1. My two favorite jobs in college were: waitressing at Yesterday’s and being the morning news assistant at WNUA-FM. Waitressing meant a free meal after my shift (PK, KY and IJ also benefitted from this as I would eat at the salad bar and bring home my entree!), and the morning news shift meant sharing in the amazing muffin basket the bakery downstairs sent us every morning.
2. I love meat. When Peter and I go out to eat, he orders the salad and I order the full slab or a piece of cow, cooked medium. When the food comes out they give me the salad. Why?!
3. When I am hungry I get crabby, which is why when waitstaff offer me the salad my husband ordered, I want to lower their tip.
4. I got to ride on a parade float in my hometown’s “Rose Parade”.
5. No, I was not the Roselle “Rose Queen”. Nor was I on her court. I won an essay contest. I can’t remember what the essay was about. I think I was in junior high.
6. In 2007 I got my chance to be a queen and took the stage in a tiara and sash. So what if I bought the tiara. It was a blast, and I look good in sparkles!
7. My favorite hot beverage is a double-shot latte with 2% pulled at home, and poured in my apple green mug from my stint as a queen.
8. My mug almost matches the color of my office walls, which really is the reason I use the mug.
9. After I gave birth to my first child I almost bled to death.
10. As a result of #9, I had emergency surgery during which I overheard my husband chatting with my anesthesiologist. They were talking about fishing.
11. Despite #10, I still love my husband.
12. After I gave birth to my second child in JUNE, my mother and mother-in-law tried to stop me from drinking a cold beverage because they seemed to think the cold juice would make all my teeth fall out. I grabbed that huge pitcher of juice and ice and slurped it down like there was no tomorrow.
13. Despite #12, I still have all of my teeth.
14. I have all of my teeth even though I don’t floss every day. Yes, Peter knows.
15. My shirts are organized by color and sleeve-length.
16. On a regular basis I must ignore the urge to organize my husband’s closet in the same way.
17. I wooed my husband by baking him chocolate chip cheesecakes and watching movies he picked. We both were probably 10 pounds heavier by the time we walked down the aisle…5 1/2 months and several chocolate chip cheesecakes after we first met.
18. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve baked a chocolate chip cheesecake since we got married. We’re both thinner. That’s almost 16 years without baking a chocolate chip cheesecake.
19. Someday I would like to go back to school. My sister thinks I should get a counseling degree, but then I would want to charge her for our daily therapy sessions.
20. I really never thought of myself as being a “strong woman” until 2006.
21. I really never thought of myself as a “loving” person until 1993, 1995, 1999 and 2001. Clearly, I am a work in progress who needs reminders about loving.
22. I once did a spot on impression of Wile E. Coyote running into a mountain. It was on our honeymoon. I was not paying attention to my surroundings and walked full-stride into a steel-encased concrete column on the cruise ship. I remember hearing Peter say, “Honey, watch out for the” followed by a loud “boooinnnnng” as I rammed into the column, forehead-first.
23. As a result of #22, I had the biggest bruise near my brow that “flowed” onto my eyelid. If you look at our honeymoon pictures I am wearing lots of eyeshadow.
24. I once vowed I would run a marathon before turning 30.
25. I have never been very good with numbers.
Should I cut the school day short and have the kids come home to watch the inauguration on tv?
During MLK Day, in between the arguments and conversations about legos, Bionicles, Wii and shopping, we talked about Dr. King and his legacy, president-elect Obama and his inauguration, what kind of dog Malia and Sasha might get, and ended the night with the Disney Channel’s concert (Malia and Sasha in the front row busy taking photos and shooting video – too cute and so serious!).
Do they “get it”? I think so. I hope so.
But would pulling them out of school help mark the significance of the day or would the day turn out to be an excuse to miss school?
I know. I’m totally over-thinking this.
My dad is on Facebook!?! It was one thing to start getting e-mails from him, but this is a bit strange for me. What’s worse than Dad on Facebook? That he was friends with my sister first! Ha, ha!
I have yet to get the hang of this blogging thing. I’ve been told that writing posts in advance is one way to keep things moving along. Note to self.
Blog designs: Some of you blog or read more blogs than I do. Any suggestions on a new design? I want to go with a design that archives monthly and has more on the side that helps me and others see things in an orderly fashion. And it has to look pretty.
Searches: So reading your blogs stats can be a funny thing. I can see what search word combination folks used and ended up at my blog. The funniest and slightly disturbing one: “Kathy Khang sex talk”. I was back at Wheaton to do a bit of Q/A at the invite of the sophomore class, and they presented me with the event publicity poster. Black background in red letters: The Sex Talk Lady is Coming Back! Too bad I can’t put it up on the wall in my office yet. Maybe in a few years.
For those of you who blog, what was is the funniest or slightly disturbing search that has lead someone to your blog?
Tag: How do tags and categories help? Will it all make more sense when I switch designs?
Peter asked me the other day if I was feeling a bit nostalgic after my 20th high school reunion. It’s not so much nostalgia…I’m not wishing life was what it used to be because I would never want to be 17-20 years old and in high school again. I’ve already begun praying over my daughter’s high school experience, which should begin in a mere 22 months.
What I’m feeling is…just…weird. Clearly seeing people I haven’t seen in 20-some-odd years did quite a number on me. There is a lot about high school that I disliked. I hated being one of the few Asian Americans in a graduating class of 600+ (and yes, I remember the name and face of the girl who would stand behind my in the line at the cafeteria and repeatedly say things like, “Hey, gook. Go back to where you came from chink!”). I envied the few geeks who could, at least from my vantage point, easily navigate their way through multiple cliques. They made the grade and went to the parties. (Let’s not try to deny that there were cliques, ok?) And I hated and envied my high school’s version of the mean girls. They wore and carried everything my family could not afford while simultaneously represented what my parents in the material sense were working towards, and they seemed, again from my vantage point, untouchable.
But what I am left with is this weird feeling because it has taken this much time to be able to look back and see God’s hand and say truthfully that there were things I not only learned from high school but loved about high school.
So, in no particular order are a few of those things…I’d love to know what you learned from and loved about high school (and if you’re not there yet feel free to share what you hated and what hurt).
- I learned just enough about photography, music, history and literature to whet a life-long appetite for more.
- I loved being in a real high school musical. There was something strangely powerful and addicting about taking on the persona of a dancer in “Guys and Dolls” and prancing around in a VERY PINK leotard and fishnet stockings and singing “Take back your mink”. Being a part of the cast and crew family was amazing. (Secret: I still have my stage shoes.)
- I learned that I loved words – written and spoken. I also learned that I wasn’t much of an actor but that I could learn a lot by being in the company of those who were.
- I loved being on the pom-pom squad because I loved to move, but I learned that being on a team didn’t mean you were necessarily part of the team. I kind of felt bad for the varsity squad member who ended up with me as her “little sister” when I was on the jv squad because it almost said as much about her as it did about me in a strange high school-ish sort of way.
- I learned that I could be just as mean and cruel.
- I loved spirit week (until senior year) and decorating the halls.
- I learned that I had a tendency to have very high expectations of myself and then projected those onto others. (Many apologies to the Perspective staff who felt my wrath as we published the school newspaper.)
- I loved finding my locker decorated by my friends on my birthday.
- I learned that some teachers really do have an incredible influence on students’ lives. Thanks to Mrs. U, Mr. C, Mr. W, Ms. R, Mr. S and Ms. S.
OK, that’s it. I really need to move on…but wait. High School Musical 3 comes out next week!!!!
I’m glad that I went. It was a long night-early morning of reconnecting, reminiscing, laughter, and gratitude mixed in with a few moments of absolute amazement, horror, awkwardness and high school.
Things I had forgotten:
- Going to homecoming with D. Apparently we sat on opposite ends of the table at dinner, and after all these years he wanted to know why. Honestly, I had forgotten about homecoming and dinner, but thankfully someone remembered and remembered why I was incredibly annoyed at my sincere but rather energetic date. D, thank you for the rose in my locker and for being both endearing and annoying by calling me Kate and Kathryn all those years.
- The party at P’s house where someone ran outside and onto the roof of my parent’s Honda. D says that I blamed him but that it was really B who did it. I honestly don’t remember D or B being at P’s house, but I do remember the dent on the roof of that maroon Accord that I could parallel park like nobody’s business.
- All through school my last name was mispronounced simply because I had grown tired of trying to correct people. It was very strange hearing people scream my name out in recognition, “Kathy Kang” (as in rhymes with hang, Tang, rang, etc.). I made a promise that once I hit the college campus that I would go by the proper pronunciation of my last name.
- How weird it was to be a Lancette (a pom-pom girl). One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn’t belong…
- How difficult and confusing it was to be what my parents wanted me to be against the pressures of majority culture high school life.
Awkward and funny moments:
- Trying to remember the name of a classmate before said classmate made it over to me and T.
- D telling me in all sincerity that I was the reason he had to carry a big eraser around in school our senior year because he would try to erase the nasty things people would write on my “Kathy for Senior Class Council President” signs. (That election had to be one of the worst memories of high school for me, and it taught me how easily people could be manipulated, how mean people could be, and what courage in high school looked like.)
- A classmate appearing to have a wardrobe malfunction. I just cringed.
- How so many of us recognized a certain classmate, but then had nothing to say. I think I finally said what we were all thinking. I’d like to think that I’m a better person after 20 years, but some memories were clearly seared into our minds.
- Realizing that T (one of my best friends from jr high/high school) and I had been crossing paths for years. The craziest thing? She is related to someone in my small group. Phyllis, are you reading this?
- The dance floor with 80s music playing and a 4-hour open bar.
This morning my sister was doing her best impression of a supportive sister by telling me that I was a dorky looking geek in high school, which was why so many classmates were surprised by my ugly duckling transformation. I know my perm was bad, and my glasses were really big and round, but was it really that bad? Really?
All in all a great night of catching up. Life has not been 20 years of coasting and fun for anyone, but it was great to hear how people were enjoying their careers and families. And as I drove home I thanked God for not leaving me as that 17-year-old in Roselle, for the tough lessons learned during and after high school, for my family and for my full, rich life.
In about two hours I should be about ready to take off for my 20th high school reunion. Yup. Twenty years since I graduated from high school and ran as fast I as could to college. Do the math.
It has been fun reconnecting with folks I haven’t seen in years via Facebook – some were at my wedding, but most of them dropped off my radar as diapers gave way to time-outs and then spelling lists. We have tried to do brief recaps of the last 20 years – school, jobs, marriage, careers, children with a few photos. I can’t wait to find out how a drama crowd acquaintance became a pastor. I can’t wait to see my grade-school best friend and find out what she’s been up to.
But the build up to this has been 20 years in the making because high school was quite an experience. I don’t know about you, but there are huge chunks of time that make me cringe, and not just because my hair was big or my glasses were even bigger. No, high school was four years of AWKWARD mixed in with moments of self-assurance and confidence, a huge dose of teenage angst and a dash of “no you didn’t”. I had a close group of friends, but we all had different interests. I was on the school newspaper, speech team, student council and pom-pom squad. I learned the art of toilet papering, and experienced the horror of having someone screaming nasty things while throw rocks through our windows. I learned how I could be simultaneously incredibly smart and stupid. I learned a little about a lot of things – photography, music, dance, physics, American history and trigonometry. I learned a lot about a few things – trust, image, cliques and the power of words.
I wasn’t ready to go to the 10th reunion. It felt too soon. Years ago a friend from church was so excited about his reunion. He was a popular football player, and he couldn’t wait to tell people about what God had been up to in his life. I remember sitting there thinking that as a “never popular newspaper geek” I wouldn’t know what to tell people.
So another 10 years later, and it feels right. I needed 20 years to allow God to chisel away at my judgmental tendencies and bring out much more grace and graciousness. I needed 20 years to live a bit more of the life I fantasized about and have reality soften the rough edges and give me a reality check. I needed more time to see how lessons learned about the power of words would run its course. And I needed more time to leave behind the restlessness of high school and sit in my own imperfect, beautiful skin.
But there is a little bit of high school still in me…I just did my nails, and I’m wondering what to wear that is “party casual”.
I ran into some new friends in town earlier today, and they all said the same thing:
“Have a great time tonight! And good luck!”
Peter isn’t coming. When I was in high school he was finishing dental school. Going that far back in our uncrossed paths gets a little creepy, don’t you think?
Wish me luck!
The magic number is 6.
I did not grow up with America’s pastime. My dad grew up with soccer, and he desperately tried to teach me and my sister the art of soccer. I have fond memories of watching games with my cousins in Korea on my first trip there – sometimes 13 of us around a small television screaming “GOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLLLL!”
But soccer didn’t stick so out came the softball. And then came badminton. Somewhere in there was volleyball. “A” for effort, Dad! My sister was by far the more athletically inclined one, which actually doesn’t say much. Except for the Super Bowl Shuffle and the Olympics in Los Angeles and Korea, I was completely oblivious to sports.
But then girl who was living in Green Bay and was sent to cover tailgating at a Packers game because they heard I was from Chicago met boy and fell in love with boy who thankfully fell in love with girl. Girl and boy got married. Our “courtship” got us through football season and a good chunk of the basketball season. But I didn’t know that because boy never turned on the television or sports radio during said courtship. Girl found out about basketball season (and the playoffs) while trying to get “thank you cards” completed. Girl thought she had married a man who had a limited interest in sports. Girl was so very, very wrong.
So through 15 years of marriage I have learned much from my husband who is a sports fan. Thankfully, he doesn’t paint his chest or face or any other body part for that matter. (We did paint a big purple and white “N” on our front window for our neighbor’s viewing when Northwestern beat highly favored Michigan State. I have since asked both God and our neighbor for forgiveness.) Peter really enjoys sports and is a great teacher. He can both watch a game and patiently explain to me what just happened. And just to show that I married a man like my father he, too, tried to teach me sand volleyball and racquetball. Again, “A” for effort, Peter!
Anyway, where was I? Thanks to Peter, the importance of last night’s no-hitter (thanks Milwaukee for being such good hosts to the Cubs and Astros!) and this afternoon’s win is not going unnoticed in this home. Corban is wondering if he can stay up to watch the playoffs. What in the world is going on?
6?!?
Does Obama’s race and possibly gender play into his place in politics? Does the fact that there has been a surge of support from white women for the McCain/Palin ticket have anything to do with race or gender?
I saw this post discussing racism and sexism, and maybe if I weren’t so annoyed with the fact that there is a major leak in the garage roof and several leaks in the basement I would put my thoughts together.
There’s only time for rambling.
The question is an interesting one because personally I am tired of being asked to separate my ethnicity/race from my gender. I am an Asian American woman. You can’t take the Asian or the American or the woman out of me like you would pick the tomatoes or onions out of a salad. I can’t pick the race card or the gender card because both form my identity. I prefer to play with a full deck because that is how God created us – with race and ethnicity and gender. (Though as a mother of three a full deck seems like a rather high goal.)
I don’t fully understand Obama’s personal journey as a biracial African American man. When I walk down the street or drive through the neighborhood, no one is going to look twice at me. No one assumes I don’t belong. And I really don’t understand Sarah Palin’s personal journey as a white woman from a small town in Alaska. When my family went on our summer road trips, the small town stops were always the most unsettling for me. It was very clear to us that we didn’t belong.
But that’s me. How about you? Does sexism trump racism? Can there really be a separation of the two? Should there be a separation?
I love clothes. My guilty pleasure is “Project Runway” and I harbor not-so-secret dreams that my daughter’s love of fashion combined with her creative bent will someday produce our own family designer. This summer she spent a good chunk of time collecting empty juice bags to make a tote bag and lunch bag as well as designing shoes made out of duct tape. She’s been known to take scraps of fabric and create things like gloves and shrugs. Forget piano lessons. I am getting my sewing machine oiled up.
What I don’t love about fashion: the power thread, fabric and notions seem to have over people (if you don’t understand, watch an episode of “What Not To Wear” and how people react too the transformation), the skin and bones models, the catalogues, magazines and runways full of airbrushed models who are still more often than not white/Caucasian,
There is something insidious about the half-truth images of women and the message they send to us: You can never be perfectly perfect, but we want you to keep trying. My brokenness becomes painfully obvious as I flip through the pages of a magazine as thoughts start with “Oh, that I like” and then move onto “Wow, wouldn’t it be nice to have a personal trainer and hours to spend at the gym” to “I don’t like what God gave me physically, and I’m not satisfied with my closet, my makeup, my jewelry, my life”. Overly dramatic for literary purposes? Maybe. Does it really slide down that far and that fast. Yes, it can.
So, I have to say that I was amused and rather surprised to see the latest Talbots catalogue featuring beautiful but overpriced red clothes on models WITH WRINKLES! OK, so some of the models are “mature” models meaning they are older than I but younger than my mother. But they clearly had not been airbrushed. On page after page I saw A-line dresses and crows’ feet, big beaded necklaces and laugh lines, scarves knotted into bows with brows minus Botox. If only there was an Asian American model…just sort of kidding.
My disbelief compelled me to stick the catalogue under Bethany and Peter’s noses and ask them what they saw. They both noticed right away that while the clothes were impeccably steam ironed the models themselves were not.
Has anyone seen other ads or catalogues with real faces?