Ripped (#191)

In elementary school, I was the tallest and the strongest. In 5th grade, I was the only student awarded the Presidential Physical Fitness medal. By sixth grade, I was 5’8,” with size 10 shoes.

By high school, I had crushed all contenders in arm-wrestling. I didn’t see the need to get stronger. But my best friend needed to be able to do a single pull-up in order to make it into the Air Force Academy, and she needed a friend to support her – literally. Every morning before school, I held her up under the pull-up bar in our high school gym until she gained enough strength to manage a pull-up on her own. When it was time for her AF physical, she actually did TWO whole pull-ups and we did about fifty girly squeals together afterwards. Continue reading Ripped (#191)

When the Cavalry Sucks (#181)

You know those big, dysfunctional but lovable white families you used to see in television and film? They were all about siblings being super shitty to each other. Yet when one member of the family was threatened, the family closed ranks and fended off the attacker.

I grew up in a huge, white, broken, dysfunctional family.

I thought those stories were bullshit. Continue reading When the Cavalry Sucks (#181)

A Talk with Jay (#108)

P1000104
Back to paradise with the in-laws! And oxymorons!

Hope everyone enjoyed the winter holiday blogging break from my in-law issues. Break is over! We now return to Hawaii, almost 2 months after I married Andy.

When last I left you, Andy’s parents, both born in China, insisted on the Daughter-in Law Tea Ceremony, thereby showing me I ranked somewhere around servant status.

Next up was the Chinese wedding banquet, filled with my most least favorite foods. We triumphed only because Andy can eat ALL the food.

Then Andy’s mother tried to re-establish control over Andy with a curfew. Andy refused to be curfed.

You’d think that would be more than enough familial stress.

Wrong. Continue reading A Talk with Jay (#108)

Lights Out (#99)

IMG_5041My father had a terrible temper. When he unloaded a barrage of profanity at the washing machine, my siblings and I fled. God forbid his gaze landed on you when he was pissed – you could easily be the next target. On the other hand, you couldn’t go completely out of earshot. If you did, and the man needed a hammer or wrench or rag, and you weren’t there to supply it, you’d definitely get hit with the next blast of fury. Continue reading Lights Out (#99)