It's been awhile since I've posted. Life has been busy with Mama Kang being ill. But she's now back at home and recuperating. We've all had our turns taking care of her on various days. (Even Stefan!) I would like to say that she's just chilling and trying to get better but the woman just doesn't know what it means to relax! I know she's just raring to go but the truth of the matter is her body won't let her. There have been so many good wishes from so many people. It's so nice to know that people care.
But I also think it speaks volumes about my mother's character. People just want to be with her and hope for her to be well.
We still haven't heard back yet from her biopsy but we are all praying and hoping for the good news.
I promise to be more regular about posting. I have even had complains from Mama herself during her moments of boredom at home. And when Mama complains....
I wonder whether anyone ever told you this but for years and years, I longed for a little sister. Or an older adopted sister. Any type of sister, really...I was tired of Kenny and Kelvin always leaving me out. Or having to do impossible tasks to join their play groups. Or being bullied constantly. Or being bamboozled out of my pocket money for a mere omelet (totally Ken). Or having to deal with "pretend" kidnappings at the early dawn. For those of you who are brother-less, "pretend" kidnappings happen in the wee hours of the morning, where brothers pretend to kidnap you in your sleep. Supposedly, it's to prepare you for the possibilities of a kidnapping actually happening. Needless to say, I still tend to punch in my sleep if someone wakes me up unexpectedly.
Unfortunately, Mama and Papa Kang were not obliging to my request for another girl. After me, they were "done" (I wonder why.... I was such a joy as a teenager...NOT!). I got used to being by myself and then I went through a phase of not wanting to accept another girl in our lives. I was perfectly content being the crown princess of the family.
And then, there was you.
I've always liked you. I wasn't sure whether I was ever going to accept my brother loving another woman other than Mama Kang or me. I can be jealous like that. But there you were, in all your glory.
About two months ago, I got a phone call at work that I never wanted to ever hear. Even though deep down inside I already knew before she had uttered the words. My mother had been diagnosed with cancer.
It wasn't completely unexpected, she had been having some issues for awhile, all of us are medical junkies so we read up all the possibilities of what it could be. And you pray that it's not what you think it is.
You know whenever you see nature shows, you see monkeys tend to pick at each other, comb their fingers through each other's backs and pick stuff off whether it be dirt or lice? It always reminds me of my own family.
I am not sure who started the picking trend, definitely not the parents as none of them are pickers really. It's the second generation who are, siblings, cousins -- my oldest brother being the worst instigator.
I hope everyone had amazing holidays. I've been so slack at posting lately. I've been busy with life, but mainly work. I have a deadline that is unavoidable, looming large and all my thoughts are on it.
Like the start of every year, you cannot help but reflect on the year that is past. Last year, like any other, had its own shares of highs and lows. I try to be like my mother and look forward to every day.
I am (very unfortunately) not like my mother. I don't know where she gets her calm because I certainly did not inherit those genes from her. This holiday season, my mother was ill, not in a very serious manner but enough to make me think, "My God! My parents are no longer in their 30's anymore." Because in my mind, my parents are forever young.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am utterly, completely terrified of death. It is a fear that keeps me up at night. One of the many reasons why I have this fear is because I cannot bear the thoughts of NEVER, ever seeing my loved ones again. The thought is so gut-clenching, so mind numbing that I would rather not think about it. In our book club last year, we read an incredible book that deals with this subject. How I wish I could be that brave to even talk about it in such an eloquent manner.
But the truth is, it happens.
What a morbid entry this must seem to you.
But what I wanted to say was, I am not one for making resolutions and I am not really going to start now. I do know that this is what I am going to try to do differently this year: to not sweat the small stuff, to remember that work can never be more important than living my life (hmmm...good luck with this, workaholic that I am) to enjoy every day the best way I can and to love the people I love as much as I can.
Marie says Ryo is developing a crazy little personality which she attributes to me. As much as I would like to think that I could somehow have influenced my goddaughter halfway across the country, I can take no credit. That child was born with a personality; capital, bold P. My favourite part of this video is the interaction between Marie and Ryo. Watch out for her breathy, Marilyn Monroe-esque "Hi" towards the end. All I can say is - Teenage Ryo? Watch out boys!
Anyone who knows me knows that I harbour a secret love for redheads and girls with curly hair. Not necessarily together, but you know, you always want what you can't and don't have. All my redheaded friends are these outrageously, fun, outgoing, spontaneous girls. Yes, I meet the occasional meek, shy, redheaded girl but they are very few and far in between. I think I admire their natural spunk.
And curly hair? Forget about it! For the longest time I wanted to make sure I married someone who could ensure my children would have afros. I know you think I married the whitest man alive but were I to scan his university pictures, you will see that Stefan truly is an albino black man. If he grows his hair quarter of an inch longer, he has this huge afro puff. Then there is his Bahamian born butt which we will not talk about right now. I sincerely hope our progeny inherits his follicles.
So I've mentioned before that when our schedules suddenly become very busy, Mama Kang comes to the rescue with home cooked meals already in our freezer. She's lovely, that Mama Kang BUT does she really have to love the White Boy so very much?
I know, I know.
I have issues with sharing my parents' love with my family. I will openly share their love with my friends but when family is involved I get really possessive or competitive about it. Call it "youngest-child-only-girl" syndrome. I just want to point out that I didn't get like this with the sister-in-law though, cos you know, I dig her. That, and she married one of my dumb brothers. Let's just give credit where credit is due.
Mama and Papa Kang are planing to go visit the Big Bro in the Big Apple. So what does Mama Kang do? She's making sure White Boy has enough food while she's gone. Not extra food for the both of us, JUST White Boy.
What the hella, man? What sweet nothings has he been whispering into her gullible ear, I wonder? Because whatever it is, it's gotta stop.
I was very honoured and surprised to find out that my cousin in Singapore nominated me for a couple of Blogger's Choice Awards - Best Blog Design and Best Blog Of All Time.
I am not vain enough to think that I qualify for either of these awards, but it's really nice to know that my family reads and enjoys this. After all, the whole reason for me starting this blog was to keep those who were not physically close to me, in touch with my life.
Now, if only there was a category for Best Scatterbrained Blog, I think I would be a shoe in.
And yes, I did vote on one of the categories because I was testing to see how the voting worked and more importantly, I didn't want to seem like a complete loser with only one vote. A little vanity never killed anyone!
Thank you Grace, for such a sweet and thoughtful gesture!
I only recently found out that one of my childhood friends (also a favourite cousin) doesn't really eat any greens. How very shocking! I can't ever eat a meal without vegetables and by the end of the week when we run out, I usually complain that I am about to die of scurvy (don't ask me why but that is my favourite thing to say right now).
That's when I go on my anti-scurvy shop; which usually consists of going to the library, going through Kensington market for bread, cheese and fruit and ending in Chinatown for my Asian "weeds." That's what Stefan calls almost all leafy Asian vegetables. In our household, he's in charge of putting all the groceries away. He's always at loss of what to do with all the vegetables bursting out.
That's who I sound like right now. Stefan had a really terrible hacking dry cough for the past two weeks and, lo and behold, now I have it too. It's one of the many perils of marriage or living in close quarters with someone. I have barely been able to speak without having to cough half my oesophagus out. I am sure, secretly, Stefan is relieved that there is some semblance of quiet in our home.
As I mentioned fairly recently my parents live really close to me now. So close that walking over EVERY day for a Mama Kang home cooked meal is plausible. Stefan sometimes quips that I am taking advantage of my parent's closeness by raiding their fridge too much, but as usual he doth protest too much.
After all, my mother times HIS separate meals (because he really is THAT picky about food and my mother is convinced that when he's home, I chain Stefan to the old rotting radiators and feed him nothing but stale bread and water) to be ready just as soon as he walks in. Not only does he get an instant dinner, my mother also PACKS him a lunch. It's getting so bad that my mother who has developed a recent allergy to gluten will still bake him cakes daily, despite the fact that she can no longer eat it herself.
That, and I also get daily lectures from my father and mother that I have to not "bully" Stefan while he looks at them with his sad puppy dog eyes and asks why TSN is not in high definition on my dad's giant TV. I don't know what type of "bullying" they think I can really do to that stubborn giddy goat of a man that I married. Plus, he's twice my size and weight.
Then, there is also the fact that since my parents moved to a smaller place that they had to buy almost all new furniture to fit. Of course, the main thing for my parents is that they can have all their children en masse at the dining room table. But for the past month, the main focus of everything else is whether Stefan will be comfortable on the couch, what if he has no room to stretch out? He likes to have comfy pillows...
So excuse me if I deign to eat my mother's home cooked meals practically every day. I like to think I am making them happy by reliving my teenage years, where the only evidence I existed in their home was the fact that some food would be missing in the morning. Who's taking advantage of whom here, is what I am asking?
Like I said last week, Mama and Papa: Please remember that you gave birth to me and that you've known me longer. You should take my side once in awhile. After all, "technically" your beloved son-in-law has only officially been part of the family for a year and a bit. And Dad, seriously, DO NOT SUBSCRIBE to HD NHL Centre Ice next year. You don't even watch hockey.
Did I mention that my parents sold our family home and are now living near us? Not, just living near, so near that if I didn't make a stop to buy crappy gas station French Vanilla coffee, I could be at their door in seven minutes in a snowstorm, walking.
It's a bit of a bittersweet moment. I didn't feel as traumatized as my cousins whose parents also just sold their family home. I think the move from one country was traumatizing enough when I was young. I am sad, though, because there were so many memories in the other house. But I am sure we'll make many new ones in the new place.
There are so many reasons why I am glad they made the move. First of all, my parents no longer drive so it's so much more convenient for them to be downtown. Secondly, they walk everywhere now. My parents (not that they were by any means fat) now boast slimmer waistlines and a renewed joie de vivre. Most importantly, I get to see them whenever I want.
It's the year of the Lucky Pig (supposedly, this is a golden year for all piggies out there in the world). We had a really great dinner at my brother's place celebrating the new year with my family and my sister in law's family. It's not very often that we actually get to celebrate on New Year's Eve due to my parents wonky work schedule. But this year we got to start the Chinese New Year the traditional way, ringing in the eve with closest family and friends.
Irene made a veritable feast. I think she's starting to inherit the Kang tendency to overcook but gluttony is always the perfect way to celebrate. We got to also hang out with her super cute niece and nephew. I can't believe how quickly the kids have grown and it was so sweet to see Meghan talking and having full conversations with us. She so obviously loves my brother and sister and I can't wait until they are little "Kuku" and "KimKim" to my own children.
Men seem to have all sorts of "bugs" in their genetic make up. I say this all the time. It's as if their brains just aren't wired in the same way as women's brains are. Has anyone else noticed this? Men are always bragging that God made them first. I have this theory that when men were created, God realized that there were all these bugs in the original prototype and so women were created next. Women are the 2.0 version of humans.
Men in my family have their own set of bugs or flaws. The most prevalent one is Lackofloveitis. This "bug" is actually a mental delusion where the party suffering from it feels that they are loved slightly less or not at all in comparison to others. Every week or so, some member of my family is declaring that one of the guys or the guys themselves are complaining about how they're loved less than the girls. Trust me, they suffer from various other more serious bugs such as Painintheassitis and I.P.S. (Irritable Personality Syndrome) to be concerned with the lack of love. Because them being loved less is simply not an issue.
Thank goodness the women in my family are made from sterner stuff. It balances things out.
To my family, whom I love best in the world: my life would feel like less of a life if one of you were not in it. Happy Valentine's Day.
Every so often, just when I think my parents have completely assimilated into Canadian culture and lingo, they will say something unexpected that proves that this isn't the case. For instance, a conversation with my mother this morning -
"Don't forget to pick up food for Stefan when you come by today."
"Food? You made him food again? Why did you make him food?"
"I don't like the idea of him eating ABC noodles...."
"What the heck are ABC noodles? .......Oh, Alphaghetti!"
I am really fat from all the overeating that usually comes with the holidays. Really. It's the "my stomach is so bloated that I feel that this is what it must be like to be four months pregnant but I don't look pregnant, just fat" kind of fat.
It also doesn't help that my brother Ken has been staying with me for the past few days. He's back from NY and he's trying to cram everything he enjoys to eat that he can't find in NY. Yeah, you would think that NY is the food mecca of the world but NY does not have Swiss Chalet, Tim Horton's coffee, Salad King and most importantly, Mama Kang cooking.
He's dragged me to every restaurant he misses and eats any snack that catches his eye and we've later spent a good part of our afternoons lying on his blow up mattress bed, holding our bellies and groaning whilst planning what our next meal is going to be.
Either that or we've spent every other day drunk as donkeys.
Ah, the holidays.
The good thing is that while I've been contemplating giving up food and alcohol, I've also managed to get lots of reading in. This is what I've finished reading since I started on December 23rd.
Some of them are re-reads; a concept that many of my friends find puzzling. I call it cleansing the reading palate.
Stef keeps telling me that it's not a race to read every book ever published (even though secretly, it is) but he doesn't realize that it's naturally how fast I read when I get a couple of undisturbed hours to myself.
I'll be happy if I read another six more before the end of the year.
Whenever I think of swings, I think of my father. He's the parent that would let me always take risks. My mum usually always lets me go so far, but with him he would always push me as high as I wanted.
"Swing higher!" I often demand and he would do it only if I promised to hold on.
"Can I jump off?" I would ask, not ever content with the boundaries given to me.
"Only if you let me catch you," he would reply. Then I would jump and give my mother a mini heart attack.
My cousin Jo-Ann and I would often say this to one another. Right after I squeezed her as hard as I could.
Jo-Ann is my cousin closest to me in age, and we spent almost all of our holidays together until my family left for Canada. We had to promise not to fight with each other because our parents would make us. We inevitably ended up fighting during our weeks of vacation. What attributed to the fighting probably had much to do with the fact that since we didn't see each other for months, we would spend at least the first four days completely glued to each other. We were bound to get on each other's nerves eventually. But we always made up and I would always cry copiously as her father pulled the car out of our driveway.
I love this picture of us. I think this picture really portrays many aspects of our relationship together. Although he is older, he was always more my partner in crime in all sorts of shenanigans. If there was some prank to pull, a misdeed to be done, he was always there with me. It also helps that he has such an utter baby face. Even now when he's done something bad, he can just look at you with the most innocent expression,"Who, me?" and you just forgive him.
S: So, what are we having?
K: The usual - clams in spicy black bean sauce, snow pea leaves sauteed with garlic, Korean BBQ short ribs, crab....
S: For Thanksgiving?
K: We're asian....
Later on....
K: Can you please feed Mindy? She gets wet food today...Turkey...
S: Hey, how come she gets turkey?
K: She's only half-Asian...
My brother Kelvin just reminded me that I haven't done my annual birthday tribute for my brother, Ken. Man, everytime I write our names, I am always embarassed that we are all "K" names.
Anyway, Ken and I almost share a birthday and I would like to say that we have been close because of it, but this was not true until I was in my late teens. I think because we liked being a pain in each other's ass too much with our 6 year age difference.
I love the 3 F's - Food, Family and Friends. Not in that particular order.
This last trip was a combination of all three. We ate at Republic (my NY staple for noodle soup), Nyonya and Dervish. I got to see - Boutsy and Murat from Vancouver, Carmen, who recently moved back to North America from a five year stint in Switzerland and my big brother, Ken.
There seems to be a conspiracy brewing in the upper ranks of the Kang household. I have always been the apple of my parents' eye. Mind you, my brothers are apples of my parents' eye as well; I just like to think that my apple is shinier and prettier. Since I am the youngest and only girl, I've always been a little more spoiled than the others.
As you all know, things have begun to slightly shift ever since I started dating Stefan. For some reason, it was pretty instantaneous love between my parents and Stef. Not that I minded, as it's always lovely when your family accepts the one you love. My parents, especially my mum tend to convey love through food. I think that is where I got my passion for cooking and why I love doing it for friends and family.
Life has been hectic, overwhelmingly so. I am having to make really important decisions in short amounts of time. It's like taking that blind leap of faith, something all entrepreneurs have to do all the time. I know it needs to be done but I can't help feeling unsure and afraid. I don't like not knowing what lies ahead even though the realistic side of my brain understands that no one ever does know.
It's times like these that I just wish time could stand still. So that I can take a walk with my father, learn my mother's secret recipes, trade book notes with my sister, bandy words with my brothes and lie in quiet repose with Stefan. In short, I just want to be with my family. They always bring me a certain kind of peace in this hectic world.
I can barely move my tired stomach from all the good eats at chez Mama and Papa Kang. This is just a quarter of what was offered, and then I got completely distracted and started gorging myself. So, there are no more pictures. My mum always overcooks, which I don't particularly mind but I just realized in all my tiredness from overindulging myself, that I forgot to grab some leftovers for myself. How dumb was that little move? Since Mama doesn't cook like this all the time, I really should have taken more advantage of the situation.
I thought I would impart some age old knowledge now that I am a married woman. HAH! As if I've acquired any, it's only been 6 days after all. But I thought I would share some random thoughts about what I think so far about getting married and eloping.
Every holiday season, it always feels a little more hectic for my family because usually a couple of days after Christmas, we celebrate the Queen Bee's birthday. Who is the Queen Bee, you ask? My grandma, Mama Kang's mama.
Back in the day, Mama (grandma) and Kong Kong (grandpa) weren't so into birth control and this is the result. This is a picture of my Mama with all her grandchildren and great grandchildren. And this isn't even the full crew! It's amazing that I can keep everyone's name straight although I think at some point I am going to have to start writing names down.
I haven't had a chance to post about my own family Christmas dinner yet because, frankly, I am still digesting all the food. There is nothing quite like celebrating with the people you feel most comfortable with in your life. It's really strange and I know that I always seem in awe that my family and I get along so well. I think it's because throughout the years, I have just come to notice how lucky I am to truly enjoy the company of my family and that not many people have this. Don't get me wrong, it's not always hunky dory as we're all also a bunch of opinionated hot heads but we always make up in the end.
I've always been crafty. Not as crafty as some other people I know but you could not grow up in my mother's household without being somewhat able with a needle and thread. Growing up in Asia, my mum was a teacher, and she taught English. Then she went to work at a poorer school and also took on Home Economics. She thought it was important for all kids to be able to feed and clothe themselves. She always said even the boys were always so astonished how little effort could produce so much. All of us kids, with the exception of Kelvin (who used to burn water but is getting better) are either really adept cooks or bakers and can at least do basic mending.
I am not sure what it is about me, and I assure you that I do not do this out of spite, but I love to teach Stefan non-useful words from my language. I can speak a mixture of Chinese, Malaysian and English. Growing up in Asia, where everyone speaks at least three languages or dialects, it is not uncommon to mix them up. It makes for very funny conversations. At least, it sounds like that to the ear.
We are born into the families we have. Some of us are lucky enough to have family members that we actually love, even like (there is a difference, you know) and sometimes, we also become friends.
Our friends, on the other hand, we get to pick. We start off cautiously when we're young, picking only the friends who will share the skipping rope with us. I was a bad friend and not good at sharing. Luckily for me, Mae Fong is still one of my closest friends despite the fact that I bit her finger for borrowing my skipping rope when we were four.
It's not what you think, I did not forget my brother's birthday. I simply haven't had a chance to post his birthday greeting. Kelvin is my middle brother and many times I refer to him as my "little" brother (which he doesn't like) or my "little koko" - little big brother(which he dislikes even more). He is only three years older than me so he really was my companion and friend, more than anything when we were growing up.
I spent a very rainy afternoon at the museum with my mother today. My mother is good for dates like this because she loves history and culture. Anyway, we got to the medieval section of the museum and we were admiring all the armour that men throughout the ages used to wear to war. Then we got to the weapons section where there were all sorts of dangerous looking gadgets, when we encountered a weapon called a poleaxe. This particular one was on a very long wooden stick about four feet high. It had one part that looked like a mashing hammer, the opposite end had an axe and on the top was a very long, sharp metal point.
"I wonder what the heck they did with that," I mused out loud.
"Oh, first they take it and hit someone over the head, then when the person is bent over, you take the point and stab them. And when they are really down, you take the axe part and chop off their head, " my mother serenely replied and walked away.
Well.
You think you grow up and you know all there is to know about your parents. This just proves me wrong.
As I eyed my barely five foot tall mother walk away, I wondered what other devious killing thoughts she had in that sweet, little body of hers.
Another Thanksgiving weekend has quickly passed us by. I am so stuffed with turkey as we had three family dinners to attend but I really shouldn't complain as there are so many that are going without tonight. More and more, I am made aware of my many blessings. I am thankful for -
my parents, who are just wonderful, loving people. As time goes by, I cherish and hold on to every minute that I get to spend with them. There is still so much to learn from them both.
my brothers, who make up parts of my being. When they are not around, I feel a little lost. They are the parts of myself that I want to be.
my friends, who, like fine wines, have grown better and more valuable as time passes by. They make me better just having them around.
my extended family, as many as there are. I am grateful that I come from such a large and loving family. I am glad to have all my wacky cousins and life would be less colourful if I did not know them.
Mindy, who is my little joy. She just makes me very happy.
Last, but never least, Stefan, who is just one of the best people I know. Kind-hearted, funny, loving, endlessly patient. I wake up every day knowing that somehow, someway, I lucked out in having him as a partner.
My brother Ken's birthday, is a day before mine. When he was turning six, my mother missed his birthday party to give birth to me. Story has it that she had told him that she had a very special "present" for him when she came home. As the neighbourhood kids gathered around my crib, to admire the special "present", Ken supposedly peeked in, wrinkled his nose in disgust and said, "That's it?"
Sometimes when I am overtired, I have the tendency to also be super honest with my mum in ways that I probably shouldn't. Today was one of those days. After a long day(week) at work (YES! ON A SATURDAY!!) and on my way back to the office, I decided to give my mum and dad a visit. It just so happened that I came just in the nick of time to give my mum a ride to work. As we sat outside the station, I merrily had verbal diarrhea in front of my mother.
Ken and I have been having a very fun time hanging out. It's been so long that I seem to have forgotten how bloody funny he can be at times. Also, realizing that when you're close to family, you can just say absolutely nothing and it never gets uncomfortable.
Gah! The finger is totally festering and pussy now. Joy, o joy.
So, here I am at my brother's place in Hobokken, New Jersey. We haven't seen each other in months and here we are completely ignoring one another while surfing the net and throwing flippant, sarcastic and caustic comments to one another. Now, he's just watching DVDs that he has and forwarding them to his favourite scene and then goes to the next one. I am surrounded by weirdos. Does that mean I am a weirdo?
Maybe it's the Asian "don't ask, don't tell" thing but no one ever talks about issues as much as they really should. It's also a generational thing, I think because we definitely talk more now about things than we used to. But there is something that we still don't really talk about in my family. My mother is a hard core addict and I hate to say it but we tend to indulge her with her addiction. I think it's because it's much easier to keep her happy than to hear her cry about things.
Life is many times uncertain whereas death is the one certainty that we all have. I never really know how to quite deal with death and grief, despite the fact that it is something I experience quite often, coming from a very large and tightly knit family.
Father-Daughter relationships are a little tricky, aren't they? Especially Asian ones, or maybe that's just me. Actually, I talked to a lot of my Asian friends and they seem to have had almost the same experience as me. You grow up thinking your dad is like this superhero and then at some point you grow up and your dad congratulates you on getting your period and you think to yourself, AWKWARD!
I love lazy Saturday afternoons. There is nothing that quite beats it. I am trying to make the most of it until my next road trip which will be on Monday. But as always, there are always chores to do and the big one this weekend was putting up the dreaded air conditioning system.
Mothers truly are incredible creatures. They have the wonderful ability to always sense when something is wrong, when you're about to do something bad, to shake off insults when as a mean teenager you've said something so horrendously spiteful to them, to eat all the stuff on your plate that you don't want to eat and best of all, to have the patience of a saint. The best thing is also their incredible versatility to be mother figures to others.
As you all know, I am a huge fan of Dooce and lately she's been talking a lot about poop. Actually, she talks a lot about it in general. Anyways, this last particular entry, May 4th - The one thing we KNOW she inherited from me made me recollect a distant childhood memory.
Why-o-why does every family member who cooks suffer from the "you-can-never-cook-enough" syndrome made quite worse by the "you-shouldn't-leave-anything-as-there-are-people-starving-in-Africa" syndrome? My family had decided to pay me an impromptu visit for dinner and it was so much fun.
I was just discussing with a friend about periods and the first time; and it brought back memories of my very own experience. Stefan is a little wary of me talking about personal stuff, but I talked about poop for Pete's sake! Surely, I can talk about anything now. Besides, it's not as if I am going to divulge any gory details.
The sign of the Rooster indicates a person who is hard-working and definite about their decisions. Roosters are not afraid to speak their minds and can therefore sometimes come across as boastful. They make good restaurant owners and world travellers
I have this weird thing I can do with my toes. It comes courtesy of my oldest brother Ken, who has toes that are almost the same length as his fingers, the damn chimpanzee!
Just got sent this pic by the beloved sis-in-law (not said at all sarcastically cos I do love her! She's a saint for taking my absent-minded brother into her life.) of my table setting at Christmas.
Poor Martha! I still think she got hosed. But I still love her....
OK, about the food sharing thing. I've been emailing a friend who is also a foodie and we tend to share quite a bit of food and she's making me feel like quite the selfish git. So, I feel like I have to just clarify what I meant.
