You're Gonna Miss Me By My Taco

It is 99.9% marvelous having my kids home for summer break.  I love seeing their beautiful, sweet faces and petting their little heads whenever I walk by. They are a joy to share real conversations with at this age. I am also loving the trivial, casual banter of daily living now that it is not so incessant that I cannot process a single thought without interruption.

Right now, my kids are digging on 80’s music, THE BEST MUSIC OF ALL TIME. This past week, we reminisced about the little kid music like “Bear in the Big Blue House” and “Wee Sing” that we listened to over. And over. AND OVER. For so many years.

It was a relief when I could introduce them to *ahem* MY kind of Oldies from the 60’s, like “Wooly Bully” and “Wild Thing.” These days “Oldies” are from the 80’s, WHICH MAKES NO SENSE, because THAT is the time I was in high school. And if 80’s music “Oldies,” what is 60’s music? Antiquies? Ancienties? ABORIGINES?? You can’t call 80’s music “Oldies.” Bye.

Then came teeny-bopper music from Hannah Montana and High School Musical. Adorbz. Recently, I have not had the stomach for most of the nonsense they listen to. Also….GET OFF MY LAWN!! But there was a sweet spot of time when listened to and enjoyed the same popular music.

Bruno Mars’s Grenade (chorus around 0.35) is catchy….and disturbing. This guy would do anything (ANYTHING!) for his girl. He’s willing to catch a grenade and jump in front of a train for her? Dude, you’re trying TOO HARD. Especially considering that she smiled at you then ripped the brakes out of your car. This is not healthy love. Both of you, take a sabbatical from dating. Learn some self-respect and self-love first.

Love is about acceptance which Usher describes so poetically in I Don’t Mind. “Shawty, I don’t mind if you dance on a pole. That don’t make you a ‘ho.” I took a pole dancing lesson once at my sister’s bachelorette party.

I’ll just give you a minute for that to sink in.

AND…my sister-in-law gave me a lap dance.

OK, I’ll wait.

Yeah, just take a breath and be glad you are not my brother receiving this news.

Who knew that all the time I spent with my kids on the playground was helping me develop mad pole dancing skillz?? I also learned that wrapping your leg around a pole and pirouetting gives you nasty bruises on your calves that don’t go away for weeks. Pole dancing is HARD WORK, so I can totally understand why Usher is proud that his girl can “get that money, money, money.”

This deep appreciation and understanding in a relationship is truly a treasure which sets aside the burden of explaining yourself all the time. It is REALLY validating when even your BOOTY doesn’t need explaining. In the video of Talk Dirty to Me, Jason Derulo befittingly demonstrates how genuinely he understands his girl’s booty around 1:15. This song is SO DIRTY!! I can hardly believe it was allowed on the radio when George Michael *swoon* caused such a scandal when all he wanted was your sex!  

Albert and I started dating when I was a teenager, and we’ve learned that this deep understanding stems from shared goals and experiences. The good times are wonderful, but the really hard times have challenged us to grow, learn, and rely on each other.  My kids used to sing Darius Rucker’s Live to Learn. “You gotta live and learn. You gotta crash and burn.” But instead of “Grandpa Campbell,” they used to sing “Grandpa Camel.”  And now, so will you.

So as not to leave out grandmas, Ke$ha’s Tick Tock mentions the PoPo shutting down their party. In Cantonese, Popo means “grandma.” My kids call my mom “Popo.” My dad is a dentist, so if they ever tried brushing their teeth with a bottle of Jack, Popo would DEFINITELY shut them down (Video around 1:40).

I am cherishing every loud, chaotic moment this summer. My house is a huge mess, but I would NOT call it a “disaster.”  When we first moved to Oregon, we were pinched on money, so it took years before we furnished and decorated our new home. When a mom and her son came over for a playdate, I apologized for the condition of my home as is customary in hoity-toity communities like ours.

“Sorry, my house is a disaster.”

The mom teared up and looked SO SAD. “Your home looks SO beautiful to me.”

You see, her family had just moved from New Orleans to live with her sister because HER HOME WAS DESTROYED IN HURRICANE KATRINA. Gott Damm. I haven’t used that expression again since that time in 2005.

My temporarily Full House will transform to an Empty Nest soon enough. I hope my kids are taking time to treasure our time together, too, even though parents CAN’T HEAR ANYTHING and DON’T KNOW ANY FUNNY JOKES. It won’t be long before you miss me by my taco, you turkey (Video around 2:00).

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Impractical Jokers

I LOVE the Impractical Jokers. They’re a group of friends who dare each other to do very silly things. I am usually in tears by the end of any given episode, but my all-time faves are probably Cranges McBasketball and “Oh! My! God! THOSE ARE MY FAVORITE PANTS!!” 

My brother is very mischievous, and both my sons have unique tendencies for unruliness as well. Naughty boys and I—we GET each other. I wish I had the courage to act on some of the nutty ideas that pop into my head like the Jokers do.

At church:  I learned that my bizarre anxious thoughts may alarm those who don’t know me well, like some moms at our church when we first moved to Oregon. I brought my kids—who were 4, 5, and 6 at the time—to a gingerbread house making event. This is one of those activities that SOUNDS like great fun until you try it, like family game night/fight or baking a fricking cake with a toddler. There was FROSTING in squeezy things and sprinkles and tiny pieces of candy EVERYWHERE, and kids were hopped up on sugar licking ALL of it. It was utterly unholy. About 30 minutes in, one of the moms airily commented about the mayhem. Before my brain could intercept my mouth, I quietly blurted, “I’m thinking about leaving my family.” Part of me expected her to laugh and say, “Oh, yeah, sister. Me, too! Let’s take off and get a glass of wine!” But the rational part of my brain was not surprised to be met with blank, open-mouthed stares. “Are you OK?” asked one of the moms with concern. *Sigh* OK is such a relative term. Most of those moms get me now, but back then, yeah, not so much.

At a restaurant: When I’m in a restaurant with so many excellent choices, I frequently feel a strong urge to approach another table to ask for a bite of their food. Just one tiny taste! There’s plenty to share usually. Honestly, I would probably give you a bite of my food if you asked politely and were minimally creepy. Albert humors me. We discuss whether a fellow diner looks generous or skittish or downright dangerous. Sometimes the food looks good, but the person eating is wearing such a grouchy expression that I completely lose interest in the dish. PSA: If you don’t want to share with me, put on a grouchy face.

One time I was with my family at this fancy-ish restaurant that offered an item called a “Crispy Walla Walla Onion Blossom.”

 “I dare you to order one and ask for a Bloomin’ Onion.”

“No.” My kids rarely want to play my games. This only encourages me.

“Say it! G’day, mate! Bring me a Bloomin’ Onion, will ya?”

On a plane: I was on a flight working a Sudoku puzzle when a strong impulse hit me. I have a love-hate relationship with Sudoko puzzles. They make me feel smart and logical….until they don’t. I will spend days on a Sudoku Monster only to discover a mistake. The only way I can correct this mistake is to stab the newspaper several times with my pen then throw it angrily into the recycling bin. On this flight, I was downright stuck on my puzzle; I knew all the possibilities, but none were definite. Should I just make a guess? Or is this my lucky day? I was sitting next to a Japanese man. “Tell me the secret of your people,” I wanted to say. I would have whispered it while looking sincerely into his eyes so that he would be assured of my discretion.

Airports are the best. They are full of people you are unlikely to see ever again. Albert must have been on his way to Japan when we shared this exchange.

He: “Lots of international travelers on this flight getting to LAX. Let the loud voices and rude pushing begin. Ugh”

Me: “Tell this: SUDOKU!!!”

He: “You are so crazy”

Me: “yell it. I dare you.”

He: “Too bad…not impractical jokers”

Me: “MR. ROBOTO!!! SUSHI SUCKS! HYUNDAI IS BETTER THAN TOYOTA!”

I’m grateful for these amusing thoughts that bring me joy. I’m also grateful for the ability to control myself in public places. At least most of the time.

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Chop, chop!

I’m medium good at a whole bunch of things, but a couple of things that I’m REALLY good at is making blood and growing hair. Everyone poops, but it’s rewarding that my body is excellent at turning delicious food into something that benefits others. I started donating blood with my dad when I was in my teens, but only started donating hair in the last 15 years.

When I was in my 30s a new hair stylist admired my hair. “Your hair would be SO PERFECT to make a wig! People pay a LOT of money for human hair!”

“Oh, I KNOW! My ancestors in China used to make their living selling hair! This is how they earned money to come to the United States many years ago.”

“Oh, my gosh, REALLY?”

“No, not really.”

Man, white people are SO MUCH FUN! You can tell them practically anything and they will believe you. I can’t even count how many people have believed that Albert and I have an arranged marriage. I have a TON of fun messing with non-Asian people.

A friend of mine had this pink scooter that kept breaking down. She LOVED this scooter, but it was a lemon. Her husband suspected that the problems stemmed from substandard manufacturing in China.

“Oh, yes. That makes a lot of sense, but I don’t think it’s the manufacturing,” I explained to him.

“Why?”

“Because in China, pink is the color of….well, chumps. So anything that is pink would likely be made in a substandard manner. But the other colors would not.”

Yes, I told him that I was joking. Eventually.

So I cut off a ton of hair today and my stylist donated it. It feels FREE and COOL! Most people don’t understand how HOT and ITCHY it is to have thick hair blanketing your back. That dark hair absorbed solar energy and made me sweat! Along with my hot flashes, I was overheating constantly. I’m excited to be rid of it, and also really honored that I am able to hand it over to someone who might appreciate it much more than I do.

I know a lady who has a human hair wig, and it looks adorbz. When she first started shopping for wigs, she was surprised to learn that most human wigs are made from Chinese or Indian hair. I LOVE the idea that my hair might be on her head. It looks way cuter on her than it ever did on me.

“Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.” Who’s to say that John Wesley wasn’t talking about hair??

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