Family

Avarice is a sin…and poisonous

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That boy sure knows how to up the ante!

He ate my Easter Chocolate Egg from church.

Hubs and I were busy trying to set up our Pax closet (from Ikea – the poor man’s California Closet – which isn’t really that cheap either). On my last trip downstairs to clear the boxes, I realized the black dog was missing. That usually doesn’t sum up to anything good.

I turned on all the lights, and caught the boy, underneath the sofa, with my bag and the chocolate wrapper from my chocolate egg all torn up.

In a panic, I called my sister up to check exactly how much chocolate that greedy little canine took.

In case you don’t know, chocolate is poisonous to dogs. Roughly about a pound of milk chocolate is detrimental to a 20 lb dog. Lucky for us, we discovered it immediately. We knew we had to induce vomiting. Just to be on the safe side, I called the vet (which was no longer open at 7:45 pm, who in turn referred us to the Animal Poison Control Center, who tried to charge me for nonexistence advice. Unfortunately, since I couldn’t ascertain the amount of chocolate the boy took, I hung up on them).

After discovering, a few days back, that Dusty has car sickness, we took him out for a drive – but not before making him drink a ton of water.

Hubs made the ride so bad, that even I had car sick. By the time Dusty threw up, I wanted to gag too – from the ride and from the atrocious stench of the bile.

We finally got home, in the pouring rain, feeling good that he regurgitated the chocolate. Not too seconds home, and he was down the front porch having explosive diarrhea.

That should, hopefully, be everything.

We finally had dinner at 10:30 pm. Even he took five.

The black storm

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I never know what to expect coming home everyday. Will I come home to utter destruction, one wagging tail, and the other sitting at the corner feeling remorse? Or will I return home as I left in the morning, with two wagging tails, plenty of licks and jumps?

My lack of time to write is all thanks to our newest addition, our raven-haired black beauty, Dusty Uzumaki Chong.

The bodily excrement in the pee pen has become a norm. So I’m not even touching that – at least not without protection and an arsenal of cleaning aids.
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Year of the Golden Rabbit

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For 1 billion Chinese people in the world, February 3, 2011 is the beginning of one of the most celebrated and auspicious holidays in its culture. For the following 15 days, the Chinese celebrates and ushers in the New Year with not only a big bang, but plenty of eating, visiting and gambling. This year, the Year of the Rabbit, is said to offer much respite from the tumultuous  passing of the Year of the Tiger. It is said to be a calm-er and slower year ahead, one for those who strive and slogged through the Tiger Year. It is a year of recovery and comfort.

Little known useless fact: the Year of the Rabbit is also known to some as the Year of the Cat (by the Vietnamese). I once watched an anime called Fruits Basket that had 13 animals in the Chinese Zodiac. That 13th animal is an ostracized cat, but a cat nonetheless.

Aside from the usual tradition before and during the celebration of the New Year, there is the much sought after food during the festivities.

Unfortunately, there will be none of the celebrating for us, or visiting. We are by all accounts, still in mourning after my grandfather’s recent passing. One hundred days have not yet passed.

We, however, can still eat and enjoy each other’s company.

We also swept and cleaned the house, and even managed to change the bed sheets over to the silk comforter that my father bought from China years back. Hubs thought the golden silk duvet cover of dragon and phoenix embroidery was just too Chinese. He told me to sleep by myself. All the better, because I think this “Queen-sized” comforter was meant for little people and not the “American” size.

Unlike last year, the eve of this New Year falls on a week day. What’s more, I was not allowed to take the New Year off (I called that racism and everything else under the snowy and icy sky of New Jersey). So no big dinner on the eve of New Year, but hubs, DC and I will be going out for dinner tomorrow. We would have done a cookout for friends and family over the weekend, but circumstances dictates otherwise.

In any case, we will STILL be stuffing our faces and awaiting my younger sister’s arrival on Superbowl Sunday (the third day of Chinese New Year) to have steamboat at home.

初一 First Day

Went to work – to earn my keep. Came back to really happy children.

After waiting for some time to get a table at Petite Soo Chow in Cliffside Park, NJ, we were finally seated. We ordered fish 鱼 steamed with tofu and chilli in clay pot, (鱼 yu sounds like “extras” – extra food, extra money, extra love, just plain extra), pan-fried noodles, vege wrapped in bean curd skin and scallion pancake. Great dinner that left us waddling to the car and DC made sure the final bill came up to $X8.88.

Damn Chinese!

Off to more eating tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday!

Our final respects

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I was exhausted to the core but sleep never came…for 4 days.

After learning that my grandfather passed away on Thursday, Jan. 6, 2010, DC and I frantically scrambled to return home to Malaysia. We got the first flight out off JFK on Friday, transited in Japan on Saturday, and finally reached KL on Sunday night. The rest of the family from Canada flew out late Saturday and arrived Monday.

After an emotionally draining day on Thursday, I crawled into bed in the wee hours of the morning hoping to catch some shut-eye before taking the flight out. Sandman never visited.

Thanks to the impending snowstorm on Friday, we headed out early to the airport. We then sat in the airport for 4 hours before boarding the plane. With time on our hands, we managed to get ourselves exit seats with extra leg room. That did not help. The flight into Japan was sleepless. We tried to lull ourselves into slumber, but it was impossible. We were fed, watered, and entertained. But rest eluded us. By the time we landed in Narita Airport, we were walking zombies.

We were shuttled to Hotel Nikko for the transit, and thought that this layover was a blessing in disguise. We would finally get our rest.

We showered and had dinner at 6, buying food from a convenient store aptly located in the hotel (instead of heading into Tokyo for a quick run in town). When 8 pm rolled around, our bodies just couldn’t handle it anymore. We crashed. I woke up 3 hours later and begin watching Japanese TV, which I couldn’t figure out when programming ended and advertisement started.

My grandfather, Kong-Kong, the patriarch of the Phoas, had been slowly withdrawing himself from the family. I last saw him in December 2009 when we returned to KL for my younger sister’s wedding, which he never attended. My younger sister has always been the apple of both my grandparents’ eyes. For him not to attend her wedding, must have devastated him. During DC’s recent visit home, just one month back, she saw an emaciated Kong-Kong. He, she said, had given up on living. And during their, what is now, final talk he told her that it truly saddened him that he never made it to both his grandchildren’s wedding (both mine and my younger sister’s). He just didn’t want to “spoil the evening” for anyone. He was, ever so effectively, withdrawing himself away from his family. Even worse, was his lost of teeth. He refused food and eventually water, until he fell Christmas Day.
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When it Rains, it Pours

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We have been searching for another dog to adopt, off and on, ever since Haydn’s passing 1.5 years ago. In the pass 4 months, we begin to up the ante and reached out to multiple rescue groups and shelters after seeing a few that caught our attention. Those came to naught as we found out quickly. We were always caught in a certain amount of red tape and bait-and-switch tactics. In any case, it was frustrating.

It would have been easier buying a puppy, but we know there are many abused and neglected dogs that needed our love, protection and nourishment. So we persisted – as if we didn’t have enough on our plates. Our weekends were spent making trips around the tri-state area, visiting potential adoptees.

Just as we were about to give up on the search, the calls started pouring in around Thanksgiving. We met Dusty (Trusty), an “owner surrender.” He is a 2-year-old black Cocker Spaniel, with straight, black lustrous fur. He is the envy of Asian girls and my husband alike. However, for unknown reasons to the rescue group, he lost hair from his neck down to his elbows. Aside from that, he is visibly skinny.

Dusty

Dusty

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Season of thanks and blessings

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So the holiday season has begun with the ushering of a day of thanks (top off with a mad-rush of deranged and fanatical shopping at the end of the night).

I count my blessings everyday. In a foreign land, where home, family and friends are oceans away, everything is a blessing and a reason to be thankful and grateful for.

I spent my birthday this year with both my sisters; a rare occurrence and one that is truly special. We laughed at things that only we can laugh about, and rolled our eyes at each of our idiosyncrasies. We ate like we have been starved for ages (not a rare sight) and cherished the little moments that we shared together. For that, I am very thankful.

I have my family; a dear and tight-knit family from Asia all the way to North America. They are always there when I need them, regardless of distance and time difference. I am thankful for my parents, my aunts, uncles and cousins.

I have my health. A husband that puts up with my pms-ing, melodramatic, cantankerous mood swings. Just like my health, everything is a yo-yo: up and down in a blink of an eye. But without dark there cannot be light. For that, I am thankful. Thankful for the ups and downs in life.

I have my job, a sparse commodity these days. I am thankful.

I have a solid roof over my head; even though this has been a year of repairs, starting with the sewage drain on Chinese New Year. Out with the old, in with the new.

I still have friends (a miracle!). Thank you for remembering me, for I certainly remember and think of you especially during the holidays. You will always have a special place in my heart.

Last but not least, I am thankful for Jessie. We visited a shelter, a shelter where Jess was adopted from 8 years ago, yesterday. It was a horrifying sight and a gut-wrenching sound. Never mind the stench. Everyone of the dogs just wanted to be in a home, to be loved. Every cage we passed, the inmates were calling for us. Most still had fighting life in them. Others were resolved to whatever fate meted out. By the time we left, they were crying and howling because they knew they lost a chance. Jessie, we found you. But you definitely gave us love.

Gratitude | 112609

Familiarity breeds sentiment

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My day started much like every other day, with Jessie scratching the bed rousing me from sleep. Except not only do I have the day off, but it was 6 in the morning. I mumbled something unintelligible and got her to settle back in to bed again. An hour later, she stood on her hind legs again and scratched the bed.

Ok. I got it. Your Highness. I’m up.

To any other person, it’s just another day. But today, it’s my birthday. King for one day.

Nothing really special, if you think about it. But, for my family, birthdays are special.

Just the night before, my father had called right at my birth hour. My mom was complaining that my father is such a stickler for such “nonsense.” I thought it was very sweet.

My father would like to tell me that when I was born, I cried and cried for hours. It was only AFTER they allowed him to carry me, that I quieted down and went to sleep. The moment they pried me away from him, I stirred and began my weeping again. He had no choice but to leave. Hospital policy. When he returned the next morning, I had lost my voice from crying all night and was hiccupping, gasping for air. Once in his arms again, I was knocked out cold.
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Hero 英雄 2: Crane vs. Plow

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After the last try at exercising, (see Hero 英雄 ) which took me 4 days to recover, I decided to take it easy and do yoga instead.

That was my first mistake.

My second mistake was not lubing up. I should have just drank a gallon of olive oil.

My body twisted, stretched, bent and flexed in so many positions that I don’t remember how I straighten out after that. I felt like an overnight pretzel, and a cardboard contortionists forced to perform.

It started out easy. I was patting myself on the back and feeling rather smug about my limberness. It was the bend, plank, transitioning into the cobra, to downward dog, to the runner’s pose, followed by lunges and the warrior I, II, III poses. So far so good.

Then we went into balance: tree pose, chair pose, the triangle pose and the half moon pose. Hey, I’ve got superb balance on my right side, but my left ankle wanted nothing to do with supporting 115 lbs of me. At the risk of sounding like Cartman from South Park, “I’m not fat! Just big boned!” So I wobbled and shook, but still held on or, in my case, cheated. Wii is nothing compared to this.

Next, I was on my back. Anything with me lying on my back will be a breeze. Or so I thought.

Plow pose

Plow pose

Right off the bat, we went into the plow pose. This is one where the entire lower half of your body is lifted off the floor and ends up on the other side of your head (as I find out later). I got my behind up, and with my legs dangling precariously over my face, I tried to understand what the instructor was saying while making sure I didn’t break my neck. I couldn’t see a thing on the TV, as my legs were in the way. Spreading eagle, I tried to peek through my legs to see what they were doing. Nothing. I have fat thighs. Since I had one minute to kill on the pose, and I had no clue what they were doing, I started improvising. I did the peek-a-boo, bicycle and the scissors while hanging out in that position. I’m just thankful that my neck is still intact.

That was followed by an easier, table pose, bridge pose and wheel pose.

Then came the animals: frog, sphinx, one-legged king pigeon and the upward dog. When they started showing the crane pose, I thought they were crazy. The crane that I know requires standing on at least one leg and flapping the hands like make-believe wings. This crane, requires you to support your entire body on just two hands, while the knees rested on the armpits. I don’t know what crane they were mimicking. Most likely an unhatched crane.  Needless to say, I never made that pose, otherwise I would have been a wingless crane.

Crane Pose

Crane Pose

Off to core work, with the half and full boat poses, repeated until my entire body screamed in pain. Even my ass was hurting. Of course, my abs was crying the loudest.

One hour 20 minutes later, we were doing the final stretches: cat, happy baby pose, child pose, and the lotus pose. When he called for the corpse pose I couldn’t help but smile at the irony of the name.

But then again, I couldn’t smile.

My pants were torn.

From New York to York

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For the better part of my younger sister’s existence, I have been there for her, or tried to be. After all these years, she is finally leaving my sight and my side once again.

As children, we shared a room. She was afraid of the dark as much as I was. In fact, I was (am still) the chicken of the family. It didn’t help that my older sister, dc, would always hide behind a wall to frighten the living daylights out of us. But I would brave it, just for her. When her eyes were too big for her stomach, I would end up finishing her food for her, least she gets a scolding from my mom. I wanted to be with her, and mothered her so much that I broke my nose by accident when I couldn’t accompany her to the doctor after she fell sick.  By the time she went to school, I was the one combing and tying her hair, ensuring she looked her best, while yours truly always had a bird’s nest going up top.

We rode the school bus together, when we shared the same session. I don’t know if she ever looked up to me as her elder sister (since we have another OLDer sister), but I definitely adored her. I was her senior in school, and took her under my wing when she joined the Girl Guides as a rookie.
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Hero 英雄

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The dictionary’s definition of a “Hero” is a person who is admired or idealized for courage, or noble qualities. But used by a Chinese person, “Hero” or 英雄 ying xiong stops becoming a compliment. It is used on a person trying to prove he/she has noble-r qualities than others, but ends up looking like an idiot or paying for it. Take for example a person who walks out in the dead of winter with just a wife-beater-tank top on. That is a hero. When used, it sounds a little like this, “Damn hero!” sarcastically. Or, “Look, hero!”

In any case, I became a hero this weekend.
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