Ohm, Eem

Nothing interesting happened to me this week. I didn’t meet a clown. I wasn’t published in any more magazines. I wasn’t even close to being eaten by a shark.

Boring.

And I kind of love it! I learned things in school. I did good work at my job. I took time to meditate with my dogs. (This is why they are so mellow, you see.) I went out for pizza and beer with Albert. Audrey came home for a short weekend, and we got to spend time with her.

OH! We celebrated a big birthday. Audrey’s boyfriend, Jake, turned 21, and we went to a fancy new restaurant with his family. It was a new Thai Fusion restaurant called Eem. We arrived before it opened, and we still waited an hour before being seated!

PORTLAND, amiright?!?!

The company was good and the food was delicious. We sampled curious cocktails made with bee pollen, spirulina, Thai pickles, rhubarb, and even…..blessings. Not even joking. It was fun, but not really interesting. Like, nobody got stabbed with a metal straw or anything. We just had a lovely time.

I used to have a really hard time with quiet and inactivity, but I’ve been practicing stillness, and I’m getting a tiny bit better at it. At least I’m learning how to appreciate it more. But this lack of interesting activity also means that you get to hear about Albert’s trip to Costco with his dad!

My FIL wanted snacks and beer. This is super amusing, because I have known him since I was a little kid and had never seen him drink a beer before moving to Oregon. Albert had never EVER seen his dad go to happy hour. But since moving to his fancy independent living community, my FIL rushes down regularly at 4pm before the Little Smokies are all gone. EIGHTY-EIGHT years and this man is suddenly a regular at Fancho’s Pub.

As a newly minted potomaniac, my FIL decided he wanted to get a case of beer to have in his apartment and asked Albert for recommendations. But Albert didn’t waste a single breath discussing various types of beer or recommending local microbrews. He knows better.

Asking for a recommendation is my FIL’s secret code for “What’s the cheapest?” Later that afternoon, Albert helped him tote home a $20 case of Kirkland IPA. Albert and I rarely drink India Pale Ales. Mostly I think they taste like bubbly grapefruit juice.

But Albert’s dad apparently thought they were OK. He called this evening and was very chatty! After jabbering for a few minutes, he said, “I had two of those beers. They said that they were only 5% but I think they might be higher.”

“And, hey! After I drank the first one, my LEG started TWITCHING! I was thinking that maybe the water in India isn’t filtered that well, and I got worried. But then it stopped later on.”

Remember? Because he picked an India Pale Ale.

The Kirkland brand. Maybe brewed with water from the Ganges. You never know.

I know that this nonsense wasn’t because he was drinking. He regularly spews bundles of absurdity. Because he is so passionately opinionated and deadpan serious, it is extra amusing when he tells us NO! He will NOT have a bite of our pizza with salami because cured meat is bad for your health!

Relieved to have escaped our attempted poisoning, he takes a big bite of his club sandwich……with ham and bacon. And washes it down with a swig of beer. A porter at the restaurant this time.

I hope you’re not disappointed that my week was uneventful. My FIL didn’t throw a kegger and wasn’t harmed by malicious prosciutto or irresponsible Indian beer-makers. I’m optimistic that next week will bring more adventures.

Until then, THANK YOU for reading! You can subscribe here to get new posts delivered right to your email inbox.

Better Homes & Gardens

Dude. I was recently QUOTED in Better Homes & Gardens.

WHAT. THE. HECK.

Of all the people in my circle of friends and family who are talented interior designers, marvelous culinarians, gifted gardeners, practically professional party-throwers, or even exceptionally proficient housekeepers, I am arguable THEEEE MOST mediocre at both Homes AND Gardens.

CALL ME if you’re looking for cheats on how to make dinner for five with smallest number of ingredients and shortest amount of time. No guarantees that your family will eat it and DEFINTELY no promises that they’ll enjoy it. But they probably won’t starve to death, and that’s a win in my book, friends!

Interior design? I value function over form every time. I prepare a passable meal, but I suspect that those who find cooking “relaxing” or “enjoyable” are just not all there. And don’t even get me started on gardening. The bugs! The dirt! But most of all the FAILURE. No plant is safe under my watch, and it’s NOT for lack of trying. Most of my body is Chinese, but my thumb? Is black.

Not that I am ashamed or disappointed. We each have our own gifts! Honestly, what benefit would any of those gifts be without an enthusiastic fan appreciating and being amazed at all the wonderful food, décor, flowers, and neatness? Someone has got to be in charge of all the enjoying and consuming and being dazzled. I’m a Master Encourager!

The article….in Better Homes & Gardens….that I was QUOTED IN….(in case you forgot)….was about the Enneagram, which I learned about a few years ago when I attended a workshop for work. I had never heard of the Enneagram before, but it changed my life.

The Enneagram is an ancient wisdom which describes personalities, helping me understand myself AND others. And with this deeper understanding, the Enneagram also helped me interpret relationships and gave me tools to be more successful in my interactions with others.

Typical for a Type 7, I was fired up after this workshop. I read books and binged podcasts. I couldn’t get enough! My sister is kind of a bigshot in Human Resources, so she knows all about personality tests. As she usually does when I am over-excited, she kind of petted my head as I breathlessly jabbered to her with this new information. She thinks I’m a little out there sometimes, but she loves me and never makes fun of me. (I have reason to believe that she is a highly-evolved Type 2. Maybe Macho Man Randy Savage is, too.) 

This article was written by an old family friend who is a freelance journalist. She is friends with my sister, so I knew her when she was a cute, little girl. When she was in college, she stayed with Albert and me for a few days to have her wisdom teeth taken out at the dental school. Here’s my moment of fame:

If you read the article, I am quoted alongside many legit, well-respected Enneagram experts. They work at the Enneagram Institute and have published books on the subject. And then there’s me. No qualification, no description. Just a quote from a random person. It’s almost as impressive and valid as a quote from Jovani Walker.

Know who that is?

IT’S NOBODY! I just created that name from a random name generator!

It is exciting nonetheless. Better Homes & Gardens is a BFD. Albert suggested I add it to my resume. So give me a ring if you hear of any job openings for easily-distracted women who are passionate about the Enneagram and for dressing up small dogs in ridiculous outfits!

As always, thank you for reading! You can subscribe here to get new posts delivered right to your email inbox.

You're Dead to Me

Do you ever have sexy dreams? I have very vivid, interesting dreams, and every once in a while they are steamy. *Tsssssss!!* Like JLo and Shakira’s Super Bowl performance-level steamy. Fun and exciting but nothing obscene.

I usually wake up after these dreams feeling kind of warm and fuzzy. But sometimes I wake up from a racy dream feeling disturbed and confused, which is how I felt after I dreamed about Ricky Ricardo. I KNOW! Un-esplainable, right??

My Bedtime Babaloo and I we were deeply in love. He was attentive and affectionate. “Hey, Lisa! I’m home!”

I’ve always had a “thing” for Latin men, but Ricky Ricardo?? The idea rattled me so much that I called on a dear friend to help me get a grip. “He was kissing me and I liked it! Aack!” I was distressed. But Christina just laughed in the most perfect way. It wasn’t nervous or uncomfortable as if to say, “Mmm-kay, you weirdo…..”

Nor was it over-the-top as if to say: “OMG, YOU WEIRDO!!!”

It was more like a laugh that said: “It’s OK. I love you, Weirdo.”

AND THEN, like the best kind of empathetic friend, she doubled-down and told me about HER sexy dream about Dwayne Johnson! Many of you won’t think that’s unusual, but this got her all flummoxed, because “The Rock” is not at all her “type.”

In the end, we decided that we were unnerved simply from surprise that these men made appearances in our innermost imaginations. They snuck up on us while we were sleeping! We definitely would have been even more shook if we dreamed about making out with……I dunno……Will Ferrell.

Recently, Christina’s dream lover was interviewed by Oprah for a Super Soul Conversation. His dad recently passed away, and DTRJ talked about the complicated relationship he had with his father. He spoke of the “new relationship” he has now with his dad in spirit, a clean slate without regrets, pain, or anger.

I really love that idea of a clean slate relationship, but I think I would rather not wait until I die. Another friend and I were talking about people in our church who passed away in 2019. Friends and family speak fondly and proudly of their accomplishments and their life stories. I marveled at all the charming anecdotes I’d never heard. Why do people wait until loved ones pass away before sharing stories about them?

Then I wondered aloud, “What will people say about me when I die?” My sweet, dear friend got all excited. She said, “OH! I will have a LOT of things to say about Lisa Fu! Tell Albert to call me when it’s time to deliver your eulogy!”

Aw, shucks!! That is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me!

Another super nice compliment I got recently was from a lady I see often but hardly know. She told me, “I love seeing you at the gym, because you’re always smiling, and it reminds me that I’m supposed to be having fun.”

(This was not the clown. This was also not the woman with death-by-metal-straw anxiety.)

ALL. THE. FEELS!! I had a positive effect on someone just by doing nothing in particular. AND she took the time to let me know. IT’S A SPIRAL OF DELIGHT!!

I’m making a commitment to treat everyone like they’re dead, no longer holding back on compliments or uplifting stories. 

And if I have no compliments or uplifting stories for the buttheads who make me blood-red mad? Well, I am five hundred and fifty percent sure none of them are reading this, so it doesn't matter at all. 'Cuz they're also dead to me! Fair's fair.

Leave a comment and I will submit my portion of your eulogy!

As always, thank you for reading! You can subscribe here to get new posts delivered right to your email inbox.

Send in the Clowns

There are certain people I see regularly but do not really know. Some are potential friends: “That person seems pretty cool. Perhaps I’ll get to know him/her with time.” And some people I avoid: “Ugh, here comes that chatty woman who thinks all Asians are twins. Time to am-scray.”

Adulting often requires small-talk, which is super annoying to me. It’s as if I wake up each morning with a limited number of words that can go in my ears and out of my mouth. Words are golden. I don’t like wasting them, either going out or coming in. While my face will remain patient and sweet as I listen, those who know me well will see a naughty exasperation in my eyes that indicates that I’m plotting my escape. Apparently it is very amusing. My eyeballs and eyebrows have minds of their own and are not within my control. Sorrynotsorry.

But it’s hard for me to get mad when people are just trying to be nice and friendly. And I’ve come to learn that a certain amount of small-talk is necessary. How else am I ever going to get to know new people? Only Oprah is allowed to ask deep questions of people she doesn’t really know. (P.S. I am not Oprah.)

A common question is, “What are your plans for the day?” I rarely ask this question of strangers for danger of being subjected to a tedious listing of their errands of the day. *high, nasally voice* “Well, I’m going to the post office.....and then I have to take my kid to whatever at whenever......and then I’m going to the grocery store……” SO. BORING.

I am bored enough doing my own errands every day. THERE IS ONLY SO MUCH ONE PERSON CAN TAKE! So when this lady asked what my plans are for the day, I answered my usual.

Me: “Just regular things. What about you?”

She: “I’m getting ready to go to work.”

Me: “What kind of work do you do?”

I’m always interested in this when I talk to women. When Albert and I meet new people, his job often comes up in conversation, but very few people ask me what I do for a living. I was ready for this lady to fill in a little ear-time with talk about her work. Imagine my surprise and excitement when she answered, “I’m a clown.” A CLOWN!

I have never met a real-life clown!!

I think she must be a very good clown, because her answer just about made me burst out laughing right there on the spot. NOT POLITE! It just caught me off guard and then I started thinking about clowns and then a little laugh got created in my belly. I can’t help it! But I maintained control. You will be very proud of me, friends!

“Oh, that is very interesting! I’ve never met a clown before!” I answered like an authentic adult without impulse control issues! I definitely fooled her!! I could hardly wait to hear what was on her little clown heart.

That afternoon she was headed to a children’s hospital to make balloon animals for the kids. That’s so nice, right?? And now I think that clowns make way more money than I thought before, because this lady’s clown car? A Mercedes.

Meeting a real-life clown reminded me of the time I met the guy who runs the company that makes strawberry baskets. I bet you never thought about who makes those flimsy, green baskets, did you? I bet you thought they came from China. But they are made in Oxnard, California by this fellow I met twenty years ago! That is a real job!

Or that time Albert and I met two young men who work at Crater Lake National Park fishing for invasive trout. That’s their job: fishing. They catch the trout, cut their bladders, then toss them back into the lake. This prevents the trout from disrupting the ecosystem, and as the fish decompose, they add nutrients back into the water. I survived for almost 50 years without ever considering how Crater Lake National Park avoided becoming overrun by invasive trout. And these guys had been working their sweet, young tails off all along!

I didn’t even know that these were jobs. How did these people end up in these jobs? Did they dream of being clowns or strawberry basket-makers, or abnormal fishermen when they were little?

Is there really such a thing as Clown School? Because my oldest sometimes tells me to go there. “Dad Jokes” are all the rage these days, but I am the Queen of “Mom Jokes.”

Alex texted me one time when he was feeling kind of proud at work. He was asked by a manager to do a special clean-up and made an extra $40. Someone had pooped all over the bathroom. WHAT is wrong with people?? So I reasoned that his manager bribed Alex to clean up the mess because the manager didn’t want to DOO it. It’s funny, right?? Not in this tough crowd.

But I would not be deterred. I congratulated Alex for doing a good job taking care of his “doodies.” This certainly merits a Clown School, PhD! I could tell that he wasn’t completely groaning, because he asked to see my “crud-entials.”

There was mention of Lady Macbeth’s worried soliloquy, “Out, out damned spot…….OF POO!!!” As well as some discussion of yes-turd-day. In the end, Alex either succumbed to my humor or was just trying to get me to stop. Maybe he’d reached his word limit for the day.

Perhaps I’ll approach casual banter with a more open heart as an opportunity to learn about my world and my fellow humans. And maybe I'll invest some time brushing up on my balloon animal skillz so I can buy a Mercedes. Tell me something interesting!

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