hawaii five-0

today i relive my childhood watching the re-runs. this is what deliciously comes back:

• that retro look with plenty of hair spray and stepford wives dresses,
• the narrower vowels and slightly breathless acting,
• steve mcgarrett's trademark over-his-shoulder parthian shot look,
• communication via radio dispatcher, and of course,
• that iconic surfer dude music.

for the record, steve mcgarrett is my first megacrush.

cognitive deficit

today, to my horror, and among other items, i find i cannot for the life of me recall the name of the causative agent for lues. those of you who share my background will understand the awful sinking feeling that follows the impenetrable blank where a proper noun should be.

wait, i tell myself. you've been reading up ethical theory. and memoirs of a geisha. you make a killer bolognese sauce. your family values your contribution. you did a good job on the weeds this year. BUT I STILL NEED GOOGLE TO TELL ME THE NAME OF THAT DRATTED ORGANISM. 

moon madness

help! i am battling this sudden tremendous desire for mooncake. pandan snow skin mooncake with lotus paste filling sans egg yolk, to be specific. to be even more exact, the one from bengawan solo.

HOM is away on business. if not we could be crazy and drive the distance to the chinese supermarket and buy me some substitute mooncake. as it is i am missing both partner and supper tonight.

two countries

i know two japans.

one is kawaii land, where every ugly mundane bit of life is beautifully wrapped with exquisite care. this is the japan that charms me with her formal courtesy unfailing helpfulness pretty trinkets and scrumptious cuisine.

the other is my grandparents' japan. this country is the scum of the earth, run by brutal pigs and dogs, despicable in her hubris and ambition. it is the japan of the Occupation.

i compartmentalize so well that most times these two countries are distinctly separate. arthur golden's book is the reason why i finally see a common thread of dignity stoicism and vulnerability running from one nation to the other.

two tales

memoirs of a geisha - arthur golden (1997)

colonel bullfrog - jeffrey archer (1988)

for the first time in my adult life i read of a japan that reels from the ravages of the second world war as much as syonan-to does, or of the japanese suffering through the 1930's and 1940's as much as the chinese and malayans and burmese do. hitherto i have known only how inhumanly cruel they were, but not that they shed bitter tears for their own losses too. it is a reminder not to be arrogantly righteous because we see so little of the whole.

and yet, sayuri is right when she says, i don't think any of us can speak frankly about pain until we are no longer enduring it. i think it is only because i am two generations away from 1940 that i read with a sense of wonder and not of anguish or outrage.

bumper sticker

i meet this on my way to the store and it sure is a sight more entertaining than the usual political / my-kid-is-an-honor-student / pro-choice / pro-life / religious offering. perhaps we could ban earnest propaganda and self advertisement from bumpers and just allow a bit of irreverent wit to make for a more cheerful ride.

supper

i find myself in line at the macdonald's drive-in trying to buy a wild berry smoothie. this is due to a sudden post-dinner craving, and the fastfood joint is probably the only place i can get anything at this time. what you simply do not have in virginia is the luxury of being able to toddle to your neighborhood eatery and indulging whatever supper whim you may suddenly have which is not a burger an ice cream or a pizza. specifically: horfun fried kwayteow bubur chacha chendol and such.

memoirs of a geisha

i abandon jeffrey archer to read this on J2's insistence. she promises i will love it. i do. i am at the third chapter still marveling that prose can be so poetic and that metaphors can evoke such harsh realness. there is enchantment in a truly beautiful tangle of words that does not depend on humor or energy or scandal to ensnare you, and arthur golden achieves this in a way chick lit and detective stories and non-fiction cannot.

(nearly) end of season

now is always my favorite part of summer, when she finally yields her hard edge. the breezes sweep broader. you no longer walk into that rolling wall of heat. the flies are less intrusive. and today i fancy the leaves are edging to yellow. this is our fifth summer in the united states, and she is packing up and going off.

evolution

J1 is part of the satellite positioning generation. he prefers the mechanical Voice directions to a map. he likes the Voice even when he can get there without her. he actually pulls to the side if she needs more time to calculate her coordinates.

from word of mouth to hand drawn maps to street directories to google maps and now the Voice. i suspect this generation's problem is due to their familiarity with only the latest navigational incarnation so that they are unable to function at more primitive levels. when J1 goes to the military i hope he learns to use the compass.

back to school sales

these, i figure, are a major business strategy. they span the ages from elementary school to college and run the gamut from office supplies to cars. elementary school. stationery. college. cars. with electronics appliances accessories and furniture thrown in. possibly a sailboat or two.

the july/august back to school custom represents the pinnacle of the merchandiser's arts. a date on the calendar at the end of summer becomes a rite of passage becomes a package of absolute essentials becomes a national occasion becomes a developmental milestone.

office depot advertisement

que será será

our church's octogenarian pastor is going home to taiwan. this sets me thinking. when HOM and i retire, where will we go? will we be near our children and their children? will our children be near our parents? will economic pressure and dreams reshape our family again and again? what is home? with six bases over twelve years, whither the heart's repose?

i have no regrets really. it's our privilege and our adventure. but occasionally, like today, i remember there is a price to pay to being intoxicatingly peripatetic. perhaps it will always be an earthly tent. perhaps that is how it should be.

her name was guinevere

anecdotally, butterflies in captivity do not appear to last long.

it's a corolla!

here is our new car. HOM disregards the beetles minis and pt cruisers that i suggest and goes for the quintessential value-for-money workhorse. all i say is, there's audrey hepburn, and there're the rest. this one's no hepburn.

her name is guinevere

she perches there at her corner of the table on her little napkin with her personal morsel of myrtle. i avoid a close-up of her body lest my lifelong entomophobia overpower my rapidly fading nobler instincts*. i am going to google the lifespan of butterflies in captivity soon.

*namely my desire to preserve the peace with her doting owner.

consequentialism

J2 adopts a butterfly with broken wings. why is it that i happily squish spiders ants and roaches flat but find myself agreeing to spare this particular insect?

is it because it is larger? or prettier? or just that J2 is fierce? if i deliberate this long enough it could become a metaphysical question.

one holy passion

i ask no dream no prophet ecstasies

no sudden rending of the veil of clay

no angel visitant no op'ning skies

but take the dimness of my soul away

teach me to feel that thou art always nigh

teach me the struggles of the soul to bear

to check the rising doubt the rebel sigh

teach me the patience of unanswered prayer

-george croly

the LORD is my portion; therefore i will wait for him.   -lamentations 3:24. 

this song reminds me that i fight my toughest battles at the borders of humdrum banality, where it is easy to forget there is even any dispute.

grief

my friend keeps vigil over his daughter. S, at eighteen, slips in and out of consciousness amidst the tubes and monitors. the wolf is a merciless marauder.

there are no platitudes worth mouthing.

culinary lesson

never buy the yellow noodles they call lo mein and expect to process them the way you do ordinary yellow noodles.

they simply congeal into a starchy lump as you braise them in the pan, at which point you retrieve the packaging and read that you should boil them for just 40 seconds.

on the other hand several tablespoons of curry powder and a can of tomatoes can transform the rest of your noodle ingredients into a rather novel plan b.

the hunt 3

craigslist.com is where i hang out these days, and this is what i learn:

1. there is a ten year gap between our budget and the car prices.

2. dealers outnumber owners. hey people this is a community board!

3. some odometers indicate 250,000 miles and are still running. wow.

my favorite adverts so far:

1978 orange beetle convertible, 4 speed. ♥ ♥ ♥

2003 black beetle convertible, auto. 

somebody's grandfather's vintage convertible. 

1971 military truck M35 109A3. it's a 2.5 tonner. 

HOM is increasingly inclining to a corolla. 

the hunt 2

it falls on me to man the 'phone and email in our quest for the perfect deal. from this experience, i realize i am a sucker for such statements:

• i've never had any trouble with this car, and
• it's a very low price, i can't go any lower.

i also fatigue easily and am about ready to capitulate to the nth person to tell me the above. fortunately in our family we separate research and decision making. i get the details, HOM guards the wallet.

curb appeal

i dedicate my weekend to a one-woman war against the weeds in the front yard. it occurs to me that we expend much energy on an essentially arbitrary denomination. if we agree that the dandelion is a flower and not a weed life might be simpler.

before

after

misnomer

we have birthday cake for tea. this is because i give the wrong birthday girl's name to the lady who creams on the stuff. now our refrigerator is full of additional correctly denominated cake that will go to church tomorrow, and the unfortunate lot that will be our private celebration.

the hunt

we are considering an additional car.

here's our wishlist:
me, i want a smartcar fortwo.
J2 wants a stick shift yaris.
HOM and J1 want a convertible.

also,
gas sipper, versus guzzler
reliable-but-sexy
within our unarguably skimpy budget

at this rate we will end up with a corolla which nobody likes but no one quarrels with.

idiot

Dog takes off into the night, which results in J2 and me taking turns to yell his name into the dark as we trawl the neighborhood. HOM eventually locates him in our neighbors' yard. he is lying down with our neighbor's baseball and quite unrepentantly insouciant. the moron.

the weather (again)

this turns out to be a prescient post. to recap and continue:

snowiest winter
second warmest spring

hottest summer
severest rapidest storms
widespread outages

superlatives get tiring.

fact of life

when your kid drives into a severe thunderstorm alone and emerges with person and vehicle unscathed it becomes a rite of passage for you.

rites of passage mark our progress from one stage to another. today i move from fine to frantic to wordless relief, thereby fulfilling the stages of separation transition and re-incorporation. this completes another step in my parenting an independently mobile teen.

modern living

HOM takes a conference call at six one at seven and begins a day long meeting from eight. naturally he leaves for work with the shadows of the night, and my day gets off to a groggy caffeine laden start.

globalization exacts a toll that we pay with our biological functions.

new trick

J2 produces a heartily aromatic soup for dinner which challenges my identification skills. turns out her secret ingredient is tea. thé. it looks like my next pot of soup is going to incorporate a generous dose of pu'er. talk of a pot within a pot.

boteh

n. motif in textiles. possible fertility symbol. [f. persian botteh cluster of leaves].

perhaps if more men in their middle ages were aware of the significance of this design it may not figure so prominently in their ties.

respite

our house hunting is on hold for now owing to favorable sentiments from our landlord. this means we get our location and off street parking but have to forgo cheaper and smaller. J2 feels done out of an exciting enterprise. i feel blandly and unadventurously thankful.

when life is a series of marching changes, even a short coffee break is welcome.

2 year cycle

our landlord wants to increase our rent, so J2 and i are enthusiastically house hunting.

our wishlist:
same location
cheaper
smaller
off street parking

yeehah!

auschwitz/nanking

today i realize with a start that the horrors of the holocaust and the horrors of japanese occupation span the same time frame. the atrocities are so repugnant that i forget we are able to inflict so much on so many.

our societies respond with opposing paradigms. the west remembers with continuing memorials. the east honors by moving on.

holocaust museum 2

first they came for the communists, and i didn't speak up because i wasn't a communist.

then they came for the trade unionists, and i didn't speak up because i wasn't a trade unionist.

then they came for the jews, and i didn't speak up because i wasn't a jew.

then they came for me, and by that time no one was left to speak up.  

- martin niemöller

six decades later we enshrine the lessons of the kristallnacht in our books and our rhetoric, and sometimes prefer to forget that political and intellectual apathy flourish anew in fresh guises.

holocaust museum

may God protect us and our children from the mindless devotion a charismatic leader can whip us into.
may we find the courage to form opinions.
may we dare to stand for our convictions.

totally frivolous post

we attend the national day dinner at the embassy. the ambassador is, as usual, immaculate in her cheongsam. when i grow older, i tell J2, i want one like hers. silk, impeccable tailoring, three quarter length sleeves, just fitting, just loose. 

nice weather 2

perfect summer days, it turns out, occasionally preface sudden summer thunderstorms.

nice weather today

it strikes me that a summer's day with a bright blue sky a lazy breeze several humming bees and ripe rich flowers makes for a gorgeous thing that i often fail to notice on account of a long standing aversion to the outdoors. today is such glorious gift of a day that it merits a blog posting.

almost bucolic

lamentations 1

here is a man whose lonely witness to his nation's willfully drawn out destruction over four decades and five kings finally leads to the loss of every precious hope and the utter desolation of his still treasured city. the wonder of his unbroken spirit and unbowed mind is comprehensible only within the context of an awful and terrible training that spans his entire adult life.

you do not know what you are asking, jesus once told some men. are you able to drink from the cup that i am to drink?* in youthful arrogance we eagerly say yes, and we determine to stand to the end. these days i am increasingly aware that there are cups that one drinks from only when every other cup is taken away, and then only with inhuman grace.

*matt 20:22

mennonite in a little black dress - rhoda janzen (2009)

this book hooks me first with its catchy title and the black slingbacks on the cover, and janzen writes movingly lyrical prose that is punctuated by irreverent deadpan humor. this, and her scathingly honest description of earnest evangelical christianity, keep me reading even after i realize that this is a memoir, which is a genre i prefer to avoid.

in summary, a delightful confection with underlying layers of affection grief disappointment and hope.

license ceremony

i attend court with J2. today a justice of the commonwealth of virginia confers a driver's license upon my youngest child. for over an hour, i am captive in a presentation that features cautionary tales statistics and video clips.

i want to bundle my children up and drive them around some more, is what i really want to do. what actually transpires is that i let J2 drive us home. my nerves are not just shot they are quickly evaporating.

precious mem'ries

trying on clothes with J2
figuring out long exposure shots on J1's new cam
that ramen place at shinagawa
buying a digital camera for HOM at akihabara
horsing around the world cup cows at tiong bahru
discussing books and world history with J2
J1 clearing up after his friends go off
J2 producing lunch as i sit back
introducing our chinatown to J1 and J2
meeting my med school mates for dinner
design on a dime, ikea edition, for the t.p. apartment

walking clarke quay to scotts road together on a wet night

grrrrrr

here is a letter to the editor of singapore's premier english newspaper. the writer waxes lyrical about the joys of parenthood and thanks his baby wife and parents.

i say, go buy a thank you card, honey.

are they short of letters or what?

redemption

i cannot tell why he whom angels worship/ should set his love upon the sons of men/ or why as shepherd he should seek the wanderers/ to bring them back they know not how nor when.

i cannot tell how all the lands shall worship/ when at his bidding every storm is stilled/ or who can say how great the jubilation/ when the hearts of men with love are filled.

but this i know, the skies will thrill with rapture/ and myriad human voices sing/ earth to heav'n, and heav'n to earth shall answer/ the savior of the world is King!

- william fullerton (adap.)

i cannot tell why i am free. but this i know, that he hath grace, and showeth me mercy.

art of tea

HOM is a tea lover in search of his perfect pu'er.

me, i like my coffee strong robust un-sour and non-decaf. what's a good tea, i ask. a good tea, HOM says, makes me feel calm and at peace when i drink it in the right mood. 

huh?