Say what?

Bob was complaining to me last night that I don't listen. I find that kind of humorous, because I can recall many a time when I've told him over and over again about a planned family activity, the day arrives, and it was as if I had been talking to the wind. That's why I have a particular appreciation for this joke my office mate dropped on my desk today, I'm still laughing :)

Man driving down road
Woman driving up same road
They pass each other.
The woman yells out the window, "PIG!"
Man yells out window, "BITCH!"
Man rounds next curve
Crashes into a HUGE PIG in middle of road and dies.

Thought for the day:

If only men would listen...

Sumptuous Rice

I attended an Indian cooking class with some girlfriends this past week as a new exotic venture. The class, "Sumptuous Rice," was not exactly what I expected. Instead of stirring our own pots of biryani, we mostly watched the teacher cook at the front of the home ec room of a well-to-do high school.

Just getting to that home ec room was a stressful affair. Not so much because we had to navigate unknown halls, following cryptic signs, but because everywhere we turned there were banners and trophies declaring the stunning accomplishments of over-achieving, mal-adjusted, over-pressured, angst-ridden teens. A John Waters spoof of wealthy suburban Maryland life could not have been more disturbing than the reality. Passing the cafeteria, we saw pint-sized teeny-boppers defying gravity in a verticle pyramid under a plaque for State Champion Cheerleading. Professionally printed mega-banners in the stairwell congratulated the school for having two Westinghouse semifinalists and two Intel semifinalists. Their National Merit Scholars were proudly displayed, like a list of champions from the Pan Asian games -- C. Jao, J. Sun, J. Tian, W. Xiong, and L. Yu -- Can you blame the white flight from neighborhoods harboring these unreal kids? How can students possibly survive that kind of academic environment unscathed?
I'm not even white, and it's enough to make me want to run far, far away with my little yellow babies.

After recovering from my scary high school flashback, I settled down to making rice stews with an authentic Indian cook. To be honest, she lost me at "masala" and "pressure cooker". Even so, I did enjoy diving into the sumptuous bounty when it was all done, while believing, even for a short time, that I might be able to recreate it on my own.

The highlight of the class was really the instructor's story-telling. She had a gift, like Rachel Ray, of chatting away while not missing a beat with the cooking. One story she shared with humor was the evening she met up with her newly-arranged-to-wed husband in NYC after flying 22 hours from India. She was anxious to make her way to their new home in Maryland, so they hopped in the car and drove an additional 5 hours after her long flight. When they finally arrived, she was nearly sleep-walking from the fatigue, but perked-up when her hubby said he had a surprise for his new bride.
"Flowers? Jewelry?", she thought to herself.
He asked her to close her eyes as he steered her through the house. "OK, open your eyes!"
She found herself facing the kitchen as he smuggly declared, "Here is the kitchen, I will never have to step foot in there again!!!"

Remind me now, what they say about men and pigs?

By the Grace of God

By God's grace and thanks to my fellow blogger, Angela, I found out today that my brother made it into cyber news (Yahoo AP) with his family in Boston.

Church Elder David Ting holds his son Tobin, 2, as the congregation stands at the beginning of Sunday service at Grace Chapel in Lexington, Mass., Sunday, Feb. 11, 2007. Grace Chapel is one of many megachurches altering the segregated landscape of Sunday worship, with African-American, Haitian, white, Chinese and Korean congregants singing along with a guitar-playing pastor. (AP Photo/Michael Dwyer)

...David Ting, a physician at Massachusetts General Hospital and a Grace Chapel elder, has seen this firsthand. When he and his wife first joined the megachurch a decade ago, they were 'very much in the minority' as Chinese-Americans, he said. But at a recent church Christmas pageant, he realized that the children's choir had transformed: about a third of the singers were Asian.
'Look,' he told his wife, 'this is the future of Grace Chapel.'

What strange chance that my brother should make the news, less than a week after our own appearance in the Baltimore Sun. I think it's kind of neat, especially since I learned something new about my brother's multiracial megachurch, I guess I've been remiss in asking him more about it. By another uncanny coincidence, I also have been, albeit sporadically, attending a Grace megachurch in my own neck of the woods, as a token Chinese. For some reason I never put two and two together, his Grace megachurch and mine, until I read the article. I suppose even church preferences can run deep in one's bloodline. It's just too bad I can't tap into this cosmic twist of fate and, somehow, coincidentally, win the lottery.

Happy New Year

This past weekend, I was in my first stage production in years since our med school spoof, "Sleeping with the Enema". That's me behind Connor in my groovy pants in the annual Chinese New Year variety show put on by the Howard Community College Chinese School. As amateur and brief as our little dance number was, all of us in the bilingual class had nervous butterflies waiting backstage for our time in the spotlight in front of hundreds of people, oddly including some non-Asian faculty members from our neurology department. But all the practice, despite ice and snow, paid off, and we had a great time, including the kiddees. Afterwards, I asked Connor how he managed his stage nerves and he said very maturely, "I tried not to think about it."
We'll be capping-off our week-long celebration of the new year of the pig this weekend over dim sum with a festive serenade of drums and a lion dance. So for all you Mandarin speakers out there happy eating, XIN NIAN KUAI LE, GOONG SHEE FAH TSAI!!!

Our 15 minutes

By now, many have already heard of our time in the limelight over Valentine's Day when Connor and I made it into the Baltimore Sun's local section. I now have a new respect for journalists and photo-journalists who have to extract quotable quotes from mumbling subjects in the field as well as keep an accurate account of names on a host of strangers in their pictures. And boy, can they be resourceful. Somehow, the reporter tracked me down from my blog, of all places, and emailed me some last second questions to clarify her statements in the article, including the fact that Connor has a different last name from me. Luckily, she made it under the deadline for printing and it was all good. I'll include my favorite excerpts from Laura Shovan's article below (i.e. the "important" quotes from yours truly).

Connor Shin can't wait to celebrate the Chinese New Year with his family Sunday. The first-grader, who attends Hollifield Station Elementary School in Ellicott City, will watch a dragon dance and have a traditional meal at a restaurant in Gaithersburg.

But Connor got an early jump on the new year - the Year of the Pig - last week when he participated in the Miller branch library's Chinese New Year event. The children's story time was part of Cultural Connections, a library outreach program targeting Howard County's ethnic communities. Lew Belfont, Howard County Library's head of customer services, said, "A significant population that is served by the Miller library [is] Chinese and Korean." Belfont and information services librarian Fritzi Newton applied for a grant from the Maryland State Department of Education. The Howard County Library received two Library Services and Technology Act grants totaling $50,000.

The Miller branch used the first Cultural Connections grant to advertise in Korean and Chinese newspapers, buy Korean and Chinese materials and hire two cultural liaisons. The second grant is being used at the east Columbia library, where it will serve the Hispanic population.

"The people who are interested are not just Chinese and Korean," said Tricia Ting, Connor's mother. "It's a nice way to bring the community together," and teach other children about Asian culture, she said.

The Big 4-0

It's finally happening. Our friends, family, and neighbors are dropping like flies around us as they alight from their up-and-coming thirties and hit the windshield of the big four-oh. I remember feeling "old" when I exited my twenties. Now I realize I was just being a foolish ostrich with my head in the sand. What did I know about "old" until after I had been married 10 years, had three kids, bought a minivan (sorry, Angela), gained 10 pounds in pear-shaped bliss that won't shake off, and discovered my first wrinkle? Now, I'm convinced that we will be officially "old" when we hit 40. The Adonis at the gym already broke that realization yesterday when he called me "Ma'am".

Did you just call me 'Ma'am'? I'll have you know that I got carded at the ticket window for Who Framed Roger Rabbit, rated PG, when I was in college! Then again, I suppose I'm no where near being college-aged anymore.

Before I start preparing for my mid-life crisis, I would like to first consider how I will "celebrate," if celebrate is the correct term for it, this milestone event of turning 40. Quite honestly, I felt a little gipped of my 30th birthday/millenium celebration because I was still recovering from the birth of our first child and completely overwhelmed by the trials of breastfeeding and sleep deprivation. Sweet Bob did his best, however, to cheer me with diamond studs, my two best friends, how could I complain? And we even had some fun giving 7 wk-old Connor a tiny little taste of bubbly when the ball dropped for Y2K -- mmmm, hit me with more of that high-octane "breastmilk", mom!

Still, it wasn't a carefree, kick-off-your-shoes, all-out-hoe-down of a birthday bash. Nor was it a 'reflect upon the world and your place in it from atop the Eiffel Tower' sort of moment either. So here I am, waiting to see what my brother and sister-in-law will come up with this year to celebrate their 40ths in the hope that I may be inspired for my own turning in a couple of years. An intimate and elegant gathering of close friends? Just me and Bob off somewhere remote and romantic? A girl-only away retreat for days of exquisite pampering? ... A hoe-down?

The anticipation alone must beat out the actual affair, nevertheless, it's fun to imagine something wonderful to help take the sting out of leaving your best years behind you.

Victorian Max

My ol' roomie from Duke, Addy, finally asked quite candidly what many have probably wondered, why I dress baby Max up like a girl. In my own defense, I like to think of his outfits as unisex (purple, yellow, beige) since I don't actually put him in dresses or skirts. But I'll admit he has, until recently, had a little ponytail on the top of his head or a barette which is inarguably girlish.

Hey, everyone, give me a break! I have THREE sons, one Korean husband (i.e. another boy to care for), and a eunuch cat. I am the only XX chromosome in the household. I refuse to be drowned in oppressive black, blue, and camo wherever I turn. So while I still have a say in the matter as the Queen Bee, I choose to add female touches to the house, including to my boys. All of them have had the privilege of going through a "girl" phase with a little pony tail. It's really Connor's fault that he was born with such a gorgeous head of thick naturally curly hair that grew into a curly mane fit for a fairytale princess. It was just impossible to cut that off, at least until he was three and the other kids refused to believe that he was a boy. After Connor, I had to give Benji and Max the chance to grow beautiful hair too, although theirs was never as thick or curly. Lucky for me, none of my boys talk much in toddlerhood so they never could complain. So to spite fate, I enjoyed, for a time, playing with them like little dolls, and went so far as to buy a great Barbie video for them, the Princess and the Pauper, to nurture their feminine side. Lacking prejudice and judgement in their innocent years, they absolutely loved it, music and dancing and all.

On a philosophical level, I hope that my boys will grow up exposed to a range of gender roles so they will feel secure in themselves and capable as adults. I like to think that my mom, who went back to work in defense after we were in school, provided me a model of women's lib before her time. Today, my sons already see Mommy and Daddy both working in the same profession, both earning money, both driving the van, and taking part in school activities and child rearing. They see both boys and girls participating equally in martial arts, even paired up against each other to wrestle and spar. Connor will be dancing next to boys and girls in the Chinese New Year production next week. I had hoped that they would see more of Daddy cooking in the kitchen, but you can't have everything! Society's influence on gender roles is so pervasive (particularly in Asian cultures and the Church) that I only hope to play a small role in maintaining some healthy balance in our home.

That is why I was so tickled to find this article in Saturday's Washington Post, about President Wilson's personal doctor, Dr. Cary T. Grayson, who apparently had three sons of his own. The photograph (above) shows the youngest dressed in post-Victorian times as a girl. How progressive of them, even in the 1920's. So, my short-answer to why I dress little Max up like a girl should probably be simply that I'm a big fan of the Victorian era. How's that?

Walk and Chew Gum

You've heard of the saying for a clutz who can't walk and chew gum at the same time. That's just an extreme example of incoordination. No one really has such a hard time chewing while taking a walk, right? Nevertheless, I heard that New York may soon be passing a law that forbids pedestrians from chatting on cell phones or wearing headphones while walking a crosswalk. At first, I thought that was a little ridiculous, but then I thought about Bob who has an unusual deficiency. Bob is overall a very athletic and coordinated guy, with a special gift for martial arts. His forms are all grace and beauty. And his golf swing's not half bad either. But he can't make a basket worth squat (I'm serious about that, I mean, not even a diaper into the can) and he simply cannot walk and drink simultaneously. It's kind of funny to walk next to him while he's holding a bottle of soda. He has to stop completely before taking a sip. This is true whether he has a bottle or a cup. Out of courtesy, whoever is walking and talking with him has to also stop and watch him take a sip before proceeding forward.

As talented as they may be, perhaps New Yorkers share in Bob's unusual handicap. For everyone's safety, I sure hope they pass that law soon, or at least start passing out the straws.

Lego Wars

"The Force is strong in you...You little, little man."

We have been literally taken over by the invasion of the minifigs. One must tread lightly in the Shin-Ting household lest you crush a little jedi, or princess, or wookie, or droid underfoot. It's hard to believe that this sci-fi movie that I vividly remember at age 8 lining up with my family for a first showing in a line that wrapped around the block of D.C's Uptown theatre, is now still a phenomenon that my 3 and 7 year olds are just crazy about. Benji still doesn't say much for a 3.5 year old. But he does say "Han Solo" -- over, and over, and over again. And he does request to "Watch Lego" which is his way of requesting that we all go downstairs to watch Connor play Lego Star Wars on the X-Box. So it was with great consternation that, somehow, our favorite Star Wars minifigs disappeared. I'm guessing that Benji must have taken them lovingly out with him somewhere, clenched in his little fist, and now they are on a mission of no return. Unfortunately, that has left us without our Han Solo and missing our version of Luke Skywalker (who is actually Wedge Antilles in head but Skywalker in spirit -- apparently Connor found the "smiley face" of Wedge Antilles more appealing than the serious, determined look on Skywalker and switched the heads).

So what's a mother to do? As it turns out, Lego doesn't really sell the minifigs separately from their sets. So one option would be to buy another $50.00 X-wingfighter -- not! Ebay would be a good alternative if it weren't for the stunning prices, with some figures commanding up to $20.00 each, plus you have to artfully outbid the other crazies -- sigh! With little hope left, I called up the closest Lego store in Virginia where a salesman was kind enough (he must have received many similar calls from despairing moms) to direct me to a hard-to-find window on the Lego website for lost parts. So with a little over five dollars and a prayer, Han Solo is being shipped to us from Denmark!

If he makes it into our eager little hands, what a journey he will have made, as will have I.

Ant-icipation

A nice way to deal with the little frustrations in life is looking at them freshly through the eyes of a child. Last night, after what seemed like a long day, I found myself on my hands and knees in the kitchen, trying to sweep brownie crumbs up off the floor and muttering to myself the whole time. I must have piqued Connor's curiosity: "What are you doing, Mom?"

"I'm trying to clean up these brownie crumbs or we'll get ants."

"Oh, that's great," he exclaimed, while I wondered why it would be great to have ants in our kitchen. "Then, we can put the ants in the gel colony, with brownie crumbs in there for them to eat with some water!"

My good-hearted child delighted in finding a simple solution to our ant-less ant farm which has been ant-free since Christmas due to risk of the ants freezing to death in shipping.

Oh, to be seven again...