INVITATION

Today, I laughed a lot. My face beamed with happiness, because of the tomatoes, the asparagus, the Laughing Cow cream cheese, the olive oil and vinegar, and the boiled eggs arranged in a glass plate, with a carved carrot flower in the middle, and Richard smiling from top of the monitor screen. The group of us, each had so much fun, laughed and laughed, when we found a list of good eating places to go. I was extremely happy because there was no plan for the afternoon. The sun was bright, the sky was clear, the wind was warm. Beibei did more to make me hysterically laughing all the way through night. I had to chase after him so that he could stop making those funky gestures and speaking in the funny tone. Weighed myself, gained again. But I know what to blame. It was them cinnamon and honey, a remedy someone gave me, that burned my throat and stomach. Yet, there is a tiny voice to remind me - should you blame yourself for all the delicious biscuits you baked continuously for ...

Almost 50,000 people participated in today's Sun Run. It was chilly and rainy in the morning. The train to downtown Vancouver was crowded. Once we got off at the Granville Station, we found thousands of people already there on Burrard Street. Phoned our friends but they were blocks away and could not come over to meet us at the white block. We waited in patience, in chilly gasps of wind. But our spirits were high. We were full of energy and could not wait to start. The music made our blood boil. Moved a bit further to the starting line. Many people were wearing blue and yellow this year to show their sympathy and support to the Boston Marathon. Like a miracle, the clouds parted and the sun was shining on us. The starting line, with balloons in blue and yellow. Time to run to your best! The Run Run routes through a scenic residential area. Approaching the 9K sign. The finish line was minutes ahead. It was sunny and hot! I completed the 10K in 1 ho...

I was out with a friend in a grocery store. We were chatting casually, bits this, bits that, when I saw  the label "ru..." I didn't give it a second look and picked up the round yellowish root with purple stains. In my mind I was thinking of rhubarb, and the delicious rhubarb muffins I was going to bake, though I didn't really know what rhubarb looked like. Naturally I was wrong. It was a rutabaga I bought, a turnip type of root. Once it was boiled, mashed and buttered with black pepper, it made a wonderful side dish for a teriyaki rib dinner. But I already bought lots of butter, buttermilk, baking powder, etc. lots of baking ingredients. Since the rhubarb muffins were not going to happen, and I could not find any trace of rhubarb in the market, I'd better make good use of the things I had. This resulted in a whole week baking spree to get rid of the buttermilk. I tried biscuits, biscuits and more biscuits, because they were so easy to make. It only takes ha...

I was attracted to Rules of Civility because of its language, which is witty, sharp and structured. I like the choice of words, the tone of language and the long and tangled sentences, which you don't often see in many books nowadays. Mostly I like the observations and comments on human nature. Strangely I don't like any of the characters, though I was captivated by the story. I don't view it as a love story. There is too much under the table, feelings concocted, emotions smothered... Among all the chaos, Kate Kontent, the heroine, remains calm and calculated. Actually she is so calculated, that by the end of the story I feel like reading memoirs written by a middle-aged lawyer or accountant wearing rimless eye glasses. By the end I became a bit tired of her remarks, which seem so petty and trivial, in contrast to what is going on around her in the world. I wish it were on a much broader canvas but again, this is the account of roughly two years of a 20-some young ...

That day, he gave me a notebook to use. It was a hard-covered notebook with lined thick paper. He used only a few pages to jot down some notes. He wanted to tear them away, but I stopped him. I would love to keep your handwriting, I said. I don't know how long he had this notebook, but I suspect it dated back to the mid 90s. What he forgot though, there was a page in the middle of the many blank pages, on which he wrote something very personal. While sitting in class, his mind must be wandering about, lingering on this woman, as beautiful as an exotic orchid flower. He must have felt this urge to write down the poetic sensations she aroused in him at the moment. I kept the notebook for a while, hesitating whether I should be honest and return it to him. One day I pretended to find the page by accident and asked whether he wanted to keep it. My pretension was not very convincing, for he took the notebook and put it away, along with his handwriting I wanted to keep. The rest of t...