Archive: April 2008

In a move that was totally unrelated to my spate of sickness, JG and I conspired to take a common day off from work today! The resulting two-day workweek was completely unintentional, I swear. We slept in a little, and now we’re off to take advantage of the gorgeous spring weather and see the new blooms and fountain shows at Longwood Gardens. Then we’ll putz around the house before we go to the rehearsal for our friends’ wedding, which takes place on Saturday, when the weather is also supposed to be lovely. Hooray!

On that note, I present answers to your questions about my favorite things. Happy Friday!

- - - - -

heidikins asked:

What is your definition of a perfect day, start to finish?

Clear skies. About sixty degrees. Zero humidity. Slight breeze. JG takes Ted for his morning walk while I wake up naturally, without the aid of the alarm. We drift around in the morning, watching the news or The Soup. I score some major bargains online with a gift card, plus free shipping. I finish three New York Times crossword puzzles in a row, and Ted sits quietly by my side throughout. JG grills up burgers for lunch and we eat outside on our beach chairs while Ted noses around the yard. There are no bugs. After lunch, we drive two miles to the local park and walk Ted around on the hiking trails. Later, we tether him to a tree as we read and doze on a blanket on the grass. In the evening, my hair behaves itself while I get ready for dinner. JG and I head to the Half Moon, and we order the barbecue pork spring rolls as an appetizer and I try a new moontini flavor. We walk over to La Michoacana for ice cream, and I (finally!) sample the corn flavor, but end up choosing mango. At home, I’m happy to see that my pictures from the afternoon are frame-worthy. I climb into bed with my current book and the happy knowledge that I don’t need to set an alarm for the next day.

- - - - -

Jess asked:

What’s your favorite beauty product–the one you can’t live without and/or use every day? Or if there’s more than one, I want to hear about all of them.

I am so ignorant and lazy about beauty products — although I like to think of it as “low-maintenance” — that this answer will be the most boring of all. Does Vaseline count as a beauty product? I really can’t live without it.

The less-boring aspects of my beauty routine include Bare Escentuals (because someone taught me how to apply them), eye shadow from a taupe-y CoverGirl compact, and Maybelline mascara. On second thought, I see that it’s all boring. Yawn. I am lost when it comes to lip gloss; how does one choose? Sephora overwhelms me.

Oh, and my fragrance is Clinique Happy, and I love it.

- - - - -

Anna asked:

What is your favorite word? Least favorite?

Loquacious. Irregardless (insert scream of rage).

- - - - -

Laurel asked:

What was your favorite outfit in 8th grade?

I don’t remember exactly, but if my 8th grade class picture is any indication, I had strong brand loyalty for The Limited Too. That day, I wore a pale yellow turtle neck, a knitted argyle vest, light-rinse jeans, and topsiders. The jeans featured slightly tapered legs and a nice, high rise. I still had my terrible bowl haircut as residual damage from my gymnastics days, and I had just traded out my red, “paint-splattered” glasses for much cooler, gold spectacles. If that weren’t enough, I smiled like Chandler Bing in that picture. Shudder.

Previously: Lent, hypothetical actions, superpower, television

While I squandered the first two days of this workweek lying on the couch in a sickly pallor, Ted enjoyed the rare opportunity to spend time outside his crate. He is not completely housebroken yet — which will be remedied this summer, if all goes as planned — so I have to put him in his crate when I leave for work. Judging from his activities when I was home with him, Ted sleeps all day, so there’s no need to pity the imprisoned doggie. Getting to hang out in the living room with me was quite the thrill for him, despite my invalid status.

On Monday, I held Ted on my lap and overdosed on A Wedding Story, What Not to Wear, and various HGTV fare. He got restless every now and then, and I had to pop him into his crate whenever I needed to make a cup of tea or microwave something, so it wasn’t the best situation. We had a pretty good day together, but that night, I mused to JG that I wished I could have walked Ted around the house on a leash. That way, I could give him some freedom of movement, but I wouldn’t have to chase him all around if I needed to catch him.

“Well,” JG said, “why don’t you?”

Huh.

My time at home on Tuesday went much more smoothly. Behold!

I managed to get the loop of another leash under the foot of our couch, so Ted was restricted to the area around and under our Ikea coffee table. He ambled around contentedly, sniffing for his toys. In his efforts to follow his new favorite one, he wound himself around the table legs, and it was very amusing to weave him back around to untangle himself. Eventually, though, Ted hopped up on the couch to sit with me, and he fell asleep in sundry adorable positions that almost made me forget my weakened state. He’s a good bedside companion, that Ted.

Get your daily dog dose with Smalls, Kaya, Rufus, Ben, Gus, and Zapp!

Noelle tagged me to share seven things about myself. She cleverly focused her seven items on insecurities, which I will now blatantly copy. Structure, how I love you. Plus, I am still recovering from my surprise spring cold, and the medicine fog has not lifted, so I need all the help I can get.

- - - - -

I think I have disproportionately fat arms. There is a distinctive dearth of button-down shirts in my wardrobe because I can’t squeeze my arms into a sleeve longer than mid-upper-arm. The buttons are stressed out, the seams gasp in anguish, and my arms look like sausages. JG always tells me that my arms aren’t fat because they’re strong, climber arms, but that is small consolation when a shirt that fits in every other way is practically busting out buttons at the cuffs. My solution is to wear a lot of sweaters to avoid the unflattering bratwurst look.

I have giant lips. I know, I know, celebrities are getting collagen injections to look like Angelina Jolie, but you know — I am not Angelina Jolie, and I can’t pull off these giant lips. I am loath to wear lip gloss because I feel like it makes my face scream, “Look! Look at my shiny, huge lips!” People with cute, petite lips have my instant envy. To make matters worse, I have huge teeth as compared to the size of my face. I swear, there is a picture from our wedding where I am busting out laughing and I look like a horse.

Speaking of which, I have a really loud laugh. Although it’s one of the things I like about myself, I am concerned that it makes people uneasy. Aside from the occasionally ear-splitting volume, I also throw my head back, which is unnerving and can lead to injuries, depending on my proximity to a wall or a railing. My laugh is not subtle, but it is genuine, so I always hope that that makes up for the obnoxiousness.

I love big words, but I shy away from using them in conversation because I don’t want people to think I’m trying to be elitist or I want to make them feel dumb. It’s just that, sometimes, the right word just happens to be a long one.

I am paranoid about following rules. I have thank-you notes stocked up at home and the office just in case I need to send one, and I buy wedding and baby gifts as soon as the registries are available so that I don’t miss out. I always consult the rules of board games instead of making something up. I ask everyone I can what they’re wearing to an event so that I can align my wardrobe accordingly. I try really hard to blend in, which may come as a surprise, since I was a textbook overachiever in my adolescence and inclined toward performance-driven activities. Part of this tendency probably comes from being Asian in a community that was and still is predominantly Caucasian, so I was noticed without doing much. I guess I think that failure to follow rules means that I have been unprepared, uninformed, or inconsiderate, none of which are acceptable options.

I hesitate to recommend my very favorite books or restaurants in the slight chance that the person won’t like them. What, then? Can we still be friends? So far, this fear has been unfounded, but I am always totally effusive about my love of whatever I’ve recommended, so it’s possible that people may not be completely honest in their review. There’s just something very vulnerable about making recommendations.

My deep interest in specific topics can come off the wrong way. I can’t help it — I really do love the periodic table. Isn’t it beautiful how the columns align to the valence shells of each element? And how the transition metals often display color changes as they go through chemical reactions? And how you can scale electromagnetism as you go across the rows? Isn’t it cool? Isn’t it?! I know, not everyone can relate. And I’m not trying to show off, it’s just that I am truly enthusiastic about chemistry and board games and vocabulary and all of that weird stuff. So please don’t get scared of the intensity and back away, despite the scary glint in my eyes.

#28

After a night of Nyquil-induced dreams of a cartoon Hillary Clinton and an 80s-era Nancy Reagan, I called my boss to let her know that I would not be at the office. Even the shortened walk around the block for Ted made my head spin, so the thought of sitting through my commute and holding vigil at my desk was hardly feasible. I’m having a hard time distinguishing the fog from my cold medicine and the cotton balls that have replaced my brain. My ears are buzzing, I can’t breathe in through my nose, and I’m going through boxes of tissues at an alarming rate. My heavy breathing is punctuated by wimpy, non-committal coughs and insistent sniffles. In short, I am a mess.

It happened. I crossed my fingers all winter long, but today, during the onset of spring, I have finally been forced to take my first sick day. If anyone needs me, I will be on the couch in an appealing cloud of chamomile and menthol. Heck, barring a miracle combination of liquigels and chicken noodle soup, I’ll be here even if no one needs me.