Dim Sum Diaries
Well it was a pretty good weekend. I took Friday off and after schlepping the kids off to school, took a nice long nap. Puttered around the house, checked email, did the laundry, watched a bit of tv. Man, I wish all my days were like that (and getting paid for it)!!!

On Saturday, truly became a soccer mom in the literal sense. Daughter had soccer practice for the first time. The YMCA parking lot was crowded, but using my mad parking skills (and we’re following a person that is leaving…stake out parking spot as mine by turning on the turn blinker as leaving person pulls out…show the fierce glare that denotes that yes, I will rip your face off if you mess with my parking space bitch to anyone who dares approach). It was very warm and sunny for 9 am in the morning, but Daughter was slathered in sunscreen and looking a bit like a bionicle warrior with her plastic soccer shinguards and black cleats. Apparently had fun, so that's good.

Then drove up to my parents’ house in Los Angeles. It was quite relaxing actually. My parents were glad to see their grandkids.

“Oh, I’m going to take the kids out to the park,” Dad says innocently. A little too innocently. “They have a new play structure up that they should enjoy.”

An hour later, the kids come back with blue tongues and flecks of sugar down the front of their shirts.

“Oh,” I say, giving Gung Gung (Chinese for maternal grandpa) the “look”. “And where did you guys go again?”

Daughter pipes up. “The ice cream truck came and we got ice cream! Then Gung Gung took us to the donut shop!”

“You weren’t supposed to tell,” Gung Gung protests.

Daughter merely smirks.

We ate a lot…Korean bbq and then northern style noodles (at different times). Muy delicisioso..

As I was preparing to drive back home on Sunday evening, Gung Gung announces to the entire house, “Oh guess what kids, I have a surprise for you!!!”

I look at him for a minute. After surmising that he wasn’t giving them the keys to their own amphibious assault vehicle, I wearily warn him, “Please, no more candy.”

“Oh, its not candy.”


He pulls out a shopping bag. “It’s POTATO CHIPS!!!” he booms in the Santa Claus-esque way that only a grandfather who is about to give the kids back to the parents after mass feeding the kids with loads of sugar can manage.

“Yay!!!” the kids chorus.

It was a long drive back to chez moi.