ilubmoney

My sister Teresa visited me over the weekend, and it was fun-filled enough to where I think I need to chronicle it (both as just a pleasant memory and also as a reference for ideas on where to take out-of-town guests while they're here).

Warning: image-heavy post ahead.

( Saturday and the Death Cab Concert... )

( Sunday and San Francisco... )

( Monday and the English tea shop... )

It was such a great weekend. I'm glad to have this time now to catch up on things I need to do this week, including making this update. :) More photos on Facebook if you happen to have me friended there.

She wrote this for me when I came home for Thanksgiving. Funny how it's written on an old invoice/receipt, too. :)

I feel like I need to make my posting quota for today, so I'm gonna share this tidbit from earlier today with you guys (at someone else's encouragement).

I went to my volunteer site today, and I was asked to help out a class of six- to eight-year-old students instead of my usual class. A seven-year-old boy -- whom I suspect has some kind of reactive attachment disorder -- was really "cuddly" with me today, and he kept hugging me all day. As he and I got ready to read a story on the rug together, he sat on my lap, and we had the following exchange.

Boy: How old are you?
Me: How old do you think I am?
Boy: Thirteen!
Me: Nope! Much older! Try again!
Boy: Fifteen? Eighteen? Twenty-one? Thirty-five?
Me: Twenty-four!
Boy: Are you married?
Me: Nope! Are you?
Boy: Yes!
Me: Oh, really? So where's your wife?
Boy: She's sitting next to me right now! (He tries to give me a kiss on the cheek.)
Me: OKAY, I think it's time for you to sit down on the rug. (I gently push him off my lap.)

[Later, while I was reading a story about pets...]

Me: Wow, that's a lot of pets! Which one do you think the little girl should get from the pet store?
Boy: She should get a slug. (He points to a pair of snails.) Look! This one is you, and this one is me. I'm the boy slug, and you're the girl slug.

He also deprived a classmate of a pillow to sit on when it was time to watch a movie. He was saving the pillow for me.

Is it sad that the only romantic overtures I'm getting lately is from a 7-year-old who might have reactive attachment disorder? :P

From today's Postsecret:

"No puedo olvidar la pequeña sirena quién me canto tan dulcemente. Eres una fantasma hermosa que vive en las ruinas de mi corazón quebrado."

(Translation: "I can't forget the little siren who sang to me so sweetly. You are a beautiful ghost that lives in the ruins of my broken heart.")

That's one of the most beautiful secrets I've read on Postsecret. <3<3<3

Teresa's friend filmed Jenny one day and uploaded this brief clip on YouTube. :)



Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there! :)

Chocolate covered cherry cookies, YOU ARE MINE.

(If these turn out successfully, I know what I'm giving people for Christmas this year!)

I brought Jenny along with me to get ingredients for the cookies. I had just bought the Beatles' Love CD yesterday evening, so that was playing in the car.

Jenny said, "Let's hear another song." So I changed to the next track. "Another one!" So I changed it again. We continued this way until "Eleanor Rigby" came on.

"This song is funny!" she exclaimed. "Leave it on this one!"

I'm pretty surprised she likes this song considering how much she likes pop music, and "Eleanor Rigby" is decidedly not pop.

The next song that came on was "I am the Walrus." She liked this one, too, and she'd break into petals of laughter whenever they sang, "Koo-koo ka-choo."


...

I just had one of the cookies. They're good, but not as good as the ones that Jack's mom made. While the flavor was similar, mine ended up crunchier than desired. Once I adjust the recipe for chewier cookies, it'll be fit for gifting. :D

Something very bad has happened to my computer. I wish I could get a professional to look at it physically, but as it is right now, I'm trying to get a coworker to help me out on the phone or email instead. (Using my parents' computer to update.)

A couple of days ago, while I was doing a scan on my computer, little Jenny walked up and sat next to me.

"What game are you playing on your computer?" she asked.

"I'm not playing a game."

"What are you doing? What is that?" She points to the anti-spyware scanner. I thought for a minute and tried putting it in terms she could understand.

"Well," I began, "my computer is sick."

"Sick?"

"Yeah." I pointed to the scanner. "This thing is like a kind of doctor. The doctor is checking my computer to see if it can make it better again."

"Oh!"

Yesterday, I was doing another scan. She walked up to me and said, "Your computer's sick again?"

"It's been sick for awhile."

Jenny watched the images of the files "floating away" from a computer to a file folder. She pointed to the floating files. "What is that?"

I thought about it. "It's like the computer's... coughing."

"Is your computer breathing?"

"Yeah, it's still breathing! Wanna hear?"

I pulled her into my lap, and she turned her ear towards the quietly-whirring hard drive. She touched the part where the hard drive is. It's warm.

"Your computer has a fever," she said very gravely.

This morning, Baby Jenny and I sat on the stairs for a minute.

"Jenny," I began, "I just wanted to let you know. Tomorrow, I'm going on a trip. I'm going to be gone for a long time."

There was a sudden, cognitive moment in her eyes that caught me off-guard. She wanted to cry, but not in that loud way that babies do. It was quiet sadness, a resigned acceptance.

"But I'll be back," I added. "Remember when I went to China? That was six months. That was a really long time, wasn't it?" She nodded, her eyes wet.

"I'll just be gone for 2 months," I said, showing with my fingers. "I'll be back before Thanksgiving, okay?"

Baby Jenny was really quiet. She leaned over and hugged me fiercely. I couldn't hold back anymore and started to cry a little, too, kissing her on the forehead.

"Let's have breakfast!" I said cheerily, wanting so much to restore her happy little soul. "I'll make you Happy Face Eggs!"

"Okay!" she piped, and we headed to the kitchen where I quickly made her Happy Face Eggs: two sunny-side up eggs for eyes and a smile made of soy sauce.

I love Baby Jenny so much. I'd cook her Happy Face Eggs every day if I could.

I can hear Dad playing Hide and Seek with the little kids. He's counting loudly so they can all hear, and everyone's quietly found a hiding place except for Jenny.

The countdown's making her really nervous. She's yelling at him to stop counting so she can find a hiding spot.

"Okay," he says. He starts counting over again. "One, two, three,..."

Then the phone rings, and he picks up the phone. By this time, Jenny's found a hiding spot somewhere in Peter's room.

I know this, because she's yelling at Dad from Peter's room saying, "Okay, now, Daddy! Daddy, you can go now! NOW, DADDY, NOW!" But he's still on the phone, handling some business.

About 2 minutes later, he hangs up. She storms into the room, indignant. "Daddy!" He's trying to explain to her the point of the game, that she has to be quiet when she hides. The other kids go out of hiding to see what's going on.

"Okay, let's start over! One... two... three..."

Oh yeah, I forgot, I wanted the chance to use my "Baby Jenny" icon.

I miss her! I talked to her on the phone a few days ago; she's been updating me about her new yellow bathing suit and the family pets. She saw the fish "pee in the bathtub." She probably meant poop in the fishtank.

Okay, that's all. You can now go back to your regularly scheduled programs. :)

Some links-dropping.  Both are videos from Wong Fu Productions. 

Yellow Fever, a rant on why there are practically no Asian guy-white girl couples, and one guy's quest to find the answer why Asian girls go for white guys. I like how Philip's shirt says "Bai ren kan bu dong," which translates to: "White person/people look don't understand." Yeah, I'm not exactly sure either, but if you do, please tell!

The Coolest, Corniest Wedding Gift.

This is one of my favorite memories of Baby Jenny.

I was working on my laptop one morning when she walks up to me with a bright, green, balloon giraffe.  Jenny raises the giraffe to my face and taps it lightly on my cheek. 

"It likes you!" she declares cheerfully, making kissy noises.

---

"This picture of you is too blurry," I said to her.

"But I like it!  It's my favwit."

One of the neatest gifts I've received this Christmas was from my brother Paul.  He gave me a whole world.

An EcoSphere.

It's very cool.  It resembles a snowglobe, but instead of plastic trinkets, it's a mini, self-supporting ecosystem currently with two tiny shrimp occupying its spaces.  All I have to do is keep it between 60 and 85 degrees (at a consistent temp) and give it indirect sunlight for 6-12 hours a day.  And occasionally clean it via magnets. 

Here's a camera phone photo with my hand by the globe, just to give you an idea of the size.



I want to name my two shrimp (shrimps?).  Thinking about giving them pretentious French names, like Giacomo or something like that.  Hehehe.  Beats calling them Shrimpy and Brill. Knowing me, though, I may end up calling them that if I can't think of names I like for them. 

I <3 low-maintenance pets!  I wonder if I should take them to China or leave them in the care of someone I trust.

Edit @ 12/29/05: Just a postscript... I named my shrimp Giacomo and Jean-Luc in case anyone's wondering. I think "Giacomo" is an Italian name, though.

My Christmas cards came in the mail today, and OMG you guys, if you don't leave me your address, you'll never get to see how freaking cool these cards are!

Well, okay, you can take a quick peek:



I would LOVE to send YOU one of these cards.  So please leave your address at the poll linked above, or email me with your address at ilubmoney (a) livejournal DOT com.  If you already left an address in the poll, you've got an envelope with your name on it already. :)

Also, for midnightstars and whoever else enjoys Postal Service/Death Cab songs, you might enjoy this song by West Indian Girl.  It's got very mellow, ephemeral qualities.

MF and I had a bit of a tiff last Friday.  I had been upset by a careless comment he had made.  After we talked it through and resolved the issue, I hugged him apologetically, and he hugged me back.  Then he said, "It's just so attractive when you get mad, though."

"What?!"

"Well, it is!  Like when I make a stupid joke, and you suddenly walk off like that.  It's so attractive!"

"Weirdo!"  It's hard to be mad when he associates me and attractive in the same breath, though.

I don't know, the whole, "You're cute when your mad" thing can't be healthy in a relationship, can it? 

You know, I didn't really believe my roommate when she said Zoe-Zoe was a "teenage" cat because Zoe's so playful like a kitten and had that squeaky kitten voice in her more mature cat body.

She woke me up this morning with a broken kitty voice.  I thought, "Oh my goodness, my kitten's hit puberty!"  :O

The new things I learn about cats every day.  :P