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