The Senakams | Corgi + 3

Supermarket Speed Racer

Mr. Speed Racer, circa 1967 (Japan), meet...

...Supermarket Speed Racer, circa 2007 (Safeway, Rockridge).

Don't be fooled by this automotive's simple design:

It packs the latest technologies such as a back-up alarm (so you don't become Safeway's liability), and a sophisticated computerized multiple-speed control- so I can race down the deli aisle and snap up the first rotisserie chicken before it hits the heat lamp.

It also boast an all electric engine that gives you gas mileage better than the Prius- 120 city/200 Hwy- if you can survive California traffic, that is.

The most impressive feature has to be its supreme maneuverability even in seemingly impassable spots (e.g. the tight squeeze in Aisle 13 between a larger set shopper's behind and the Slim Jim display).

I feel priviledged to be able to take it for a spin and play Speed Racer for a day. What an amazing piece of engineering.

Ankle Monster! Leave My Mommy Alone!

Bryson (in his bravest, big boy voice), "Stay away, Ankle Monster! I'm not scared of you, you Ugly Face!"

That's Bryson above feeling a bit threatened by the uninvited houseguest, Mr. Bruised Ankle, who is often spotted with the intimidating identical-twin sidekicks, Mr. Crutches, who seem to have hijacked his mommy in the past few days.

5 days post-sprain and Mr. Bruised Ankle is really showing his real color (bluish-black).

But as you can see, he means no harm to Bryson, he's merely frustrated that he doesn't know how to express the pain deep down inside. I helped him verbalize it with a Sharpie. I hope it's not toxic.

Life BC (Before Chaos)

Pure chaos. That about sums up this past week. You'll agree if you've read the last few entries. Plus I'm starting to develop a cold. Just perfect.

It was only last weekend, but it seems like a lifetime ago when we spent a blissfully quiet and content day with Bryson at Point Reyes National Seashore.

No crying babies, no limping on crutches, no runny nose.

Only strolls down picturesque streets of the quaint little town of Point Reyes Station (where Princes Charles and Camilla visited 2 years ago), munching on organic salads and downing pints of the finest ale (which Bryson also got a taste of, shhh...), and slurping down oysters harvested fresh from the sea and shucked right in front of your eyes.

With our stomachs full, we filled our day hiking in hills scattered with rutting tule elks (Bryson is safely out of their way), getting our feet wet and salty on the dog-friendly beaches with Bryson, and visiting the famous dairy farms that produce much of the "Happy Cows Come from California" dairy products.

We take blissful days like these for granted, and only now stuck on my butt with crutches by my side do I realize how fortunate we are to live the lives we do. I hope this is the end of the series of chaotic events, honestly, I'm quite done with it.

 

 
Dairy cows, oyster farms, a Pulitzer-prize winning community newspaper- you can find it all in Point Reyes

 

For more photos, check out our album on Flickr.

Oops, I did it again!

No, this isn't a tribute to Britney Spears' appalling come-back attempt.

I'm referring to my stupid ankle, sprained and swollen like a black and blue balloon, again, for what seems like the umpteenth time, just after I got back from Seattle today. All because I am too stubborn to admit that my body can no longer handle what my mind demands of it.

How did I become an ankle-spraining expert?

It all started when I was playing basketball and sprained it real bad when I was 16, I was on crutches for almost 2 months and it hasn't felt right ever since. It was explained by one doctor to me that once your ankle is injured like that, the nerves may not grow back right and your ankle gets "dumb", not being able to sense and react to uneven terrain, making you more prone to future sprains.

And thus the cycle begins- I would sprain it, be on crutches for a few weeks, start rehab (but never finish), gradually feel better, forget all about the last sprain, get reckless, and sprain ankle again. Rinse, and repeat.

So, my ankle-spraining ritual is not unlike the Harry Potter movie sequels- it happens about every other year, and they just keep coming.

This time, what got me is this short but steep (1000 ft gain in <1 mile) hiking trail that's only 15 minutes from home, the Claremont Canyon Regional Preserve.

This picture doesn't do this trail justice (the pix is from Wikipedia, BTW). The gorgeous panoramic view at the summit (together with your boiling blood) makes you feel so renewed and invigorated.

Unfortunately, it also instills a sense of invincibility and recklessness.

I quickly realized that I was going down too quickly when I started losing my footing just after the descent. But it was too late, I heard a pop in my ankle and I was immediately gripped with pain and a terrible realization of what's to come from my years of experience. 2 hours later, I crippled back to the car with the help of a friendly stranger and a very patient Bryson.

I knew perfectly well that it's going to be risky going up by myself with Bryson. But once you're faced with the challenge, the prospect of giving in to your fear just isn't something I can stomach.

And it's this same mentality that has given me so much trouble with my ankle through the years. I've always subscribed to the motto that "if you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything." Well, maybe my ankle is just too darn dumb for this mind-over-matter attitude.

I mean, other than "oops", what can I say?

Beginning of the Rest of Your Life

It's been a blur of a seemingly endless cycle of breast-feeding (or attempts of), burping and diaper-changing in the past 24 hours since I got to Seattle to join in on my new niece, Miss Chloe's Welcoming Committee.

I've heard plenty of cautionary tales, but the experience has been even more exciting and exhausting and puzzling as I could ever imagine. One minute you look at the angelic little face and that fuzzy feeling gushes from the bottom of your heart, the next minute milk gushes from her mouth all over your hair and you wish you were somewhere else.

Thank goodness they have a supporting cast the size of a Broadway production, with notable veteran Baby-Raising award-winners, namely her mother- and sister-in-law. What a difference experience makes.

One thing you learn quickly is after the whole birthing process, women lose all sense of modesty and everyone becomes impervious to bloody and fecal matter.

This afternoon, my sister in a rare moment of lucidity remarked that she felt like she's in some kind of a parallel universe these past couple days where reality doesn't exist. I welcomed her to the beginning of the rest of her new life, and made a mental note to self to refill my birth control as soon as I get home.

Look, I have one dimple, just like my mom

 
Left: The nameless dad...   Right: Presentation of Chloe the Trophy

This is a sign to leave me alone. Adios!

 

Sneak Preview

Here's a sneak peek, Chloe's first pix from my dad's camera:

 

Sleep tight, Chloe, Dai Yee Ma is coming to see you tomorrow!

Labor Update: She's HERE!

9 months of brewing, 18 hours of labor, and a few timely suctions, Chloe is HERE!!!

Weighing a modest 6 lb 1 oz, Miss Chloe Chan was born at 4:35 p.m. PST, September 17, 2007. My parents sound relieved over the phone, but you can still hear the chaos in the background of nurses and doctors busy shuffling around doing their thing (which I have no idea what that would be).

My mom is obviously happy to have her first grandchild, but she also reported with a slight hint of worry that the first thing she noticed on Chloe's face was a pair of thick, lucious "Donald Duck" lips. I explained to her these days people actually pay to get those. It's a good thing.

My sister is apparently doing just fine, tired, but fine overall, only needing a few stitches. After hearing about her experience, I think I'm gonna go get the "Ab Master" and start doing it every day starting pronto, even BEFORE we TRY to get pregnant. I know that's no guarantee that the some-day-labor will be shorter, but hell I'm gonna try everything I can to avoid an 18-hour labor and having my baby sucked out of me (*shudder*).

So, tomorrow, I'll hop onto the first flight in the morning and head to Seattle to see my new niece. I'll have to rearrange my work schedule and miss Bryson's first Obedience Rally class.

So Miss Chloe, if you're listening, you'd better act every bit the adorable no-fuss baby that I hope you are, welcome me with a "Auntie Ivy, so happy to finally meet you!", and tell me how much you appreciate me coming all the way up the coast to visit you! And oh, it doesn't hurt to pour me a cup of tea while you're at it.

I hope you look forward to meeting me as much as I look forward to meeting you! I promise I'll only pinch your cheek a little bit.

4:30 p.m. Labor Update

The phone just rang and my heart almost jumped out of my chest! I thought I'm a new Aunt!

But as soon as I heard the tone in my dad's voice, I knew it's a false alarm.

What a Prima Donna, come out and meet us already!!

OK, so the latest update is that after almost 3 hours of pushing, little Chloe still doesn't want to leave the comforts of my sister's womb. My sister's exhausted, and little Chloe doesn't realize that she needs to swim out face down (I guess she's a backstroke swimmer).

So, suction cup is next. And hopefully we'll have our Little Miss Conehead soon! More to come...

PUSH! Hoo Hoo Hoo Heeeee...

The long-awaited moment is finally upon us! My sister is in labor right at this minute (Sept 17, 4 p.m. PST), as reported by my anxious parents over a tightly clutched cell phone in the maternity suite in Seattle.

The anxiety has really been building for days, if not weeks, as she was told by her ob that she could deliver "any time now" 2 whole weeks ago. We were all holding our breath upon hearing that news, but hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, and finally, when we thought the baby's never gonna come, she started having contractions last night at 11 p.m., and she ended up in the hospital at 2 in the morning.

And of course, I had no idea any of that was happening in Seattle last night. I only found out this morning when I turned on my computer and saw my dad's e-mail:

"Your sister's in labor, but please don't bother calling since it's 5 in the morning and we're trying to catch a couple hours of snooze. We'll call you."

Imagine the agony!

Sitting in front of my computer, screaming at the top of my lungs "OH MY GOD!!! She's in labor! She's in labor!" with no response (other than a sideway glance from Bryson). All I could do was wait, when I know all kinds of drama is taking place with the rest of my family. I just couldn't take it. I went to the gym. It helped.

And when the phone finally rang, my mom reported calmly that her labor was slow, and after 9 hours and only going from 2 to 5 cm, they had to break her water. She also got her epidural (thanks goodness).

That was 10 a.m.. No words for another 4 hours, and I just couldn't take not knowing any longer. I picked up the phone and called my mom.

This time, my mom picked up and there's no sign of that calm collected woman of 4 hours ago. "Aye ya! Why are you calling now? She's doing the whole pushing-and-hooo-hooo-hooo-heeeee-ing thing, I can't talk right now! Call later...." (hang up)

15 minutes later, my dad called. "Hey, I think I heard your sister just started pushing." "I know," I said, "she's doing the hooo-hooo-hooo-heeeing thing, I heard it."

"What? How did you know?", my dad inquired. Apparently, my dad got left outside of the maternity suite all by himself, being the only man who's not the husband. I can imagine the confusion and chaos. I wish I could be there.

Anyway, that was 2 hours ago, which means 15 hours (or more) into labor. I don't wanna call and interrupt the labor again, so I'm just sitting here biting my nails, stewing in my own nerves and excitement...

Maybe I should do some hooo-hooo-hooo-heeing myself.

Son, Before You were Even Born...

For those of you who participated in the "Finding Bryson" game in the previous post, Bryson wants to thank all his fans for their interest and support. He has posted the answers in the comments section of that post. Go check it out.

And speaking of taking a stroll down Memory Lane, I discovered that Memory Lane's in fact one long slippery slope, once you head down, it's not so easy to stop.

Looking back at the blog and photos from many significant events of our lives through the years, we almost can't remember what life was like before we had Bryson, even though that was only 9 months ago...

But what if Bryson WAS with us the whole time? We sometimes wonder what life would have looked like, what if he was there? (For one, he'll definitely be the ring bearer at our wedding...)

The good news is, with the aid of modern technology, we don't have to wonder anymore!

Here's the artist's rendition of "What Life would have Looked Like if Bryson were there...":

This is us one October day 4 years ago, having our engagement pictures taken at the beautiful Baker Beach by one amazingly talented photographer Sharon Dawson (who also took our wedding photos). But even then we thought something was missing... Isn't the digitally enhanced picture so much more perfect?

You may not know this, but Bryson was also there at our wedding 3 years ago at the picturesque Mission Ranch in Carmel.

OK, we made all that up. But really, how did we manage all those years without seeing this happy face every day? I seriously don't know. All I know is we look forward to having him with us- and our future children- every single day, for a long, long time to come.

Will the Real Bryson Please Raise Your Paw?

We took a stroll down Memory Lane the other day, looking back to our first blog some 8+ months ago when we first got Bryson. Looking through his photos, we thought we could recognize every funny cowlick and every uneven toenail that's uniquely Bryson.

Well, we were wrong...

At the SF Corgi meet up last weekend, we ran into this other most handsome corgi, Wally. You look at their faces and you'd think "Oh, Bryson's right here... or wait, is that Wally?!", and you feel totally guilty for almost picking up the wrong kid.

Upon chatting with Wally's humans, we made the discovery that the reason they took such resemblance to each others's coz they came from the same breeder, Faerie Glen, AND they could be half brothers with this beautiful pooch (I'm declining to use the "b" word), Dina, as their mom!

Now, Loyal Readers, if you've been with us for these past few months and you think you know Bryson, go ahead and try the "Find the Real Bryson" game below with pictures of Bryson and Wally:

Question 1: Which picture depicts Bryson chilling on a picnic table at Point Isabel?
                   (a) Left (b) Right (c) Both (d) Neither

Question 2: Identify the handsome corgi in the picture below.
                  (a) Wally (b) Bryson (c) Wal-son

Question 3:  Which heart-shaped butt belongs to Bryson?
                   (a) Left (b) Right (c) Woo.... Are these augmented?

 

Question 4: Which blinking corgi is Wally?
                  (a) Left (b) Right (c) Is this a trick question?

Question 5: Who's eating what?! (and you wonder where the butts come from)
(Free text) ________________________________

 

Feel free to submit your answers as a "Comment"! Stay tuned, answers will be posted shortly (or you may have already found them...)

( BTW, Wally's human, mrjoro, turns out to be a most amazing photographer- all the photos of Wally above are adapted from his Flickr collection, hopefully with his permission... Check out his non-dog photos too, it reminds us what a beautiful world we live in)

Marital therapy

Jacques came home last night with this beautifully arranged bouquet. Said it's for me, no special reason, just thought I'd like it.

I'm guilty to say that the first thing that came to my mind was "what do you want?", and the second thing was "how much did you spend on this?!".

He turns out to be quite the legilimens, without me asking, he went on to explain, while he was taking his lunch break from work, he saw a man walking by the florist across the street, did a double take, turned around and walked into the florist, and re-emerged a few minutes later with a huge bouquet. And that made him think of me. He said he even tried to get a bouquet with peony- a flower I recently mentioned I liked- only to find out it's out of season. To top that off, he beamed with pride when he announced that he got this for the rock-bottom bargain price of $20 since this florist works quite frequently with his hotel (instead of the $60-80 it retails for).

I have to say that despite of all the complaints I constantly make about him leaving dirty dishes around, his lack of interest in power tools, not being practical with money (etc, etc, etc.....), I'm impressed with these little romantic-esque gestures he pulls out of his sleeves (but trust me, he's also pulled out some "it-seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time" junk before, this process took years of trial-and-error).

And with this simple bribery, the dishes piling up will be tolerated for one more day. Isn't this what marriage is all about? :)

September Corgi Meetup

After months of absence for various reasons (all inexcusable according to Bryson), we're finally back to the San Francisco Corgi meetup today!

Bryson is happy to see his friends again, even though he doesn't seem to enjoy the games of ball-chasing and play-fighting, he relishes the time spent being the watchful observer, says he's a herding dog afterall, and in case someone drops a treat, you don't want to be so busy playing you miss out on that, right?

The biggest treat-sl#ts: (seated from left to right) Lleulu, Bryson and Toast

Today seems to be puppy day, they have so much energy it's hard to keep up with them... one minute they're taking an unscheduled bath, next minute they're all over you scheming treats out of your pocket with that sweet little puppy face

What are Bryson and Toast doing under the bench, you ask? Very simple, there's always a chance that if they cause enough disturbance, someone could tip over a treat jar and cause major spillage = free treats for all!

Corgis, corgis everywhere (ehhh.... where's Bryson?)

I'm here, mommy! Just staying camouflaged so I can keep an eye on everyone.

For more photos, click here.

¡Three Amigos!

Bryson couldn't wait till Halloween to try out his new outfit- a sombrero Auntie Rita got for him (and Picasso, yes, they have to be matchy-matchy) from Puerto Vallarta. Now all they need are 2 ponchos, 2 guitars, and the all important Third Amigo. All corgis who are good-looking but not too good-looking are encouraged to send in your application and CV if you'd like to be considered for the position of the Third Amigo.

Happy Labor Day!

Crashing a friend's brand new abode +
Yummy "home-cooked" brunch +
Mimosa (the more-champagne-less-juice variety) +
Cupcakes (from Teacake Bake Shop) =

Happy Labor Day!

   
"How much juice goes into this?"
"Someone says 3:1... 3 parts champagne and 1 part juice, I guess... that sounds good, right?"
"Sure, but top it off with more champagne, just to be safe..."

Peet's or Starbucks?

As a die-hard coffee drinker, this piece of news caught my attention this week: the founder of Peet's Coffee, Mr. Alfred Peet, died this week at the age of 87 in his Oregon home.

You may know Peet's as the "other" coffee place, but you may not know that the founders of Starbucks learned coffee roasting from Mr. Peet, and in fact the first Starbuck's in Pike Place Market sold coffee roasted by Peet's. Alfred Peet imported gourmet coffee roasting techniques from his home country of Holland, opened his first store in Berkeley in 1966, and has been pioneering the art of coffee-drinking in this country since.

And as a typical San Franciscan- or Californian, for that matter- you're often confronted by the question: Starbucks or Peet's?

Native Californians will often answer you Peet's, hands down, purely for their superior quality, the non frou-frou friendly neighborhood atmosphere, and most of all their genuine love of coffee.

Me, being a Seattle transplant, can't deny that I have soft spot for Starbucks (even though I do call them the Evil Empire). Just imagine... you're walking alone in a drizzle on a dreary day in Seattle (which is most days of the year), it's 3:30 in the afternoon but the sky is already dark, and you feel miserably cold and weary. Then, the warm glow from a Starbucks draws you in, with soothing music playing, people in good moods, offering you a cup of piping hot joe, which you can enjoy upon retiring to one of those big fluffy armchairs beside a fireplace...

You get the picture. Peet's sell coffee, Starbuck's sell comfort.

So what do I drink? Simple- a large half-decaf, sugar-free vanilla americano, with room please- from Peet's, of course. I'll save Starbucks for when I'm feeling depressed or when there isn't a Peet's in a 5-mile radius.

And in the meantime, I think you should follow your heart. It doesn't hurt to trust your canine endorser either (Bryson states that he has no conflict of interest to disclose).

(P.S. Check out the blog at Peet's to read more about Alfred Peet or leave a note)