gratitude

I think learning gratitude is really just the process of growing up. Of learning that everything you enjoy now is the product of sacrifice, hard work, dedication, selflessness. The investment of time, commitment, hope in a future that is better than the past.

I was thinking today about my Mom. Thinking about a book I wrote, as a kid, that described being an adult as "getting to do whatever you want," like dragging your kid around on errands when all they want is to go home. Then I thought about the times as a kid, going with Mom all over town to help her shop for things, how that was our way of spending time together. I learned to shop and be a consumer from these trips. But I imagine for my mom, it was nice to have someone to do that with, and also, to have the means to buy what you want, that was a luxury. That was the American Dream. That was something that felt very independent and luxurious, coming from a past where her family had so little, only one of the three kids got to eat meat at dinner, the rest only got soy sauce on rice until the next time they were the lucky one.

I started to think about how every generation tries to make life better for the next. How my mom grew up with so little, and her Mom with even less. My mom's life growing up was unimaginable to her Mom, my life now so pampered compared to what my Mom had. Ever generation doing what they can so the pains and hardships they endured could be a little more faded for the next. More room for joy, for carelessness, for the freedom of unburdenness.

But this realization pains me. Thinking about all my Mom, my Grandma, have done so I could know a different life. I will never know their pain. They will never know the same joys. This hurts me, feels like distance insurmountable.

To be grateful is to see that sacrifice, born of love, and hope to perpetuate that forward, in gratitude for what was given me.

love loud and love often

it's amazing to me how frequently society overvalues romantic relationships while ignoring the power of all the other loving relationships in our lives. every day of the year, but this time of year especially, i celebrate the relationships i am so lucky and blessed to have, with my family, my friends, my colleagues. love abounds around me and i am grateful every day for all of it. #unvalentinesday #galentinesday #palentinesday

life is too short to waste any more of it on you

i finally told my parents about what happened. they were amazingly supportive, clear-headed and wise. i don't know why i expected any differently.

the best advice they could have given me was this: life is too short to be unhappy and life is too precious to let bad people break you down and make you feel less worthy of happiness than you are. forget it like a bad dream and move on. you owe it to yourself to fight for what's yours, for the happiness you deserve.

god, i love them.

and they are so right. onward! upward! the past is behind me and i'm not looking back.

i don't have the words to say how i feel right now

one of the things i'm most grateful for, and will cherish the rest of my life, is the last year - and how, for the first time in my life, i lived only an hour away from my Grandma and not a whole country apart. i went to visit her every weekend, and was always greeted with a big smile and a big hug and lots of food (always so much food!). i practiced my Chinese and was able, for the first time in 

my life, to have a real conversation with my Grandma, to understand stories she would tell me about my dad and my uncles when they were growing up, to hear her talk about the time they moved to SF together, to hear her talk about my Grandpa, to hear her talk about poetry and history and how she used to do Tai Chi in the park. to be able to tell her in my limited Mandarin that i love her, and that i think about her every day. and when it came time for me to move away, to tell her that i would miss her, but that i would call her when i got to Syracuse. and when i got to Syracuse, to call her on the phone every week and tell her i missed her and was looking forward to seeing her again soon. i still feel my Mandarin was never quite advanced enough to tell her how much i love her, or to understand all the wisdom she imparted to me. and one year will never be enough, but i'm so glad i had that time and spent it getting to know her. 我愛你奶奶.

11/11/11 11:11:11

so, did you do it?

luckily here at work, my desk phone clock, my computer, and my cell phone were all set a minute apart, so i got three consecutive shots at 11:11. i closed my eyes and gave thought to every single member of my family, thinking about the last time i saw them and what i will make sure to do the next time i see them again (give them long, powerful hugs, make sure to hold their hand and tell them how much i love them). for some reason, a lot of my thoughts turned to food - the last time i went hiking with my Uncle Donald and how he and his wife packed sandwiches for us on the hike and how sweet a gesture that was, thought about the last time i went to my grandma's house and my aunt Su Yuan made soup for everyone, and how i had a migraine that day and couldn't enjoy it as much as i wish i could have because it would have made her so happy, and i thought about the last time i went home for the holidays and visited my dad at his office one day and he offered me a little grape juice box from his office fridge, the way he's always done since i was a little kid.

and i thought about the warmth of a hug, how good it feels to hold someone you love close to you, and how every one of my family members' hands feels in my hand - my mom's hand is fat and soft and warm and strong, and my dad's is rough and dry but also somehow gentle and comforting, and my dad's mom's hands are papery white and wrinkled in delicate folds like tissue paper from a gift, and my mom's mom's hands are so much like my mom's that they are virtually hand twins, that i just know mine will be like that too one day.

and then i thought about Cal, my brother, and how i hope he's happy and i wonder what he's doing right now, and how when we were kids i did so much for him - i used to get all the other kids on the playground to help me plan a birthday party at recess for him, because his birthday was always during the school year and he was always jealous that mine was right after Christmas and everyone was home for my birthday. now that we're adults it's hard to be a big sister to him sometimes, but i'm going to go home this year and do something nice for him.

and finally i thought about myself. i've been really sad and negative lately, so i tried to imagine myself the way i used to be, the way i want to be, which is smiling, laughing, happy, face lit up with so many great ideas and a joy for life. if i can think it, maybe i can be it.

so in this magical minute that stretched into three, i counted my blessings, thought about my family and friends who are so far away, thought about the good things i've done and the good things still left in me to do. i thought about this moment, this small moment in the entire geological timeline of the earth's existence. i thought about time and how it's a construct and really has no meaning. but this moment, alive and awake in it as i was, was a gift, a fleeting gift i will never get back, so how can i spend it in the best possible way? who are all the people i want to imagine in this moment with me, even though they aren't here?

gong shi

such a wonderful day.

woke up and made yummy breakfast wraps while listening to chinese language podcasts. cut a cantaloupe (a pleasurable activity for the senses, olfactory and tactile – a cantaloupe provides just enough resistance to warrant the use of a large knife, while maintaining ease of motion) then took a bike ride down to the beach (the ride was also a perfect blend of challenge and leisure at the proper moments, the breeze was salty-sweet and not too blustery on the way towards the ocean, allowing us to make record time on the path). ben and i spent an hour on the beach, splashing in the water and racing each other on the sand, watching the waves crashing in huge gusts as they hit the sandbar formed from weeks of rainwater draining sand into the ocean.

came home to clean up and drive east to celebrate chinese new year with my uncle and aunt. a fragrant pineapple in the backseat. eating lots of noodles and sticky rice cakes. playing bingo with 50 chinese gentle men and women, one drunk bingo rabble rouser and one elementary kid who kept winning all the prizes. we were in it to win it (a mini braided bamboo plant, that is).

driving back to the apartment, teaching ben how to count in mandarin, thinking to myself the whole time how happy and lucky i am, to be surrounded by such good people.

i feel sometimes that i can never cease in my amazement of how much beauty lies in the world around me. i see the grace of bodies, the delicate lines on faces and how they reveal smiles and the way people walk, or use their hands when talking, the way they put on a shoe or brush the hair out of their face or the way they chew their food and the way people laugh, and i think of the babies that we once were and i dunno, it just seems like such glorious probability that everything works out to such perfection. it overwhelms me with such marvellous awe that sometimes i mistake it for sadness. it makes life seem so precious, which is really something to be grateful for, even though being aware of it makes everything seem so precarious.

look! i am teaching ben how to speak mandarin!

memories and realizations

my father always came back from his business trips with presents for his kids. he would hide them somewhere in the house and it was up to us to find them. i got from this two things: 1) presents are all about presentation. the buildup of mystery and suspense was what made the presents interesting, not the presents itself. present = 1) a gift, 2) the now. a gift is always about something more than the physical material thing, it was always about the experience. 2) my success in finding things quickly, i decided, was due to my keen observation skills, which incidentally, might not have developed if they were not put to constant use. consequently, as a child, i always believed i would make a great detective, crime scene investigator, or bounty hunter. after writing, those were my dream occupations and the ones i felt best qualified for.

as i reflect on the way my father instilled excitement and mystery into my perception of the world, i decide that, sometime in the future when i become a parent myself, i will do the same for my son or daughter. hiding the box of cereal every morning before the bus ride to school. hiding the presents on christmas eve. hiding the clues that unveil a big family secret (your great-great aunt is german! your great-grandpa is a war hero! your great-aunt speaks to the dead!)

everyday would/should be a search for hidden treasures.

lesson from my father #88: Love.

... That was as far as we got before we arrived in San Jose. I would like to hear more about Dad's life growing up and learning more about the family, which still remains a mystery. How did he meet Mom? How did he know, when did he know, that he loved her?

My cousin Sam told me his dad, my Uncle Danny, would wait for his mom after class every day at BYU. They were students and didn't have a lot of money, and the popular thing to eat on campus were these 15 cent hamburgers, because they were so cheap. But, they would always sell out really fast, and my Aunt Pearl, Sam's mom, had one of the later classes. So my Uncle Danny would go and save her a place in line. He won her over one 15 cent hamburger at a time.

Uncle Tony, Jocelyn explained at the funeral, met Aunt Evelyn when they both worked for China Airlines. He stood outside the terminal waiting for her every day, with an umbrella so she wouldn't get wet when it rained (and it rains a lot there). He did this for 7 months before she finally agreed to go out with him.

I love these stories about my uncles because it makes me nostalgic for the kind of love that is hard-earned and a long time coming, a dedicated, patient love. Hearing these courtship stories doesn't surprise me at all, knowing the kind of supportive, devoted husbands and fathers my uncles are, but they remind me that romance and love aren't make believe or reserved solely for the movies, that extraordinary deeds are performed by extraordinary gentelemen every day, and that I'm just so lucky to have such men in my life as uncles, as a father. They remind me that love isn't so much about the grand, dramatic gestures, but in the quiet dedication it takes to love someone so powerfully every day – the love it takes to be there every day with an umbrella when it rains, or the 30 cents when you haven't got a dime for yourself – and never lessen or waiver in knowing that you would be happy doing this every day for this person because it brings them happiness. Selfless, constant Love.

...As my dad pulled up to the curb to drop me off as he always does while he goes to look for parking, he tells me, as he always has, that the only thing he wants is "for [me] to be happy." My dad has never been controlling or even overbearingly curious, like my mom. He has been supportive of my decisions without injecting too much of his own opinion. As with my college decision, my decision on which high school to go to, and my career aspirations, so with my love life; Dad was there to offer support, but never judge. He just wants me to be happy.

Even though I'd heard it a million times before, this time I smiled, gripped his hand, and kissed him on the cheek. These last few weeks have been incredibly hard for my family, but, at the same time, it has made me remember we have so much to be grateful for. There is so much beauty, so much life, and so much love in the world, it's hard to remain sad for very long before you're overwhelmed with gratitude.


----

to all the fathers and the uncles, and especially to my own,
happy father's day.


with so much love,
stef

like a father to me

"you know Uncle Tony loved you, right stef? he loved you so much, and he was so proud of you."

i knew. i started sobbing. i knew, no one had to remind me. i never doubted for a minute that he loved me. i doubted if he knew just how much i loved him.

i loved the way he reminded me so much of my father, how the first time i met him, i knew they had to be brothers, they had the same face almost, but my uncle Tony had a friendlier smile. my dad doesn't smile much, he looks stern until he laughs, and then you know he's happy. my uncle Tony had a warm, honest smile. he didn't have to laugh before i knew i liked him. his smile was enough. quiet and calm happiness exuded from him, and i loved to be around that kind of presence. going to san francisco never meant going to Fisherman's Wharf, or the golden gate bridge. to me, it was always having one dinner with my uncle Tony, sitting near him, studying his every move with almost an obsessive curiosity, fascinated by this little man, a smaller version of my father. i wanted to sit next to him and pour him tea, watch him eat meat off bones, watch him talk to my dad and see them mirror each other's actions, both taking off their glasses to dab at the tears in the corners of their eyes from laughing too hard at the other's joke.

it was always such a pleasure to sit between the two of them and understand, through chemistry and some kind of beautiful, tangible magic, the meaning of family. between the two of them, i could fill in the gaps between the present and the past, imagine a childhood they shared, boyhood fraternity that spanned decades, continents, and many obstacles in between, and understand what my parents meant when they told me and my brother growing up that siblings are the most important people in your life.

when we say our goodbyes at the end of a trip to San Francsico, everyone goes around and gives thanks, love, good health wishes, and hugs to everyone else in the circle. the SF branch of our family lines up and me and my brother would go around the circle and embrace everyone. i always wanted to hug Uncle Tony first. it was important to me to show him in some way how grateful i was for him in my life, but lacking the adequate Mandarin to express my feelings, i had to opt for symbolism instead. even English words are hard to find for the wealth of sentiments and gratitude i have for him and what he meant to me and my father and what i could see as his wealth of presence in our entire family.

and now, especially, i am at a loss for words.

it's difficult learning grief for the first time. it is a complex emotion that you experience in layers. shock at first, almost a stupid ignorance of impending tragedy. when i first heard the news i didn't give it a second thought. it was like someone had just told me the time. i immediately thought "things are going to be fine. he's going to get better and we'll all be back to normal." and then details become apparent, gradually. one phrase leads to others, verb tenses change, suddenly i'm forced into speaking the language of death, phrases such as "the body", "the funeral," "brain dead." "was."

i can't comprehend how such a unique person can just suddenly disappear. will i never see that smile again, except in pictures and memories? will i never get to hug him goodbye again, squeezing his sweater vest with my forearm, watch him laughing with my dad (and will my dad ever laugh like that again?) feeling so selfish and stupid, all these days living so close by but without a visit, without a phone call? suddenly the phrase "visiting family in SF" makes me feel despondent, rather than hopeful and excited. i imagine a house empty of his presence and suddenly it's not a home with family (i can't see my dad there). i think about times when i was so close to where he was, and the last phone call, and how i didn't get to say everything i wanted to say, and how i'd always held it in my heart to tell him that i was thankful for him, that i wanted to make sure i eventually got the words right, but never knew a better way to say it than the first hug goodbye.

and now, just powerlessness. again, words don't feel right for such emotions. it just doesn't seem fair that life should go on as usual, when i feel my world is falling apart.

my uncle passed away last night. some kind of accident, he was sent to the hospital yesterday morning because his brain was hemorrhaging. he became comatose in the evening and they pulled the plug this morning. i just heard from my uncle Danny. my dad doesn't know, he's heading to San Francisco now, but there will be no body there. it breaks my heart to think about my dad in that moment.

it's hard to understand that such a beautiful life can just suddenly disappear like that. i still can't believe it. on the phone with my cousin last night, the word "funeral" felt so strange and cruel in my mouth. to say "passed away" is strange, i imagine him still in the hospital, imagine a way for him to come back. i feel selfish, when i first got the call from my cousin i didn't even think about going up to SF. i thought things would be fine. things happen so quickly, i feel so terrible and powerless.

mourning is strange, difficult. words are hard to find. eating seems selfish, checking my email or getting on the internet seems trivial. i can't fathom how all of life can just go on with such terrible tragedy. i want everything to stop and honor the gravity of the moment, you know? but it's thursday, and there are classes, children laughing, traffic continues to stop and go. it is so strange, to feel so alone in one's sadness and grief.

i got it from my momma

sometimes venturing onto the internet can be a torturous experience. so many young girls growing up in america quoting emo lyrics, lamenting lost "love" and compromising their self-esteem, seeking redemption in fleeting romance, and demeaning themselves to ... sound their age? i don't know, has anyone studied it? is there some self-fulfilling prophecy regarding "age-appropriate" white-suburban-teenage-girl internet behavior?


regardless of precedent, i'm becoming concerned. each day, reading anything on the internet inevitably delivers more wincing reminders of the severe lack of self-love and confidence among our digital-age youth. have the kids grown up so saturated by the media that they no longer know how to exist beyond its limited scope, to the point that they can't imagine a self-image beyond those proliferating the 'net? has society's over-abundance of visual imagery taken all the imagination and mystery out of growing up?

these are things to be pondered in more depth at a later time. the real reason that brings me to this medium right now, is what all this makes me realize: that i am insanely grateful for having grown up with strong, independent women in my life. my mother set a solid example of strength and confidence for me as a child, and i grew up thinking anything was possible if i demanded it of myself. these things are important to acknowledge, for future reference. what kind of woman do i want to be for my child, and how will she see me? will she grow up thinking she needs a man to feel worthy for the world, or will she seek to be her best self, and someone who loves her for that?

hm, an unusually ponderous saturday night post.

cherry blossom

i emerged from the shower this evening, and opened up a bottle of lotion: "cherry blossom."

the name is misleading, it causes me to think more of fruit than flowers, so the smell seems surprisingly, almost overwhelmingly florid, rosy, clean. it is feminine, a womanly fragrance.

the smell reminds me of my mother, and watching her get ready for dinner parties when i was a little girl, standing in the bathroom of my parents' bedroom in her bra, her hair recently blowdried and swept to the sides of her face and ears. she has not yet put on her glasses, and i can see her face clearly, she never applies makeup. i watch as she gently pats lotion on her face, her cheeks rosy and flushed from the steam of the shower. the only beauty modification my mother ever used was perfume: she would dab it gingerly on her wrists, her neck, the crook of her arm. the scent would waft from the bathroom to the bedroom, and follow her wherever she'd go. after my parents left the house, the smell of my mother would always remain in the air, a trail of fragrance up and down the stairs, hanging in the air by the kitchen, lingering by the door where she stepped into her shoes.

since i was a little girl, my mom would always offer her perfume to me to try, to smell, to dab on my hands. she loved to buy me little packs of perfume, or obtain miniature bottles from the department store as trinkets, as if for fun. i always refused them. it wasn't necessarily the smell itself i adored. it was that image of my mom, standing in the bathroom, clean and void of any pretense in her appearance, my first idea of female beauty, and what i thought beauty (and my mother) smelled like.

so tonight, as i was applying dollops of this cherry blossom lotion to my skin, i was reminded of all these things and had to put the lotion away in a drawer, because the smell was just too close to that distant smell i remember, that it made me too sad to use it, and reluctant to grow into womanhood myself.

happy thanksgiving!

this year, i am especially grateful for my beautiful family and friends, the incredible love i feel so lucky to have experienced, my job (yes, warts and all), and my (relatively speaking) good health.

it is my first thanksgiving away from my family and my home, and i miss my mom and her wonderful cooking, and the warmth that exudes throughout the whole house from our kitchen. i called her last night and could hear her clanging pots and pans in preparation for today, and it made me smile and want to hug her, and then i felt very alone. i imagine my family sitting around the table to have dinner together, and want so much to be there, heaping comfort foods onto my plate and laughing thru mouthfuls of sweet potato casserole at my mom's mannerisms, or my dad's talkshow radio jokes.

i miss the look of my home and my hometown at this time of year. California experiences the winter holidays very differently. somehow, walking around LMU's campus and seeing the sudden appearance of Christmas decorations – illuminated yard ornaments, the huge Christmas bow they tied onto the chapel steeple, the ball ornaments hanging on the magnolia trees – made me feel surprisingly upset, like they were mocking my homesickness with exaggerated props, trying to compensate for not being home by engaging in tasteless caricature. i thought of the way Christmas lights look when you're driving home at night over rolling hills and through howling winter wind and snow. or the way uptown looked in Oxford when you'd be walking to the coffee shop and seeing the snow fall lightly through lamplight.

today is very bittersweet, because while i am sad to be missing these things, i am so happy and grateful to have them in my life at all, and to know that i grew up with such wonderful ppl and experiences, and that i have such wonderful memories of my life.

and so, happy thanksgiving. i am coming home soon...

love,
stef

the civil war

dream - friday morning, 8/8/08

i was outside, i think a group of us were talking about something, implementing a plan of action as a group, we were talking around a tree, i think we were in an arid place. we were talking when all of a sudden we hear a whirring sound, and someone holds up a hand and goes 'was that a bullet?' she shoes us her hand and it's got a small puncture wound on it. moments later, it happens again. we realize we're under gunfire. there's some war happening around us.

we go inside this really old wood cabin behind us. there are slits of sunlight shining thru the pieces of wood and thru the bullet holes. we lie on the floor so as not to get hit. we realize that they're coming soon, and that we should be ready. but rather than fight back, we develop a plan for when they get here. we are going to go out bravely, singing "Swing Lo, Sweet Chariot" (for some reason we thought we were in the civil war - maybe it was the log cabin?) we practice singing it and then we lie on our backs. these are ppl i've never met before but we're singing and preparing to die in such solidarity.

i'm lying there on the dirt floor (and i remember this part being weird, because i think i was watching myself/ experiencing everything from a third person perspective, like, i could SEE myself) and i can hear the whirr of bullets outside and my heart is racing and i am swelling up with anger and pride that this is the way i am going to die. and then i realize, my family is outside. they are in the house, the house i live in in lexington, and the bad guys are going to go into my house, and they are going to shoot my parents and my brother, and all of a sudden i am scared, and i want to run to be with them, and suddenly my death seems meaningless, seems cowardly, seems unfair. i want to be with them in my final moments, want to scream civil rights songs in the face of our oppressors, and want to be scared and defiant and brave one last time with my family around me, rather than these strangers.

i imagine the last time i hugged my dad, which, in my waking life was last night, and i remember it feeling strange since it'd been so long, but very comforting and relieving to know he was finally near enough that i could say "bye Dad" and wrap an arm around his neck, and in my dream that sense was a very urgent need. in my dream i suddenly feel the urgency of death and a paralysis, as i'm stuck to the floor of this cabin, singing slave songs, waiting for death to come. i remember thinking how symbolic every last moment becomes when you realize your actions are limited to a few brief moments, and i wondered if this was really how i wanted my last actions as a living human to be.

soon i would lose control of my nervous system, my ability to move limbs, to navigate the equilibrium, to practice volition and act with deliberation and intent. i felt guilty that i wasn't with my mother, ailing as she was, and that i didn't give my father a longer hug when i was near enough to do it.

---

i wake myself up from the dream with a slight scream, my heart racing from tossing around in my sleep.

the army had half-a-day...

i'm not a huge patriot, but, i gotta say: i'm particularly grateful for the July 4 holiday this year. in fact, it may be finding its place as my favorite holiday of the year so far, because TFA is only doing half-a-day tomorrow.

which, thankfully, means a slew of awesome things for me and my currently lamentable social life:
1) i get to sleep in!! (i get to wake up at 7, rather than 5 am! WOOT.)
2) i don't have to wake up early and get on a fucking school bus (and then proceed to try to sleep thru blaring top 40 radio music. yes, it's like middle school all over again...)
3) i don't have to fight thru 9 hours of physical shutdown, and i can actually try to enjoy the teacher training sessions, rather than worrying about the next time i'll get to use the bathroom or having to sacrifice food or sleep time to get work done
4) i don't have to ride a bus back from training, which means i can high-tail it outta there as soon as we close, which means as soon as we close, i am grabbing my weekend bag and hitting it on foot, walking to the closest coffee shop to drink an iced tea and read a book, and taking a nap until my friend Mike picks me up for our July 4 non-patriot plans (we're both film nerds, so we'll be having a film night and maybe some Thai food... maybe heading to a hipster dance party in Echo Park)

with work being exhausting and not feeling like i'm in a stable, safe, or comfortable mental or emotional state, all i really want right now is to go home and be safe and warm and taken care of for a while. i want a bed that feels like it's mine and be able to lock myself in the bathroom and take a warm bath and listen to my music loud and run around barefoot and make myself tea in a clean kitchen. and of course, more than anything, i want my mom's home-cooked meals and the privilege of not having to explain myself to anyone or feeling like i'm constantly being judged. yes, that would be nice.

i'm going to spend the weekend with my uncle and aunt, maybe go for a long walk and think about things. when i started this post i was extremely happy and thursday felt like a friday and tomorrow felt like a weekend, but now i'm remembering there is work still to be done, confusion still to surmount, and now feeling insecure and unsure of something i never thought to doubt (and feared having to doubt the most) and there's no way home to see things right, so i'm facing the painful realization of being stuck.

-stephanie

great things come in small packages

i just got a funny package from my parents. they sent me a pile of things i'd left in my room which they'd misinterpreted as crucial to my life here in the limited part of LA proper where i am currently residing.

and it's a good mix of things: some Situationism books, some shoes, fabric softener (but no detergent), a first-aid kit, and some recycling (must've forgotten to take it out before i left. oops.)

it seems my parents, in their wisdom, inadvertently sent me an important reminder: that i need to continue educating myself and learning and not forget my critical perspective, that my feet deserve to be kept safe and warm, that i should keep the things around me soft and fragrant (tho not necessarily clean...), that i should always disinfect my wounds, and that no job should go unfinished (i'm taking the recycling out tomorrow).

this is good life advice. heed!
-stephanie

i love my mother

she says the greatest things!

example 1: today, on the way home from running errands, we see a boy on his scooter, and his dog on a leash running ahead.

my mom: "Oh!" [expecting something along the lines of aaaaaaww...] "what an ugly dog!"

me: [incredulous surprise and laughter]

[a few moments later, we pull up to our driveway. i see the neighbors' dogs sitting on the lawn watching us approach.]

me: our neighbors' dogs are pretty cute, though they're loud.

mom: THEY'RE NOT CUTE AT ALL! i saw them eating their poop once. one dog was in front, pooping. the other was behind, eating it. they weren't even eating their own poop. true story. i saw it with my eyes.

[she then goes on to regale me with reasons for not understanding the dog-owning population. i cannot stop laughing.]

----

example 2: a few weeks ago, Mom, Dad and i were watching P.S. I Love You (did i mention that i also love my mother for her deliciously abysmal taste in movies? i once had to sit thru Failure To Launch with her, because no one else in the house would submit themselves to that kind of self-torture.)

there's a scene in the movie where Lisa Kudrow's character is walking around a bar meeting single guys. the scene goes like this:

Lisa Kudrow: Are you single?
Guy 1: Yes.
Lisa: Are you gay?
Guy 1: Yes.
[she walks away]
...
Lisa: [a few frames later] Are you single?
Guy 2: Yes.
Lisa: Are you gay?
Guy 2: No.
Lisa: Are you working?
Guy 2: No.
[she walks away]

so my parents and i thought that was pretty funny. my dad started thinking out loud, "i wonder what question comes after that?

are you single?
are you gay?
are you working?

are you healthy? (dad)
are you an alcoholic? (me)

...

"are you insured?!" (my mother)

my dad and i started crying we were laughing so hard. apparently, medical insurance is extremely important if you want to date my mother.

noted!
-stephanie

p.s. the title for this post is so delightfully Buster, that it reminded me i should post the rules for the Arrested Development drinking game we made up for last week's awesome party. and pictures!

happy bro day!

today is my younger brother's birthday! he turns the 1-9. nothing particularly special (about turning 19), but he's a good guy, so i hope he has a really great day.

he's living down in Durham, NC and going to Duke to study engineering/ accounting/ education/?who knows what's intriguing him these days. he's pretty easily intrigued. he's also a pretty easy conversationalist. unless he's uncomfortable. or hot. he's hot a lot lately. that's because he lives in the room above the furnace. he eats more than 12 meals* a week. he works out a lot and tans really easy. i freestyled a song about his tanlines last summer. he was running and i was riding my bike. he almost let me film it, but i couldn't ride and sing and film and laugh at the same time. so i didn't.

he's a lot of other great things too, but my words aren't good today. i've used them all to finish writing my thesis. so i was going to post a picture of him instead (b/c a picture's worth a thousand of those, or something), but then i remembered i lost all my most recent pictures in the fire. so all i have are really old pictures of us when we went to the beach once. he must be a freshman in high school in these.

they're still nice though. because we're at the beach. and it's really cold here where i am now...

little bro, i hope they turn that heat down so you can get down off the ceiling and have a dance party for your birthday!

and since he's always raiding my cds for tunes, i thought i'd give him (and you!) a freebie today. happy birthday, bro:

"Little Brother" [mp3] by Grizzly Bear (who i saw in concert recently, and should talk about soon...)

love,
steph

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*his meal plan at Duke only gets him 12 meals a week, which is pretty ridiculous and unreasonable, in my opinion. esp. for someone like my brother, who basically works out every day and plays tons of sports and is always hungry. had i better faith in our US Postal Service, i would have sent you a care package, bro, with all sorts of foods and steaks in it. but since i don't, i didn't. and i'm sorry. i'll be sending you books and a movie soon though!

happy birthday!

photo from summer 2003 (junior year of high school! whoa what a long time ago...)

to my most beautiful Mother, a woman whose energy and unconditional love remain unparalleled:

i hope your day is filled with sunshine and Spring flowers and that i never forget to show you anything but the love you've given me. 

i love you, Mom.

-steph

and it goes like this...

great conversation while driving home from WV with the fam:

my brother is talking about having nothing to do in Lexington with his friends.

me [in a mocking deep voice]: "you could pick up chicks"

my mother chimes in: "yeah! pick up chicks. that will keep them busy."

me: "keep who busy?"

Mom: "them. the boys. keep the boys busy."

me: "doing what exactly?"

Mom: "picking up chicks."



mm. a smile so wide you could fit a canoe inside.
-stefanie