My Gang Of New York, Part III: Meeting Jimmy Fallon & MetroDad On The Same Day!

One of the great things about traveling to far-flung, exotic locales is you might come face-to-face with mythical lifeforms. Here of course I'm talking about New York, and getting to meet the infamous MetroDad. Oh, and Jimmy Fallon, too.

I've been reading MetroDad for years so I was looking forward to meeting him in person. And talk about mythical lifeforms - an Asian blogger! Although it did cross my mind that maybe Pierre (aka MetroDad) didn't actually exist. Let's face it, this is the internet and he could actually be some really prolific, French 14-year-old.

But as you can see, he wasn't! Here's a picture I took of Pierre and his friend Jim, who is a producer on the show. Kiyomi is eating a red velvet cupcake she stole from a table in the hallway. That cupcake probably cost the show $45.

Pierre took time out of his busy schedule to meet us at Rockefeller Center, where his friend Jim most generously took us on a tour of Jimmy Fallon's studio. This was the moment Kiyomi put "Be an intern for Jimmy Fallon" at the top of her bucket list. Which, if you've ever seen a 12-year-old's bucket list, is pretty impressive since it beat out things like, 'Get txt mssg from Daniel Radcliffe' and 'Buy pony.'

Ashton Kutcher was a guest on the show that night, and here are the girls outside of his dressing room plotting to rush in and steal his underwear. Next door was where The Roots were rehearsing and Rigel was plotting to rush in and join the band.

We not only met Jimmy, but he invited us onto the set to take some pictures. Kira and Kiyomi have had a huge crush on Jimmy for awhile, so this was pretty mind-blowing for them. Kiyomi was a little bitter that she didn't get to sit in the seat closest to him, but she made up for it when, as we were leaving and Jimmy went to shake her hand she said, "Hey, no HUG?" and went in for a big embrace. Sure, they called for security but it was a moment to remember.

Here's where Jimmy told us to, "Look serious" and "Now laugh like crazy" which is what we're doing in these photos in case you couldn't tell. Hey, no one said we were actors.

A big THANK YOU to Pierre, Jim and Jimmy Fallon for putting up this family of tourists from L.A. and making our day. Sorry if we said 'like' way too much and kept complaining about the weather.

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Next Up: My Gang Of New York, Part IV: We Ate Stuff

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Day 14 of the sickness and boy is my sjövik tired

For the past fourteen days neither of my girls have been at school on the same day because of this cursed, hideous cold that's been going around. As a result, I'm pretty exhausted and bleary-eyed and only have the energy for the most vital of tasks, like looking at videos on the internet.

Here's one called Can't Get It Up, about the horrors of trying to assemble a piece of furniture from Ikea. If you've ever wanted to throw yourself off a building because you spent five days putting together an Anjůk toothbrush holder, I think you'll relate. Although you have to admit all is forgiven once you've had their meatballs.



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Like A (50-Year-Old) Virgin

As a few of you know, last month I turned fifty. Notice how I spelled that out, because it's a little less painful than seeing the numbers. I hate the look of that five and especially that zero, like a mouth gaping at how old and ancient I am. Stupid fifty.

But I'm taking it really well!

To be honest, it is going better than I'd expected. My teeth haven't all fallen out and neither of my hips seem like they'll need replacing soon. Although I did find my first gray hair on the morning of my birthday (I'm not kidding - that sucker just bounced out of my head like one of those pop-up turkey timers. Like it was saying, "Hello! You're ready! FOR OLDNESS.)

For the longest time I was reluctant to put my age out into the blogosphere. Let's face it – the blogging world is a young one. I mean, when you read people's posts and they're saying things like, "My mom said phones used to have dials on them" and "OMG Miley Cyrus takes me back to my youth" - well, you know you're one of the more vintage bottles in the cellar.

It was especially annoying when people would talk about the sixties like it was ancient history, wondering if there was electricity back then and what did people use to hunt their food. I mean, they really deserved to have comments left by 'Anonymous' on their blog that said, "Go change your diaper" and "I oughta tan your hide you whippersnapper." Not that I know who was responsible for that.

I admit I don't look fifty. At least, that's what people say. (When they've had a few. And been paid.) And I certainly don't feel fifty. As my most hip, stylish friend Natalie says, who is going to be hitting the five-oh soon herself, "Who knew fifty would feel this good?" And I have to agree - I have no desire to put on a pair of mom jeans or a polyester blazer. I haven't put my hair up in a bun with a hairnet, and I'm not going to bed at 8pm with my teeth in a glass next to me. Although I did catch my self saying, "What I wouldn't give for an afghan and a glass of fiber" the other day.

But here's my secret weapon, the one thing that I constantly say to make myself feel better. No, it's not, "Age is just a number" or "You're only as old as you feel" or any of that other touchy-feely mumbo jumbo. It's this:

I'M STILL YOUNGER THAN MADONNA.

That's right - the Material Girl is going to be fifty-three this year, and she's making music, directing movies and dressing like a hooker. I'm not saying she's my role model, or that I'm going to be putting on a bullet bra and parading around in ass-less chaps anytime soon (at least not in public) but it's good to see that life doesn't end when you hit the half-century mark, that you can still be a productive, vital, creative force who gets to put on a leather bustier and prance around with Justin Timberlake.

So I've decided that I'm going to embrace fifty, and the fact that I'm still standing, have a great marriage and raising two bright, beautiful girls. That I'm on my second career and my last minivan. That I can still wear stilettos even if I complain bitterly about them the entire time. That I'm older than most of you out there but still younger than Madonna. I'm even going to get used to writing those gawd-awful numbers.

GO 50!

That last cheer totally threw my back out.

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My Gang Of New York, Part II: Really Touristy Photos With Clever Captions

As threatened, more on my trip to New York! Here are some random photos, accompanied by my banal commentary. I have lots of time on my hands, as the girls have taken turns being sick since we got back. It's like NYC is punishing us for visiting. Perhaps I shouldn't have asked that man on the subway if there were any drive-thrus where I could get a half-caf, organic chai latte with a sprout infusion.
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This is one of my favorite photos, taken at Strawberry Fields, the John Lennon memorial in Central Park. Kiyomi's a rabid Beatles fan, so for her this was one of the highlights of our visit. Also one of the only times during our freezing, snowy trip that she put on her coat.

 

 Ever wonder who shells out $80 for those carriage rides? 

On the High Line, one of those places that we wish we had in L.A. Although if I might add, could be made that much better with the addition of a coffee cart. (See? It's saying things like that that's going to get my ass kicked the next time I visit.)

Rigel and I walking through a snowy Central Park. Hardly romantic, as this was taken by the girls who were walking behind and heckling us with things like, "Awww, aren't they CUTE?" and "LOOKIT THE LITTLE SCHMOOPIES." You can't tell by the picture, but we were thinking of all sorts of ways to torture them when they start dating.

 

At Bouchon Bakery at Time Warner Center, and in our room at the Empire Hotel in their beloved hats. Kira looks extra happy because on that day we "had lunch at a normal time like normal people." And for the record Rigel and I hardly think that waiting until 10pm to eat dinner is "so weird and unhealthy and, like, child abuse." Kids these days.

The famed cultural and historical New York landmark that Kira and Kiyomi couldn't wait to visit: the 4-story, Forever 21 store in Times Square.

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Next Up: My Gang Of New York, Part III: We Met Jimmy Fallon & MetroDad, All On The Same Day!

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Where on earth did this come from?

Tonight, as she has for the past few weeks Kira is rehearsing for her school's production of Moulin Rouge. Soon she'll spend weekends rehearsing, seven hours a day up until the show's premiere in late February. In between she still seeks out and performs at open mic nights, singing and playing guitar. She has one singular dream, to be a pop star and as she puts it "There is no Plan B because that means you have no faith in your dreams." Cue applause and a Z-snap.

Meanwhile, Kiyomi is preparing to begin rehearsals for her school's production of Tommy. On Tuesdays she takes a dance-intensive class to learn steps for the numbers and just to hone her dancing skills for future shows. She's in love with performing and wants to be on Broadway one day, and already has her monologue ready for when she's a guest on Jimmy Fallon. You know, after she wins the Tony.

As for me, I freak out and break out in a cold sweat if I have to address a audience of more than two people. My most vivid memory of taking piano as a child are the intense, week-long stomach aches I used to get before every recital. In middle school or high school, the idea of performing in public was as absurd as walking naked across the senior lawn, although I do remember a few of us egging on a classmate to do just that during finals week. And just our luck – since he was in drama club he accepted the challenge willingly and got all of us in trouble when he started taking off his clothes as the 5th period bell rang.

People always assume that the girls get their performing bug from me or Rigel, but nothing could be further from the truth. Sure Rigel's in a band, but that was something he started as an adult, and his experiences with any type of organized performing as a child are as non-existent as mine. He does remember playing at some parties in high school, but that wasn't so much for the love of the greasepaint as it was for the love of the unlimited access to the kegger being offered in the backyard patio. 

So where do the girls get their career aspirations? I'm thinking there was a mixup at the hospital - I did give birth at a hospital frequented by celebrities, so perhaps some singer/actresses somewhere are actually raising my camera-shy daughters who hate being in front of an audience. Their moms are throwing up their hands because their kids won't perform the duet with them from Miss Saigon, or refuse to enter the talent contest at the local community center. There are tiny sequined gowns going to waste in closets, and their moms go to sleep at night drying their tears with unused pageant applications.

But whatever the case, and as long as my girls want to pursue these pop-star-Broadway-diva dreams, I'm going to support them in any way I can. Even though I might not understand the desire to put yourself on a stage in front of a bunch of strangers for your art, I can understand wanting to follow your dreams and I'm betting I'll be watching them walk up on a stage sometime in the future to accept an award.

Although, I'm getting a stomach ache just thinking about it.

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This post was written as part of my involvement with the Yahoo! Motherboard. Read what other writers have to say about their kids following in their footsteps on the Yahoo! Motherboard page on Shine.


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My Gang Of New York, Part I: It's On

So, in case you missed my Facebook posts, or my Twitter feed or that airplane I rented pulling a banner, I just back from a trip to New York with Rigel and the girls. And, since I'm into this newfangled blogging fad, I'm going to write about here in painstaking detail. Remember a few years ago when I went to Japan and I wrote about it forever and it seemed like the posts would never end, like you were in some bad dream where you couldn't escape someone's neverending vacation slide show? Yeah, like that.

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A couple of weeks before Christmas I was offered a trip to New York for the launch of the Nintendo 3DS, and I came up with the brilliant idea of turning it into a family vacation. We hadn't taken a trip for awhile, and I was eager to visit New York again since the last time I was there was when I was in my twenties. (I said 'In my twenties' not 'during the 1920's' all you smartasses. Although, come to think of it I was driving through Central Park in a Model-T while wearing a flapper hat.)

The hardest part about preapring for the trip was getting everyone clothed. How do you get a family of Angelenos, who are used to 80° weather in the dead of winter, to make a trek into a land where people wear strange things called 'scarves' and 'coats'? I tried to tell Kira and Kiyomi that they would have to pack some warm clothes, and I swear one of them said, "Does that mean anything with sleeves?" Kiyomi was convinced she'd be running around in her usual getup of shorts and tank top except the difference was she'd be wearing socks with her sneakers.

(And get this – they both informed me that they only own ONE PAIR of long pants. I'm not sure how that happened, but I suppose that's what I get for letting teenagers do their own back-to-school shopping. In a related story, I did find nine Lady Gaga t-shirts and sixteen halter tops while I was cleaning their room.)

Then there was my clothing angst. Not only did I have to pick up some warm clothes, but they had to be stylish since I'd be hanging out with some pretty hip client-type-people and blogger chicks, who'd probably frown on my usual cold-weather solution of tucking thermal underwear into a pair of boots and topping it off with a 10-year-old ski parka. Oh, and that Dukes Of Hazzards hat that I got in 1987 probably wouldn't go over very well, either, although if you ask me burlap never goes out of style.

So I did what any normal person would do when faced with a clothing crisis: I bought $40 worth of fashion magazines and dilligently studied their pages for hours trying to find out what the hip 2011 woman was wearing in cold weather. Much like the scientist who might pour over fossils for insight into prehistoric man, I was scrutinizing Vogue for some clues into the correct heel height for the newest winter footwear. Both valid, important endeavors, but I win since my research resulted in a trip to the mall and a cute pair of fur-lined leather boots.

Long story short, after plunging ourselves into debt with numerous trips to Macy's, Forever 21, Tilly's, Urban Outfitters, DSW, Sports Chalet, Victoria's Secret (I needed a warm bra) and Rite Aid (everyone needed new lipgloss) we were finally off to New York! Although, after all of our foraging and scouring and researching in the name of fashion – the items that ended up being the most coveted were these, bought off the street in Times Square for $20:

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Next Up: My Gang Of New York, Part II: Really Touristy Photos With Clever Captions

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Grateful

Here's yet another re-posting of one of my pieces from the LA Moms Blog. Because I wanted the first post of the New Year to be a tired, old retread. Aiming high for 2011!

I was picking up my kids from school the other day, and when they got in the car my 11-year-old launched into a story about a classmate who said that his parents would be really upset that he got a 'B' on his report card. Without thinking I responded, “Well, aren’t you grateful we aren’t like that?” Naturally, I followed this up with a lecture about having to walk fifty miles through a hurricane to get to work and then a short summation of my time as an overworked child in a rug factory in India.

You’ve heard this before -- parents using other people’s misfortune to instill gratitude in their kids. The ones that say, “Hey, eat your peas — there are kids starving in other zip codes,” or “Sure you don’t like those generic jeans, but how’d you like it if all you had to wear was polyester?”

Unfortunately I find myself doing this a lot lately. Parenting is a competitive sport, and I’ve become expert at using my opponents’ “weaknesses” to bolster my standing with my daughters. When my 13-year-old told me about her friend being grounded for not cleaning her room, I wagged my finger and told her how grateful she should be that her dad and I had a high tolerance for filth. Then recently I couldn’t wait to share with both of my girls the rigorous chore schedule I found out a friend had laid out for her two sons. That was of course punctuated with, “Maybe now you won’t complain so much about having to unload the dishwasher.” I made sure to have my hands on my hips for that one.

It’s gotten so bad that I’m thinking of renting a horror film I remember seeing, one where the parents use spells to turn their unruly children into farm animals. I think I’ll get extra satisfaction from announcing over the closing credits, “I hope you now realize that having your allowance withheld is nothing compared to being turned into a goat.” I imagine they’ll put down the pillow they’ve been cowering behind and immediately begin folding that pile of laundry that had been sitting on the couch for two weeks.

But kids being the crafty creatures they are, they’ve managed to turn the tables on me. They were watching a show on TV the other night, “Secret Life of an American Gossip Girl” or something like that, and the 11-year-old yelled out to me, “Well mom, my room might look like a pigsty but at least I’m not pregnant and having an affair with my gym teacher.” As miffed as I was that she had stolen my technique, I had to admit she was right. I was suddenly filled with an immense feeling of gratitude and got to work hanging up the pile of clothes covering her bed.

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My Top Five Searches

Yahoo! recently released a list of their Top Searched Questions in 2010. They are:

1. How to tie a tie
2. How to lose weight
3. How to kiss
4. How to write a resume
5. What's the world's only immortal animal
6. Which city has the best tap water
7. Which natural disaster shortened earth's days
8. What is love
9. What causes lightning
10. How to boil an egg

Some of these make perfect sense. For instance, I wish more men would search for 'How to tie a tie' and maybe they wouldn't show up at formal events looking like they just got in a bar fight. Also, it would finally put an end to bolo ties, thank God. But then there's 'What's the world's only immortal animal.' What does this mean? Who was searching for this? I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

And of course, 'What is love' which is totally understandable. Everyone's looking for love on the internet. I'm wondering if Yahoo! returned "Baby don't hurt me," as the answer, which would have been awesome.

This got me thinking about a hypothetical situation: What if I was a search engine, and as a mom, what would be my Top Searched Questions asked by my kids. It's a strange thought, I know, but just go with it. Hey, it's only half as strange as 'What's the world's only immortal animal.'

Also, because this is my hypothetical situation, there will only be a Top 5.  I don't have a lot of time – I just found out the answer to 'Which natural disaster shortened earth's days.'

My Top 5 Searched Questions in 2010

1. Do I have to 
Doesn't matter what it is, I get asked this about almost everything from cleaning their room to feeding the cat. Also, more disturbingly, it's becoming the standard response from Kiyomi when I tell her to put on more clothes.

2. Where's my
Again, this proceeds a long list of things, from shoes to sunglasses to 'that five dollars I left on the couch three months ago.' It's usually followed by me asking, sometimes out loud, "Where's my gin."

3. Can I go to a movie
When Kira was around 2, we were watching TV and a commercial for a Disney movie came on. Before it even got halfway through she shouted out, "Available on DVD and video November 4th!" It was a precursor of things to come - now she knows the release date of pretty much every movie made, and wants to go to opening weekend of half of them. I've started answering with, "I don't know, can your friend's mom take you." Coincidentally, that's also what you get if you search it on Yahoo!

4. Are you going out again
The girls are finally old enough to stay home alone, and Rigel and I are taking full advantage of the situation. Late dinners, after-work drinks, even a trip to the dry cleaners are all opportunities to get out of the house and do something together. They're just hitting their teen years, though, so soon the situation will be reversed and we'll be making that same query. When that time comes, I plan to roll my eyes and wag my Wii controller, too, just to get back at them. 

5. Why are teachers so cruel
Homework taking longer than five minutes, pop quizzes, rules against starting fires in class – a variety of situations bring on this question. My standard response to this query is, "And you thought I was mean." Doesn't really answer their question, but makes me feel smug and vindicated which is the best you can ask for as a mother.

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Kira Won Some Tickets, I Talked To Ryan Seacrest, Then It Stopped Being Fun

Kira's been trying for weeks to get tickets to Jingle Ball, the annual holiday concert put on by KIIS FM. This year Katy Perry, Bruno Mars, Nelly and B.o.B. are going to be there and I'm sure everyone is going to have a grand old time and party like it's 2999. So every morning on the way to school Kira's been glued to her Blackberry calling in to the station, and this morning she finally got through and was told she was the winner. Hallelujah! What a great day we're having! What could go wrong!

Since Kira isn't 18 she had to hand the phone to me, and I had to pretend I was the winner. I woot-wooted and high-fived all around when I got on the phone with Ryan Seacrest, and said how excited my daughter was to be going to the concert. Did you hear me on the radio? Did it make my butt look big? It was over so fast I didn't get a chance to ask Ryan all the questions I've been saving up all these years, like if he and Simon really fight and who counts all the American Idol votes, and does he need a cover for his toaster. That last one may or may not have to do with a Christmas present I'm crocheting for him.

If you did hear me on the radio and I sounded a little more stressed out than usual, it might have been because at that moment I saw the red blinking lights in my rear view mirror of the Highway Patrol man who was pulling me over for talking on my cell phone while driving. Unfortunately neither my sparkling personality nor the wad of hundred-dollar bills I keep in my glove compartment for such encounters could convince him not to give me a ticket. Talk about harshing my mellow! One minute you're talking to Ryan Seacrest and the next minute you've crossed the threshold into life as a criminal. Don't laugh - I've heard that cell phone citations are the 'gateway crime' and I'm just one step away from stealing babies.

I don't even know how much this citation is, since the officer said I would find out when I got the actual ticket in the mail. It was so ominous when he said, "You'll see," in a tone that sounded more like, "It's so sad you won't be taking that vacation this year." Now I'm thinking these 'free' Jingle Ball tickets are going to cost me a small fortune, although I'm trying to tell myself that it'll be worth it for Kira to wave her hands in the air like she just don't care while she sees Katy Perry singing 'Teenage Dream' live and in person. In fact, I'm going to crochet her a tank top to throw on stage.

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Spam: It's What's For Dinner. No, Really.

Today I’m going to talk about Spam. I’m not talking about the kind in your mailbox, I’m talking about the canned meat.

Hey, where’d everybody go?

Now that everyone, save for a few adventurous souls and the Asians, have left the room let me tell you about one of my favorite family traditions, Spam musubi, (pronounced moo-soo-bee), a kind of sushi concoction made out of spam, rice and seaweed.

Hey look – now only the Asians are still here.

Sure, being Japanese-American, it’s kind of expected that my family tradition would be along the lines of a complex fish recipe handed down to me from my grandmother and featuring eyeballs and fins, or some sort of elegant cake concoction made from the delicate leaves of a young cherry blossom tree. Ideally it would be something that was created by my ancestors and whose ingredients were painstakingly written down on piece of parchment and residing in an antique carved wooden box that smells like memories.

Instead, it’s a meat of questionable origin, plopped out of a rectangular can along with it’s glistening, quivering coating of gelatin. Then it’s sliced, sauteed and sandwiched between some rice and wrapped in seaweed. It doesn’t so much smell like memories as like ham.

Here, see for yourself:



More than a tradition, it’s a constant presence whenever my huge family of 25 gets together. Unlike my mom’s lime-green jello that only makes an appearance at Thanksgiving, Spam musubi shows up at birthday parties, Christmas dinner, picnics, graduation celebrations and Easter brunch. Usually my mom makes a platter of Spam musubi, but since its recipe is universal anyone can step in and whip up a batch. Unlike other more glamorous, gourmet holiday dishes, sister-in-laws, cousins, aunts and uncles all possess the culinary skill to bring these beauties to the table. Take that, white-truffle-oil fingerling potatoes.

(It’s not just my family tradition – Spam musubi can be found at many Japanese restaurants and all over Hawaii, where they even sell them at 7-11. Being able to walk into a convenience store and pick up a Spam musubi and a Big Gulp might just be the best reason I’ve ever heard for moving to Maui.)

So if you’re ever lucky enough to be at one of my family gatherings, look past the turkey or the Easter ham or the platter of sandwiches and find the Tupperware filled with Spam musubi. Now there’s a dish steeped in tradition. And gelatin.

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This post was written as part of my involvement with the Yahoo! Motherboard. Read about other family traditions on the Yahoo! Motherboard page on Shine.



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