Geisha School Dropout

Resolutions 2009, How Did I Do?

When I look back 50 years from now on 2009, I think I will see it as a year of personal growth and maturation.  I finally got to work on some things about myself that have bothered me for years, even decades.  I finally proved to myself that I wouldn't keel over and die if I went to the gym once in a while, that sometimes the best way to get the kids to do what you say is to ask them nicely instead of demanding their obedience, that some personal satisfaction does come when cleaning off a cluttered surface.  That is definitely not to say that my house is ever clean, mind you, but at least some stuff gets done without Tim threatening to leave me to one day get crushed under my own junk.

Let's see how I did on my resolutions:

1. Make sure my family has a nice home-cooked meal at least 5 nights out of the week.  Take-out doesn't count.  However, any meal cooked by my mom (or any other kind soul) definitely counts.  Concentrate on eating seasonally, locally, and start enforcing a more vegetable-rich diet.

I had high hopes for this resolution and started off strong; I had this great rhythm and I was chug-chug-chugging along, forcing Tim and the kids to swallow down any half-cocked (or sometimes half-cooked) swill I dared to set down upon the dinner table.  But when kindergarten started, the train started derailing, then the holidays came and everything went to shit, and now we're back to eating out more than we eat in again.  I shall re-resolve to do this again in 2010.

2. Enjoy the outdoors more.  Get out and walk.  Take the kids with me.  Invite a friend.  Each time, bring a small bag and pick up some trash.

Insert losing buzzer sound here.  I found that hikes just take too much time and don't give much of a workout when going at a kids' pace.  I instead started practicing yoga and going to the gym.

3. Once Isaac starts kindergarten, become active in his education and volunteer at his school.  Make sure minorities are represented adequately, because I have a nagging feeling that they currently aren't.

I've been volunteering once a week in the classroom, which I hear means the most for kids Isaac's age.  I also volunteered to help put on a Red Cross blood drive which will take place in February as well as helped with a last-minute coat and toy drive for a LBUSD school for homeless children.  I give myself a solid A here.

4. Make a monthly donation of extra clothes/food/furniture somewhere local.  If there's nothing to give, give money.

Success here as well.  Here is a list of the organizations I donated to each month, although most of it wasn't local.

January: 1 unit blood, Emily clothes to Salvation Army
February: Julie clothes (inc. maternity) to Goodwill
March: $$$ to spcaLA
April: 1 unit blood, $$$ to Kiva
May: $$$ to Best Friends in memory of Riley
June: $$$ to USO
July: 1 unit blood, $$$ to Breast Cancer 3-Day on behalf of Nanea
August: $$$ to Oceanic Preservation Society
September: $$$ to Kiva
October: 1 unit blood, $$$ to AIDS Walk on behalf of Matthew, Emi/Tim clothes to Goodwill
November: $$$ to Courage to Resist on behalf of Alexis Hutchinson
December: Aforementioned school for homeless children, $$$ to Silicon Valley Community Foundation, $$$ to Food Bank of So Cal, $$$ to Meals on Wheels

Hey!  You know what I just discovered?  That resolutions done successfully create life-long habits.  Which I guess is the whole point of resolutions.  Seems painfully obvious, right?  But it just occurred to me.  Duh!

What Mama Did in the Bay Area

Dear Isaac and Emily,

First off, thank you for letting Mama go on a trip all by herself and entrusting Daddy with your lives for 5 days!  Great teamwork!  I thought I'd share a few pictures and show you the cool stuff I did, and hopefully also explain why I had to leave you guys in SoCal.

When I landed, I drove across the Bay Bridge to see Uncles Jim & Chris.  We had lunch at a cute little cafe called StarBelly:

Do you guys see the decor? The only seats were these really high backless stools, and the glasses were so delicate and probably vintage, I just knew if you guys came we would have had a disaster on our hands: unfinished wood and concrete is not very forgiving of little skulls and barware that may be hurled upon them. Plus, you would have found the food really unappetizing: the eggs were poached and extra runny, the bacon was house-cured and would have tasted strange to you, and even the orange juice had alcoholic bubbles in it. You also would have found the conversation boring. When Mama ordered a tuna arugula salad for breakfast and offered some to Jim and Chris with a "What, you guys don't like fish first thing in the morning?" and when they demurely said, "Um, not really fish fans, thanks," Mama thought that was the funniest thing ever.  Weird, right?

Mama spent the next couple days watching TV shows and drinking wine from a box.  She made a pit stop in Oakland to visit some Bay Area Kimchi Mamas and although no alcohol was involved, a bunch of moms went to sing karaoke and Mama may or may not have actually sung a few songs.  And George Michael's "Careless Whispers" may or may not have been on the set list.  Oh, you guys would have died from embarrassment.  Again, you are very welcome that I saved you from that.

After that, there was just a bunch of shopping and then the work week started. Nothing much to report there, although we could have used your help at dim sum. There were some leftover dumplings that Isaac easily could have polished off. But again, it was in the middle of Chinatown, we would have lost you two in the sea of Asian people in a nanosecond. And you guys would have been picked up by some Chinese family and fed dim sum everyday for the rest of your lives! How horrible would that be?

Okay, fine. You guys might have had fun if you came. I hope you weren't too mad that I left, although it seemed like you guys had some adventures of your own:

To be honest, I gotta give you guys props for this one. Great job on getting Daddy confused about the location of your swim lesson, AND you guilt-tripped him into taking you to the BEACH??? You guys are absolute pros, I can't believe I worried about you guys even for a second.

Anyways, now that we're back in the swing of things, I just wanted to tell you that I am very proud of you two for holding up the fort while I was away.  And please tell Daddy that he's a trooper, and of course I realize that the text messages quoted above were the only bad news in a sea of good news.  It's just that bad news is always the funniest (and therefore the most quotable) news.  :)

Love,
Mama

Don't Call Me, PETA!

My oh my, where has July gone?  The first half of the month has flown by so quickly, I actually considered eating some meat that had an expiration date of June 30 yesterday!  Good thing I checked the calendar; Tim is out of town and both my parents hurt their backs, so a trip to the emergency room would have been difficult to orchestrate.

Anyway, the reason why the days are blending together is we have started Operation No Pacifier.  Emily's new school had a speech pathologist come over and do a quick run-down on the kids, and Emily failed with non-flying (crawling?) colors.  I mean, the lady wrote a novel about all the problems she found.  The most disturbing one was that Emily has an open bite, where her front teeth do not meet when her back teeth do, and that is due to extreme pacifier and sippy cup sucking.  So we went cold-turkey that evening, and although Emily's fine most of the day, when it comes to sleep, she rebels, wailing and gnashing her teeth in the night, just total Apocalypse Child.  It's actually quite horrifying.  Showtimes are generally at 1PM (naptime), 9PM, 1AM, and 4:30 AM.

But every morning she wakes up with the sun kissing her peach-fuzzed cheeks, chirpy and smiley and cuddly, as if nothing in the world was wrong.  This sadistic punchline from God has been overwhelming me psychologically, and I've felt like I'm about to crack for a few days now, and today, I did.

The morning started out normally.  Isaac wanted eggs and nectarines for breakfast, and I obliged him while Emily munched on her cheese toast.  Isaac gobbled everything down and asked for another nectarine, and after I cut it up he decided he wasn't hungry anymore.  Annoying, but whatever, both kids were in a good mood so I didn't care.  We left to go to school, and when I came back, the leftover nectarines were COVERED with fruit flies.  I'm talking a hundred of them, crawling in the sticky sweetness, FUCKING EACH OTHER like there was no tomorrow, just one big drunken hedonistic orgy on the plate.  And I don't know why, but this offended me so much I grabbed the spatula I used to cook Isaac's eggs with and just started whacking away at the plate, crushing fruit flies into what quickly became nectarine jelly over and over again, then swinging the spatula around in the air trying to smack the ones that flew away, chasing them around the house.

Was it my most dignified moment?  No, but it felt good.  And I chuckled at the notion that if I was driven to murderous rage over the sex lives of Drosophila melanogaster (I totally pulled that out of my ass from high school biology, w00t), I pity the fools who will try to date my kids one day.  They better watch where they keep their spatulas, baby.

The Must-Have Accessory for Summer: Me!

The folks at Bacardi Israel sure know how to sell to women: pit them against other women and prey on their insecurities!  In their latest marketing campaign, Bacardi educates us on how to look absolutely flawless this summer: get a bevy of ugly girlfriends!  Then for sure you'll be the hottest girl at the party.  Genius.

If you flip through their digital booklet, you'll see that they are surprisingly inclusive in their definitions of ugliness: there are 2 fat girls and 2 skinny girls; blonde, redhead, olive, and brunette.  Their descriptions of these girls leave little to the imagination:

• Sally -- 97 kilograms of femininity, strength, and double chins
• Daisy's aquiline nose and tangled eyebrows will make you the most desirable piece of meat around the grill
• Wendy is the right accessory for you!  Including horse-like features, a noticeable limp and super-active sweat glands
• Lucy's rubbing thighs, magically combined with a sticking out jaw and drooping breasts, will turn any trip to the mall into an unforgettable experience.  Shop like never before, with your own freckled pile of cellulite!

And to top it all off, check out the cover girl:

Holy crap, look familiar???

What makes me the most upset is that these girls are all dolled up and look like they're having such a great time, as if being "ugly" also makes you so naive and stupid as to not realize you're being used to make your "friend" feel better about herself.  Ugh.

My question is this: is this ad campaign from outer space, created by people who are so out of touch with reality as to think women will be inspired to drink more sugary pseudo-beverages from this hateful crap, or do women really think like this?  I really hope it's the former.

(Thanks to Jezebel for the heads-up and the image.)

Jeju Island

I wrote up a quickie kid-friendly travel guide to Jeju Island on Kimchi Mamas.  There's also links to our picture albums.

One thing I didn't tell them, though, and I'll tell you guys, is the story of The Green Lady.  The Green Lady is my aunt's cousin, who through some mysterious ways is The Queen of Jeju Island.  Seriously, maybe this lady is in the mafia or something, but she owns the place.  She got all the visiting family members suites at this swank hotel for severely discounted prices, and instructed our tourguide to spare no expense on our behalf.  She took us to these unmarked restaurants that specialized in Jeju-exclusive species of seafood (eel, abalone, all kinds of fishes, all unimaginably fresh and delicious), some may even have been contraband, who knows.  And she showered upon us Jeju-exclusive produce, including these mangoes she referred to as "apple mangoes" that were seriously orgasmic.  I was chewing my fingers just to get the last morsels.  And to top it all off, wherever we were, even when we were making spontaneous plans, the Green Lady would already be there waiting for us, making sure everything was perfect.

When it was time for us to go back, she made sure that our bags were checked in first-class so they'd be the first ones out once we landed in Seoul.  She bid us farewell, and we thought that was the end of it, but no -- we were given this VIP service through security, and we even got a ride to the gate!!!  The same treatment came to us when we landed in Seoul, it was really freaky.  We half-expected The Green Lady to be waiting for us at the gate when we arrived, but her spirit was there, guiding us through Kimpo and Incheon airports without a hitch.

The Green Lady is the first lady on the right...and just look at the restaurant she hooked us up with to celebrate my dad's 60th birthday!  And that crazy presidential-looking banner?  It's for him.

A Few of my Favorite Things

Despite Little Miss Emimoo desperately trying to ruin my nights and dampen my good spirits through flying food and supersonic screechiness, a blood-filled tumor causing my middle finger to swell up and blush in various shades of purple, and a slew of other responsibilities competing for control of my sanity, I shall now share with you a few reasons why I am still relatively happy and giddy.

1. March Madness and the WBC

A little unknown fact about me: I love college basketball.  I especially love The Big Dance every March, and I participate in an NCAA men's basketball tournament bracket pool every year.  And every year I lose really badly.  But this year will be different!  I really feel like I have it in the bag this time.  Click through to see it full-size and please ignore all the red already:

From Bracket 2009

If your bracket does not look like mine, then you are going to lose.  To ME.

And to put the icing on the professional sports spectator cake, part of this year's World Baseball Classic is being held in southern California!  Last night I got to watch Korea vs. Japan at my parents' house.  Let's just say that I was screaming and throwing dried squid at a Sony television when a Japanese pitcher hurled a fastball into the brain stem of one of our players.  Then I got mad at my parents for buying a Sony instead of a Samsung.  I get really, really, REALLY jingoistic when it comes to Korea vs. Japan on anything, and to a lesser extent, Korea vs. USA.  I trash-talk and spew racist epithets like the Occupation and the Korean War are simultaneously still happening.  Take it from my poor husband, who unfortunately is both Japanese and American, whose face gets all scratched up during World Cup, WBC, and Olympic years.

DAE HAN MIN GUK MAN SAE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2. Fruit Punch

I have recently rediscovered this magical elixir.  Now they have all-juice varieties which aren't nearly as sketchy as the powdered Red Drink of my youth.  But let's face it, all-natural crack is still crack.  Lots of last-minute shit on your plate and you feel like you're going to cry, explode, or beat a bitch?  Go to the fridge and take a hit.  Instant sunshine and happiness.  Don't give it to your kids, though, I think the shit causes cancer.

3. Unbelievably cute baby shoes, I HAZ DEM

If Emily is going to be a bratty 2-year-old, might as well have the shoes to match, right?

4. Spring Blossoms

All around the city, stone fruit trees are beginning to blossom.  From the bright magenta of the peach trees to the whisper pink of the almond trees, petals are bursting from lifeless branches.  Mother Nature absolutely pwns any human technology every spring.  I can barely suppress my urges to burst out in song, like "SAKURA! SAKURA!  YAYOI NO SORA WAAAAAAA!" but then I remember that I hate Japan right now.

5. Vicodin in Bed

Mommy's Little Helpers.  The best thing about having a pyogenic granuloma on your finger is that it hurts so bad, doctors give you Vicodin.  I don't go to sleep anymore without popping one.  And it makes the nighttime Emily care so much more manageable.  She wakes up about 4 times a night complaining about too much blanket, not enough blanket, too much snuggling, not enough snuggling, too much fluff in the pillow, you get the picture.  I used to get mad, now I smile like the Virgen de Guadalupe and can honestly tell her she's such a good, beautiful, flower of a girl and Mama loves her, even as she kicks me in the face.  Ah, the precious little moments of motherhood!

Local Mom Rendered Useless by Weiners, is Okay with it

One of my main resolutions this year was to cook dinner at home at least 5 nights a week.  I'm really proud to say that so far I've stuck to it, but not so proud to discover that my family does not really appreciate my cooking.  Sure, Tim is old enough to swallow down whatever I plop down on the table.  But the kids usually will have a couple nibbles and beg off.

At first we figured the kids weren't that hungry.  Maybe they fill up at school, or they aren't in the middle of any growth spurts.  Sure, not every kid goes gaga over artichoke and mushroom fettucine, but if we keep offering them vegetables, legumes, and whole grains, they're bound to appreciate the from-scratch, mostly-organic meals I spend 1-2 hours cooking one day, right?  Still, two months passed with poor results.  Emily sometimes woke up at the wee hours of dawn, crying from hunger.

The last straw came over the weekend.  I made a delicious arroz con pollo, but instead of rice, I used barley.  I thought it was awesome.  Tim smiled politely and chewed on.  Isaac gobbled down his chicken but eschewed the "weird rice."  Emily, who normally is a rice fanatic, threw her bowl to the floor, screeching in indignation.  That's when it hit me: who am I cooking these crazy meals for?  Sure, I want my family to eat healthier, but is it really my right to make every dinner an experiment?  Is it tough love or just pigheaded to force my kids to expand their palates, or else starve?

As I cleared the table that night, I resolved to take things down a notch.  Out of the 5 nights I cook, I'll make 2 of them kid-friendly.  And no, whole wheat macaroni with aged gouda and goat cheese does not count.

So tonight was hot dog night.  Well, I grilled up some leftover Italian sausages as well, and the buns were whole wheat (I know I know, I'm a stubborn bitch).  But get this: Emily, who normally doesn't eat meat at all, ate THREE weiners (no buns).  Isaac had 3 whole hot dogs with ketchup and mustard slathered all over them.  Tim and I barely had enough to eat ourselves!  Throughout the meal, Isaac and Emily exclaimed "Yummmm!!!  Thank you Mama!!!  Thank you for this yummy dinner!" and we had great dinner conversation, instead of the normal squeezing-out-of-information.  Emily even clapped and sang for her supper.  And I am sure she'll sleep well tonight.

Of course, this was a big blow to my culinary ego, but this evening was what I was searching for when I first made my resolution.  Fine, I won't be able to try out the vegetarian quinoa tabbouleh I had my eye on for a while, but at least I'll have an excuse for the corn dogs in my shopping cart.

Liasons Kangereux

Today started off mellow...a pleasant morning walk along the St. Lawrence River.  The air was clean and crisp, and more importantly not pouring rain on our dampened souls.

Mikal then headed off to the Olympic swimming pool and I hung out at the hotel, reading "5 People You Will Meet in Heaven."  I got to talk a little bit with one of the awesomely helpful concierge/waiter/bartender/barista guys who work here.  Mental note: bilingual men are HAWT.  But you knew that already, didn't you.

When Mikal returned, we tried to eat at a local terrine place called "Vinettes" and they passively-aggressively refused to serve us!!!  The place was a bit crowded, but there were empty tables, and when we politely asked for a table for 2, individually all the waiters hemmed and hawed and said nothing.  After about 7 minutes of this bullshit, we decided to just grab chairs and just sit our asses down at a vacated table, but one woman blocked us and said that table was reserved.  They apparently don't like the darkies there or something.  We will try again tomorrow.

We finally found another open restaurant, a pizza/pasta shop, and were lamenting at such a waste of a meal (hello, no foie?????), but our food was actually quite good!  The place was owned by a Desi, the food was cooked by an Arab, and our waiter looked Armenian.  It reminded me of my favorite joke: "A Desi, an Arab, and an Armenian walked into a pasta bar..."

We met yesterday evening's filmmaker (Sebastién the adorable self-effacing Quebecois Teddy Bear who I have a schoolgirl crush on) at a real non-racist bistro for dinner ($21 prix fixe menu that starts at 9!).  He brought his friend Michael, and I had a nice meal of terrine de fois gras and red snapper with beurre blanc.  We then headed over to a microbrewery and this place made their own version of my favorite beer, "La Fin du Monde."  It was called "Rigor Mortis Triple," and it was 9% alcohol, and halfway through my first one I started feeling feisty.  After 2 of them, I was starting to rage and making Mikal a little nervous (he knows how I get when I drink "La Fin du Monde").  Then Michael's boyfriend asked me about American politics and I gave this 45-minute lecture that touched on Obama's chances of winning in 2008, race dynamics in the US, how Dubya could possibly have won the 2004 election, the ideological differences between the coastal/southern/midwest states, why would anyone vote for McCain, and whether Sarah Palin actually exists or if it was our little joke on the world.  After a thorough round of Q&A, I was completely sober.

Sober enough to accompany the boys to one of Montréal's famous strip clubs, that is.  Of course, we went to a gay one since hello, all of us love cock in some form or another.  The first one denied us because of ME.  Hello!  Discriminated against twice the same day!  As the Quebecois say, "Tabernacle!"  (That is seriously a cuss word.)  The next one happened to have a "Ladies Night" and we entered.

The stage looked just like a 5th-grade Halloween pageant set, with little ghosts and pumpkins everywhere.  Quite festive.  The basic pattern of dancers was: one dance where the men wear jeans, and the next dance they do they go the full monty.  There was quite a variety to satisfy all palates: beefy lumberjacks, pretty-boys with awesome emo hair, and the Latino-esque boys who actually knew how to dance.  Meanwhile, really hardcore bisexual porn was playing on TV screens and they were quite distracting in their repulsiveness.  One dancer kept poking me, asking if I wanted a lapdance.  I conjured up my best French sneer and nasally "Non!"  It kept him at bay.

When we said goodbye to all our new Quebecois friends, a circle of kissing was started.  Buss buss on both cheeks, amongst all permutations.  I haven't kissed that many people consecutively since college!  God bless the French-Canadians!

Les Miserables

Mikal and I got into Montreal pretty late last night, but since Montreal is so Euro, we were still able to catch some dinner at a nearby bistro (Restaurant Holder) at 10:30 PM.  Every single menu in this down offers foie gras of some sort, and the foie here is so much better than any I had in California.  It is simultaneously richer and more delicate.  Ne c'est possible!  Ah, mais lui est pour le Quebecois.

(By the way, I'm busting out with French that I never knew I knew! Mais oui!)

We had high hopes today for some Montreal sightseeing.  The morning was grey, but the complimentary breakfast warmed our spirits: quiche, local cheeses, croissants, grilled asparagus, fruit, fresh jus d'orange et pamplemousse.  We step out and get some nice pics:

Culinary highlight of the mid-morning was one coffee shops' cappuccino d'erable...which means a cappuccino sweetened with local organic maple syrup.  Yummmmm.  However, the rain really started getting serious...and no amount of Montreal smoked meats, poutine (which is DELICIOUS), and borscht was able to help our dampened shoes and spirits.

The walk to the Metro in order to catch a subway to the Marché Jean-Talon was bad, and on the walk from the Jean-Talon station to the actual marketplace, I twisted my ankle on a poorly-kept sidewalk.  We bought some olives, raspberries, gooseberries, and some local cheese anyway and I insist on taking a cab back to the hotel because by this time my foot was getting pretty swollen.

We hail a cab from across the street, so we had to run through traffic to catch it.  During that time, I felt like Cosette before she met Jean Valjean, and started singing "There is a castle on a cloud...I like to go there in my sleep...There are no floors for me to sweep...Not in my castle on a cloud..."  We giggle deliriously; the cab ride was worth the $20 CAD.

Now we are dry and warm, although our shoes and coats are not.  I am trying to dry them with a hair dryer.  We have dinner reservations at Au Pied de Cochon, so we have to venture out again in a little while.  Afterwards, we are meeting with some Quebecois hipster filmmaker, although depending on the weather I may beg off.  Montreal is beautiful, the food is heavenly, and the people are all fuckably gorgeous, but let me warn ye all: BRING 2x THE SHOES AND 10x THE SOCKS YOU THINK YOU NEED.

Greetings from LAX!

I swear, LAX must be one of the most stressful airports ever. The way they set up security lines makes you wait outside in the curb for a while.

Anyway, I was able to grab a quick bite at Wolfgang Puck Express. They has the yummiest butternut squash soup EVER. Almost made the hour and a half for security worth it.

I am heading to Montreal for the International Poutine Lovers Expo. Strangely, I am the only South Korean delegate. Hopefully my kimchi-flavored gravy and anchovy cheese curd recipe will take the blue ribbon this year.