Number Two

So its been a very very long time since my last post. But I'm back and I have so much to share. Since then Z and I got a dog (a drooling boxer we named Blue), got married, moved a couple of times and had a baby! Baby O is what we shall refer to her as and of course the love of our lives and Blue's too I think... All the cliches are true about having a baby of your own, they rock your world, they are so perfect..yadah yadah yadah but what I found more fascinating since having Baby O and what really connected us to everyone else whose had babies was baby poo. Yes, Baby O's bowel movements instantly became the topic of conversation the minute she was born because it was so important that babies poo'd and how it looked and now Z and I would discuss it constantly and I find myself sharing stories with strangers and other moms over coffee about Baby O's latest and greatest number two event. Its not something that I set out to do talking about number two all day. It just happens. We meet up for coffee or dinner, catch up on things and talk about babies and boom! We talk number two. It just happens. It just does. Buts its amazing how far we've gone in our relationships to be able to talk about it so casually like a Sunday stroll. I guess for some it is a Sunday stroll. I know I never really talked about it with anyone pre baby, well maybe on rare occasions with my sisters because BS loves to talk and share and now I know why. Because when you're constantly changing diapers and wiping butts it becomes less of a big deal. It humanizes the whole event. And I love it. Heres a toast to number two because there is no avoiding you.

Greetings from Hawaii

In the past few months I have been living my life like a Gypsie. I have moved from California to Texas to Hawaii. Z got a great opportunity to move to Hawaii so we thought, Why Not? And away we went. I have pictured myself lying on the beach in Hawaii but not actually living there. Especially in Hilo, Hawaii. But its Hawaii so lets not think so hard, said The Middle Sister, so here I am :)
Since I moved to Hilo- “Humble Hilo” as I like to call it, I’ve been spending my free days visiting and revisiting my local Goodwill store. I go at least twice a week. I’m sure the people who work there recognize me by now although I try to keep anonymous. So far they haven’t let on that they recognize me from a day ago. I wonder what they think of me, this girl who shops at Goodwill twice a week.
I wish I could get chummy with the employees there so that I can get the inside scoop of the next big delivery or have them hold some great stuff for me but unlike BS I have a hard time chatting up strangers and making them my BFF in 10 minutes. So here I am at Goodwill, row by row, isle by isle every week hoping to find amazing pieces of vintage clothing for BS’s vintage line, and some great home décor for my new home. What I couldn’t pack or ship to the island I left at home in California or sold it at the Long Beach Flea Market that BS and I held a week before I moved. To my surprise, most of my things sold like hot potatoes at the flea market including a painting and my “Itty Bitty Birthday Hats” that I hand made and paper mache’d for my nephew’s birthday party.
The flea market was the perfect ending to a great era in California. I received a lot of great feed back on my work (the painting I sold was on the Nate Berkus show!) and genuinely had a great bonding experience with my sisters. Being a middle sister wasn’t so bad that week....
And now in Hilo I get a clean start. Everything is slightly more expensive in Hawaii so thank goodness for GoodWill. Its a great excuse to get out of the house and kill a couple of hours. Its not shopping, its Goodwill right?
I miss my boys, I miss my days goodwill hunting with BS and the friends I left behind but I've never been happier here in Hilo.

~The Middle Sister

Oh, Hello...

So in my time here in Austin I’ve seen sunshine, I’ve not seen rain but I did see a certain man riding a bike in a thong. He just breezed by on his bike like any ordinary day, his wrinkly petite buns out for the world to see basically saying “kiss my A**”.
And a couple of months later Z swears he spotted the same man in a thong running at the park. Now that to me is too much freedom of speech. I don’t believe an ass should need to see that much sunshine. An a** should not be seen or heard in public, just admired, felt or grazed from time to time.
A man riding a bike in a thong is something that I would see when I lived in San Francisco so it was a sweet irony that I saw that here it Austin. I never expected sweet ole' Austin to have men in thongs running around too so its almost as if San Francisco is saying “hey Middle Sister, we miss you..” Yep, seeing a wrinkled a** in a thong breezing by will do that to me, another proof that my love affair with San Francisco will never die. And for the man in the thong, I personally would never have the balls to do that but apparently he does (no pun intended of course). Kudos to him. He sure made my day a little more interesting.

Eat, Sweat, Austin

So…here I am in Austin. I’ve been here for two weeks now and I think I am finally acclimating to the heat. The first week and half was brutal. Z’s air conditioning in his car decided to quit in August, the middle of summer! It wouldn’t be that big of a deal if it wasnt 106 degrees outside and if I didn’t sweat so much. In the first 10 minutes of being outside I am drenched in sweat and that is NOT an exaggeration. As dry as pie, Z would look over at my sweaty self and kindly ask if anyone else in my family sweats this much. Perhaps it’s a disorder? Uh, no. Just me. No one else sweats like I do in my family. Even my sisters look at me like I must be from another mother. I wonder too sometimes as I sit here in Austin melting away. The days are too hot to simply take a stroll. I look out the window and see people biking and running in this heat and wonder…ARE THEY CRAZY?
Apparently I must look like the crazy one. By the time we reach our destination I am soaked from my own perspiration. It looks like I just completed a marathon when actually we drove to dinner. Windows down, hot air blowing in our faces Z and I look at each other and just smile. Happy thoughts. Grateful thoughts. COLD thoughts pretending that it doesn’t matter that the air conditioning doesn’t work. We are better than that….yeah…
But I’m happy that I’m here. Minus the Texas heat Austin is an awesome city. The people are very friendly. I love that there is a strong artistic community that is active in supporting local artists and I love how genuinely eco conscious everyone is here without taking it to the next level of pretentiousness. The food is to die for especially the BBQ ribs at The Salt Lick. It has quickly become our favorite spot in the Hill Country of Austin.
For two weeks I am left to fend my own entertainment as Z heads back to work. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with myself but one thing for sure is air conditioning is a must.

AIRPORT

My Chinese Sausage was almost confiscated by airport security. I was pulled aside by a man in uniform and asked to search my bag. With a gloved hand the man shuffled through my carry on bag yet found nothing. Confused, he returned it back to the tech guy in charge of the x-ray machine. A red flag went up again yet the gloved man couldn’t figure out what it could be. Then finally after re-examining the video he found it.

“Ah Ha! Here is the problem!” and he raises my pack of Chinese Sausage in the air.

“What?! My Sausage?? Are you really going to take my Sausage?”

My heart just stopped. My trip to Austin was a long awaited one that has been booked and rebooked. I’ve packed and repacked my life into one suitcase and a carry on bag. Its not easy trying to simplify your life into one suitcase so when you finally do decide what goes with you and what stays there is a possessiveness that overcomes you when someone threatens to take it away like stealing a baby from its mother.

UH UH, DO NOT MESS WITH MY SAUSAGE. Everything in my bag was carefully chosen. The sausage is a staple in my culture. If you ever leave home for more than a couple of days, you always pack one in your bag as a just in case. A just in case there isn’t a China town near by or a just in case you are starving and there is nothing to eat (cause that’s gonna happen in Austin), or a just in case you’re just simply home sick. The sweet and saltyness of the Chinese sausage with some steamed white rice will always do the trick. Anyways back to gloved man who has my Sausage in his hand holding it hostage. Seeing the fear in my face he said he won't take my Sausage but he did see something he has to confiscate: my Bath and Body Works Hawaii scented lotion. Now that was also ridiculous because it was only half full so it should have met the minimum liquid requirement for a carry on but most importantly, how can anything with the title “Hawaii” be a threat?? Alohhhaa!

Whatever, I didn’t want to argue. I just got my sausage back. Which right now was a bigger relief. You just can't go far without your emergency sausage stash. My mom would be very concerned. So good-bye Hawaii lotion, I’m sorry you have to stay behind. I will just have to pick up another bottle in Austin. I’m sure those men are lathering it up back there in the break room right now.

Confession Sessions with O

I miss Oprah. After 25 years she ended her show with a bang. This was a bang that was watched around the world and even talked about in the nightly news. Every last show banged with surprises, tears and lots of hugs. But what I missed most was MY chance to hug it out with Oprah, to cry on her shoulder as I shared with her my journey as a Middle Sister. The struggle of being in the middle, of having an older sister who thinks MMR (men, marriage and relationships) is as simple as an oil change while also trying to maintain my “cool” status with the little sister who is convinced now that she is older that she is way more cooler than I am. I have become more of a vintage form of “cool” if I can even be considered cool at all. Well if you ask me, cool is not even cool anymore.

In my desire to be cool I am sometimes reminded of that strange lady at work who I share the elevator with from time to time. Without disappointment this lady takes me back to the 90's. Every time I see her she has on the classic ½ inch pumps and a bad perm that she hairsprays and teases into a big puff 3 inches high above her head. I am amazed every time I see her. I wonder where she gets her hair done and importantly I wonder what is going on in her head! Does she not see that no one else has that hair do anymore or that color eyeshadow? I admire her and yet sadden at the same time for her. She is definitely an example of someone who has not been able to move on and let things go. So it brings me back to LS. I don’t want to turn into the 1990s Lady from work just to impress LS on how cool I can still be. The last time LS thought I was cool was the late 90s so I gotta just let that one go and keep it there otherwise I will become the next miss 1990s and I would rather let the special lady shine in all the glory herself. She definitely deserves to.

But if I did have a chance to have dinner with Oprah what would I share? How about the time BS threatened to cut my long beautiful hair when I fell asleep (which to this day she still maintains a slightly evil snicker as she shares the story). Its almost scary that it seems to be her most favorite memory with me that she likes to share. The beauty of having sisters are the memories we cultivate and share growing up together yet I just don’t know how beautiful of a memory that story is BS.. My memories of BS growing up always had Madonna playing in the background. A little Melrose place and Beverly Hills 90210 about sums it up. Oh, and I can't forget the Keri Lotion that she generously lathers on her thick calves every morning in my cousins Toyota pick up truck as he drove us to school. She would place her legs on the dashboard and me being squished in the Middle (as usual) couldn't see anything but her thick legs until we arrived at her school and dropped her off.

I need Oprah in my life. I have two sisters, great times, great memories, yada yada.. but the only Sister that I ever felt that could really appreciate this Middle Sister was Oprah. Maybe that's a slight exaggeration but its partially true...There are a lot of things I could make into a show for Oprah. She just hasn’t heard it all yet. Good news is shes done (with the show) not dead so I still have a chance. We can call it “Confession Sessions with O".

The eve of a New year...

There is only a few more hours left of this year, 2010 and I am spending it with Charles...(Shaw that is), a delicious, heat in your own oven Chocolate Lava Cake from Trader Joes and a chick flick. It can't get any better than this. The only thing really missing is Z.

Despite being self convinced that this Middle Sister is sh** out of luck as far as love goes in the earlier part of '09 and settled to the fact that maybe I was just meant to be an Aunt to 3 nephews as my life calling, this Middle Sister found herself in a relationship despite it all. It is still not as easy as a cup of coffee as BS makes it sound but he is a great guy. I approached the earlier stages of our relationship a little rough around the edges (having never attended the warm and fuzzy school) yet Z has shown me patience and affection and has been my constant amist my chaos for the past year and a half.
But as 2011 rolls in I have mixed feelings about this new year. Z's job is out of state so now I worry about our state: Will we make it with the distance or will we become GU (Geographically Undesirable)??

I have no idea what is in store for this new year. All I know for sure is that there is always Trader Joes and Charles Shaw and this delicious Chocolate Lava Cake to calm the jitters and warm the soul. 2011, what will be, will be. I had a great 2010. Its bitter sweet to say good bye but its time to say hello. Happy New Year and a great one to all. May there be lots love, wine and good food.

Love,

Middle Sister

Gucci

Rest in peace my Gucci sunglasses, may you rest in peace.

I’m sorry I dropped you on the cold, dirty concrete then accidentally stepped on you sliding you across the wet bacteria ridden ground. If you haven’t experienced dirty things I guess now you have.
As I picked you up, Z found it hilarious. I found it terribly sad. There is no way to hide the evidence. The scratches were deep and ugly like after one those terrible acne breakouts. With the money we pay to have a Gucci like you in our lives you’d think you would come with life insurance.
Rest in peace my Gucci, Rest in peace.
We’ve seen some great things together and some questionable things too. You were my first “name brand” and now probably my last.

Good bye Gucci, Hello Cheapy.

What I learned from listening Hip Hop Music:

'1-4-3'
means I love you. Apparently back in the days of the Pager that was the code for I love you. I completely missed that era.

Tooted and Booted
is the new "wham bam thank you ma'm" of 2010. I still don't get it. "Tooted" doe not translate to anything sexy to me. Am I the only one who feels this way?

Ice Cream Paint Job
Its about a guy who got a nice paint job on his car. I believe he calls it Icecream Paint Job because of its shine from the turtle wax.
It must be cream color too.

And then there are the commercials that are played over and over on these Hip Hop Stations.
I now know that the Lap Band can help me lose weight AND my insurance can pay for it!

Since moving back to SoCal I've been spending more time in my car. I'm so glad my brain cells are not wasted aimlessly on the 405 freeway somewhere.
Thanks Power 106. I learned that thats where Hip Hop Lives.

Chinese New Year

Chinese New Year comes around every year in February and every year our dining room table becomes a mini shrine of some sort filled with plates of fruit and other offerings to our ancestors and the house is filled with smoke from the lighted incense in celebration of this holiday. And every year that this happens I am confused because we are NOT Chinese. Its like as if my mom is celebrating Black History month to me. She might as well..if you're gonna go Chinese you might as well go Black too. I have never really asked my mom why she does this but this year we finally had the "talk."
"Mom, I'm not Chinese, are you?"
"No, I NO Chineese"
"Okay...then why are you celebrating it??"
"Just Cause..."
"...thats what people do..."
"...its good luck"
Oh, anything for that good Ole Luck. So who cares if we are Cambodian. Cambodian, Chinese, same thing everyone claims. We all probably got a little Chinese in all of us my cousins would say. And that is that. My mom's answers to important questions are as accurate as her cooking lessons. Her recipes would always consist of, "oh, just little this and little that."
"No measure. Just use your finger."
"I just know... that's when you know."
And that is that.
I always walk away with as much knowledge as I came in to it with. Nothing more, nothing less.
So its been decided: I am relying on BS to teach my kids about our family traditions and cultures. Love you!
And That is That.

Crossing the Line...

Panty Line: the wikipedia explains it best as "a situation when the outline of a person's underwear is visible through the clothing." Annoying to see and a fashion offender.
I have always appreciated people with great fashion sense and those that follow basic fashion etiquette but a thong on a 65 year old which I can see through from her white capris is wrong. Definitely a thong gone wrong. While I appreciate her conscious effort to make sure she doesn't have a panty line because we all know that a panty line is always a no-no in fashion I think we can make an exception for those ladies over 60 years old. In fact they are expected to have panty lines. They even have their own line of underwear called "Grannies." So Grandmas, ladies over 60 please put them on. It's the right thing to do. Forget those thongs. You've done your time now throw them out.
I'm not trying to be mean or facetious. I have great respect for my elders and appreciation for them but I also believe in aging gracefully. So if you cant wear a thong gracefully, don't do it. That's all and that's just this Sisters two cents..

This thing called 'Affection'

Middle Sister Confession #2
I suck at this thing called affection.
Growing up I use to watch Full House and pretend Bob Saget was my dad or that the Brady Bunch was my family. Affection always looked easy and alot of fun. I loved how at the end of the show the family hugs it out and you just get this warm and fuzzy feeling that you are loved. Sigh….
And then I remember we are not the Brady Bunch. Not even close.
My family and I don't 'hug it out' like the Brady Bunch. Nor do we sit and talk about our feelings.
I didn't realize that that could be an issue or it was 'strange' until I started having my own relationships with people who are a butterball of affection with a hug for everything and continuous affirmations of I love you’s, I miss you’s, and I feel’s about a dozen times a day...goodness gracious. Is that what I've been missing out on?? It’s exhausting for someone like me who's never had to do it.
Growing up my sisters and I just knew we were loved despite our lack of affirmations being declared everyday at every hour from our mother. But it is interesting to realize that now as adults I might be the only one of the three of us who is affection handicapped from this lack of growing up.
Watching BS with her husband and family she seems unaffected by our upbringing. Words of affection like babe, honey and I Love You’s pour out of her like a hot cup of coffee, like she’s heard it all her life...it makes me wonder, has she?? Did I really get jipped? ( My mother does play favorites with the three of us…)
And as for LS, although she is still young I can already see that she has no problems with affections. According to FB she is very comfortable being touchy feely and even giving her girl-friends smooches on the cheek. Not this Middle Sister. Nuh Uhh.
But I wish I was a butter ball of affection. I wish I could blurt out words like Babe, honey and I Love You’s to my special Beings too and give smooches on the cheeck to my girl-friends too..maybe. But I am affectionately constipated. It’s there inside me. I feel it. I want to say it. I want to hug it out but I cant. It comes out awkward. Or just never comes out at all. If only there was a laxative I can take for my affections to come out more smoothly. I sometimes worry that the people I love and care about will never know how much I really do because I am so affectionate handicap. I can cut you paper hearts and make pretty things that says I love you and I can write it in a card but I cant say it. So until they create some sort of affection laxative I am going to write it in a letter.

Love,
Middle Sister

We say Potato, Mom says...????

I've been spending more "quality" time with my mom. I shifted from working in Corporate America to working for a small business owner who answers to the title "Mom."
I've been hired and fired from this establishment more times than I can count on my fingers and toes but now I've grown to enjoy it. It's a relief and a break from the stuffiness of the corporate world and a bit comical too. So I am proud to say Cafe Espresso is now my current place of employment. Apparently I got hired without a resume because I was so impressively charming :)
This year Boss Mom brought in a new menu to Cafe Espresso offering more sandwiches and drinks. I have to say they are all truly delicious. The customers are excited and so is she. For Boss Mom making great sandwiches is easy and reputable but pronouncing it is another story.
When Boss Mom is around our Citrus Sizzle Smoothie will be chopped up to,
"Ssisle-sissle".
Unabashfully Boss Mom would yell:
"Order Number 23...SSISSLE-SSISSLE!"
A confused girl will show up with the number and my mother will ask,
"Yes what you order?"
"A CITRUS CIZZLE Smoothie..."
With a big smile Boss Mom proudly presents her smoothie replying,
"Yes- here, SISSLE-SISSLE. OK thank you."
Pico de Gallo has been referred to as,"CINCO DE MAYO"
Our delicious Carmel Machiato has been yelled out as,
"CARMEL MACCA-CATTO"
And always trying to go that extra step for her customers to guarantee satisfaction Boss Mom encouraged a customer who always orders her special Chinese Chicken Salad to don't be afraid and ask for more GARBAGE if he would like on his salad.
The look on his face is priceless.
I turned to him and whispered-"She means CABBAGE"
Boss Mom is very keen on giving great customer service but sometimes it is not always understood. But my mom has come a long way from where she began having arrive here via airplane in 1980 from Cambodia escaping the horrific Khmer Rouge. Finding herself a single mom with not much to get by with in a foreign country she did what she could, really taking what we Americans call the "Land of Opportunity" for all its got. She learned most of her English on the streets of Long Beach through conversations with people and reading menus.
In retrospect, its amazing how she doesn't speak in Slang because the streets of Long Beach isn't the most proper place for practicing English. But due to her relentless ambition to succeed here regardless what form of English she is speaking she has been able to run her own business and be her own boss. And now she is my boss...for the time being.

The Rules

In the circle of friendship between females there are RULES. Its the golden rule, the Unspoken Rule: we don't date each others' exes or any bad boy that did one of us wrong. Its considered tainted. Leftovers. Most girls understand that. Its something that need not be spoken. Once a relationship is over we all move forward and on to the next as a pack. We are loyal to one another. One of my favorite quotes that I take to heart and like to relate to all my friendships and relationships is, "never above you, never below you, always beside you"..... not maybe lingering behind you to see if maybe he's a better fit for yourself!
I had a girl-friend whom I thought knew and understood the rules. But it turns out she never got that memo. It really worries me. This friend, lets just call her Michelle just for the namesake of this story is shady like a FAKE pair of Gucci. Thank you to Facebook I discovered her lingering behind when I clicked on to see her "Labor Day weekend" photos where she was suppose to be "out of town" but somehow ended up in a familiar backyard...
Shady like a fake pair of Gucci and a Fake pair of Gucci she will only get.
And Boys will never understand this. Why I am even bothered. They think it must be more about the boy than this friend of mine to be so upset. How I still must care for this NOT so stellar guy. How I must still want him. Wrong. Very Wrong.
In contrast, I called Big Sis when I discovered this fake Gucci and she understood right away. So did my other girl-friends. A betrayal of friendship is more hurtful than a betrayal of a not so stellar guy. Plenty of fishes in the sea. But girlfriends and sisters are priceless.
Without a second thought this friendship ended and I was angry for a bit but its okay. I live my life with integrity. I realized that I can't be mad at those who choose not to do the same or have never learned how to. I can only count my own blessings and I am quite blessed because this Middle Sister has the Real Gucci's Shades...
What a coincidence :)

Prayer Etiquette?

I always wondered if it was bad to pray lying down.

I've heard stories about the power of a simple prayer. But I wonder, of the prayers that were answered, were these people laying in bed when they prayed? Because that's what I do and I don't know if my prayers are heard because this truly hasn't been a year to brag about.
My most heartfelt prayers are usually when I am lying in bed...sounds almost wrong but no, this is rated G for everyone. I hide in my bed when I'm not having a great day so that's when and where I find myself feeling the need to throw out a little prayer. But I always felt a bit guilty for not getting out of bed and doing it the "right" way or universal way which is on down on your knees. The humble way. But I am humble. I am beyond humble that I am past my knees and on my back (totally Rated G).
I know I am blessed in numerous ways but I just wonder if because I pray on my back rather than on my knees does that mean my prayers are pushed to the bottom of the pile? Or filed away under the "reply later" folder? Geez Lou-weez. These are very important questions and I wish there was a book on it so at least I know I am not offending anyone up there. But I guess all I can do is eat, drink and be merry despite it all. As long as George Micheals is in the background singing his song "Faith" to me I guess I will just keep on dancing and praying even if it sometimes feel like I'm shooting blanks. Like fishing, if I fish long enough I might eventually catch the right "fish" so if I keep praying maybe something will come through...

A piece of Cake.

Graceful might not be the best word to describe this Middle Sister. At least not when it comes to me on a bike. I can't even remember the last time I had ridden a bike. It might have been way back in the late 1980's when I just got my training wheels off and rode in circles everyday in my enclosed backyard. I have never ridden my bike beyond those enclosed gates. And now 27 years old- an adult, I cannot gracefully ride a bike in public. I am so freaked out by all the cars and people around me that there is no such thing as a stroll around the block for me. My hands are tight on the handle bar, my eyes are forward and focused. Do Not run people over and Do Not get run over. That is the ultimate goal for this 20 minute bike ride.
I am trying to be more active. More "outdoorsy." But who are we kidding? The last time I rode a bike was in the 1980's. My definition of outdoor fun is going shopping at the local farmers market or outdoor flea market and a long walk on the beach...
But I am trying to expand my horizons. Push myself to do something "edgier" plus I want to impress my new guy. I have always lived more on the cautious, timid side. Played it safe. And now I have this urge to take life by the horns! Or at least outdoors...but unfortunately the first bike ride in over 10 years with Middle Sisters new boy wasn't as graceful or pretty as I had pictured it in my head. There were a few close calls and we were only going to the grocery store to pick up some garlic for dinner. I'm not sure if he'll want to take me out in public again and I don't blame him. I wouldn't take myself out again.
Middle Sister + bike + public streets = not a good idea.
I think I should go back to my walks for the sake of my relationship and everyone else's safety. I'm gonna stick to what I do best- eating, walking, drinking wine and being a Middle Sister.

Middle Sister Confession:

I steal magazines from the doctors office and I am NOT ashamed.

I like to believe I am an honest person with great integrity. I live with high considerations as to "What Would Buddha Do?" -except for when I am at the doctors office. But I only started stealing magazines a few weeks back when LS had to go to the ER. The waiting room is a dreadful place to be and we've been to numerous doctors offices since the ER visit and paid hundreds of dollars just to see the doc. for 10 minutes. Time is money and our money was spent waiting for a doctor that was over an hour late with a very unfriendly receptionist and to top it off our fees are not even going to cover the cost of the pending surgery. So I took it upon myself to help myself to a magazine or two if its a good issue. Its the least I can do to justify the time wasted in the waiting room. Sure, I'll bring the magazine back if I remember to because I'm sure that's what Buddha would do...
But I am not the only one in the family who does this. BS is even worse. I'd say she's borderline clepto when it comes to "missing" Magazines. At least I take my time and browse the magazine and then maybe nonchalantly slip it in my large handbag that I happen to be wearing that day. With BS, she comes in and before you even blink she has done a swipe of all your magazines that she sees fit. And this isn't just limited to doctors offices either. She smoothly does this at nail salons, hair salons, my car, my purse and my house. I decided I am going to hide my magazines in my underwear drawer. She wouldn't dare go there. Little Sis on the other hand is not into magazine swiping like her older Sisters but likes to suspiciously "borrow" my clothes and strangely stores it up on the highest shelf and deep in the back...which in my opinion is an odd thing to do if she is planning on wearing it and returning it.

Jinxed?

Its been said that trying on someone's engagement ring is bad luck if you are a single women. Every girl knows of this Old Wives tale but its one superstition that no girl wants to test whether or not they believe in marriage or the superstition itself because if not marriage they at least want a chance at love. We all strive for that love that lasts forever. And as you get older how you define love and what you expect out of it changes. I remember sitting with the girls on the playground singing..."First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes (Middle Sister) with a baby carriage..." But that isn't going to happen to this Middle Sister thanks to Big Sis.
I wouldn't necessarily say I am a superstitious person in the sense that I make all my decisions based upon crazy Old Wives Tales but I will say that some of my paranoia is from these superstitions and my monk. And now 5 years later I just remembered how much against my protest Big Sis made me try on her ring. She literally pinned me down and put that darn beautiful ring on my unwed virgin finger to "see what it looks like on" me. So now reflecting back it all makes sense. All the bad dates and heartbreaks was because of Big Sis. Because she made me try on her engagement ring. Middle sister has a bad Big Sister!
Well, to be fair (partially because she reads this) I guess it's still too soon to say its all her fault. I still have time. And I did meet a very sweet guy whose is still climbing that wall but I guess only time will tell if this Old Wives tale is true...but how long shall I wait to point the finger?
Needless to say I definitely believe in marriage. I believe in that piece of paper and sealing the deal with a diamond. Screw Woman's Independence! Screw New Age philosophy on love. Give me the ring. Open my door. Buy me flowers. Thank you. What women do for their husbands or the man they love are priceless. Amen my Sisters, Amen. As jaded as some people think I am I still believe in love and still have hope even if my monks says otherwise and even if my Big Sis may have Jinxed me. Its just too bad I can't buy it with my credit card. It would be soo much easier and less time consuming. But don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining yet. I love that as Big Sis stays home and organizes her play dates, I am at my house getting ready for my hot dates :) I'd say that's a mighty great trade off.

Good Bye San Francisco...

My days are now filled with Diaper Cakes and potty breaks (And no, they are not mine).
Even if I was a Middle Sister of another mister I still wouldn't recognize myself. The days of strolling through art museums by day and wine bars and who knows what else in San Francisco by night are absolutely gone. I miss Polk street where I use to live and Union Street where I worked and all the bars, restaurants and taxis at your fingertips. I miss not having to worry about DUI's and everyone having a great time. Most of all I miss having Napa and Sonoma as my neighbors. Its been two years since I moved and I visit often but its still not the same as living there. Now being a "visitor" of San Francisco it feels like an itch I just can't quite scratch all the way. Not quite satisfying but enough for the moment.

But I am the one who decided to move back home. I decided I wanted to be with my family again. The city was getting to me. I was done having only myself to be concerned with and plus the boys suck there. I was tired and done with the party that never ends. I wanted to be Aunty T-T. I wanted an active role in my nephew's life. I missed out on most of Big Sis's wedding preparation and fun and that is one of the greatest things about having sisters, experiencing those special moments that we talk about forever- weddings and births and I missed most of it.
But I must say be careful what you wish for because I got everything I wished for and more. I did get to witness the birth of my 2nd nephew since I've moved back which was amazing BUT I now also make Diaper Cakes, have Barney and Friends on my Tivo, and I attend more baby showers and Elmo parties than I do Happy Hour. I dream of Diaper Genies where I once dreamed of Gucci and Prada.
Middle Sister and the City no more.
There are moments where I do miss being where my artsy stylish ways were appreciated. Not so much around here. Sandals and machine washable clothes are now the norm.

I left San Francisco while I still loved it. That is the only way to go. I left before it jaded me and took away all the spark I still had left for life, love and happiness because city life can do that to you if you stay too long. If I had the opportunity to move back I still might. My heart is still there as much as it is here now. The adjustment from City life to Suburban life was very hard but now looking back I have never felt more fulfilled than I do now and the ironic thing is I have less than I did before and as far as life goes and what to do next I am more in the "middle" than ever. But a good friend of mine said its much better to be in the "middle" in SoCal where the sun always shine and the beaches are around the corner than freezing cold San Francisco. Kudos to that. I love you San Francisco but I think I will stay here for awhile.

Its a Family Affair

There is no such thing as a small gathering in my family. Everything we do always includes a cousin or two or five. And words such as "Private" and "Intimate" do not exist in our vocabulary. We will always know what you did last summer or last night and even a minute ago. You can bet that even our cousin in Cambodia will know about your bowel movements and whats in your bank accounts before you do.
Our In Case of Emergency number should really be listed as a 1-800 Call My Whole Family type phone number because that's really who you will reach if God forbid anything happens to one of us. Its completely annoying most of the time but comforting when it truly is a case of emergency situation. You will never be alone in such stressful, scary cases but before you shut your eyes and say goodnight you can bet your socks that one of our cousins in Cambodia and their co-workers will hear about your colon and your past gyno exam. Why? Because they are all NOSY disguised as "caring" for your well being :)

Little Sis had to go to the emergency room due to excruciating pain in her abdomen. The good news is that Little Sis was never alone during this scary time but the bad news is she was NEVER alone even if she wanted to be because unfortunately everything IS a Family Affair. So as she answered those personal questions that doctors do love to ask you can bet your socks again that her family was there and more alert than a triple shot of espresso waiting to hear her answers (yep, now we really know what she did last summer...) The good news is that it was just her Sisters in the room and even better news is that she is gonna be fine.
The only bad news is the medical bill that will NOT be a family affair and the only time where we will be given our "personal space".