sueeeus

…that would be the high road…

~*~*~*~*~

My boys spent Saturday night and all of Sunday with their dad.  Their coats were forgotten.  Sunday night, night, I repeat, I got a call from Gadget.  The truck won’t start.  I’ll have to pick them up directly, rather than meeting in the middle.  Fine.  I repeat the address back to him, that he’d given me, in order to comply with visitation rules, only to learn that he’d given me a bogus address.  WTH.  WTH. Armed with the correct address, I set out to collect my boys.  Of course I took a wrong turn and ended up way the hell away, deep in the heart of parts unknown, parts where it’s best not to pull over, parts where it’s best NOT TO BE.  He doesn’t exactly live on the nice side of town…   But I eventually got there, collected my boys, and returned home.  I think it was well past 10pm when I finally returned.  Pissed off, on many levels.  I simply don’t get why he would give me a bogus address.  In what universe does it do any good to do such a thing?  I’m flabbergasted, to say the least.  And grateful to have gotten divorced. Grateful.  Who is this stranger that I spent the last nine years with?

~*~*~*~*~

Now the boys are sick.  Pneumonia.  Nice.  It’s hard not to point any fingers.  They could just  as well have gotten sick while under my care.  Even so.  They are on antibiotics, and we caught it early, so we’re nipping it in the bud.  My beautiful little boys.  I want them to be WELL!

~*~*~*~*~

I, myself, am disoriented.  Having trouble with names.  What are my boys’ names, what is my name (Sueeeus Maximus, I’m not completely gone yet), what is Skills’ name?  It’s so strange not to be able to hold my own thoughts, and somewhat disconcerting.  So much so that I came home from work, just in case.  Had a hot eucalyptus and peppermint bath, a two hour nap, and a small salad, but still feel like my brain is not quite connected to the rest of me.  So strange.

~*~*~*~*~

Skills has a psycho ex.  Nice.  Does everyone have at least one psycho ex?  She’s throwing the STD card, among other things.  Noice. Maybe I should introduce her to Gadget.  They could be very interesting to one another, leaping about in the quagmire of all their tales and deceptions.

~*~*~*~*~

Oh, did I forget to mention that Gadget’s roommate L and her son C have moved out, and he is now entertaining a new woman roommate, who has three kids.  Gadget told me he was tired of the drama and tantrums on L and C’s parts, and that he was looking for a new roommate.  According to BB, and this has to be taken with a grain of salt, as he is just 5, the new woman shares a room (bed) with Gadget.  Just like the last woman, L.  Nice.  I really don’t care if Gadget sleeps around or goes through women like bubble gum, but I do care what environment he presents to my children when they are in his care.  I need to know that any other people, whether children or adult, who are living there are being decent and good to MY boys.  This, in addition to the crap address bit, makes me inclined to refile the visitation papers to remove further rights until adequate responsibility can be shown.  It’s asinine, that he would behave like this.  He loves his kids and wants to be a part of their lives, yet he pulls this $#!t.  And I want the kids to grow up with respect and admiration for their dad, if at all possible.  Can he not see this?  Is he so immature that he would make these piss-poor life choices that ultimately do nothing but hurt himself more?  I shake my head in utter consternation.  I need to talk to him about these things, but have to collect myself and my thoughts before I do.

But I am just. Too. Tired.

~*~*~*~*~

Apart from the scorned lovers’ drama, I had an incredible weekend.  Incredible!

~*~*~*~*~

I hired a sitter and went OUT on a Friday night.  Out!  Skills took me to his ‘club house’ where an AC/DC tribute band was playing.  I actually had a couple of drinks.  Drinks!  Me!  And loosened up commensurately.  Wink wink.  We danced and laughed and laughed and danced.  He’s a people magnet, is Skills.  It was fun to see him in that element.  Master of all he surveys.  Kind of like me.  Queen of all I survey.  (In our own worlds.)  Ahem.

Saturday night, after Gadget drove off with my kids, Skills arrived to whoosh me away.  We drove into the city, where he’d secured waterfront view reservations at a fine seafood establishment.  He fed me steak, asparagus and king crab legs.  So, so nice.

We slept.  (Minds out of the gutter people.  We truly just slept!)

Sunday I made pecan and apricot waffles, and we went for a two hour walk along a nearby trail.  So, so nice.  We enjoyed each others’ company for the rest of the day, until it was time to collect the kids.  After which everything went to hell in a handbasket.  See above.

My garage door opener is acting up.  As is my coffee machine.  As is my bathroom light.  I wonder if they are on the same circuit?  Unlikely.

Yesterday I couldn’t get my garage door to open.  My front door has a deadbolt lock and an extra security bolt that is always, always engaged.  For security.  But when the garage door won’t open, and one needs to enter the house, what can one do?  There is the third bay for which I actually have a key, but Gadget’s got it so jam packed full of crap that there is absolutely no way to enter.  Hopefully he’ll clear that out soon enough, but for now, it’s of no help.  I might also mention that the electrical panel is on the far wall of that bay, so there will be no repairing of faulty light switches for the time being.

We have a fenced back with locked access gates.  Luckily, the lock was not engaged, so I was able to make it to the back yard and begin scoping the windows in hopes that I’d left one unlocked and unbarred.  We have wood blocks in the window tracks as an added security measure.  All this security.  The stars must have been in alignment, because there was, in fact, an unlocked and unblocked window.  Granted, I destroyed the window screen in my zeal.  Okay, two window screens.  I was thrilled to get in, but also felt vulnerable, wondering how long that window had been left in that state.  I immediately locked it, then went to investigate the garage door situation.  The main controller worked perfectly (opened the door), so what did I do?  I went outside and tried the outside controller again.  It worked!  Yes, it closed the door.  But would it open again?  No.  NO!  Did I mention that I had just locked myself out?  IDIOT.

I scoped the house again, to no avail.  I kept trying the controller, to no avail.  I tried the outside wall controller.  I tried the remote.  I tried the built in car remote.  Nothing.  I kept pushing buttons, and finally, FINALLY, the door opened.  By the grace of God.  I immediately unbolted the front door’s security bolt, so that I could let myself in WITH MY KEY, if I should lock myself out again.  And commenced troubleshooting the garage door system.  Again.  I couldn’t get the remotes to work again, after that.

The antenna is clearly visible.  The main controller works fine.  The sensors are aligned.  One might think perhaps the remote is in need of a new battery, but all three?  The car remote is integrated with the car itself, and would not be low on power.   They should be independent of each other, so that a low battery in one shouldn’t affect them all.  What then?  I’m at a loss.

And today?  So far, it seems to be working normally.

I’m keeping the upper bolt open, though.  Just in case.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile.  I’m on vacation.  I have a week off.  Before the week began, the prospect of a week seemed like wealth untold.  Now, I have four days left and I feel like it’s over before it began.  I’ve been watching TV on DVD, late at night, after the kids are asleep.  Mad Men, seasons 1 and 2.  Drama.  It caught my attention and I enjoyed it.  Arrested Development.  I’m working on season 2.  That one makes me laugh out loud now and then.  I can use that!

I took BB to see Avatar at the IMAX, in 3D last week.  It was amazing.  It was the first time I’d taken him to the thee-AY-doe (theater), and my heart just swelled when I’d see him reaching his hand out into space to try to touch the 3D images.  It was such a special treat, to go to the big screen.  At least, I wanted it to be a magical thing for him.  I know that I would have loved to have had such a treat in my own youth.  I actually almost want to go back and see it again, alone, so I can immerse myself in it more, rather than watch my boy watching it.  It was amazing, what I did see, but I was distracted, watching him.  He did great for a nearly 5 year old.  He was fidgety after the first hour, but he behaved himself.  I’m proud of him.

This morning I saw Sherlock Holmes with Robert Downey, Jr. and Jude Law.  It was fun.  I enjoyed it.  I love RDJ, anyway.  He’s fun to watch.

I’m thinking about going to see New Moon, before my week is up.  I’m feeling a bit movied out, yet may not have a window of opportunity again for quite some time.  I’m planning to visit the art museum on Wednesday, and have to take LB in for his second half of his H1N1 shot on Thursday. Friday is New Year’s day, and that’s the end of the week.  Over, just like that.  I had grand plans of movies, books, window shopping and coffee shops.  Maybe I can squeeze something in on Thursday, after the doctor visit.

I’m not very good at relaxing.

I bought four different combs to address the issue. Here they are soaking in alcohol. The first one, big blue, is by far the most effective of the lot, but the other three are much more tolerable to young children and large men who behave like young children, when having their hair combed mercilessly by the resident woman with a mission.

When dealing with such an issue, what good is comfort if it doesn’t effectively address the situation? I used the long red comb first, progressed to the short red (the short blue is actually a dog flea comb, but is virtually the same as the small red comb) and did the final pass with big blue.

But first, I shaved BB’s head with the 1/8″ attachment. Because when I tried big blue on him the first time, it was too torturous. I mean, I was practically in tears myself, when I did my own first pass. It pulled out clumps of hair. Literally. I thought it would be much kinder to give him a ‘special’ haircut, than to wrestle with him and that unforgiving comb.

He’s still beautiful (to me), even without hair. When he saw his reflection he said, “Juss like Uncle T!” Because when my dear brother joined us the other week for our short family get together, he was sporting his summer shaved do. And everyone loves Uncle T. He’s a great guy, all around.

I love the bright attitude that my little one is blessed with. He is my shining star.

And the best news is, that after combing, shaving, combing, combing, combing, I found absolutely nothing on my little guy’s head. So I pronounce him clean. He wasn’t the carrier.

And more good news, is that after yesterday’s thorough combings, I found absolutely nothing in my hair, and nothing in Gadget’s (except dandruff, in his case). So I am pronouncing our home and heads louse free. I did buy a spare set of sheets (we had only one set, because we have a new bed, and I was waiting for a sale to get a spare set) so we wouldn’t have to stay up so late waiting for them to dry after washing nightly. We were up until 2 a.m. that first night, since the whole combing process took hours, and I didn’t think to strip the sheets until after I’d finished combing.

We’ll still go through a thorough combing every few days for the next two weeks, to be completely and absolutely certain, but it was SO very heartening to find nothing at all yesterday.

The previous day was, understandably, a freak-out, not having faced such a thing before, and then to discover those nasty egg pods. I’ve since learned that nits are the empty pods left after hatching. So we found no nits, actually, and we found no lice or nymphs. What we did find were some eggs, in both my hair and Gadget’s, but we removed them, and hopefully, hopefully, we’ve eradicated the problem. Finding them in Gadget’s spurred me to shave BB, because Gadget’s hair is already very very short, and I found nothing upon visual inspection, but that comb, big blue, found about five or six of the very same pod things that I found in mine. And under my microscope (yes, I have a mini scope for inspecting saliva for crystal patterns to detect potential fertility, from days gone by, and it does come in handy once in a while, although, it IS freaky to see what things look like that close up), they sadly and undoubtedly looked exactly like the photos I found on Doctor Google. So yes. Freak-out.

It’s amazing what something like that can do to one’s mental state. Yes, it can happen to anyone. No, it doesn’t mean you live in a pigsty. But all the same, it makes one feel so unclean. An outcast. A leper. That’s the second time I’ve used that word this week.

Conversely, the elation and relief one feels when one can say the problem has passed, is simply wonderful.  And sleeping in fresh sheets two nights in a row is kind of nice too.

Still a bit befuddled as to where the lice came from.  Not daycare.  Not us.  I wonder if possibly Sissy had them already, and brought them with her.  They don’t jump, leap, or fly.  We did go to a theme park, and possibly they were transmitted by contact with the head rest.  Or could it have happened via the head rest on an airplane?  Eeegads, one would hope not!  It remains a mystery.  Poor girl has very thick, long, luscious curly locks.  I can’t imagine her being able to comb through it with something like big blue.  I wish her well.

Casualties of an extended weekend:

• 1 broken Wii remote – fried
• 1 broken Wii charger station (see above)
• 1 three year old child, afraid of the water since his everloving dad thought he was big enough to try going under
• eleventy gazillion DVDs out of order, with or without their jackets
• forty seven** opened but unfinished soda cans
• thirty two** opened but unfinished snack cracker/chip packets
• 1 mountain of laundry
• 3 mountains of dirty dishes
• general homeland chaos
• sore, sore feet
• headache
• 1 parental meltdown when her three year old decided he was afraid of public toilets (which is completely understandable) and would only go at home. This at the beginning of an extended weekend away from home. (Luckily, once settled in to the hotel room, he decided that one wasn’t too scary.)

Highlights of an extended weekend:

• An overnight stay at a swanky downtown hotel, complete with swimming pool, white robes, and unlimited complimentary*** milk and cookies room service for the children
• A glorious sunny day for the girls to wander, browse, and shop without the boys
• An opportunity for the boys to go play arcade games without the girls
• Dining out with family
• Playing in a beautiful swimming pool with happy happy children (prior to being dunked, that is)
• Two little boys sitting on a king-sized bed, snacking on cookies and milk, and playing ‘go fish’
• Five kids, two adults, popcorn, candy, snacks, sodas, blankets, and pillows (all in two vehicles parked side by side) at the drive in theatre for the new Indiana Jones movie.
• That blissful calm that descends when the four extra kids are safely delivered to their own home, and our little family of three is safely back in our own home.

*Memorial Day weekend.  So it’s yesterday’s news.  Better late than never.

**exaggeration — even so, TOO MUCH WASTE! Ack!

***may not be so complimentary considering the king’s ransom charged for just one night

It all began when, shortly after announcing my intention to visit the land of Soup, Bec so graciously invited me to visit Sydney as well. Oh wait. Maybe I invited myself. It’s amazing how presumptuous one can become when under the influence of Zoloft, which so effectively strips away one’s social anxiety. She was most gracious, regardless of how conniving I may or may not have been!

Day 1 (Day 10 overall; Wednesday)

After a wistful adieu to Suse, and a nice short flight, I arrived at Sydney’s airport, to be met by none other than the Prof*. He is a delightful fellow indeed, and I still marvel at myself, somewhat, for being so bold as to throw myself into the arms of a family whom I’ve known only vicariously through the blogosphere. What an adventure!!

From the airport, we went to pick up the children from school. Sparkle truly does sparkle! She cupped my face in her little hands and looked into my eyes with her twinkling aquamarine eyes (eyes like the sea, after a storm**, just like her mother’s –gosh, they have the most incredible eyes) and said, “You’re pretty. You’re nice. I like you.” Now, is that not something to melt one’s heart?

Next came the Gorgeous Boy. Who truly is a gorgeous boy. So full of life and energy. So precise when speaking and sounding out his words. Off he ran to find the Pea Princess. She is a lovely girl, mature for her age, smart, kind, patient, and gentle with her younger siblings. These children certainly are a reflection of good parenting. My three year old points to something on his dinner plate and says, “What the hell is that?” How is that for contrast? (In my defense, I never seldom say WTH. Gadget, on the other hand, uses it quite readily. And yes, we have much work to do in the attitude department with ourselves and with our little guy.)

After the school pickup, we went to the park, then to the train station where Bec was waiting. In the flesh! She’s gorgeous. Big smiles, big hugs. One of the funniest things Sparkle said, about my visit, and me being president pregnant, was that I wouldn’t be able to “drink wine with Mummy.” It still makes me laugh, to think of it.

So there you have it. Family von Sparkle. They truly do sparkle. All of them. The twins are ingenious, making up games to entertain themselves. There is an oblong carpet in the living room with a dark border and a reddish interior with two or three sections of dark contrasting dots spanning the width. The twins run around the border of the carpet as fast as they can, trying not to fall in to the… ….volcano! And once in a while they detour and step very, very carefully on tiptoe, across the dots. Once in a while one will fling him or herself into the volcano and writhe about for a moment before jumping up and starting to chase the other around the perimeter again. All amidst peals of laughter. So entertaining! I loved being able to observe the family in action! And the Pea Princess reads, I suspect, nearly as much as BabelBabe, if that is at all possible. I myself can hardly comprehend it, but in the short time I was there, I know she went through at least 3 books! It dizzies my mind. How do these wonders do it? I read about as fast as I speak (which isn’t all that fast), sounding out each and every word.

Schloss von Sparkle –yes, I know I’m butchering the pseudo German, but being pseudo gives me full license to butcher at will, doesn’t it?– is gorgeous, with it’s high ceilings, crown moldings, long hallway and covered porch. I love the architectural details. And the flowers in the garden.

Day 2 (Day 11; Thursday)

Off to meet another old friend from Adelaide, who I met at a hostel while backpacking in Ireland, many years ago. She’s just had a gorgeous baby girl, now 4 months old and deliciously squeezable. She has relatives in Sydney and scheduled her visit to coincide with mine, so I could finally meet her partner and children. The elfen boy is my new best friend. He’s nearly 4, and warmed up to me quickly. He held my hand all day long, as we crossed streets, boarded the ferry, and explored the city. We had a glorious day.

An amazing didgiridoo player. Boats sailing at extreme angles! The harbor! The opera house! Manly Beach! Bondi Beach! Water, glorious water, splashing and sparkling like diamonds.

Day 3 (Day 12; Friday)

Another adventure! Off to the Blue Mountains to meet Blue Mountains Mary!!

Instant camaraderie and hours of great conversation!

Amazing scenery. I love the tiles in Mary’s bathroom. Souvenirs (and a little disturbance of national park flora***). Another incredible day.

Day 4 (Day 13; Saturday)

A quiet day, meandering through shops with the Family von Sparkle. Food is expensive! Pigs, oh my! Pea Princess, bless her loving heart, gave me a souvenir — mini Australian road signs! I love the way someone took the trouble to decorate the sidewalks. Ours (in my neck of the woods) are less than inspiring.

Later that day… …lunch with none other than Aunty Evil and My Float! Great company. Lovely women, lovely conversation (with the exception of just a teensy weensy instance of TMI, but I’ll leave that for someone else to blog about, should they ever have the inclination). Blue water, blue sky. A delightful setting with an open air view of the beach. Delicious food****. And a peek at Aunty Evil’s sleek new car! I love that new car smell.

Wouldn’t you know, in the excitement of it all, that I completely forgot to wish the Sydney bloggers all the best from the Melbourne bloggers.  (Sorry, everyone.  Please forgive!)  …And so it was another fabulous day.

Day 5 (Day 14; Sunday)

A quiet morning. It’s hard to say goodbye to Australia, and it’s been the best vacation of my life.

But anticipation builds as I look forward to seeing my own boys again. How I’ve missed them! I’ve been on the go and surrounded by warm, beautiful, and loving people throughout this entire journey, but there’s nothing like home, when it’s all said and done. How excited I am to see them once more!

*Is it just me, or is he very (young) Sean Conneryesque? And I mean that in the nicest way. Lucky Bec. What a gorgeous family, all around!

**said Buttercup of Wesley, from The Princess Bride

***Can you believe this gorgeous little scent diffuser (add a few drops of eucalyptus oil) is made from a banksia pod, similar to the strange, other-worldly rodent- with- fuzzy- tumors- looking thing in the background? Mary is just waiting to out me on this! Yes, I snagged it from a tree (stupid, obtuse, oblivious Yank, doesn’t know the difference between National Park and weeds by the wayside), and brought it home, through Customs and all. I DID itemize it on my declaration, but they only asked me if the food I had was candy, and I said yes. Because the food I had WAS candy. I didn’t lie! I didn’t bring up the fact that I had a seed pod in my backpack. They didn’t ask. I know, I know. I blame it on the Zoloft. Lack of social and cultural discretion, and all. Ahem.

****I ended up SHORT when it came time to square the bill. Mortified! Bec graciously covered me. I’m still embarrassed. Honestly.  And I never paid her back.  I feel like such a cad.

It’s not like I’m looking forward to two weeks across the globe or anything.

Shocking pink carry on. Contents: two cell phones (international GSM and local CDMA), camera, universal power adapter, cell-hone charger, camera charger, two paperbacks, one puzzle book, handbag, wallet, passport, ball-point pens, lip balm, dental floss, eye shadow, mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow brush, camera instruction manual, phone instruction manual, SIM card instruction manual.

Black CPAP case (medical equipment doesn’t count against the carry on allowance, woot). Contents: CPAP machine, CPAP mask, prescriptions, prenatal vitamins, OTC medications, glucose meter kit.

Red carry on size suitcase, to be checked. Contents: Walking sandals, sunscreen, hair goop, toothpaste, toothbrush, body wash, deodorant, graham crackers, and sundry US items intended to be unloaded remain in Australia.

Black backpack, to be checked. Contents: six light-weight tops, five crop-length cotton pants, tankini top, board shorts, assorted thongs* smalls, cotton gauze swimsuit cover-up, nightgown, and a sun hat. Yes, I fit it all in that little black backpack (with a bit of help from some vacuum seal travel bags).

On the plane, to be worn: black cotton pants with a delightful little bit of spandexy stretch built in, compression stockings (haven’t decided whether to wear the full hose or just the knee highs, but am leaning toward the full hose), white cotton top with black dot print (yes, I’ll resemble a salt-and-pepper haired dalmatian when Suse greets me at the airport) and a pretty blue satin sash tied in the back, light-weight black sweater, black suede fleece- lined slides (the poor-woman’s Ugg, easy on, easy off), and possibly a light-weight black jacket (it IS winter here, after all).

*KIDDING!

Monster Truck Jam!

I don’t know if it’s just the fun of actually going somewhere as a family, or seeing the big grins on the boys’ faces as they admired the gargantuan vehicles. Maybe it’s just the Zoloft. But I had a great time.

It was an all day affair. We got tickets to the ‘pit party’ in which we could walk the pit and view the vehicles, the course and meet the drivers.

There was an event called a demo race that was quite fun to watch. Teenage boys (and girls, too) in their crash and dent cars would speed around the course, trying to make it to the finish, but also trying to eliminate their competition. Bumper cars on steroids. It was fun. At the pit party they let kids autograph their cars. The boys really enjoyed leaving their mark.

Even though I paid the premium price for our tickets, the only seating available by the time I committed to going were in the nose-bleed section. Even so, the boys loved it. Harry especially had fun climbing all those stairs.

It was a bit terrifying for me, being so high up with a squirming three year old who doesn’t have any notion of mortality.

I’m loving that my brother’s kids have moved back to our area. It’s good for the boys to spend time together. I loved having two little boys and one big boy at this event. It magnified the fun. The whole experience made me feel like such a MOM. And I love that.

It turns out that the Monster Jam is an annual event that takes place over MLK weekend in our neck of the woods. We just might make it a family tradition, since it falls between the big boy and little boy birthdays. And, because we had so much FUN!

Prescription for a fine, fine day:

1. Take the day off from work.
2. Spend it with a dear friend.
3. Drive to the city.
4. Enjoy a delightful lunch.
5. See a show.
6. Use the HOV lane to bypass rush-hour traffic while returning to the suburbs.
7. Enter the house to be greeted enthusiastically by a nearly three-year old boy dressed as Spiderman.

What a day. What a show!

I had a silly smile on my face for the better part of two hours. And when Frankie started singing “I can’t take my eyes off of you,” I cried. Cried. Truth be told, I may just be an eensy weensy tad bit hormonal, but all the same, it was quite something.

Who loves you, pretty baby? Stay, just a little bit longer. Late December, back in ’63. Oh what a night. You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you. My eyes adored you.

The sounds I grew up with.

A girls day out is just what the doctor ordered.

Next weekend? We celebrate the boys.  Monster Jam.

…fruits of the forest

…dangerously delicious

While on the phone with my sister, and forced outside to obtain a clear signal, I discovered some very odd looking mushrooms growing amongst the bark chips. I picked one and brought it in for some google research.

Lo and behold, the elusive, the mighty, the morel. Morchella elata, to be precise.

Brave Stupid All those warnings and red flags about lethal mushrooms mixed with memories of childhood tales of that most sought after specimen of culinary delight. I sauteed the first one in some butter. It was to die for (although I hoped not literally). I gathered my courage, collected the crop, and proceeded to make this.

I’m not a pasta aficionado, but the recipe sounded so good that I thought I’d give it a try. I followed the recipe completely, with the addition of shallots. After much toil –it takes quite a bit of effort to roll out pasta dough to the appropriately thin consistency, the result is was, indeed, divine.

Oh. My. Goodness. As an old friend would say, budgasmic. But I don’t speak like that. Of course, anything that’s cooked in butter and cream can hardly help but taste incredible. Especially if there’s garlic and shallot involved. I happily indulged, all the while wondering in the back of my mind how much of an idiot I am for eating something so questionable. I’d feel so much more comfortable had I found the mushrooms at the local grocer, rather than in the wild. My pioneer spirit won (after considerable reading and comparison of photos, dissection and inspection). And I did live to tell.

Mr. Gadget wanted no part in this, and of course I wouldn’t try to extend such an experiment to my loved ones. I fashioned a nice red sauce for them. Safe. Fresh roma tomatoes, basil, garlic, onion, and beef.

Dinner at 9 p.m. isn’t the best of ideas, though. If ever I’m fool enough to attempt pasta from scratch again, I should start by 3.

And speaking of fools, today marks four happy years with the Gadget man. Four years ago today, we stood together in a little chapel on the Vegas strip, and said I do. I picked April 1st. My quirky sense of humor. It’s a date that’s easy to remember. Isn’t our wedding announcement fun We went to a photo booth and inserted our faces on a magazine cover (I always wanted to be a dancing girl, deep down inside).  We got the license plate as a souvenir from the chapel, and I merged it all together (covering the scantily clad parts so as to make the announcement more office appropriate).  People at work thought it was a joke — they didn’t believe that I really did run off and get married.  It was a fun reveal.  Four years later, and all is well.  Four fleeting years.  My, how swiftly they’ve passed.

It’s always an adventure in itself, to drive through the International District. We passed the Lucky Dong on the way to the New Kowloon. It was hard to miss the giant neon letters, and I promise, we didn’t snicker. Okay, we did. But only a bit. We were headed to my friend’s wedding banquet. Once there, we signed our names on a beautiful red silk cloth embellished with some fabulous Chinese embroidery. I like that idea, rather than a guest book. It was quite lovely. We found seats at a table on the bride’s side. I wonder if it’s a western thing, to segregate the bride’s people from the groom’s people Although I’m half Asian, I don’t blend that well in an Asian population. In the company of my blue eyed blonde husband and son –let’s just say we stood out from the crowd.

The toddler boy was well behaved, for the most part. He would wave excitedly every time he caught glimpse of another child. He’s so friendly that way. He enjoyed using the chopsticks as drumsticks. The bride and groom were quite late arriving, so people were sitting at their tables, drinking tea, passing the time. Very little English was spoken. There were many polite nods. It was going quite peacably until a certain Star Bellied Sneetch plummeted across the table at lightning speed, knocking a glass of 7-Up in its path onto the lap of a kindly grandmotherly sort seated across from us. Some parents just don’t control their children very well. The nerve of these parents, going out in public with an uncontrolled child. Honestly, I was trying to be keenly attentive, but this boy, he is FAST! We didn’t see that one coming at all. After many apologies and an attempt to clean up the mess, the hubbub eventually settled down.

The bride arrived, resplendent in the most beautiful strapless white gown, complete with a furry white stole. So appropriate for a wintry November wedding. She was beautiful, crowned in a tiara with a short veil. So lovely, my tiny 84 lb friend. She’s a doll. Literally. I tried to get a picture, armed only with my camera phone, however, I couldn’t get it to focus in time, due to the fact that the big pink blur blocking the picture was my finger. Idiot. By the time I figured out how to turn on the camera mode, turn on the flash, realize my finger was in the way, and learn how to zoom in, the moment was over and the bride had disappeared. She soon emerged in an amazing red gown, beaded and sequined and stunning. She and her new husband moved from table to table, toasting at every table. Food began to arrive.

The first platter to arrive on each table was a huge mound of some translucent faintly yellow stringy material, surrounded by thin slices of some sort of meat composition. Interlaced with the translucent material were long shreds of daikon. Delicious. I tried the translucent stuff, and it tasted quite good. It was a bit gelatinous, and crunchy. I have no idea what it was, sea creature or sea plant, but I bravely ate a little. I cut the meat into tiny pieces and fed it to the toddler boy, who gobbled it down enthusiastically. He’s such a trooper.

Next came the soup. It was a mild soup with clear noodles and crab bits. The toddler boy had a bowl of his own and half of mine as well. He’s a soup and noodle lover, he is. The bride reappeared in a teal satin gown with a cape. Again, beautiful. I began to wonder if it is a tradition to change for every course in a wedding banquet. And we thought American weddings were expensive! Goodness. The bride moved from table to table, bestowing gifts upon her guests. She gave me a cake, explaining that it was a tradition for the bride to give her family and friends a special wedding confection. I didn’t catch the complete story, but it seemed that was the gist of it.

The crab balls arrived. Decandent is the best word to describe these delights. They were large and crispy golden brown on the outside with a crab claw sticking out as a handle. Inside was a crab batter that was more crab than batter. They were fabulous. We got two, one for the boy and one for me. He only had half of one, so I got extra. Such a treat! Next came the shrimp platters. The first was a heap of giant shrimp, fried in a very delicate tempura-like batter, mounded on a bed of shredded lettuce. Beautiful and delicious. The other was the most artfully prepared chow mein I’ve ever encoutered. It’s probably not chow mein, but it was presented in a lacy woven fried noodle basket. It was quite lovely. Inside the basket was a stir fried mixture of celery, mushrooms, chicken, and shrimp. We were getting quite full at this point, and I noticed the bride had changed again. This time she wore a deep burgundy gown. So lovely. People who are size minus two can wear such stunning things!

We thought the meal was surely coming to a close, but more food arrived. There was a dish of baby bok choy stir fried with giant shitake mushrooms, accompanied by a platter of birds. Now, these birds caused quite a stir with the grandmotherly types at our table. They looked like quartered pigeons to me, head, beak and all, and I wasn’t too keen to try them. One of the ladies insisted, and put one on my plate. She had several, and they even requested to-go boxes to take the leftovers home. They must have been a special delicacy. I bravely tried some of my unknown bird, and was glad it was only a small piece. It was liverlike in consistency. Not at all to my liking, but I was a good sport and didn’t want to insult anyone. I was glad there were mushrooms and bok choy on the table, so I could turn my attention to them.

More food appeared. Goodness gracious, how do these tiny people stay so tiny and eat so heartily So far, everyone at the table had eaten something of everything (except Mr. Gadget, who tried to stay on familiar ground as much as possible). A giant platter of chicken arrived, along with a platter of fish. Whole fish. Head, eyes, and all. It was a dramatic presentation, to say the least. Being the good sport that I am, I tried a little tiny piece, and it was mushy and very oily. Not my favorite. I enjoy fish that are firm and flaky like salmon, cod, and halibut. The chicken was good. Mr. Gadget was relieved to discover that it was real chicken, not duck or goose or pigeon or crow. We think it was chicken, anyway. After that, yes, there was more food yet to come, arrived the fried rice. Finally. Rice. It was nearly the last dish. The wedding cake, a seven tiered composition, was cut and served. It was a fluffy yellowy cake with the lightest whipped icing with chopped fresh fruit between the layers. Quite nice.

And finally. A bowl of black beans in some sort of creamy looking sauce. We declined. I’m not sure if they were a dessert, but I suspect as much. We had absolutely no room left, at that point. During the cake and bean dish, the karaoke began. What is an Asian banquet without karaoke ! The bride and groom had the first song, and then an encore. My friend was such a good sport. I simply could not have imagined her singing karaoke in a thousand years. One of the grandmothers followed and belted out a few Chinese songs. She sang quite well. Nobody else had the courage to go forward, which might have had something to do with the full bottles of wine at each table, as wine glasses had not been provided.

The evening came to a close, and the guests began to leave. We thanked the bride and groom for the banquet and headed home. As we drove past the Lucky Dong, we didn’t snicker. Okay, we did, just a bit.