My husband and I went to go see Wicked at the Orpheum Theatre in San Francisco on Saturday night. It was a totally last-minute decision -- decided to go on Friday afternoon, secured babysitting on Friday evening (thanks, R & G!), and bought tickets 20 hours before curtain.
Earlier on Saturday, we went for a bike ride, and so we basically had about an hour to get ready to go out. We had no idea where we'd eat for dinner; we figured we'll just look around once we get there. We got to the city around 6:15pm, and finally after walking around for what seemed like an eternity (it probably was only about 20 minutes, but I was on heels and I never wear heels), we found a little Thai restaurant. Yum. After a leisurely dinner we got to the theatre with about 15 minutes to spare, and we found our seats. Perfect.
It turns out that we had pretty much the best seats in the house. We sat in row J, seats 101 and 103. That's ten rows from the stage, the two seats just left of the center aisle. We were within spitting distance of the singers -- we could practically count their teeth.
Once we got settled into our seats, I flipped through the program to look for familiar names, particularly in the orchestra pit. It turns out that the violinist was a guy that I knew from my Youth Orchestra and college days. My first year at SFSYO, I was sitting in the back of the second violins, while he was the principal second violinist. The next year, he was concertmaster. After Youth Orchestra, we both ended up in the same university, majoring in music. Of course he practiced much more than I ever did, so his music career flourished, while mine, not so much. I'd like to say it's on hold for now.
Anyways, I went to the orchestra pit and looked around. It was neat to see how the pit was so much more roomy than any pit that I'd ever played in. I found the violinist and said hi, and he said to meet him at the stage entrance after the show. Soon afterwards, the show began, and we thoroughly enjoyed the show. We had watched The Wizard of Oz in June at a local movie theatre (free noon movies during the summertime!), so the story was still fresh in our memory. It was neat to see the familiar story from a different perspective.
After the show, we went to the stage entrance and the three of us went out for a quick drink. It was neat to hear his adventures after college and to see what he's up to now. It's neat to see that he's a successful musician, enjoying what he does, and not struggling or starving.
It was a good day. Good family bonding time in the morning and afternoon, and then a good night out: good food (eaten hot! Without kids! No potty breaks!), good show (no potty breaks! No incessant questions!), and good meeting an old friend.
I hope to do it again soon. Who knows when though. Hopefully sooner than later.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Family Bike Day
We bought a bike trailer a couple of weeks ago off of Craigslist, and we took it for a 22-mile spin yesterday. We had a three-family, six-adult, six-child, three-trailer outing. We met at a friend's house just past 10am, and rode up the Iron Horse Trail to Danville, a little town about 11 miles away, to have lunch at a little restaurant called Chow. Then we rode back, returning to their house around 3pm, and got home.
It was quite an adventure. My husband managed to load our two bikes plus the new trailer (which we discovered isn't collapsible) into the minivan, which is a feat in itself. Once we arrived at the starting point, it took a good amount of time to get everything set up and ready to go. We finally got going (my husband pulled the trailer with both kids in it), but had to stop quite a few times along the way due to certain events including screaming children, a flat tire, and a wheel that fell off (these were all separate events). Thankfully nobody got hurt anywhere, and the return trip was uneventful. We returned sweaty, happy, and safely. And the kids who needed it napped in the trailer. Bonus!
Once we got back, all twelve of us had some ice cold water (Coke for those who wanted it) and popsicles as a reward.
Unfortunately I didn't think to bring a camera. Sorry. You'll just have to take my word for it that I actually voluntarily made myself sweat.
It was quite an adventure. My husband managed to load our two bikes plus the new trailer (which we discovered isn't collapsible) into the minivan, which is a feat in itself. Once we arrived at the starting point, it took a good amount of time to get everything set up and ready to go. We finally got going (my husband pulled the trailer with both kids in it), but had to stop quite a few times along the way due to certain events including screaming children, a flat tire, and a wheel that fell off (these were all separate events). Thankfully nobody got hurt anywhere, and the return trip was uneventful. We returned sweaty, happy, and safely. And the kids who needed it napped in the trailer. Bonus!
Once we got back, all twelve of us had some ice cold water (Coke for those who wanted it) and popsicles as a reward.
Unfortunately I didn't think to bring a camera. Sorry. You'll just have to take my word for it that I actually voluntarily made myself sweat.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Handy Daddy
A couple of months ago, we found chipped paint on the floor in the corner of the kids' bathroom. We had no idea where it came from. A little bit later, I saw that our bathroom mirror, a hulking 74" x 42" glass behemoth (yes, I just measured it right now with the tape measure), had come completely unattached from the wall, and was precariously kept from falling to the floor in a billion pieces by the medicine cabinet. So, being the handy woman that I am, I just pushed it back against the wall, and declared it fixed.
Then a short while later, we found the mirror decided to now push the bathroom counter off the wall, and slide down the wall, behind the cabinet. I asked my husband if he could fix it. "Nuh uh" was the response. I threatened to call a handyman and *gasp* spend money to get it fixed. "Knock yourself out" was the response. Okay! I felt like I was just given carte blanche. I went onto Facebook and asked if anybody knew of any handymans in the area, to fix our mirror. A friend quickly responded with a phone number, a website, and glowing reviews of how the guy was so friendly and professional. So I gave them a call on a Friday night, and left them a message. I figured that since it's a Friday night, I won't hear from them until Monday morning. I think I probably let a couple weeks pass before I called them again. They finally got a guy to come out for an estimate, and it took another week to get the estimate.
These guys wanted over $500 to fix the mirror.
Never mind. We'll try Plan B.
Problem is, what's Plan B? I didn't want to hop back onto Facebook and ask for a different reference since I'm sure my friend would ask what happened to the guy she so glowingly reviewed, so I just sat and twiddled my thumbs.
Just over a week ago, I was driving home from preschool when I saw a van on the freeway: Daddy and Daughter Handyman and Maintenance. There was a phone number on it, so I figured why not give them a call. So right there on the freeway, I pulled out my Bluetooth (stinkin' cell phone law!) and called them up. I thought I'd get a receptionist or a daughter or something, but nope, I got the Handy Daddy himself.
Two days later, he was standing in our kitchen (his daughter was playing with Abi and Eliz), giving us an estimate for not only the mirror itself (he quoted less than $200!), but also for
Well, today, I'm happy to say that our bathroom mirror is now firmly reattached to the wall, we now have medicine cabinets that have movable shelves (and we can now fit taller bottles inside instead of laying stuff across the shelves!), our new, shiny low-flush toilet is now no longer wobbly, and Elizabeth's blinds no longer require my entire body weight to lift 18 inches. We expect to see him again on Tuesday to work on the cabinets, the drawer, and the ceiling.
If you need stuff done around the house, let me know. I'll send the Handy Daddy over. Sorry, I'm keeping my own husband though.
Then a short while later, we found the mirror decided to now push the bathroom counter off the wall, and slide down the wall, behind the cabinet. I asked my husband if he could fix it. "Nuh uh" was the response. I threatened to call a handyman and *gasp* spend money to get it fixed. "Knock yourself out" was the response. Okay! I felt like I was just given carte blanche. I went onto Facebook and asked if anybody knew of any handymans in the area, to fix our mirror. A friend quickly responded with a phone number, a website, and glowing reviews of how the guy was so friendly and professional. So I gave them a call on a Friday night, and left them a message. I figured that since it's a Friday night, I won't hear from them until Monday morning. I think I probably let a couple weeks pass before I called them again. They finally got a guy to come out for an estimate, and it took another week to get the estimate.
These guys wanted over $500 to fix the mirror.
Never mind. We'll try Plan B.
Problem is, what's Plan B? I didn't want to hop back onto Facebook and ask for a different reference since I'm sure my friend would ask what happened to the guy she so glowingly reviewed, so I just sat and twiddled my thumbs.
Just over a week ago, I was driving home from preschool when I saw a van on the freeway: Daddy and Daughter Handyman and Maintenance. There was a phone number on it, so I figured why not give them a call. So right there on the freeway, I pulled out my Bluetooth (stinkin' cell phone law!) and called them up. I thought I'd get a receptionist or a daughter or something, but nope, I got the Handy Daddy himself.
Two days later, he was standing in our kitchen (his daughter was playing with Abi and Eliz), giving us an estimate for not only the mirror itself (he quoted less than $200!), but also for
- changing out our medicine cabinets (I've hated them because the shelves were unmovable),
- changing out our wobbly toilet,
- whacking away the vertical columns between my kitchen and bathroom cabinet doors (can't fit anything in my cabinets because of those stupid columns in the middle of the opening!),
- straightening a kitchen drawer,
- re-taping and painting the peeling ceiling, and
- installing new blinds in Elizabeth's bedroom.
Well, today, I'm happy to say that our bathroom mirror is now firmly reattached to the wall, we now have medicine cabinets that have movable shelves (and we can now fit taller bottles inside instead of laying stuff across the shelves!), our new, shiny low-flush toilet is now no longer wobbly, and Elizabeth's blinds no longer require my entire body weight to lift 18 inches. We expect to see him again on Tuesday to work on the cabinets, the drawer, and the ceiling.
If you need stuff done around the house, let me know. I'll send the Handy Daddy over. Sorry, I'm keeping my own husband though.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Kimchi with the Kimchi Mamas
Growing up I felt somewhat lonely because there wasn't really a unified voice for People Like Me -- people who straddle the divide between two very different cultures, two very different languages, two very different cuisines. Growing up a Korean-American, in an area that wasn't Southern California, meant for me not really knowing what's Korean vs. what's the lifestyle that's just unique to my family, what's American vs. what's the lifestyles that are unique to my friends' families.
Anyways, probably over a year ago, I was surfing the Internet looking for a Korean recipe. It may have been for "gamja tang" (which I've still never cooked) or something else, who knows. Anyways, in my search for this elusive recipe, I stumbled upon this blog called Kimchi Mamas. I've been pleasantly surprised to find that these women who write to the blog are moms, writers, and Korean and/or married-to-Koreans.
A few weeks ago, Northern Californian Kimchi Mama meetup was organized, and we finally got together on Saturday, at Sahn Maru in Oakland, right across the street from Koryo SootBoolJip. Afterwards, we went to a noraebang. It was determined that for this inaugural get-together it'd be just us moms, without kids or husbands in tow. Of course the thought of meeting a group of complete strangers is always a little scary (especially in Oakland!), but I figured since it's in a brightly lit Korean restaurant, it shouldn't be that bad. Anyways, it was great fun and great food.
Figuring that I'm going to be meeting a bunch of Korean women, I'd better make sure that I'm wearing something a little different from my favorite uniform of shorts and t-shirt. I mean, Korean women get dolled up to just go to the grocery store! Okay, not so much me, but still. So anyways, I was getting ready to go out that afternoon, and feeling pretty good about myself -- my hair was neat, my clothes were non-wrinkly, and I had a touch of eyeliner on. For those who've seen me more than a handful of times, you should know that this is a big deal. I even knew exactly what shoes I was going to wear, too -- some cute black and gold sandals. Anyways, I got ready, jumped into the car, and drove off, just in time to arrive right at 6:01pm. As I got on the freeway, I felt something... rubbery... between my toes.
Operating on autopilot, I'd thrown on my $1 Old Navy blue flipflops. The ones that I wear in the shower at the gym. The ones that I wear when I go out to check the mail or pull weeds.
The meetup time is at 6pm, and I'm already a minute late as it is. Should I turn around and change my shoes and be incredibly late, or should I keep my flipflops on, arrive on time, and be incredibly mismatched?
I opted for keeping the flipflops on. I figure, why start the act now? Let's keep it real. I rarely get dressed up, I rarely put on makeup, I rarely have all my clothes match with all my accessories. Heck, I hardly ever even wear accessories. So, braving the potentially judgmental stares of the Korean women I'm about to meet, I confidently walked into the restaurant, right on time (enough for me) at 6:01pm.
Like I said before, it was great fun and great food. And they didn't say anything about my flipflops. These Kimchi Mamas, they keep it real. Yes, they dressed well, and they even wore accessories and makeup, but we all had a good chuckle about "those Korean women who get dolled up just to go to the grocery store." And I'm looking forward to the next meetup. Who knows, maybe I'll even wear matching shoes this time.
Anyways, probably over a year ago, I was surfing the Internet looking for a Korean recipe. It may have been for "gamja tang" (which I've still never cooked) or something else, who knows. Anyways, in my search for this elusive recipe, I stumbled upon this blog called Kimchi Mamas. I've been pleasantly surprised to find that these women who write to the blog are moms, writers, and Korean and/or married-to-Koreans.
A few weeks ago, Northern Californian Kimchi Mama meetup was organized, and we finally got together on Saturday, at Sahn Maru in Oakland, right across the street from Koryo SootBoolJip. Afterwards, we went to a noraebang. It was determined that for this inaugural get-together it'd be just us moms, without kids or husbands in tow. Of course the thought of meeting a group of complete strangers is always a little scary (especially in Oakland!), but I figured since it's in a brightly lit Korean restaurant, it shouldn't be that bad. Anyways, it was great fun and great food.
Figuring that I'm going to be meeting a bunch of Korean women, I'd better make sure that I'm wearing something a little different from my favorite uniform of shorts and t-shirt. I mean, Korean women get dolled up to just go to the grocery store! Okay, not so much me, but still. So anyways, I was getting ready to go out that afternoon, and feeling pretty good about myself -- my hair was neat, my clothes were non-wrinkly, and I had a touch of eyeliner on. For those who've seen me more than a handful of times, you should know that this is a big deal. I even knew exactly what shoes I was going to wear, too -- some cute black and gold sandals. Anyways, I got ready, jumped into the car, and drove off, just in time to arrive right at 6:01pm. As I got on the freeway, I felt something... rubbery... between my toes.
Operating on autopilot, I'd thrown on my $1 Old Navy blue flipflops. The ones that I wear in the shower at the gym. The ones that I wear when I go out to check the mail or pull weeds.
The meetup time is at 6pm, and I'm already a minute late as it is. Should I turn around and change my shoes and be incredibly late, or should I keep my flipflops on, arrive on time, and be incredibly mismatched?
I opted for keeping the flipflops on. I figure, why start the act now? Let's keep it real. I rarely get dressed up, I rarely put on makeup, I rarely have all my clothes match with all my accessories. Heck, I hardly ever even wear accessories. So, braving the potentially judgmental stares of the Korean women I'm about to meet, I confidently walked into the restaurant, right on time (enough for me) at 6:01pm.
Like I said before, it was great fun and great food. And they didn't say anything about my flipflops. These Kimchi Mamas, they keep it real. Yes, they dressed well, and they even wore accessories and makeup, but we all had a good chuckle about "those Korean women who get dolled up just to go to the grocery store." And I'm looking forward to the next meetup. Who knows, maybe I'll even wear matching shoes this time.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Last day of kindergarten
I'm proud to announce that Elizabeth has graduated from kindergarten after just two weeks.
Okay, not really. Turns out that a spot opened up in first grade, and Mrs. D, her kindergarten teacher, called me and said that she thinks first grade will be a better fit for Eliz than kindergarten. So after finishing up one last day in kindergarten, we told her after school that we're going to meet her new first-grade teacher across the hall. She was surprised and it took some time for her to process it, but she seems like she's happy about it.
I'm excited for her because I know it's a much better fit for her, but I'm just a little nervous about it. Her school day will no longer end at 12:10 with the kindergartners; she'll stay in school until 2:50. I now have to pack her lunch every single day. I'm HORRIBLE at that! Because her classmates will have been together as a unit for two weeks already, she'll already be pegged not only as "the young kid that came from kindergarten" but also as "the new kid." Hopefully this won't cause instant ostracization from the other kids. Thankfully she's probably only a month or two younger than the next-youngest kid in her class, so she isn't *that* young. I hope she makes some good friends. I'm also a little sad that she won't continue to be in Mrs. D's classroom. She's a mover and a shaker in the school, serves on the school's leadership team, has been with the school since its inception, is the kindergarten lead teacher, and brings 17 years of teaching experience to her classroom. I've heard only sparklingly wonderful things about her, and despite my high expectations, she's met all of them. I'm sure her new teacher is good, but I just don't know much about her yet. She seems nice, so that's a good start, I guess.
Her school provides weekly classes with five different specialists every day to their students beginning with first grade (but not kindergarten!), so now she'll have, on a weekly basis, PE, Spanish, art, music, and science.
Anyways, I'm glad the school isn't as inflexible as I originally thought. And I'm glad that the school is proactive about identifying, investigating, and dealing with "different" kids. Not that she's *that* different...
Okay, not really. Turns out that a spot opened up in first grade, and Mrs. D, her kindergarten teacher, called me and said that she thinks first grade will be a better fit for Eliz than kindergarten. So after finishing up one last day in kindergarten, we told her after school that we're going to meet her new first-grade teacher across the hall. She was surprised and it took some time for her to process it, but she seems like she's happy about it.
I'm excited for her because I know it's a much better fit for her, but I'm just a little nervous about it. Her school day will no longer end at 12:10 with the kindergartners; she'll stay in school until 2:50. I now have to pack her lunch every single day. I'm HORRIBLE at that! Because her classmates will have been together as a unit for two weeks already, she'll already be pegged not only as "the young kid that came from kindergarten" but also as "the new kid." Hopefully this won't cause instant ostracization from the other kids. Thankfully she's probably only a month or two younger than the next-youngest kid in her class, so she isn't *that* young. I hope she makes some good friends. I'm also a little sad that she won't continue to be in Mrs. D's classroom. She's a mover and a shaker in the school, serves on the school's leadership team, has been with the school since its inception, is the kindergarten lead teacher, and brings 17 years of teaching experience to her classroom. I've heard only sparklingly wonderful things about her, and despite my high expectations, she's met all of them. I'm sure her new teacher is good, but I just don't know much about her yet. She seems nice, so that's a good start, I guess.
Her school provides weekly classes with five different specialists every day to their students beginning with first grade (but not kindergarten!), so now she'll have, on a weekly basis, PE, Spanish, art, music, and science.
Anyways, I'm glad the school isn't as inflexible as I originally thought. And I'm glad that the school is proactive about identifying, investigating, and dealing with "different" kids. Not that she's *that* different...
Sunday, August 30, 2009
The wiggly, woggly, wibbly, wobbly tooth
Elizabeth's tooth finally came out today. It took a full month of wiggling, and this morning we noticed that the new tooth is already beginning to poke out through the gums behind the loose tooth before it even came out.
This morning she showed us her loose tooth and it looked like it would come out with a good tug. Her tooth was so loose that you could actually see the jagged bottom edge of the tooth -- the part that's supposed to be embedded in the socket.
Before naptime I thought I'd give it a tug and see if it'd come out. It would wiggle, it would woggle, wibble, and wobble, but wouldn't come out. Thinking I just had to get a good grip on it, I told her to take a nap, and I'd get a gauze pad to pull the tooth later. After naptime I tried again, and she actually started to cry and said that it was hurting. I read somewhere that if you pull a loose tooth before it's ready, you could actually leave behind bits of the tooth's root and cause an infection. So of course I let it go and decided to let it stay to be pulled another day.
We went out for dinner at an ice cream parlor with some friends later, and after dinner and dessert (ice cream sundaes of course!), she said her tooth is even looser. She began to play with it, and discovered that she can spin it around in its socket. Next thing I knew, she pulled it out. By herself. No blood, no pain, nothing. Just a tooth, and a 5-year-old girl with a new hole in her smile. It was too easy.
This morning she showed us her loose tooth and it looked like it would come out with a good tug. Her tooth was so loose that you could actually see the jagged bottom edge of the tooth -- the part that's supposed to be embedded in the socket.
Before naptime I thought I'd give it a tug and see if it'd come out. It would wiggle, it would woggle, wibble, and wobble, but wouldn't come out. Thinking I just had to get a good grip on it, I told her to take a nap, and I'd get a gauze pad to pull the tooth later. After naptime I tried again, and she actually started to cry and said that it was hurting. I read somewhere that if you pull a loose tooth before it's ready, you could actually leave behind bits of the tooth's root and cause an infection. So of course I let it go and decided to let it stay to be pulled another day.
We went out for dinner at an ice cream parlor with some friends later, and after dinner and dessert (ice cream sundaes of course!), she said her tooth is even looser. She began to play with it, and discovered that she can spin it around in its socket. Next thing I knew, she pulled it out. By herself. No blood, no pain, nothing. Just a tooth, and a 5-year-old girl with a new hole in her smile. It was too easy.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
First day of kindergarten
Today is Elizabeth's first day of kindergarten. We woke up at 6:30 and found a sign on our front lawn that says "Welcome to kindergarten" along with her name, her school name and mascot. 
A little freaky because we weren't expecting it, and who knows when the mysterious School People came onto our lawn and put up the sign. Middle of the night? And they know where we live! Freaky. But still, it's pretty exciting that these mysterious School People make an effort to make their youngest students feel welcome at the school.
Anyways, I don't know who's more excited about her first day of school, me or Elizabeth. She seems to be very whatever about it, whereas I'm the one with the camera, taking pictures of everything left and right pertaining to kindergarten. But I don't feel teary-eyed, and I don't feel sad that my baby's growing up. I'm happy for her that she's growing up and participating in this next step. I'm not sure if I'm taking pictures because I want to remember this Momentous Occasion or because other parents are taking pictures too and I gotta keep up with the Joneses. Maybe it'll hit me more later. Who knows.
A little freaky because we weren't expecting it, and who knows when the mysterious School People came onto our lawn and put up the sign. Middle of the night? And they know where we live! Freaky. But still, it's pretty exciting that these mysterious School People make an effort to make their youngest students feel welcome at the school.Anyways, I don't know who's more excited about her first day of school, me or Elizabeth. She seems to be very whatever about it, whereas I'm the one with the camera, taking pictures of everything left and right pertaining to kindergarten. But I don't feel teary-eyed, and I don't feel sad that my baby's growing up. I'm happy for her that she's growing up and participating in this next step. I'm not sure if I'm taking pictures because I want to remember this Momentous Occasion or because other parents are taking pictures too and I gotta keep up with the Joneses. Maybe it'll hit me more later. Who knows.
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