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.