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our birthday girl

Wednesday, December 14th, 2011

The first-born of the litter was willful and a little aggressive. The second-born was less so and seemed better suited for a pet. Jeremy’s mom chose carefully, administering all of the puppy personality tests. She took the second-born home and in one week’s time had her potty-trained, started her socialization, and had gotten all of her required shots. Mom said this was an anniversary gift from her and Pop.


welcome home



I felt like my nerves would reduce me to a heap on the floor: the drive from Ithaca to Syracuse, the wait for her flight to land, watching everyone on the flight pick up their luggage and then finally seeing the oversized luggage doors open. Skis, some large boxes, and then a large blue kennel rolled out. It was all a flurry of activity. Jeremy calmly, yet quickly walked up to the kennel and took a quick peek through the holes. Blackness inside. We could barely see a thing. He picked up the kennel and we walked outside to a patch of green lawn.

first visit to the cornell plantations



My hands were shaking. I had wanted a dog for so long and here she was. We opened the door and waited. Jeremy and I strained to see until two big eyes began to materialize deep in the kennel, catching the light of the February winter skies. This chunky, fluffy black puppy ambled out clumsily onto the grass. She heard my squeal and bounded toward me, hopping onto my lap, licking my hands, turning in little circles over and over. Soft. She was sooooo soft and wiggly. Jeremy laughed and she stopped in her tracks, spun around and bounced over to him. Our puppy.

jeremy taking kaweah for a walk



“What do we name her?” we asked each other on the drive home. She was asleep in my arms and then at some point, stretched across the emergency brake to settle her chin on Jeremy’s forearm before falling back asleep. He looked down at her then at me with the “I’m hopelessly smitten!” look. Scout? Bonkers? After a few days, Bonkers seemed more appropriate. It still seems appropriate today, but we decided on Kaweah, after the Kaweah Ridge Range in the Sierra Nevada of California.

out in the snow



She was on track to be a good-sized Labrador Retriever growing 1-2 pounds a week, giant paws, a 90-pound field champion for a father. After her spaying, she just stopped growing – frozen at 6 months with giant paws that she never grew into. And because Kaweah is over the moon with excitement and energy when she meets ANYONE, people always asked if she was a puppy… even when she was ten years old.

along for the fall shoot – and happy, always happy



Kaweah has been a healthy pup for all of her thirteen years. She doesn’t care for being petted, although she loves nothing more than to cuddle up with you on the couch, bed, floor. She’s a cuddler. She LOVES the vet (any vet, but especially her current awesome vet). She thinks drive-thrus are the best thing ever, especially when the bank teller has dog treats. She’s a quiet dog although her bark sounds like it should be coming from a dog twice her size.

a fan of flannel quilts



This pup will scavenge for garbage the moment she is out the door, but will leave any food in the house alone unless you tell her she can have it – even when we are gone for the whole day. For over a decade, she thoroughly enjoyed hiking mountain trails and running leaps into icy cold alpine lakes. She really loves kitty cats, though they aren’t so keen on her. Kaweah is not an aggressive dog, she just wants to play, take naps, eat (anything), and be with others.

playing gently with a puppy



During the bad nights of my chemotherapy when I was sick in the bathroom, she’d come and quietly sit by me for hours, gently leaning against me. Whenever I coughed, she would rest her paw on me. She watched over me when I slept or put her chin on my lap and softly sighed when I cried. Woman’s best friend.

birthday plate



These days Kaweah can’t hike or walk more than four miles on a good day. Her back legs are arthritic, her trachea is slowly collapsing, and her kidneys are starting to decline. It’s old age. A couple of white whiskers have replaced the black ones and her chin is turning white. We don’t let her go up or down the stairs without an escort anymore. She’s still in pretty good shape for a senior citizen. What matters most is that she is happy and comfortable, which she seems to be.

waiting for her release word



Happy birthday, my sweet little ‘weah. May your day be filled with romps in the snow, a special birthday plate with APPLES and CARROTS, naps on soft and fluffy blankies, belly rubs, squeaky hedgehogs, and dreams of chasing bunnies and squirrels.

make a wish, kaweah!

happy birthday, silly pup


is this a rerun?

Monday, November 7th, 2011

No, it’s not a rerun… it’s just my weekend.


sunrise on the way to the airport



Less than a week after I had returned from California, I was headed right back to the Golden State. It wasn’t a business trip, it was purely for fun and I had Jeremy as my traveling companion. The priorities were: wine country, San Francisco, great food, seeing good friends (we’d have to stay a year to see everyone!), some rest and relaxation for Jeremy, and something important I needed to do.

mexican taqueria in bezerkeley with my buddy figs (cindy)

caffeine and cupcakes in healdsburg

suuuuuuushi

cannelés at the healdsburg downtown bakery



Having visited both the Napa and Sonoma Valleys, I like the Sonoma side. It is less foofie and the landscape is less manicured, which I prefer. I also loathe the traffic in Napa Valley. This is definitely my favorite time to visit wine country, because the leaves are turning and the weather is cool enough for me to feel comfortable instead of overheated (and angry). My friends always get a chuckle when I say hot weather makes me cranky, but for anyone who loves cool weather – you totally know where I’m coming from. It was delightfully cool and sunny – perfect weather for wine tasting and raiding all of the bakeries we could find.

maples were turning red

i can’t resist the red leaves…

a red-tailed hawk at the farmer’s market (sonoma wildlife rescue center)

i try to stretch fall out as much as possible

fiery reds

and some plump grapes on the vines that had yet to be harvested



**Jump for more butter**

my dad

Sunday, June 19th, 2011

Kris and I were not what my dad wanted. He wanted boys… sons. But he made do with the two of us – giggling goofballs in pigtails who probably got away with far more than sons ever would have. My father came to the US in his early twenties and over the nearly forty years that I’ve known him, has embraced Western culture more than most Asian dads I know. Because of that, Kris and I danced between obeying the strict Chinese father and palling around with our Dad – our friend. I got yelled at to improve my SAT scores as often as I was woken up at 2 in the morning to go night fishing for striped bass.


sailing with kris and dad

dad, me, and mom in rocky mountain national park



I typically describe my father as a big kid with a credit card and driver’s license to my friends. And my friends love him. Every one of them. My dad is a charmer. I’ve learned over the years that I view my parents with a far more critical eye than my friends do. It’s okay. My parents do the same to me. But that comes with the territory. That comes with being (Chinese) family.

reading to my nephew

humoring my niece



**Jump for more butter**