Archive: About

Janet asked:

If you had to be one inanimate object, what would you be and why?

I’d prefer to be something functional rather than ornamental, but still a reliable product of high quality, so I think that I would be a decent camera in the use of at least a semi-skilled photographer. I picture myself as a compact camera (silver, I think) that fits easily into a purse or a bigger pocket for convenience. So maybe a Canon Elph?

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NancyPearlWannabe asked:

If you had to move in to an empty log cabin in the middle of the woods and you could only take ONE piece of furniture with you, what would you take?

I would go with a big, king-sized bed with a padded headboard and tons of pillows. That way, I figure that I can reconfigure it to act as a couch, but there was plenty of room for eating, fidgeting while I read, and general sprawling. Another candidate was our big sectional couch, since I just about fall asleep as soon as any part of me hits that microfiber, but I thought I might need more surface area to make up for my general lack of furnishings. I also considered going with a hammock, but that is too rustic even for me. I need my back support.

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(A different) Janet asked:

You win 100 pounds of anything (except money). What do you get?

The practical (and devious) side of me immediately thought, “Gift cards!” But I don’t think that is the point of this question, so I will lay that aside. Other possibilities ran through my mind like Swedish fish, lip gloss, and antibacterial wipes, but these all seemed rather, ah, flighty. My final answer, then, is books. When I really get down to it, I always want new books, and I bet one hundred pounds would cover a bunch of classics I have missed, memoirs of great people, and exciting novels. Oh, and let us not forget the crossword puzzles! Amen.

Previously: Lent, hypothetical actions, superpower, television, favorites, hypothetical money, decisions, babies

heidikins asked:

What would you do with an extra $100 bucks? A thousand? A million?

and Operation Pink Herring asked:

If you won $10,000, what would you do with it?

As I started to write up my responses, I realized that I am incredibly, boringly practical even with mythical prize money, so here are both fun and functional uses, even if I would stray to the latter, if left to my own devices.

$100:

• Fun: A new climbing harness, a big clock for our living room to replace the one that fell to its gory death last year, or a nice dinner out.
• Functional: Binders for storing our CDs, baskets to hide all of our pantry clutter, new bed pillows, or a slipcover and new throw pillows for our old couch. However, I would most likely save it right now because I am on a self-imposed spending freeze until I visit my sister in DC this summer, where the shopping will be intense and fruitful. I guess that’s not so much functional as it is delayed gratification, but it’s certainly not fun.

$1,000:

• Fun: A digital SLR camera and a tripod. A slew of new clothes including good walking shoes, a bright trench coat (maybe teal?), a hip-length black coat for the winter, a non-black pea coat, and knee-high black boots. If that doesn’t exhaust the money, I will also replace my baking equipment.
• Functional: A deposit into the braces fund, most likely, but maybe a new laptop for home.

$10,000:

• Fun: A cruise! Alaska or the Mediterranean, please, depending on the size of the room.
• Functional: Two semesters of very expensive graduate school. Or paying off a big chunk of our mortgage.

$1,000,000:

• Fun: Paying off the house, plus finding and buying our dream lake house (on some yet-to-be-determined lake) and a boat for JG.  Oh, and I get a kayak and the rights to decorate the lake house any way I want.
• Functional: Plugging a chunk of the money into retirement, donating to our church’s building addition, and sponsoring as many adoptions as possible.

Previously: Lent, hypothetical actions, superpower, television, favorites

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!

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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.

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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.

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Anna asked:

What is your favorite word? Least favorite?

Loquacious. Irregardless (insert scream of rage).

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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

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.

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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.

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