how invasive ads are becoming...
An excerpt -- "How soon will it be until in addition to the do-not-call list, we'll have a 'do not beam commercial messages into my head' list?"

Fashionably insensitive and looking ageless

In a previous post, I gave examples of my sometimes avant-garde or ridiculous (you pick) get-ups. Well, I forgot to tell you about my other half. His glasses are detectably uneven and he owns (and wears!) an ill-fitting pumpkin-spiced color alpaca overcoat that he insists is pimpin'.
My pookie is also preternaturally well preserved in terms of his looks and clothes. It is so spooky to see pictures of him from 10 years ago or so wearing the same t-shirt he still wears today and looking exactly the same - age 22-24. It's not fair -- How can someone who shuns sunscreen look younger than me, totally high-SPF sunscreen obsessed? How can a goddamn t-shirt be wearable after 15 years of use?! If this trend continues, it won't be long before I have to drudge through stupid May-December jokes about how I robbed the cradle when I married him.
Meanwhile, I've changed and aged tremendously. I'm in the midst of cleaning and organizing my closets...and I bemoan having to throw out the preposterously small garments that were cut for a pixie. Should I save some of those things for my 2 yr old daughter to wear in a few years? It's so laughable that I don't even believe that I was ever that small.

I'm a total embarrassment

Mr. Rochester would probably keep me in the basement. I like to wear mis-matched bright colors. I combine trends. I own fluorescent pink imitation Crocs. I wear them with everything because I think they match everything. I have slouchy fuchsia leather elbow gloves. I fold hems of jeans hem up like 10 inches. If worse comes to worse and I don't have anything to wear, I think lingerie on top of white dress shirts are acceptable. I asked my mother-in-law to knit me a pair of arm-warmers. She and my father in-law thought I was joking.
I kinda feel sorry for my kids that I'm a total embarrassment, but I can't help it and in a strange and twisted way, I'm proud.

Asian parent sex trauma

Why do Asian parents insist on telling their kids what seems to them like harmless white lies about where babies come from? Many Asian friends have told me a recurring theme, that their parents told them they were found under a bridge. I guess my crazy, over-achieving parents overshot a little, as they told me I was found in a garbage can.
I have to be sure to give Sadie the proper and truthful "white" upbringing on where she came from. I'm curious which, if any American actually told their children they were brought in by a stork?
So I'm believing that the Asian way is at best untruthful and at worst harmful to some children's delicate psyches.

Stick it to OPEC

I've been giving my husband a lot of flack for his unconventional driving tactics that I thought were ineffective. Not only that, they seem unsafe and can be embarrassing to me.
As it turns out, there's support for this madness and even a term - "hypermiling" and it's probably effective.
Hypermiling = Driving with the goal to save gas (to increase mileage)...
For examples, he tries to avoid braking, shifts into neutral while going downhill, coasting/timing for greens at upcoming stop lights, etc. (Can you pls do this when the two babies are NOT in the car?!)
Check out these record-breaking hypermilers. Thanks Ari for the link.
Only people who can be so extremely focused (like my husband) can do this. I'd probably crash into other cars if I tried.

Suburban deals

SUPERMARKET
Tropicana OJ 96 oz for only $3. On top of that, if I spend $20, I can get $5 off my next shopping order. AND they will TRIPLE coupon...even a cheap person like me can't get it together (who the heck cuts coupons?) or figure out how to fit all this shit into my house. Hubby helpfully suggested we have more kids or get another fridge.

DEPARMENT STORE
Can you believe that I got this satin, down/feather filled coat with fur trim for like 60% off? Lord and Taylor was running a "Great Gifts" sale, so it was 40% off. I found a coupon online for an extra 20% off. And then I opened a charge and got an extra 15% off. I thought about stealing one in every color and length.

Unofficial past time of Thai people

For some reason, Thai people love to draw similarities of one object to another. When Josh and I hired a guide for a cave that had plentiful and impressive stalactite and stalagmite formations, one of the guide's joy was to tell us what he thought each looked like. Chicken, he'd point to one and so on and so forth. He even pulled my then fiancé aside to tell him about the one that he thought looked like a vagina. Also on the island of (Goh) Samui, one of the tourist attractions (determined by the Thai chamber of commerce?!) is dubbed Grandmother and Grandfather rock. What are they you ask? They are natural and giant rock formations that have eroded to look like external male and female reproductive organs.
Thai people also love to say that Thailand (the land mass) is shaped like an axe. I learned about this before I knew Italy was a boot. I wonder what other imaginative parallels I could draw had I remained in Thailand to complete my education.

I really heart fake meat

Fake meat has come a long way since I was a vegetarian in college. I had the most delectable spicy vegan chicken cutlet today, thanks to the good folks at Boca Burger. A little salty (560mg of sodium per serving) and fatty but none of these qualities stopped me from having two patties.
Big thumbs up! So satisfyingly junky tasting!!!

I even lied to my doctors about taking vitamins

Pregnant and nursing ladies everywhere, please don't be a smart-ass like me -- take your vitamins!!!
Even though I come from a family of vitamin worshippers, I was never a believer. What they're really taking are emotional vitamins, I thought. I just didn't believe that vitamins were well absorbed into the body. In addition, I resented that most cereals are fortified, so a quick read of the nutrion label is very deceptive. For example, inherent iron is so different from fortified iron. Nutrients should come from eating right, I argued. If you check out some multi-vitamin labels, you'll see over 100% of your daily recommened for water soluable vitamins like C. Who needs 533% of Vitamin C if you eat right?! It's so easy to get vitamin C in food.
I didn't even believe in pre-natal vitamins. Big scam feeding into our insecurites, eat right and all will be fine, I asserted. Vitamins can even be evil, I preached. Too much vitamin A is toxic. What if I had a supplement with vitamin A and proceeded to eat polar bear liver or any kind of liver. I might be potentially screwed. I even came up with a mantra to overlook vitamins and doing so kept my life simple - nothing to buy, nothing to remember, nothing to worry about. The mantra - If vitamins were really effective, then we could subsist and thrive on just water, white bread and vitamins. I was pretty sure this solution was not a simple and cheap cure for malnourishment in Africa.
But recently I've changed my tune. 3 years of being pregnant and nursing have really depleted my reserves of iron, calcium and who knows what else.
As it turns out, there is some truth to my past eschewal of vitamins. For example, most iron supplements are very poorly absorbed and they cause constipation. They should be taken off the market and goddamn cereal makers should remove iron, vitamin c and other nutrients that are either easy to get in food or hard to get. It's so deceptive to think that eating a bowl of Total is going to give you quality iron. A really effective iron supplement is liquid Floradix. It really helped my anemia and did not cause constitpation. But then again, when I was diagnosed with anemia, I focused on eating a lot of iron-rich foods. Iron is a tough nutrient to get if you deplete your stores (which can last for years). Amazingly if you deplete the iron stores in your body, you need like 6 servings of beef or oysters to fulfill the daily requirement. So the Floradix boost was a help.
Calcium is another toughie. I don't think calcium is well absorbed from supplements either. Since I'm nursing I need twice the recommended calcium of a non-pregnant woman. 6-8 glasses of milk per day would do it! So I need to find an effective calcium supplement.

Are we hot or not?

I'm generally happy and satisfied about our wedding in Thailand. With the exception of the typical hassles, dramas and disappointments of a destination wedding, I was pleased with how it was organized, how it turned out blah blah blah.
But I hate my wedding album. My mom picked out the pictures for us and it turns out, she either discerns expressions very poorly or our tastes for pictures are polarized. Josh and I like pictures where we look genuinely happy together. I thought that this is something most people could agree based on prior experience that Josh and I had agreed on what makes a picture look good. Most of the photos that my mom picked for our album had expressions that were so affected or we appear pinched - so we're either gritting our teeth to smile or we look constipated. She claims we look demure. I looked at her wedding album and not one smile from her or my dad. She says that back then if you smiled for photographs, then you were a punk or a slut. Not one smile in her entire wedding album and practically not even one real smile in mine.

She also picked out the photograph for our thank you cards. I really like the sepia tone and antique look to the finish, but I don't like the picture. I look like a cheesy adoring mail order bride, with that weird insecure gaze fixed on my megalomaniac camera-loving but also tired white knight. See for yourself. Do you agree that I look like a total FOB? Why oh why couldn't she have picked a picture where we are both looking at each other or the camera?

Got back on that horse

So excited! Yesterday I finally got the motivation to start exercising again. It's hard when I take any kind of a break, in this case it was only 10 days but my slobby self got used to not exercising even though I felt terrible.
I revisited our marriage vows, one of them was that we are going to challenge each other physically. I think both of us need to be more conscious in fulfilling this promise to each other.
What's great about being in shape is how helpful it is in certain situations. Like when you're running to catch a train or a bus, you become so pleasantly surprised by your abilities. This morning, I ran to catch a train just for the hell of it and it felt GREAT. Because I got the exercise that I needed, I'm a much better and nicer person...but at what expense?
My dilemma is that Ari is generally right and so is my husband. And I generally believe everything I hear especially if it comes from a man. My husband and Ari generally agree on a wide variety of issues. But their expert viewponts diverge on exercise. What's a confused, gullible, easily-impressionable man-follower to do?
Is Ari right that exercising is like a form of socially acceptable cocaine? Am I just getting a feel good high at the expense of my knees in my old age? Have I been brainwashed in thinking that exercise is good for you? Are we dealing with an information cascade?
Or is Josh right that regular vigorous exercise is good for you in the short term and the long term?
My health and marriage vows are at stake here. I need advice!

Unbridled lust

(begin whine-y voice) It's not fair! (end whine-y voice)
My husband never wants anything and I'm always lusting after various goodies. He grew up in a household that recycled sesame seeds from bagels to be re-used in sesame chicken stir-fry (disclaimer: his parents deny this), while I grew up in a household that allowed each kid to have their own shopping cart and we put in any junk-y grocery item that fancied us.
My mother worked all the time and probably felt guilty so we could have almost anything we wanted. Back then, our whims were pretty inexpensive, not like the desires of kids nowadays. Ironically, even though our whims were satisfied, we grew up pretty poor during my early childhood. We lived in a one bedroom apartment in Queens but I never felt like we lacked anything. We were the total ghetto-fabulous stereotype -- we lived in a small cramped apartment but some of us wore expensive sneakers. Once a month, when my mother had a day off, she would take us to the Botanical Garden or some such activity and we were allowed to run amok satisfying any of our street vendor whims and to top it off, she would let us get anything we wanted at McDonald's. I must be the only person on earth who misses the old chicken Mcnuggets. I have fond memories of the dark chicken matter mash.
The way Josh grew up was completely different. As a result, he is so disciplined with money to the point where he doesn't event want anything. Help! I need an outlet. So I'm going to make a Christmas list (since we don't celebrate Christmas and I'm sure that I probably won't get anything from this list).
I WANT:

1. A knitting machine (with some really nice and exotic yarns)
2. Two really nice hairbrushes that costs like $50 each - a small one and a large one
3. A digital SLR camera with killer zoom lens that will be bigger than John Holmes'
4. A dual layer DVD burner or some other solution for archiving my kids' pictures
5. Software: font utility tool, various fonts and video editing
6. More diamonds mua hahahahahaha
7. A Sadie and Dazee collage similar to the one I have one of our wedding that is 4' by 3'.
8. Quarterly services of a professional photographer
9. Annual family portrait in oil

It's amazing I can get along so well with someone so monetarily disciplined. I got the cheapest one I could find and I'm pretty happy with him.

I'm pathetic

It's been a week and a half since I last vigorously exercised. I'm often grumpy, sleepy, tired, out of sorts and my knee hurts. I'm going to have to find motivation to start up again. I'm just a bad mom, daughter, and person when I don't get good exercise.

Facebook - You're a hypocrite and I'm a liar

Earlier, I ranted about how I could not use my real last name to sign up for a Facebook account. I surmised that "Star" is completely forbidden, as I could not add it as a middle, last, first or maiden name without some kind of appeal to Facebook. I shied away from appealing because I don't like bureaucracy and the wording of the appeal process seems so serious. To my foreign born sensitivities, this is a scary thing. I felt like I might need to appear in court or get notarized documents or be involved in something legally binding that I was going to ultimately regret. Like the authorities will take me away from my children or something because my proof to Facebook was considered counterfeit or whatever.
Luckily, someone else did the leg work so I can enlighten you about the appeal process. My sister in law shares the same last name as me and is apparently less paranoid than me because she went ahead with the appeal process (must've found it simple and non-threatening) and won! Hurray! A few days later, she's on Facebook as her real name.
But now that I've been using Facebook for a few weeks, I am really creeped out. I am relieved that I've used my maiden name. Only people who truly know me would be able to find me. And just for an extra layer of security, I made my profile private to just Facebook friends(but I like to refer to them as "friendsters" because I'm not really friends with them.).
But these privacy protecting measures are not good enough for me anymore, because Facebook is keeping tabs on a lot of online activity and sharing it willy nilly. I'm upset that on one hand, they treat privacy very casually by sharing your information while on the other they insist on this real name business (with a built-in appeal process and scary terms of use agreements no less!). If they are going to be privy to who I actually am and where I live, then they need to revise their privacy policies to treat my identity and actions as professionally and delicately as an online bank would.
Recently I scored a huge coup. I got the courage to appeal to Facebook for a name change to Cassandra Jupiter. In an unexpected whilrlwind, it was approved and my new name was activated in less than 24 hours, even though their noncomittal and slightly threatening (vis a vis bureaucracy) fine print lead me to believe otherwise.
I don't know if this is going to hurt me and my social networking goals in the long run but for now, I'm quite pleased that I was able to change my name and pull some wool over the Facebook nazis.

This is a first for me - I'm as pure as newly fallen snow

My sister in law apparently has an insatiable appetite for raunchiness. I look to you, dear readers to come up with suggestions for some racy blogs or websites that she can visit (for free) because I can not satisfy her. Luckily, she still "respects me as a person" even though she doesn't think I have "any raunchy" in me.

This one's for you, BS...

After some thought and soul searching, if my ANR post was not "dirty", "raunchy", "disgusting" or "exciting" enough, I have to say that I give up. I'm afraid what you're asking for would definitely be crossing a lot of different lines and we're both going to regret it.
I do have another ANR type story that you might like...
I pump milk at work and I use a "hands-free pumping bra" so that I don't have to maintain a grasp or pressure on plastic milk bottles and breast shields against my chest. In any case, if you're not familiar with pumping or what it looks like (it's totally wacky) -- below are two pictures of a model using the hands free pumping bra. Of course, the pictures aren't totally realistic. In the real world, you're not smiling when you're pumping, there's milk in the bottles, your nipples are not airbrushed, and so on and so forth.
In any case, someone at work had walked in on me doing this. It is one of the most humiliating experiences in my life. I know my vagina was on a display shelf in the hospital when I was giving birth and it seemed like everyone had a go with their fingers and hands (hopefully these were not gratuitous feels). Even though I reluctantly and publicly went to third base (skipping first and second to boot) with all these medical professionals, somehow there's nothing more humiliating than having co-workers see you half dressed and attached to pumping paraphernalia. The ridiculousness of the contraptions makes even a shameless person like me shrink like a wet witch.

The people want juicy!

So my sister in law is totally goading me (not that I need much encouragement) by telling me that my blog isn't nearly as dirty or raunchy as she hoped or expected. I have a few ideas percolating; I'm determined to fulfill her wildest blog dreams...When you have a relative like Josh, you probably can't help but want to hear something embarassing, exciting or nasty. He can be so good and pure, like his mouth full of filling-free teeth, it makes all of us want to gasp in envious scornful disgust with our rotten multi-root-canal-ed teeth.

NOT synthetic diamonds!

Wow, I was really psyched. I was ready to to "trade up" my real diamond ring for one of these lab-created and conflict-free diamonds from Diamond Nexus. All of their advertising seems to lead me to believe that they are synthetic diamonds - created in a lab with the same chemical and physical properties as a real diamond. However, they are actually simulants like Asha diamond or cubic zirconia (CZ). This FAQ addressed most of my questions regarding simulants and synthetics.
I have a pair of Asha earrings set in platinum and I'm disappointed with them. The problem with them is that unlike a real diamond, when they get dirty, they lose a lot of their light dispersion and look muddy to me. And they cost way more than they should.
I also have a cultured or synthetic Takara pink diamond and it is fabulous! But they only sell colored diamonds and the colors tend to be somewhat fake - too deeply saturated with a violet like mineral glow. Finally, these synthetics are priced about the same as a mined white diamond. I would like to see white synthetic diamonds for sale and for cheap in the market place in my lifetime. C'mon GE, anybody I'm waiting for you.
I don't have anything to say about moissanite and this ends my diamond drool post.

Butternut Squash Ravioli Learns

After reviewing and consulting more than 5 recipes on the Internet for butternut squash ravioli, here is what I've learned if you want to use wonton wrapper instead of making your own pasta.
First I have to preface everything by telling you what kind of a cook I am. I double to quadruple all calls for herbs and vegetables (e.g. onions, garlic, shallots, celery, broccoli, etc.). I halve or third all instructions for any kinds of fats (e.g. butter, oil, etc.). Then I double to quadruple everything again because I like to cook for an army. I'm not shy to substitute (majoram for sage, etc.); there's nothing I hate more than having an inspiration to cook something quashed by a practicality like I don't have an ingredient available. (I made marsala chicken once without marsala wine, it turned out well but it didn't taste like marsala chicken) And I never ever measure ANYTHING.
Onward to using wonton wrappers - one recipe noted that you should use 4 wrappers per ravioli. I didn't try this but it seems like a good idea since the singly wrapped ravioli are exteremely fragile. I didn't do this because it felt too starchy. So if you want to use one wonton wrapper per ravioli, keep this in mind:

1. One wrapper per ravioli has diastrious results for boiling. DO NOT BOIL SINGLY WONTON WRAPPED RAVIOLI, IT IS MUSHY AND DISGUSTING. For best results, fry them or brush with some butter and bake at 375 for about 10 minutes or whatever.
2. For the sauce, I had excellent results with browning some butter with salt, majoram (or sage) and thinly sliced almonds. Serve immediately with the fried or baked ravioli with grated parmesan.
3. And fresh herbs really do make a difference! I sent my sister to the grocery store for parsley (with dried parsley in mind). She showed up with fresh parsley and it really enhanced the recipe. Thanks Siri!
4. As soon as you wrap the ravioli, bake or fry ASAP as the raviolis sitting in a tray in as little as 15 minutes will have undesirable moisture creep in. Not a good dish for making ahead of time. But if you insist on doing this, make sure you separate each layer with wax paper and maybe even coat the raviolis and the paper with some cooking spray. And whatever you do, make sure the raviolis never touch each other, it will become a sticky mess.
5. This is also not a good dish to serve as a meal. Because it's so rich, it should be reserved as an appetizer.
6. This is not a good dish to make for an army. I was really stupid to make this for 8 people. It turned out well but I would never try to do this for more than 4.
7. Do not overstuff.
8. I had good results in roasting the squash in a shallow pan with a little water (.25 inch or whatever) at 375 for about 30 mins.
9. Finally, if you have square wonton wrappers, folding them in half (so they form a triangle) yielded the best results. Even though I am skilled in orgami, it does not translate well to wrapping wonton ravioli. Credit goes to Josh for coming up with this idea that all of us nearly died of laughter when we first saw it. They looked so large and awkward. I guess we all had dainty and cute ravioli in mind.

Connie-chiwa

I'm really excited! If all goes as planned, I'm going to see my college roommate Connie this weekend. I haven't seen her in almost 2 years! She's a super user of text messaging from a cell phone while I have no clue. Once I noticed that I had this envelope icon on my cell phone; it was a text from Connie that was 4 months old! Yesterday, I tried four times to text something back to her until I just threw my hands in the air and gave up.
This text boycott started when Josh informed me that they were not covered under our plan, that we had to pay 2 cents each (plus tax) or whatever to send and receive them. One of his friends even texted him, I owe you 10 cents. Hahaha! He told me a story about how when he was growing up, long distance on the telephone was a big thing. Like if anyone called long distance and if they had to pass the phone to a different speaker, it was done in a really nervous, hot-potato fashion, as to conserve every second possible. I'm sure this is true and it makes me laugh like crazy. Because when I was growing up, we used to call Thailand all the time and talk about nothing. Talking about nothing with our friends and relatives would easily amount to $400 a month.
In college, my then-boyfriend would call India and easily ring up $700 per month phone bills. This makes Josh crouch in terror, while I'm comfortable with the idea that staying in touch costs $$$.
When we first started dating, I took many business trips -- they were always in the US, but he would never call me. He feared that I was roaming or that he might go over his minutes. I called him once from the Bahamas and I could feel his balls sweating.
It's really funny how we now have VoIP so phone calls are practically free, although the quality sucks. But now, I realize that the $$$ is a front for his reticence. He'd just rather not talk on the phone. 6 years of calling him a cheap bastard when I should have known, that's he's just a regular old bastard!!!!

Thanksgiving Update

I've been slaving in the kitchen for 6 hours and finally, I have two trays in the oven. I have no motivation to keep going -- it's 8:30, my drunk husband's not home yet, my 2 yr old is sick and my legs are killing me! But I have to make 2 more trays of food!
The butternut squash ravioli is killing me. I might have to change mid-way to butternut squash mash or something!

Enormasaurus Rex

Here's the first t-shirt design that I've made for Daisy. I have so many ideas for chubby babies. And for dinosaurious personalities, like Blogasaurus or Crankasaurus for me. Stay tuned.

Do you like the Enormasaurus in caps or mixed case?

Happy Thanksgiving and Sorry Josh!

Over the next few days, I'm going to be preoccupied with cooking for Thanksgiving, making funny & dirty t-shirts for everyone I know and spending a lot of dough (sorry Josh)!!!!
Yesterday I had a relatively expensive lunch for me. The bill for two of us came out to $32. (Not including tip, sorry Josh). But you know what? America is priceless! That same meal could've been 32 euros. Take advantage that our dollars are worth shit everywhere else by staying home or taking a vacation in America.
I don't feel like there's been any inflation or price increase since the 80s for these staples: food, clothing, electronics, appliances and cars. However, I'm really feeling the pinch in: real estate, airfares, hotels, gas and college education for my brats.
I'm going to Thailand this December but after that, all my vacations are going to be in good old US of A. We're going to Hawaii in February and Alaska in the summer. I can't wait. My dollars will go really far here. Compared to other countries, everything here can be had for practically nothing. Thank you citizens of China, Saudi Arabia, Qatar and UAE.

Holy batballs, no dinar for you!

The rich Persian Gulf states - e.g. SA, UAE and Qatar have their currencies pegged to the dollar and may abandon the peg or change the level of the peg!
America as we know it is going to shit. We need cheap oil, cheap clothes from a sweatshop and cheap plastic goods. We have to pray that our friends China, SA, UAE and Qatar continue to piss off their citizens by retaining the dollar peg at current levels.

Why I don't hobnob with men over the Internet

After giving birth to my first daughter, I had a difficult time with breastfeeding. I hired a lactation consultant to come over to teach me the ropes. It worked out pretty well; after she left, I felt more confident about how to breastfeed. As it turns out, she was also an area La Leche leader and she invited me to one of their meetings. I attended and found it helpful and supportive. Unfortunately, there was only one other mother at this meeting besides me. My La Leche leader friend was hoping to grow membership in this working mothers group.
So in the community and kids section of Craiglist, I posted about the our next upcoming La Leche meeting along with details of how to contact me. Of course no one contacted me except a pervert. He wrote some horrifying things to me in an email. I've blocked most of the tramautic details out except for one acronym: ANR. Adult nursing relationship!!!!! The sick fuck wanted to nurse or milk me!
I went to my husband for strength and comfort about how evidently wrong this was, for this asshole to email me this disgusting solicitation when my post was clearly targetted for female members in a nursing mothers support group. He gave a pretty clinical viewpoint, "Well what if you were interested? Then it would have worked out great for the both of you...I don't see anything wrong with what he did?" At that point, I didn't know which asshole I wanted to harm first.

Bonus rare pic...

In a rare moment, we were able to fit all of these personalities in one picture! From the top, clockwise - the robot, the blabbermouth dabbler, the kvetch and the golden pig.

Ahead of our time for insults and slurs

My husband wrote a pretty interesting response to an article published in the Oct. 15 issue of the New Yorker, The Blow-Up Artist, which portrayed Victor Niederhoffer's trading style (and unconventional lifestyle).
Two responses to the article were published in our most recent New Yorker and I have to say I'm unimpressed. Why didn't they publish Josh's response? Before I tell you about my conspiracy theory, let me share his response with you.
This is a short version you can email to your friends:
Hey, you heard of Victor Niederhoffer? I just read an article in the New Yorker about him about how he speculates in futures using massive leverage, and I remember his orders from when I was a floor trader in options at the CME … at the time we thought the client was a middle eastern oil sheik, and we always called his distinctive orders from “the sheik” (He was always always selling size downside puts on the S&P) … anyway, turns out it was this Niederhoffer … and then when he blew up in ‘97 or ‘98, and his clearing firm liquidated his positions in the morning (which would have been winners if they just waited until the afternoon) … I was making options markets that felt entirely obscene at the time. I always felt a little sorry for the guy that day … now I know who it was.
This is what he actually sent to New Yorker:
The Sheik!
In 1996 and 1997 I was a floor trader in the futures options pit of the S&P500 at the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. There was one broker for Refco, who generally handled medium to small sized orders. From time to time, though, he would show up with a very large order: almost always to sell downside puts. This is a very risky, highly leveraged strategy, and it had a very distinct signature. At the time, we didn’t know the orders were from Niederhoffer: but we knew they were from one particular client. On the floor, we called him “The Sheik”, for we assumed he must be someone with a ton of money, looking for some financial excitement. Whenever the broker began to represent an order bearing the signature of the Sheik, we would telegraph the trade to our counterparts across the (loud) trading floor by miming wrapping a turban around our heads – that was the hand signal that everyone recognized as the Sheik. In October of 1997, not long after the Sheik had renewed a sizeable signature position in the options, the S&P500 was down nearly 7% one day. The next morning, the market opened up down 3%, and the Refco broker representing the Sheik was actually buying his position back. We could tell by the nature of the orders that it was his brokerage firm closing him out of business (and not the Sheik voluntarily covering positions), and I won’t say that we didn’t take advantage of the situation. To close out positions that big all at once when there was already significant panic in the marketplace incurred extraordinary price increases. Options that were sold for as little as $3 the day before were being bought back for as much as $50.
Around 11 AM that same day, the market started rising – and it actually closed up over 5% on the day – surely enough that Refco wouldn’t have liquidated Niederhoffer’s position if they had just waited a few hours. The options that went from $3 to $50 were back to $3. We never did see another order from the Sheik after that, and it was only years later that I discovered this “Sheik” was actually a hedge fund manager named Niederhoffer (And I always wondered if he knew he was referred to as “the Sheik”.) But I did learn a little bit about leverage and timing that has helped me in my trading career since then: when you’re at the end of your leverage, and the margin calls are coming in, time is one thing you just don’t have.
I'm pretty sure they didn't publish this because Middle Eastern citizens and advocacy groups would send them hate mail.
So it brings me to the point of the title of this post. In the mid-90s my husband used a turban-wrapping mime for the word sheik, when he met me in May 2001, he playfully called me Osama and finally in July 2001, I jested that one of his friends looked like a terrorist. What all of these slurs have in common is that they were all said before September 11th. Now our past statements' follies have grown in size and they've come back to haunt us because most people don't realize that they were said prior to 9/11. They don't give us any credit or slack for being the modern-day Cassandra for insults and slurs. Stick with us and you'll totally offend everyone. Sadly their rage for you will only grow and grow and only you will know about the misattribution error.

Dollar got you down?

I am so pissed off that the dollar is practically worthless. I blame it all on Bush and the war. The only reason why it's worth anything is because of China. As soon as they stop pegging the yuan to the dollar, we are all fucked.
Let's fantasize about the past...I have fond memories of visiting Italy in 2001. Everything was thousands of lira but it always worked out to only a few dollars. Everything was so cheap and affordable; whenever I ate a meal I liked I had Donald Trump-esque condescending thoughts...Hmmm I wonder if I should buy this restaurant?
And now, can you believe that the Canadian dollar is on par with ours? What's an American to do?
Get yourself a personal assistant from Bangalore! Check out Ask Sunday, and this newstory. For $30 a month, your PA from India will run the kinds of errands where physical presence isn't needed. Your Indian PA will dispute charges on your credit card, book frequent flier rewards and stay on the phone for these types of time consuming, hold-intensive and often frustrating errands.
Recently I've been so frustrated with trying to book frequent flier rewards with Emirates Airlines. It's obvious to me that their call center is outsourced to India. I can tell by the fuzzy connection and the accent. Who do they think they're fooling with their ridiculous pseudonyms like Steve? I know your real name is something like Subhabrata, not Steve!
So I see another benefit to outsourcing your errands to India...imagine your PA calling Emirates, asking for "Steve". I'm sure that "Steve" will immediate recognize my PA's accent and ask, Hey where are you from? And then they'll start rapping about India. Now as the conversation gets friendlier, you can imagine they might start talking about their work. You work for an American call center? Me too! Where do you work? In Bangalore. Me too! Blah blah blah and the ultimate climax that I'm hoping for -- realizing that they're in the same building, my PA will stand on his chair and hi-five Steve over the cubicle wall. Everybody wins! I'm so happy that for a few worthless dollars, I get to use my miles without talking to anyone. And if anyone wonders how I can possibly claim mileage rewards so effortlessly, I can say truthfully, through my connections.