Do you remember all the lovely food at your wedding? The cuisine that you carefully selected in advance? The hors d’oeuvres of bacon-wrapped scallops, chicken satay, or asparagus goat cheese brioche? Can you recall the taste of the prime rib, or the mushroom ravioli?
About a month before I was to marry my Chinese-American fiancé, the first groomsman bailed. This was Andy’s friend from high school, nicknamed “Salad.” Despite the fact that we’d been at Salad’s wedding in Hawaii the previous year, Salad wilted in the face of his new wife’s worries over the lengthy flight from Hawaii to New Hampshire. I figured Baby Greens were on the way. Continue reading If Your Number’s Up (#56)
It was my engagement weekend at a very ritzy hotel in South Pasadena with my Chinese-American fiancé. My white family was several time zones ahead on the East Coast. Andy’s parents live in Hawaii. Andy’s parents were the first to find out we were getting married.
Three days into our trip, and I hadn’t really talked to the mother of my Chinese-American boyfriend. Sunny gave me a lei at the airport and promptly ignored me. She made sure Andy had his favorite foods, pressed Chinese herbs on him, and even insisted that he take an electric blanket back to Los Angeles, “where it is so cold.” Continue reading Chinese Mom Envy (#7)