A few days ago, I was out to lunch with my girlfriends. We sat around the table discussing the happenings of our lives. There are plans for graduate school, a new boyfriend, a thriving musical career, and a new pregnancy. And all I could talk about was the exceptionally large mess my baby made in his diaper that morning. I could hear the words coming out of my mouth, and I knew how mundane the story was, and how inappropriate for lunchtime conversation... but I couldn't do anything about it. It was like word vomit.
Oh good. Another bodily function no one wants to read about.
My name is Chinese, but my hair is red. When I was young, the worst thing you could call me was a redhead. It was "golden," thank you very much. I am a full-time mama to the punk and the basher. I am a violinist with Strings of Elegance, a private piano teacher and math tutor, and an Assistant Director for The Gifted Music School. My violin and piano were both made in 1910, and I inherited both from different grandparents. I have an outie belly button. My man looks hot in his "old man" hats. I enjoy sushi, hot tubbing, and getting caught in the rain.