Yay! Today Hubby and I actually made it to Chinatown for some of their delish dim sum. Perfect for a sunny Sunday mid-morning meal.
Sign on Shop Door in Chinatown ... *LOVE IT!*
Dim sum, in some variation of the Chinese language (not exactly which Chinese dialect it comes from …), literally translates to “Touch of the heart.” I totally love that term, as I’ve always associated going to dim sum with family on the weekends. Sometimes it would be to celebrate a special event like birthdays.* Other times it was just to gather together while visiting family & friends in another city (like Toronto) or while having those same family & friends visit our neck of the woods. Many times, for Hubby & I, it would simply just be a “craving” we’d have. In any case, going for dim sum brings back memories of happy times and of family traditions.
So going for dim sum today … by ourselves … was special. Especially after putting it off for months since moving to Chicago. And it’s because today marks the beginning of Hubby & I beginning of our new “family tradition.”
And that touches my heart …
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* Here’s another Asian tradition for y’all. It’s customary for the birthday celebrant to have noodles on their actual birthday. It symbolizes long life and good health. Hence, if you’re ever at a Filipino birthday party … you will always always ALWAYS see pancit as one of the main dishes on the buffet table!
When I first started as an health insurance-based Case Manager (waaay back in 1999) for the company I just left this past December, it was my first job in Cubicle-ville. It’s the first office-type setting I had ever been in and I was so excited just to have my own desk, my own phone. But that’s because I was so usedto working on the “floors” of a hospital, where I only got one small corner of the med cart to prepare the meds I had to distribute. And where I only had one small inch of desk space to write my progress notes in because the physician’s and their lackeys (-ie- pesky med students) always took up more room than they ever needed to.
No Room at the Nurse's Station
Which of course brings me to this thought of the day … Why the H*LL is it called a Nurse’s Station when it’s never filled with any of the nurses? When all the Docs take up every inch of space in the area? And when all the nurses tend to be the one’s running up and down the hall?
Oh boy … having major flashbacks here. It doesn’t help that every once in a while I still have dreams (ahem … nightmares, actually) of going to work in the trenches.
And … once again, I’ve gotten of topic.
Okay, so really what I was getting at was that my last job was the first time I’ve ever worked in an office. Which meant I had a space of my own to put up personal stuff like pictures and toys, etc. One of my co-workers knew how much I loved to decorate my little space, so she gave me a poster to hang up on my wall. It was a picture of a fountain in a well-known city that, even back then, I always said that Hubby & I wanted to live in.
Well it took us ten years, but we’ve finally made that move. And since Hubby finally made his announcement at work, I can finally update my Face.book network to the correct city. I can finally un-Password Protect those few posts leading up to the decision to move.
This is the poster I had in my cubicle back in Michigan
Yes, that’s right people. I can shout it from the rooftop now. As of the end of this month, Hubby and I will both be Chicagoans, officially.
As for that poster that my co-worker gave me? Well, instead of bringing it with me … I left it at my previous job. In fact, I posted it up on the staff bulletin board and placed a sticky note on it with an arrow pointing to a specific building. And on that sticky note I wrote, “Come visit Emily here.”
And the best part? Well see for yourself … these are actual views from the windows of my office building.
View of Michigan Ave & Wrigley Building across the Chicago River
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That's Lake Michigan and Navy Pier in the near distance!
I so cannot wait to explore the rest of this city … especially now (in less than two-weeks time) I can begin to call it home once Hubby is by my side.
Imagin me wearing stirrup stockings with this dress and kitten heel pumps ... yep, how 80's!
Well, since I finally made it home this weekend I got a chance to find a couple more 80’s pictures … including that one picture of me in a dress that reminded me of this one … the one I wore at the Addy Awards last weekend.
It’s actually quite funny, when you think of it. Because both dresses actually are a mod dress inspired from the 60’s fashion styles. And yet … here I am wearing one dress in the 80’s and another one, some 20 years later again. Amazing how fashion styles recycle.
Anyhoo … Pretty scary that I was only 14 years old in that picture. And I seriously can’t believe my parents let me out of the house in that dress. What’s even more “scandalous” (well, at least in my eyes), is that my Mom was the one that picked this dress out. Because looking back at this picture now … it’s a pretty sexy dress for a 14 year old to wear, don’t you think?
True 80's Fashion ...
But I remember the occasion at which I wore this dress for, which was a family friend’s 18th Birthday/Cotillion. It was during the summer before starting high school and I remember feeling quite self-conscious in the outfit. Which is probably why I can recall how socially “awkward” I felt that night.
And I realized this past weekend how some things never change. Hubby & I had some time to spare before heading over to my in-law’s house to celebrate my nephew’s 13th birthday. So we headed to the local mall just to walk about. (It was such crappy weather all weekend long, that doing anything outside was useless …)
Anyway, as we were there I headed into the local Sep.hora to look at some body lotion that a co-worker recommended to moisturize skin, but not leave it all moist and clammy especially when in the midst of a hot flash*. Now, I’ve never been inside a Sep.hora before; the reason behind it pretty obvious to anyone who knows me. I’m just simply not into make-up and dressing up.
A Bonus 80's Shot for y'all
I mean, I’ll dress up … when the occasion calls for it, I clean up quite nicely … but on an everyday basis? I’m the type of gal that’s more comfortable in a pair of jeans and a tshirt. And coming from a company where we could wear jeans daily to a company that requires leadership to dress business casual every day … well, that’s been a challenge.
So getting back to Sep.hora, I figured that while I was there I’d get some lip gloss to moisturize my lips … and maybe add a little color to it. Except I couldn’t believe how many choices were out there and I simply became overwhelmed. I mean seriously … all I wanted was a “leeetle” plum-rose color to my lips and what I saw was 50 zillion different varieties of plum or raspberry. I ended up just walking out of there with nothing.
But going back to the “some things never change” bit … I’m just not a “girly” girl and I never had been. I was the girl that climbed trees and ran her bike through muddy trails. I was the same girl who loved walking through puddles at school (seriously … whenever it rained, there would be this huge puddle in the middle of the parking lot that I believe I named “Lake St. Vincent”). I was that pre-teen (or “tweenager,” as they’re now called) that still loved to stay up and watch the movies at slumber parties rather than play dress-up or put on make-up.
For that, I still believe it’s because I never had that consistent female “bond” with another girl … a sister, or a mentor that could coach me through some of those things. And I still believe it’s because I was that first-generation Filipino-American; my parents not quite familiar with what typical American things that pre-teens (or even teenagers) do.
This pic was taken after one of my "modeling" classes I took. I think this is the class they taught me how to put on makeup ... ha!
I give my parents credit though. They did the best that they could do. And they, particularly my mom, did try to encourage me to do things that most teens might do (within reason, of course). One of them was signing me up for modeling classes after I turned 16. Now, I must be honest … this would have been something I would totally wanted to do at the age of 13 or 14. But by 16, my personality was such that doing anything that surrounded using your “looks” to get ahead with anything was something I was SO against. (Helloooo …. New Wave/Goth chick, here!) But I faithfully went; partly out of obligation, as my Mom shelled out a lot of money for these classes. And partly out of sheer curiosity. Because, the girls that were in my class … they were the antithesis of who I was.
And what did I learn from these classes? Posture (which still sucks), poise and grace (which doesn’t work with my two left feet), and that I look best in “Summer Colors” when it comes to clothes and makeup. I think that last thing is the only lasting impression from that class … because I realized recently (after years of simply wearing black and/or white) is that I do like to dress myself in those “Summer Colors.”
Not that it matters too much anymore … but sometimes I wonder how I come across to other people, looking the way that I do. Given that I tend to wear my hair pulled back in a ponytail (or even piggy tails … not. kidding. you.) and I am one for sacrificing fashion for comfort, I think people think that I’m young and immature. (Which I can be … ) But after talking to me for any length of time, these same people tend to realize that I am older and more mature than they originally thought. That I’m smart and intelligent. That I’m knowledgeable in certain areas. But that’s only after they get to know me. And probably after they see how much grey hair I actually have.
In any case, going into that Sep.hora brought me straight back to those days of self-consciousness. And back to such an awkward phase in my life.
But enough of looks and awkwardness and fashion and lack of make-up. Let’s talk about how much fun I had being back home this weekend. We celebrated my nephew’s 13th birthday on Saturday and I still cannot believe he’s officially a teenager now (well, really he’ll be one officially on the 12th …) by having dinner at a local restaurant and then heading over my in-laws afterwards for birthday cake. From the moment he saw us, my nephew didn’t want to leave our side. And as I know those moments are going to start to be few and far in between, I relished every moment of his closeness. I also got to see my niece for the first time since December and I can’t believe how much bigger she’s gotten. She’s now 6 months old and her personality has definitely started to develop. My favorite moment of that night was this following video.
This video was taken while my SIL and I were “video chatting” in iChat on our laptops. We were both in the dining room facing directly across from each other. And when my nephew sat down to chat with me, he took his baby sister with him who, of course, was fascinated by seeing me (and herself) on the computer screen. I wish we started recording it sooner, because the first few times were priceless … but this video is still awesome. She (and my nephew, of course) is such a cutie!!
And Sunday, I was supposed to meet up with a couple of grade school friends for brunch. Unfortunately, since the weather’s been sucking a$$ right now I think we’ve all come down with some sort of sinus thingy; one of my friends worse than myself and my other friend. It would have been great to see them both, as I haven’t seen them since … like, forever … but we’re going to reschedule for the end of this month when I should be back in town to help Hubby move. 🙂
Instead, Sunday was spent going for dim sum with my parents. It was nice to sit and talk with them; and I think I genuinely surprised them by making the time to see them during this weekend home. The truth is, I would have made the time anyway … I just didn’t have a chance to call them until I got into town.
And while at that restaurant, I ran into one of my best friends from Nursing School. He’s now working as a professor for a local University and we’ve recently caught up in Face.book. But nothing beats actually seeing him and hugging him in person. We managed to make plans to catch up next time he comes into my “neck of the woods.” Can’t wait for that.
And now … about 6 hours from now, I’ll be boarding the train back to the City. Another weekend home gone so quickly. This being the second time I’ve been back to Detroit since moving, I realize how much I miss parts of this area. I miss all the shops and the ability to jump in my car and find parking anywhere. I miss how much cheaper going out to eat and/or seeing movies are. I miss seeing Sabrina on a daily basis. But the thing I miss the most? Yep, my family.
But the good thing is … we’re never that far away by email or phone. And not even by physical distance.
Yay family!
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* Nope, not having hot flashes so much anymore. But when walking the distance I do from the train to my office building every morning … I do tend to work up a sweat. It usually is worse whenever I take a shower in the morning (and therefore putting body lotion on at that time) … Anyway, I’m sure this was more information that y’all needed to know.
After reading this post once again (and realizing how inconspicuous it starts out as), I’m finding it rather appropriate that I posted this today, on MLK Jr Day … and on the eve of the Presidential Inauguration of Barack Obama. If anything, I encourage you to read the following with an open mind and with the hopes and dreams that both these two historical men had and currently have.
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Well, the good news is that there’s a “warm front” on the horizon. Of course, “warm” means highs of 20 degrees over the next week. Much better than the sub-zero temperatures. Good thing too, because I was seriously sick of having my scarf stick to my nose from all the frozen snot (yes, I know that sounds disgustingly awful). It’s bad enough that it was so cold that my eyes would water … and that those tears would immediately freeze on my eyelids! One thing that helped warm the weekend was the arrival of Hubby. It’s always a brighter, sunshine-y day (a-la-BradyBunch) when Hubby’s around. He flew in from Dubuque, IA where he was once again an Addy judge for their local Ad Club.
I met him at the airport and then headed (for what seems like the millionth time) to Ikea to pick up some more household stuff. It seems as if until he’s officially with me, I’ll be needing a second set of whatever we currently have at our house in Detroit. We’re trying our best not to buy anything we don’t need. Except I am finding it rather difficult to be living with just a bed, two chairs, and a table … which, coincidentally is doubling as a TV stand at the moment. Oh well, one more reason to look forward to when Hubby & I are together once again.
We did make it a point to catch a movie this weekend. And really … we ended up seeing two, but only one was, in my opinion, worth mentioning. If you haven’t had a chance, go see Clint Eastwood in “Gran Torino.” One of the best things about seeing this movie is that it was shot in Detroit and its surrounding areas. During certain parts of the movie, Hubby & I would be pointing out certain locations to each other, thinking we’d know where it was filmed. One particular scene, however, (the barber shot scene) we knew was actually shot in the city I live (lived?) in. That was pretty cool to see.
It was a big deal in the news last summer that Clint was filming in our area. Big Oscar-award winning director/actor setting up office in the area, renting a house in our suburbs … well, it was just plain cool. There would be sightings of him in the local mall, grocery store, etc … and stories of him being exactly as kind and unassuming as the media always portrays him. That was cool to hear.
And the big thing was that Clint seriously immersed himself into the role he played. Not only was he the lead actor of the film, but he directed it as well. And if you know anything about the movie, Clint and his team submerged themselves into the Hmong community.
Despite what most people think, Hmong is not (and never was) a nation or a type of “nationality.” The Hmong people are a collection of 18 different mountain tribes that have lived in China and other southeast Asian countries (such as Laos, Thailand and Vietnam). Many of them migrated to the U.S.* following the Korean and Vietnam War as refugees with the assistance of a few Christian missionary groups. Other families came after assisting the U.S. during these wars. In any case, many might consider the Hmong a “nation-less” culture; much like one can’t pinpoint exactly which part of Latin or South America an Aztec or Mayan person may have come from.
The reason I bring up this bit of history in my post was to further delve into “Gran Torino.” Clint Eastwood’s character, Walter is … for lack of better terms, what Hubby and I would call a “Crappy Pappy.” Meaning, he’s an older man past the prime of his life, who would spend the rest of his days as a crotchety, cantankerous old man. Walter’s the mean old man next door who would yell at you for stepping on his lawn, would say something rude just to get a rise out of a person … would yell out “Slow down, kid!“ to any teenager who drives just a little too fast past his house.
Walter is also the type of man who had no qualms about shouting out plain old racial slurs to any person who was different than him. Whether it was the young 27-year old Catholic priest, the white “Vanilla Ice”-type teenager, or the Hmong people who slowly have taken over the neighborhood where he lives … he always found something crude and rude to say about them.
“Stay off my lawn, Punk!”
In the beginning, the first-generation Asian-American gal in me found it pretty darn funny. The comments Walter would make under his breath were every stereotypical racial slur you would expect; some more crude than others. He’s a guy, as my good friend Kara would say, with a bad case of “verbal diarrhea.”
There came a point, however, when I found myself getting more and more annoyed. Not so much with what Walter may have said or done, but more about how the crowd around us reacted to those racial statements. As strange as it may sound, I started to feel rather … uncomfortable (for lack of better words) with my surroundings.
It’s not that I was mad or upset about the dialogue in this movie, because after all, Walter is supposed to be that type of character; one with no inhibitions about saying such racial slurs aloud. What, I guess upset me more, is that the primarily non-Asian crowd kept laughing and laughing and laughing about each inappropriate comment made. (I mean seriously people, how many times can one laugh about the multiple suggestions / innuendos that all Asians eat dog?!) It came to a point where it felt as if the comments Walter made were every single thing that many of the other movie-goers wished they could say out loud on a daily basis … without, of course, sounding unbelievably politically incorrect.
Maybe I’m making too much of a big deal about this. Or maybe I’m not.
I just know, from my experiences as an Asian-American, that most of our backgrounds are such that we (collectively as Asians of any descent) are known as a “quiet culture.” A culture that isn’t known to raise a “stink” about social injustices against our “people.” A culture that, quite frankly, is known to just “suck it up” when it comes to having things said or done against us.**Â And if you see “Gran Torino,” you will be able to see that part of Asian mentality … especially during the firsthalf of the movie in scenes with Thao (or “Toad,” as Walter calls him), the male Asian lead character.
I, myself, find a bit of my personality in Thao’s sister, Sue — “Americanized” enough to know how to stick up for myself, but still feeling a bit of an outsider amongst the rest of the world. (I’m nowhere near as “straightforward as this chick … but I can so relate to her experiences!)
In any case, it’s your opinion, as a reader to decide whether I’m making this issue to be more than it should be. What I do know for a fact is that “Gran Torino” is justa movie. And a well-written one at that. Because what happens in this movie … what happens with Clint Eastwood’s “Walter” during the course of the movie is, without a doubt, phenomenal.
And really, who better to direct this movie … to star in this movie as Walter … and bring up such sensitive issues than Clint Eastwood? Personally, I think he should be, at the very least nominated for Best Actor during this year’s Oscar race.
Go see the movie (if you haven’t already). And tell me your thoughts.
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* The Detroit area, particularly the city of Warren, has one of the largest Hmong communities in the nation. Another one of the reasons why it was so cool that Eastwood filmed “Gran Torino” in the area.
** As I re-read this post, I realized that there has been an even more recent incident involving Asian-Americans in the Detroit area. Most Asians are very familiar with the Vincent Chin story, as this sparked the first instance of solidarity among Asian groups against hate crimes. However, not many Asians were aware of another incident that happened about 2.5 years ago to Chonburi Xiong (who, coincidently was Hmong).
Please … I encourage every one of my readers to click on the links of these names above (or eventheseones) and read the stories. It is only by *knowing* that such instances exist that we can be aware of how our every day words and actions can affect others all around us.
I, myself, find a bit of my personality in Thao’s sister, Sue — “Americanized” enough to know how to stick up for myself, but still feeling a bit of an outsider amongst the rest of the world. (I’m nowhere near as “straightforward as this