Category: Chinese Cousins

Sweetsgiving (#330)

I love sweets. But as a kid with a ton of siblings and not enough money, sweets only appeared in abundance for special events.

My parents’ weddings had cake. Birthdays began with doughnuts. Halloween had candy. Christmas had cookies.

Thanksgiving? A total letdown. My mom and stepfatherspent hours trying to get their homemade cranberry sauce to come out of a ridiculous antique rose mold. It molded properly exactly once and ALWAYS tasted bitter. And pumpkin pie? Could there BE a blander pie?

My dad made the only decent Thanksgiving dessert—apple pie. So of course our Labrador retriever Toffee got on the counter and ate it. Continue reading Sweetsgiving (#330)

Cousins: East & West Edition (#301)

When I was a kid in the Dark Ages, we wrote letters instead of texts. My first pen pal was my cousin in Florida. She was a decade older than me, but she was kind enough to write back and not point out all my spelling mistakes. In third grade, I was a flower girl at her wedding. It was the first time I ever met her.

I wanted my son to have a closer relationship with his cousins—even though we were an entire continent away from them. Whenever my siblings gathered for weddings, holidays, or birthdays, we flew across the country to join them.

Though we used miles whenever possible, my frugal Chinese-American husband complained about the cost, or about how it wasn’t a “real vacation” if we were visiting family. Continue reading Cousins: East & West Edition (#301)

Lost in Translations (#254)

I find names and the naming process fascinating. Giving someone a nickname is often a way of expressing affection—or dislike. My parents divorced and remarried so much that we sometimes had as many as three different surnames in our households, but God help the poor classmate who referred to my stepfather as “Mr. Ashbough,” (the name of my mother’s ex-husband).

God also help whichever sibling my father hollered at using their full name—middle name included.

When my husband and I married, we put a lot of thought into hyphenating both our names. Andy’s Chinese-American parents objected. Their arguments were illogical, hypocritical, and downright ludicrous, but I was forced to concede.

Years later, I was still pissed. Continue reading Lost in Translations (#254)

When Lions Eat Lettuce (#114)

Gung hey fat choi! It's the Year of the Monkey! (Better give the lion some lai see if you don't want to get eaten, Monkey.)
Gung hey fat choi! It’s the Year of the Monkey. (Better give the lion some lai see if you don’t want to get eaten, Monkey.)

Early one February, Andy asked if I want to go to dim sum with his aunt, uncle, and cousins on the weekend.

I said, “So long as you don’t make fun of me for not eating the chicken feet.”

“But they’re so good! And you won’t even try them!”

I shuddered. “It’s the toenails. If you have to spit out toenails, you cannot pretend you’re not eating another creature’s feet.” Continue reading When Lions Eat Lettuce (#114)

Surname Siege (#80)

Knight looks elsewhere
Guess who’s the white pawn?

Last you heard, our interracial lovers got married and flew off into the sunsets of Playa del Carmen.

It should be the end of this blog, right? I mean, West met East, fell in love, got engaged, and got married, and lived happily ever after. End of story.

In fact, the battles had only just begun. Continue reading Surname Siege (#80)

Anchor Babies (#79)

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My friend M recently passed a young woman with a pack walking alone on a deserted rural road in the United States. In the rain. Now, I’d see this as a potential opening scene for a horror movie. M saw it as a Nicholas Sparks book. M stopped and offered the soaked young woman (we’ll call her “Anna”) a ride. Continue reading Anchor Babies (#79)

Don’t Open the Door (#70)

Wedding Banquet
The Wedding Banquet — courtesy of Cineplex.com

In Ang Lee’s The Wedding Banquet, the Chinese bride and groom collapse in their hotel room after an exhausting wedding. There’s a knock on the door. The bride goes to answer it. The groom tries to stop her. Too late! All the young wedding guests pour into the hotel room, carting tables, chairs, booze, and supplies for potentially humiliating sexual games. They set up shop and party. Questionable, regrettable activities ensue.

The moral of the story? Never open the door. Continue reading Don’t Open the Door (#70)

If Your Number’s Up (#56)

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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)

A Question of Cake (#49)

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I love cake. Okay, I love all baked goods, but cake is the best. It was my favorite part of all my parents’ weddings. It’s STILL my favorite part of every wedding. I do enjoy the dancing now that I bring my own partner, but while I’m dancing with Andy, I’m totally eyeing that four-tiered, fabulous, elaborate, fondant-covered wedding cake in the corner. Continue reading A Question of Cake (#49)

Taboo, or, Why a Chinese Math Stereotype Exists (#18)

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Cards from the game “Taboo.”

It was Game Night with Andy’s aunt, uncle, and cousins. Technically, Auntie and Uncle weren’t involved in the gaming. (Well, this sort of gaming. I learned about their love affair with Las Vegas later.) Continue reading Taboo, or, Why a Chinese Math Stereotype Exists (#18)

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