Monday, November 30, 2015

noteworthy things of november

November mostly consisted of apples and Addie.

Best friend and I got to go to a Bo Burnham show:

And a few Berkeley friends introduced us to a cool brunch place:

We got to have Chichi stay with us again: 

 We camped out on the patio with s'mores and Indiana Jones:

Nick and I celebrated our 8th anniversary: 

And we spent a weekend in a cabin:


There was a river:

Then Addie swam to the other side and got too scared to swim back, so Nick had to wade in and get her:


We went apple picking:



And went to the opera:

Addie's BFF came over to stay again: 

Nick turned 27:

Addie is adjusting to the colder weather: 

And she recently took up the piano: 

I went back home to visit family for a weekend and we went to Mexico for tacos:



We destroyed three birdies while playing badminton: 

And cuddled with puppies: 

We got to finally eat the fugu fins: 

We crushed the apples we picked:

And then juiced the pieces:


We compressed it so much that the apples formed one giant mass:

We took an extra friend on a road trip to Sacramento for Thanksgiving: 

Now we are waiting for our apple juice to turn into cider:






much love,
hedgie

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

the buddha in the attic review

I finished reading The Buddha in the Attic.


The Buddha in the Attic follows the many lives of women who sailed from their homelands in Japan to San Francisco as picture brides during the 1900's.

It is written in a way that reads like a mixture of a poem and a novella. The story is narrated in plural first person, which gives a sense of many different stories and what a lot of people went through--a single voice encompassing many by means of their shared experience. The novel goes over their major life milestones of sailing to America, learning to be in a marriage with a man they have just met, dealing with excruciatingly difficult jobs that were their only option, giving birth, raising kids that they don't understand, their neighbors viewing them as the enemy after the Pearl Harbor attack, and their relocation to internment camps during World War II.

The last chapter has a sudden narrator switch which discusses the mysteries of what ended up happening to the Japanese. Again, there is no action. No one does anything but speculate, and it ends up feeling so helpless and empty.

The prose is very lyrical, many sections only a paragraph long, which makes it feel light. I almost read the whole thing in one sitting because of how fast it went. There is no dialogue, no plot line, and no one specific characters that the reader gets to know and root for. Due to this, I can see this book being difficult for people expecting a more traditional way of telling stories. In my life, I have only read one other book written in plural first person, so it can be hard to get into since it reads so differently from what we are used to. In some ways, I wish the book had gotten deeper so that we could see one person's story be specific of the awful things they had to face. But just because I didn't get to feel close to any one person does not mean I did not cringe or want to cry while reading it.

As it is, the book as a whole felt like rumors, like I was gossiping with voices in the dark where we hoped no one would overhear us. It was like walking down the sidewalk in a neighborhood one night and sneaking glances in the windows, getting little glimpses of many lives. 





much love,
hedgie

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

cheesy anniversary

Nick and I just celebrated our 8th anniversary. I posted an Instagram photo of me and Nick, with the caption: Happy 8th anniversary to the guy who accepts me as I am, fills my life with so many beautiful moments, and makes sure the fridge has at least 3 kinds of cheese in it at all times. I love you, Nick!

A lot of people later told me that they laughed at my silly comment, assuming it was a joke.

It is not a joke.

It is all too real.

Notice the teeth marks in the one on the bottom right? That one is his snacking cheese

This is my life.





much love,
hedgie 

Monday, November 9, 2015

pumpkin pie

I never had a slice of pumpkin pie until I was well into high school. It was never a tradition in my family.

My Dad's family came to America from Ireland. Their first fall here, they decided to have an all-American Thanksgiving, complete with turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce.
They also had a pumpkin pie for dessert. Unfortunately, they thought it was pre-cooked and the entire family ate a raw pumpkin pie.

And that's why we never have pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving.


So if you see me shove my face with every pumpkin-related food from October to December, don't make fun of me. It is a rare and exotic delicacy for me. 





much love,
hedgie