Let’s get it out of the way: Michael Jackson was strange, troubled, and had way too many things done to his face. But you can’t deny that he was an icon of our generation - several generations at that. Farrah Fawcett also died today, but she’s less of an icon for my generation than she is for, say, my co-workers who are in their 50s. When we were younger, Na, Dorc, Sam and I acted out “Thriller” while passing afternoons at church. I also remember watching the video and being a little freaked out when people turned into zombies. And when I got older, I remember being entertained by the “Black and White” video, and how Footworks performed to the song “Will You Be There.”

I also remember the things that Michael Jackson probably didn’t want people to remember - accusations of what he did with kids at Neverland, the criticism about how he no longer looks a normal human being. He was a talented man who was in the limelight his whole life, and he’s left us with great songs but also some weird memories of his more recent years.

Nonetheless, I wanted to pay tribute by sharing a video of one of my favorite songs of his. It’s not a classic, and it’s one of the more cheesy, touchy-feely ones, but those of you who know me will know that it fits with where my heart is. So everyone, raise a gloved hand and wave farewell to the King of Pop as you enjoy this video… “Heal the World.”

After last week’s 9-miler and today’s 10-miler, my knees started giving me some problems. I have to ice them now after I run, but the problem is, I don’t always have time to sit there holding bags of frozen veggies to my knees. Today, I found a solution, which allowed me to continue cooking and doing stuff around the house, while still caring for my knees.

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In a recent conversation with a friend at work, the topic of having kids came up. When I mentioned that if/when we had kids, I would consider continuing to work while Matt stayed home. This isn’t an idea that is set in stone, obviously, but it’s one we’re definitely open to. My friend gave me a look of restrained horror and said emphatically that we shouldn’t go that route. He cited a couple of reasons: our families would disapprove (which I assured him wouldn’t be an issue); the man should be the provider (to which I responded, “I would just be bringing home money, but there are plenty of other ways that Matt would still provide for our family. In fact, he’d be the one doing all the hard work.”); and that our children wouldn’t respect Matt as the man of the house.

He went on to explain that his sister works while her husband stays home with the kids. My friend has no respect for the husband because he doesn’t do much. If he took some responsibility and did more around the house, that would be fine, my friend explained. But if the dad is just going to sit around and watch TV, that’s not cool. And I totally agree. Neither parent should sit around like a bum.

So that made me think about our situation. Matt would definitely not be the type of dad to just sit around and watch TV. There are moments when he enjoys doing that, but he is definitely a hard worker. There is no way he would sit idly at home while laundry and dishes piled up, or if a diaper needed changing. If anything, he’d have our kids trained to help him fold laundry, vacuum, and change their own diaper as soon as possible.

And then I thought about my friend’s other comment, about male and female roles in the house. Matt folds laundry better than I could, he likes things neat and tidy, but he’s certainly no girly-man. He likes sports, he likes to work on his car, and he can belch loudly after a swig of beer.

Soon after our conversation, I read this article titled “Daddy’s Girl,” recently posted on the Sojourners website. The article starts out by recalling a wedding where a groomsmen toasted the bride and said she was going to make the perfect wife because she had already demonstrated her ability to be her fiancé’s full-time maid and wait on him and his friends hand and foot. The author’s husband made the comment that he hoped no one would ever say that about their daughter.

Here is an excerpt from the article…

The real dangers come with those who want to limit who she is simply because she’s a girl.  Messages that tell her that girls cook and clean in the background while the boys explore and achieve.  That tell her that her worth stems from being physically appealing to boys.  Or that tell her that her voice is offensive or unwanted by God.  And as much as we’d like to believe that such messages are a quaint thing of the past, we continually see them popping up in the most unlikely of places…

You know it’s true love when your husband goes with you to a late, outdoor showing of “Mamma Mia” - and did I mention it was a sing-a-long? :)

Back in college, my dad introduced me to one of his co-workers because we shared a common interest in the work of Emily Dickinson. I don’t think we corresponded too much, but I still have postcards that she sent to me from her visit to Emily’s home. About a year ago, my mom introduced me (via e-mail) to one of her co-workers - a young woman who is involved in martial arts and shares other common interests with me. Thinking back on these connections shows me how many interesting people are out there - and how fortunate I am when I can connect with them. (And, no, I don’t need Facebook to be able to do this!)

The person I’m introducing today is a friendship that was forged out of a connection like the ones I mentioned above. Our friendship is sort of an unusual one because we’ve actually never met in person. We “met” via e-mail through my dad almost three years ago when my dad recruited her to try out my first attempt at homemade jam. (You can read her review here.) She and my dad used to work together, but both have since retired, although their lives continue to be full of activities. After Val’s initial review of my blackberry jam, she sent me a whole packet of great information about the art of preserving, although I have yet to try my hand at making jam again. This summer, I vow to try it again!

Since then, we have exchanged e-mails that ventured beyond the topic of simply making my own jam. She’s shared with me her adventures of entering (and winning!) contests, family stories, and other happenings in her life. She always seems to be doing something interesting, and has been an encouragement for me to continue pursuing things I’m interested in.

You can tell more about someone when you’ve hung out with them a lot, but even just through e-mails, I can tell that Val is warm, caring, deeply values and loves her family and friends, is talented, is passionate about life, and truly lives out what it means to “live deep and suck out the marrow of life.”

Here, in her own words, is Val…

1. One goal you’re striving for…to live each day to the fullest and without regrets.

2. If you could go back to school and study something different, what would you choose to study and why? I would pursue an advanced degree in food science and technology. I feel that it is essential that we do everything possible to ensure that we have a continuous food supply that is safe for fresh, processed, and preserved consumption.

3. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? I would choose a place where the temperature is always in the 70s; has many cultural venues, such as theatre, museums, and historical sites; there is a diverse demographic population; has a wonderful variety of restaurants; and there is shopping for every purpose. I’m not sure where that place is or if it exists! So to pick someplace that I’ve been to that I enjoy very much, I’d choose San Francisco or New York, but not in the summer months.

4. You’re stranded on an island and you have two books, two albums and two movies with you. Which ones would they be? Books: The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama and The Power: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment by Eckhart Tolle. Albums: It’s Time by Michael Buble and Sex and The City soundtrack. Movies: You’ve Got Mail and While You Were Sleeping.

5. How did you get interested in food preservation as a hobby? I think my very first memory of preserved foods was when I was about four years old and seeing for the first time award-winning preserved foods with ribbons on them. I remember seeing a display case filled “jewels in a jar.” I remember telling my dad that I wanted one of those ribbons. He replied that I would have to wait until I was much older and then make some jam and enter it for competition. My mom did some home canning when someone gave us a box of peaches or pears. In 1975, I begin competing in state fair baked and preserved food competitions. I’ve missed two competitions in all those years and might possibly be the longest competitor at Cal Expo. In 1989, I completed the Master Food Preserver program through UC Cooperative Extension and am the senior most active member of this volunteer organization for Sacramento County. We teach safe food preservation to the public through home and garden shows, church groups, 4-H, food festivals, and farmers’ markets.      

6. What is a lesson that you’ve learned from your many years of being a Master Food Preserver? I think the most important lesson about safe food preservation is that it is a very exacting science. Although preserving food is a relatively easy thing to do, it has the potential to be very dangerous or deadly when basic principles and guidelines are not followed. When good practices are in place, the options are endless for creating new and exciting flavor combinations. 

7. Name a book or movie character that you most identify with and why? I would say Kathleen Kelly, played by Meg Ryan, in the movie You’ve Got Mail. Kathleen owns a small independent bookstore. I love bookstores! I like Kathleen because she represents someone who lives an honest, simple, caring life. She loves her work and is not caught up in making big money. Her life seems complete…rich, for all the right reasons.       

8. If you could go back in time and visit yourself in a previous time, when would that be, and what would you tell yourself? I would go back to high school, apply for admission to a college back east, hopefully graduate, and then apply to grad school rather than get my degree in Sacramento.    

9. What is one important lesson that you’d like to pass onto your children/grandchildren? To be honest to yourself and others, to give of yourself freely through your actions and words, and to live each day as though it were the last.  

10. What is one thing that has surprised you about retirement? First, I should say that I’m extremely grateful…thankful to have arrived at this place in my life. This sense of gratitude is immeasurable…where saying that I’m grateful or thankful really is not enough. Before retiring my focus was to ensure that I would have enough money to live comfortably, nothing lavishly or over the top, just comfortably. Once I had the dollars and cents worked out and knew that I would be fine, I was surprised by my sense of uneasiness over knowing that I would now be responsible in a new way for creating a day for myself. No longer would I have a job to go to each day. I would be the boss of my new life. It took me about a year to come to terms with the reality of this change. Well before long, I got my head and inner voice totally ready for the big change. I am completely surprised by how fast the days and weeks pass by. One moment it’s Monday and suddenly it’s Thursday night! How did that happen? I highly recommend retirement to everyone! Life is good.

11. One word you’d use to describe yourself: dependable

12. One word that others would use to describe you: creative

13. If you could channel the strength and spirit of any historical figure, who would it be and why? I would say Julia Child. To me, she is an icon. She is credited for being one of the first to bring French cuisine to this country using practical techniques that would appeal to Americans. For many years she worked for the Office of Strategic Services handling highly classified communications. She is an example of hard work, dedication, and commitment. She raised the bar for women to reach beyond their perceived limitations at a time in history when women were generally not expected to be bread winners (no pun intended) or to have such fulfilling lives outside of the home.

14. The thought that usually pops in your head when you first wake up is, “What day of the week is this?” followed by, “I feel like I’m late for something!”

(Martin Yan and Val at the Martin Yan Culinary Arts Center in Shenzhen, China)

About two years ago, I posted about random connections in my life to explain what a small world we live in. Tonight, I have a funny experience to add to that list of “small world” connections.

A few days ago, one of the guys in our small group e-mailed everyone to say that he was inviting an old friend, Janet, to talk about her ministry at our meeting tonight. She was originally from the Seattle area, but has been living in China for nine years. When I met her, we made small talk, and it came up that Matt and I were originally from California. She asked where, so we got more specific. You always know when someone is familiar with California when they ask you which part. Matt mentioned that he grew up at CCAC - and Janet was familiar with the church.

We then began the “Do you know…?” game. Janet asked, “Do you know…” and when she paused to think, I was positive she would ask if we knew the Wongs (who I mentioned in my last “small world” post). The Wongs know a lot of people, and they have a similar ministry as Janet. A few seconds later, Janet finished her sentence: “Do you know…Keith Ip?”

“THAT’S MY DAD!!!” Matt exclaimed. You can imagine the laughter and comments of disbelief that ensued. We couldn’t believe it!! Of all the people at CCAC, Janet named Matt’s dad!! It turns out she doesn’t know him that well, but one of her best friends is one of Matt’s family’s close friends who spends Christmases with us. After we calmed down a bit, Janet did name the Wongs, and then moved on to NorCal Chinese Christians who I might know, especially those involved in WCC. She named a couple of people that I knew, including a couple who attended my SF church, who Janet will be visiting later this week.

It was really comforting, in a sense, to meet someone here in Seattle (who actually doesn’t even live here) who was that closely connected to people back at home. It sort of made me feel like I already knew her well, like she was an auntie that I had grown up knowing. I miss having that kind of feeling.

Again, what a small world!

On a different note, check out this adorable picture of my sister and future brother-in-law (and check out all of Calvina’s other pics while you’re at it)!

The weather in Seattle has been uncharacteristically summery the past week. We’ve gotten temps up close to 90, which called for a heat advisory one of the days. Although the sun is nice, I just cannot stand being hot. And when I say “hot,” I mean anything over 80 degrees. To make matters worse, the car that we mainly drive to and from work does not have A/C - and the A/C in my car is not working. In fact, whenever the “overheat” light flashes on (even when I’m not using the A/C), we have to crank up the heater. Even when it’s 85 degrees out. Not fun.

Another negative aspect to hot weather is that I need to spend a lot of time watering my plants. I cringe when I see a hint of wilting in the leaves, and I know it’s something I need to make time for. Sometimes this is enjoyable, but not right now when a lot of my not-so-established plants up around the rockery require hand watering. It takes quite awhile, especially to ensure that the roots are being well-watered, as opposed to just wetting the surface of the soil. I’m kicking myself for not considering an irrigation system when we were first establishing our garden.

But the nice thing about warm weather is that it calls for playing outside. BBQs on the porch are most welcome, and we can work/play outside until 10 without worrying about getting cold. (Being eaten by mosquitoes is another issue…) Last night, our capoeira class met up with another capoeira group in downtown Seattle’s old Pioneer Square area and had an outdoor roda. I wore a loose dress (making it easy for me to change into my capoeira outfit without having to hide behind a tree), and with the sun on my face, I felt like I was going out at the beach. Some of us kicked off our shoes (later regretting it when I couldn’t wash off all the dirty spots), the instruments were strung up, and we played for our own enjoyment and everyone who stopped to watch. We were under a row of tall, shady trees, but the weather was still nice and warm. Absolutely perfect.

As soon as the roda ended, the clouds rolled in, and leaves began to swirl around on the ground as the wind picked up. One girl even got hit in the head by a falling branch as she was hugging another guy - and she thought he had just hit her on the head. People began sneezing, rubbing their eyes, and sniffling. Everything had changed within minutes. The wind picked up dust and swirled it around us, and cold droplets of rain began to fall. Everyone packed up quickly, said their goodbyes, and headed off. As I walked to my car, I had to hold the bottom of my dress down. The sky had grown cloudy, yet had a tinge of orange from the setting sun.

THIS was the kind of weather that I liked. The temperature was still probably in the 70s - so still very comfortable - the sky was overcast, yet still light enough, and dry enough that I could go out for a walk. At that point, I realized I was definitely made to live in the Northwest…or, if in California, only San Francisco. ;)

Ten years ago today, I became a college graduate with a degree in journalism from San Francisco State University (Go Gators!). The night before, I stayed up late, making flowers out of Fimo clay to affix to the top of my graduation cap. Because of SFSU’s centennial anniversary, all the graduates were wearing purple caps and gowns (the guys must have loved that!). Now, mine stood out with bright pink, green and yellow flowers.

Under my gown, I wore a floral green dress that I bought from the kids section at Macy’s. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I wore a kids’ dress to my college grad, but heck, I still ocassionally buy clothes from the kids section of Gap or Old Navy - and I’m in my 30s. SFSU had about 5,000 grads that year, and everyone was graduating during the same ceremony, as opposed to being split off into different disciplines. Surprisingly, I was able to spot my family and friends in the stands.

The ceremony was a blur. I just remember the commencement speaker reminiscing about the incredibly slow elevator of the Humanities building. I, along with my fellow journalism majors and others who spent most of our time in that building, cheered in agreement. At the end, we didn’t even walk across a stage (as far as I can remember). I think we just walked up near the stage and got a rolled up piece of paper, as our name was called (and called very quickly!).

I recently looked at pictures of SFSU online, and I have to admit that my memory of the campus is not very strong. Maybe because I only lived there for two years, but also because I’ve just forgotten some things. The transfer dorm where Tami and I first lived is now a regular dorm, and a newer, snazzier building is available for transfer students. Even though I lived on campus for awhile, I didn’t take away any friendships from college except for Queencie, who I met during my last semester in capoeira. I already knew Tami from high school, and she and I mostly hung out. I never meshed that well with my roomies, so I never cared to keep in touch. I enjoyed going through my journalism classes with the same set of classmates, but never got to know any of them well enough to keep in touch with after graduation.

I remember being on the school newspaper and the magazine - and now looking back and seeing how bad I was as a newspaper writer when I first started. I signed up for archery with a pass/fail grade, and surprisingly failed the class because I was always blowing off the class and volunteering for last-minute newspaper assignments. I took two semesters of “Singing for Self-Expression,” and will always remember the Disney-themed performance that a group of us did, where another Chinese girl and I sang “Reflections.” We also handed out cupcakes to the other students while singing “Be Our Guest.”

Living on campus was an interesting experience, too. I expected the typical dorm experience where people just walked into each others’ rooms. But since we lived in apartment-type rooms, the doors were always closed and, well, they just didn’t stay open on their own. There were two guys down the hall that we got to know (I worked with one of them at Learningsmith), and we were always storming into each other’s rooms and shooting each other with water guns. I also remember meeting a sort of strange girl downstairs one time because she overheard me playing Smashing Pumpkins songs on the piano. Doing laundry was always a pain because you never knew if the machines were going to be occupied. Even though I lived on campus, sometimes I’d be too lazy to walk back to the dorm room. I usually took naps in “The Pyramid,” an odd-shaped tower above the student union. The Pyramid was always dim, and there were cushions strewn around the room. I’d find a quiet spot, lay down, and snooze until the next class.

I took a guitar class and played “Stay,” as one of my final assignments, and fortunately a friend took the same class with me and gave me rides home so that I wouldn’t have to carry my guitar on the bus. I remember Tami and my junk food drawer in our dorm room, and how she and I would sing Lisa Loeb’s “I Do” at night as I attempted to play it on the guitar. I also remember scoping out new VW Beetles in the school parking lot so that I could gather a collection of photos of each color of the bug. And then there was my Geology of California class where the lights were always dim because of the slide shows. One day I fell asleep and farted so loud I woke myself up. No one laughed, so maybe they didn’t hear. I loved the literature classes, but not enough to take more classes to earn an English minor.

One of the most impactful classes I took was capoeira, which I took my last semester of college. I’m embarrassed to say I’ve been doing it for 10 years off and on (more off than on) because of how little I’ve improved over that time. But it remains one of the highlights of my week, to be able to work out in a way that is really fun (but tiring) and to be surrounded by interesting and entertaining people. It has indirectly been a part of my life for so long now. Through that class, I got more interested in the Brazilian culture, traveled there twice - the second time, meeting a pretty cool guy. ;)

It’s funny how most of these memories have very little to do with my education - or even the classes in my own major. I do remember getting assigned a “beat” in one of my newswriting courses. My beat was SFSU and the surrounding Lake Merced area, so I attended meetings that had to do with stuff going on at school, I reported on local crimes, and attended community gatherings. Let me tell you. Not too much was going on around there! It was during a Copy Editing class that I discovered a talent for picking out spelling errors, extra spaces between words, and faulty design elements. That led to my becoming one of the two copy editors on the school magazine, which meant late nights in the magazine room right before the publication was published. They were a pain, but I thought, “This is the life of a journalist!” and I loved it.

Our teachers always reminded us, “If you’re going into journalism, you’re not doing it for the money.” My first job out of college, I made $24,000. When I got the job offer, I told my parents how much I was going to make. “That’s really not a lot,” my mom told me. When I calculated everything, I realized she was right - but I was merely comparing it to the meager wages I had been earning throughout college. But it was OK - because I was doing what I loved. I truly believed that - and still do.

I don’t regret only having two years at SFSU. My two years at Cosumnes River College (or Across the Street University, as it was known by Valley High students) were valuable, as well. I got my GE taken care of at a less expensive price than at SFSU, and I also got my first taste of being on a college newspaper.

My experience in SF during those years has led me to still be in love with that city. I don’t think anyone who hasn’t lived there could love it the way someone who has lived there could love it. As for college, I think I will always be a student. Even after graduating, I couldn’t resist taking a couple of classes at the local community college. Being able to learn new things is one of the best gifts you can give yourself. Today, I’m choosing not to enroll in classes, although sometimes I’m tempted. But I still think of myself as being in learning mode - even if I’m not getting graded on anything.

Whether you’re still in school, or if you’re a recent grad, or if you’ve been out of college longer than I’ve been alive, I hope you never stop learning. Find something you’ve always wanted to learn and pursue it. See life as one big learning experience, whether it means taking a class, picking up a new hobby, or just getting involved in someone’s life and learning from them. Living deep and sucking the marrow out of life doesn’t end when you become an adult. It’s a lifelong endeavor - and I hope I will always live with that intention.

I’ve heard so many mother-in-law horror stories, but I’m happy and relieved to say that I can’t relate. My mother-in-law is a loving, funny, honest, and laid-back woman, and right from the start, she has made me feel welcome in their family. Today, my mother-in-law celebrates another year of life, and I want to wish her a happy birthday!!!

4. “Rustic” loses its appeal after a few days. Matt and I are campers. We’ve gone camping every summer for the past five or so years. We have no problem with going a few days without showers, squeezing out a log in the woods, or operating by headlamp. So we didn’t bat an eye at the idea of staying at an “eco-resort” where electricity was unavailable in the rooms. I was somewhat relieved to not have phone or Internet access all week. But what we wondered most was what we would do at night. Typically on vacations, we take advantage of the cable TV that is offered in the hotels - a luxury that we don’t have at home. Movies and home decorating shows are our faves. Or if there’s no TV, there’s at least light with which to read books. In Tulum, we would have neither.

We stayed in Cancun our first night in Mexico. Unless you’re a big resort person, feel free to skip over Cancun. We stuffed ourselves silly at a Brazilian churrascaria (I know, we’re in Mexico not Brazil, but we couldn’t resist…), took a long walk (and unsuccessfully attempted to jog) on the beach. The following day, we drove south to Tulum. (BTW, despite what you hear about Mexican cops pulling over American tourists and bribing them for money, we had zero problems. In fact, the cops that we did encounter at various roadblocks were very nice.)

We stayed at a place called Cabanas Copal, which had wooden structures (cabanas) with roofs made of palm fronds. Very rustic. Despite the website’s warnings that creepy crawly critters *could* appear in your cabana, we never had any issues. We saw iguanas sunbathing outside our cabana but never inside. Ours overlooked the ocean and gave us the most beautiful sunrises every morning. Each morning, I woke up around 6:15 and saw an orange glow on the wall next to Matt’s head. The glow was a reflection of the sunrise in front of our cabana, and allowed me to figure out the approximate time, depending on if the glow was more orange or more yellow. A few of those mornings, I went outside to get photos of the sunrise over the water, and then I’d return to bed for another hour or so of sleep, smelling the salty air on my pajamas.

Because our cabana was so simple and rustic, it was expected that we’d find sand on the floor. There never was that cozy feeling of walking around your hotel room in your socks or lounging on a cushy loveseat. Even after I showered, I would still feel the grittiness of sand on my skin. And the soap and shampoo never seemed to really lather, which meant I never felt totally clean.

After a day of being out and about, we’d walk through the dark sandy paths to our cabana, lit by the moon shining through gaps in the trees overhead. It was like a scene straight out of “Lost,” except we weren’t running for our lives, and there wasn’t anyone chasing us. The paths were also dimly lit with bare lightbulbs strung through the trees, but the bulbs were scarce enough to maintain the rustic feel of the place. Once inside our cabanas, we’d put on our headlamps and light the three candles provided for us. One candle gave us light for showering and brushing our teeth; another one would light the pathway between the bedroom and the bathroom; and the third would sit on the small table near the bed. Although the candles were a little inconvenient, I absolutely loved the ambience created by their glow.

However, by the 4th night, we were getting tired of all the sand, the stickiness from being so warm, and just feeling not quite clean all the time. So we forfeited our free night at the cabana and booked a hotel in Playa del Carmen. The hotel, which looked like a decent-sized hotel on its website, exceeded our expecations. It was a pretty large facility with an amazing spa/gym facility. We only spent two days there, but most of the time was in the gym, pool, or spa. We swam in the rooftop pool, used the gym’s treadmills, and read in the outdoor jacuzzis.

Their spa also had the most amazing “locker rooms.” Matt went into the men’s locker room to use the bathroom, and when he came out, he said, “You need to check out the locker room. If yours is like mine, it’s crazy!!” Sure enough, the locker rooms were not your typical kind. Sure, there were toilets and showers, but the main area contained several cushioned lounge chairs alongside three jacuzzis, each with a different temperature.

Judging by how much we enjoyed that last hotel, we figured that for future trips, it would be best to couple more rustic places with more modern places. We did enjoy the cabanas, the candlelit nights, and the ocean sunrises, but it was definitely refreshing to end our trip at a hotel that had electricity, strong showers, and clean floors.