Happy birthday Dad!

This post is dedicated to my Dad, who turns 53 today. My family has a great tradition of making scrapbooks for people on major birthdays, including stories from extended family and LOTS of pictures. For one of my Dad's major birthdays (50th I think), I made a page that listed a lot of memories I had with my Dad. I thought I would share a few with you.

The day my sister was born: This is the very first memory I have of being alive.


I was almost three years old when my sister, Beth, was born. My Dad doesn't usually cook, but since my Mom gave birth, Dad had to step up to make breakfast for me. Scrambled eggs are one of the few things my Dad knows how to make. At the time, I did NOT like scrambled eggs. I remember watching my Dad make the scrambled eggs and either saying or thinking, "Dad, I do not like scrambled eggs. I don't understand why you're making them for me because I will not eat them." Being only three years old, I doubt I succinctly expressed my issues with the meal to my father, and either threw a fit or ate them (because I was such a good daughter, of course). I slipped back into unconsciousness after this event so I don't remember how the meal ended.


The day I broke my sister's arm: This is both Dad's and my least favorite memory, but I will share it with you anyway.

First, I must preface this story with another story from earlier the same day. During the summer after kindergarten, the Slip n' Slide made its debut at our house, and let's just say it was my FAVORITE THING EVER. I used it so much, I wore holes into it. I was always trying to find new ways to go down it because the usual (safe-ish) way got old after a while. To spice things up, I decided to go down, palms up. You can imagine where this is going. As fate would have it, my middle finger got caught in one of the holes, bending my finger backwards and fracturing a bone in my hand. It started to turn purple and swell up, but my parents figured I had just bruised it (I guess?).

Now, to the rest of the story. At our old house in rural Virginia, we had a large front yard that was the perfect size for playing baseball (at least for a six-year old). My sister and I loved to play in the evenings, and even though I had a fractured, swollen hand, I decided to play anyway. No pain, no gain, right? I was pitching, my Dad was in the outfield, and Beth was up to bat. Tossed her a ball and she smacked it towards Dad. She's running the bases, and Dad throws it to me. I chase her to home, and as she slides in, I try to tag her out with my foot. Snap! went her arm like a twig. She starts crying like crazy, I start crying like crazy, and my Dad is freaking out. Off to the hospital! X-rays confirm her arm is broken, and while we're there, the doctor checks out my hand. X-rays confirm it's fractured. My parents are asked to leave the room, and the doctor asks a social worker to come in and ask my sister and I what the heck happened to us. We're both still balling. I feel so guilty, and we tell her exactly what happened - me explaining how I broke my hand on the Slip n' Slide (you can't make that up) and then how I am a jerk of a sister and broke Beth's arm. They bought the story, and Dad took us home. Beth was the center of attention with her cute, little cast and her story about how her sister broke her arm.

And Beth has never let me forget it.


One more story that I did not include in the original post: When I was in 7th grade, I was having a hard time making friends, you know, the usual teen angst. My Dad decided to go to work a bit later than usual and give me a ride to school. I was more than happy to ride with him instead of take the bus (I HATED riding the bus, but that's a story for another time). He knew something was up and that I seemed kinda down. So instead of give me a pep talk, he decided to start singing "I Feel Pretty" from West Side Story. It was just about the most hilarious thing my Dad has ever done, and I had the song stuck in my head for the rest of the day. Every time I hear that song, I remember that time in the car with my Dad.  

Some other memories include:
• We would play on the playground at DuPont
• You took me to Father-Daughter days at DuPont
• I ate way too much ice cream at a DuPont carnival
• We fed the ducks at the Gypsy Hill Park
• We sat out cookies for Santa (i.e., Dad) every year.
• The snow piled high outside and we made snow cream
• I ran into the only tree in our yard while riding a sled
• We traveled to Virginia Tech for football games
• “That’s all I need…and this lamp.”
• We went to Staunton Braves baseball games
• “It made me so mad!”
• We watched the A’s play in an amazing game at the Oakland Coliseum

Happy birthday, Dad!

Ten Years

I was writing a post about the construction of the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge and all the Chinese steel that is going into it, but another matter is more pressing and more interesting to write about.

"The future is built on brains, not prom court, as most people can tell you after attending their high school reunion." - Anna Quindlen

Today, I set up a Facebook group to start the planning of my ten year high school reunion. That's what I get for running for class president - the opportunity to plan reunions until the day I die. When I decided to run (and campaign like my life depended on it), I had no idea that I would have this responsibility after graduation. To be honest, as soon as graduation was over, I was hoping to be done with Buffalo Gap. High school wasn't a bad experience, but many things occurred that I could have done without: a boyfriend who dumped me in front of "everyone" at school, a teacher who called me the "worst class president" she's ever dealt with because I missed one meeting, and Girls State where I realized I would never EVER join a sorority.

But a lot of great things happened too. I attended the Shenandoah Valley Governor's School, played on the inaugural varsity soccer team (we lost almost every game 9-0, but I was in the best shape of my life!), learned "Lytton Latin," and made lifelong friends. I have already reconnected with old classmates that I haven't heard from in years. Some say, though, that Facebook has killed the need for high school reunions at all. Part of me agrees, but part of the fun of reunions is to actually see classmates, meet their husbands or wives, figure out who changed the most, who lost all the weight, who was a nerd and became a dreamboat, who turned out to be gay.

Any guesses on the over/under of classmates with babies?

Movin' on up!

Mike and I just moved into our new place, and boy, did we have a lot of stuff to move! Since we both love to cook and have lived on our own before, we had a lot of duplicates: electric mixers, cups and plates, wine glasses, TVs. So I've been on Craigslist a lot lately trying to get rid of a few things. Speaking of which, does anyone need a fake Christmas tree? That's right, we have two Christmas trees...

But what was even funnier was all the things we needed to buy. Shelves for picture frames, a stronger stand for our 29-gallon fish tank, a kitchen trash can, a small table for our record player. So many things left the apartment to go to Goodwill or a new home, but so many things came in, too. This move has allowed me to take stock in the things I own and what the actual value is. Do I really need to keep all these books I've read or have no plans to ever read? four different types of volumizer for fine hair? No. Thirty bottles of wine? Yes, those are very important (I'm not kidding). My mother's paintings? Heck yeah, those are going up on my wall! 

Duck Confit via Cooking for Geeks

What matters most is that Mike and I make more room for our friends and family in our new life, not all the stuff. Dear God that sounds sappy, but it's true. That means sharing those bottles of wine spontaneously or learning how to make a new dish together, like duck confit (Mike is playing with the duck head as I write this), or offering our futon to a friend on the move (you know who you are). 

And now I am going to read "How to be a Domestic Goddess."

M.I.A. but with Good Reason

I apologize for my blogging absence. I have been traveling like it's my job, and as I write this, I am sitting in the Oakland airport waiting for a flight to Chicago. At the beginning of the month, I traveled to Seattle for a conference. Seattle is an amazing city, and I think we all agreed that its restaurants have the best happy hours ever!

From Peru!

From Peru!

On May 12, Mike and I left for a ten-day trip in Peru, which included hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu and eating guinea pig. The trip was amazing! I wouldn't call it a vacation because there was nothing relaxing about it. I think adventure is a more appropriate term. The trek itself was the most physically-demanding thing I've ever done, but every sore muscle was worth it. We saw Incan ruins everywhere, camped under a starry sky for three nights, saw gorgeous orchids all along the trail, and had the best camp food imaginable. We woke up early on the last day to see the sunrise at Machu Picchu. As the sun began to light up the mountains behind Machu Picchu, the clouds swirled around and finally reveled the ancient city. Absolutely incredible. I took almost 500 pictures, but I've narrowed it down to 120 for you to view.

One is always prepared for potential culture shock when visiting a new place, especially one with a large population in poverty. But what about the culture shock of returning to America?

Well, our plane is getting ready to take off now. Off to another adventure!

Earth Day

I didn't realize it was Earth Day until I was reading a Facebook post encouraging everyone to take public transportation, drink tap water, and pick up trash around their neighborhood. When I was at Virginia Tech, we used to have a large celebration on the Drillfield with the cycling club tuning up bikes for free and groups selling Earth Day t-shirts made of organic cotton. In Berkeley, I didn't see any celebrations, but I would be incredibly surprised if nothing was going on. Maybe I need to get out of lab more often...

I didn't know much about the history of Earth Day until I read the Wikipedia article detailing its inception. Earth Day was founded by Senator Gaylord Nelson, who was also an environmental activist and is always held on April 22nd. Senator Nelson came up with the idea after the major oil spill off the coast of Santa Barbara in 1969, which ranks 3rd after Deepwater Horizon and Exxon Valdez spills. Washington was not responding effectively to the situation, and the disaster significantly affected wildlife. So Senator Nelson decided to set up a "teach-in" modeled after those that focused on the war in Vietnam. This first Earth Day on April 22, 1970, marked the beginning of the environmental movement. And now you know how Earth Day began.

When I typed in "Earth Day" and "China" into Google, I came across a blog on the San Francisco Chronicle website discussing this very subject. China is facing a major environmental crisis as its waters and air become more and more polluted each day. Its lax regulations allow multinational (and Chinese) companies to escape the laws that protect the environment from toxic dumping. While China is trying to address environmental concerns with its announcement of a 40-year plan, its growing economy and population will make serious action difficult. They cannot continue with "business as usual," to burn the short supply of coal for electricity or refuse to beef up environmental and safety regulations. Otherwise, they can look forward to more disasters like the toxic spills in the Songhua River and thicker air pollution.

And while our environmental standards are higher than China's at the moment, we are certainly not saints when it comes to protecting our environment. We need to accept that our giant cars and inefficient coal plants are affecting the climate. Earth Day reminds us to take a look at our footprint - and do something about it.

Cheap American Labor - Wait, what?

The other title I wanted to give this post was "Swedish Bastards," but I have several friends in Sweden and love them dearly. Also, I couldn't resist posting this image with it, so I apologize if I offended you.

For those of you like me who love Ikea, the following article is a good read: Ikea's U.S. factory churns out unhappy workers. My favorite quote: "It's ironic that Ikea looks on the U.S. and Danville the way that most people in the U.S. look at Mexico," Street said.

And everything I would say about it can be found here: Ikea's Third World outsourcing adventure - in the U.S. Thanks to Katie for the link!

This story is certainly going to put a damper on my next trip to Ikea when my boyfriend buy furniture for our new apartment! It's hard not to sound excited though...

In the Papers

A couple weeks ago, my mother sent me a few articles from The Straits Times in Singapore. No, it was not about the murder of a cat. The articles were about good things going on in China. She's always been a contrarian, bless her heart. And now she's trying to change my mind about China and all the terrible things that are happening. Right? Aren't people unhappy?

The titles of the articles were:

China farmers' online sales bearing fruit: Website sales boost their incomes, helping close the gap between rich and poor

Wanted - Super Maids: Demand in Chinese cities for competent domestic help surges

Young migrants opt to stay put in China cities: Overburdened cities find it tough to integrate those who decide not to return to villages after work stint

In the first story, the Chinese farmers find a way to sell their vegetables and fruit to the cities through the agricultural trading website. For one woman, 55-year old Wang Yulan, her yearly income doubled to over $5,000 and she doesn't have to leave her home to sell her goods. Addressing the growing gap between the rich and poor is high on the list of Chinese officials. They understand that having this gap can lead to discontent, unrest, and ultimately revolt (maybe U.S. officials should take a cue from China...). There are still many issues including access to health care and developers grabbing land, but this story is an example of improvements for poor, rural farmers.

"Wanted - Super Maids" was a really fun article to read, and I apologize for not being able to find it online for you. At the top of the page, my mother wrote, "Not all is gloom and doom in China!" The story is about contest on Chinese national television that could be called "China's Next Top Maid." Teams of maids compete for the title of Top Maid and also for special contracts. For example, one of the maids in a contest won a contract for 5,000 yuan a month, making her the highest paid housekeeper in the Hunan province. The demand for maids is so high that Chinese are hiring Filipinos illegally (sound familiar?) because these maids can speak English and are known to keep house well. One agency even auctioned the services of 10 "super maids" at the Special Talent Auction. The pay for maids is also pulling university graduates away from potential jobs they would obtain with their degree.

At the top of the last article, my mom wrote "A reason to buy Chinese Products!" This article follows 21-year-old Li Biying, who works at an underwear factory. She started working at the factory when she was 14, making the lining of bra cups. For every 12 pieces she makes, she earns 20 cents. If you know how much a Victoria's Secret bra costs, you probably have steam coming out your ears. But Li loves her work. She has assimilated into the urban culture and wears high-heeled boots with faux fur to work. Not everything is perfect for Li. She works 14-hour days, only has one day off a month, and her dorm only gets 20 minutes of hot water a day. It's probably better than her life in rural China.

So what should I take from all of this? As I wrote this, I realized that many parallels exist between China and America. Immigration issues, the gap between the rich and poor, urbanization, the list goes on and on. How we address our growing urban population, the need for health care for everyone, our energy use, and our role on the world stage may give China insight into how to solve its own problems.

Or maybe we'll learn something from them. Thanks for keeping me optimistic, Mom.