Ring Bling

This is how they say "I love you" in his family. Image from here.

This has been the year of weddings – several of my friends have tied the knot and next year, my sister is getting hitched (yay!). Of course Boyfriend and I have discussed our own wedding many a time (he would say, ad nauseam, I was say, not enough). But all this talk has spurred some pretty interesting dreams over the past year, particularly involving the ring:


Brass Knuckle Bliss

I’m in dream land, and the big moment happens: Boyfriend gets on his knee to propose, and out from behind his back comes the ring brass knuckles with his last name encrusted in diamonds across the top. I was speechless. I was excited that he finally asked, but completely disgusted at what was being presented to me. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings so I gratefully accepted the brass knuckles and went to go tell my friends. They were all laughing at my brass knuckles and I kept asking, “What do I do? What do I tell him?” Then I woke up relieved that I didn’t have to ask him to return brass knuckles. Although he now threatens to get me some nice knucks for our wedding day (dangit).

Plastic Shields and Quartz Crystal are a Girl’s Best Friend

Just last night, I was back in dreamland. I was getting ready for work when Boyfriend pulled me in the guest room. He got down on one knee and proposed. Instead of brass knuckles, this time I got a thing we referred to as a ring in my dream. Except this “ring” had a mini-plastic shield all around it. Its purpose was to protect the gems from getting damaged and falling out. But right after the proposal, the biggest gem fell out of the middle. When I picked it up, it was a huge hunk of quartz crystal. I was like, "Uh honey...can we get another ring? I'm not sure I like this one."

Boyfriend suggested we superglue it back to the base. He was so proud of this ring, but I just couldn’t do it. So I again insisted we get a different one.

Boyfriend got all butt-hurt and went off on how unappreciative I was.

I woke up laughing because I knew there was no way this ridiculousness was real. I'm hoping the real deal is nothing like dreamland.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but brass knuckles and plastic shields make for terrible engagement rings.

The Health Gods Hate Me...Sorta

Fall is here. 

Because I need more afflictions, I've been suffering from a sore throat and runny nose for the past few days. Just in time to ring in fall. I thought I deserved a break from health crap, being as I've already done my due diligence in the injury department this year. Oh well. Other than keeping Stash Tea in business and eating decongestants like candy, I'm pretty much on the mend from my hip surgery which was three weeks ago (time flies!).

Stitches are out, my wounds are nearly healed, my crutches have retired to the garage (for good I hope), and I just started driving again a few days ago. Woohoo! I've also been able to walk Bowser a little bit, although this has been a bit challenging with all the hills in our neighborhood. Lucky for me, he's been pretty accommodating of his gimpy mama.

This fall weather is making me crave a good hot yoga session, but it'll still be at least a few months before I'll be able to do something like that. I find out what kind of rehabilitation exercises I'll be doing early next month - I'm hoping I don't need physical therapy and they can just give me some exercises to do at home. I've already paid more than enough in PT bills this year, which was a complete waste of time and only made my hip worse.

To update you on the podcast invite, I'll be speaking with Heidi Durrow and Fanshen Cox on Mixed Chicks Chat on February 8th! It's a little ways out, so I'll remind you guys to tune in once we get closer.

Until next time, sticks and stones may break my bones, but the health gods will smite you.

So excited!

I got some amazing feedback from yesterday's post (thank you faithful readers!), including some from Heidi Durrow herself!

Not only was I flattered that Heidi liked yesterday's post, she also invited me to be a part of her regular podcast Mixed Chicks Chat! I enthusiastically accepted and I'll let you know once I have more information about it :)

I am American. Hear me roar.

My mini, multi-racial family and our Japanese dog :)

It is not often that I have written about my ethnicity on my blog. But I just finished reading one of the most touching books, The Girl Who Fell From The Sky by Heidi Durrow, and I couldn't help but bring it up.

I have to give big props to Heidi for poignantly writing from the perspective of a mixed race girl. I don't know that I have ever read a fiction book with a biracial character. Everything I've read about being multiracial has been sociological studies.

Rachel, the book's main character, is half black and half Danish, growing up in the Pacific Northwest after a terrible family tragedy. Rachel tries to find her place among her peers and immediately feels like she doesn't belong with other African Americans, nor is she completely accepted by her white peers.

Growing up in two worlds but never quite belonging in any one of them is very true to my own experience (yet I had about three worlds to choose from). I am a quarter black, a quarter Japanese, white and one-sixteenth Hawaiian. But in all honestly I have always loathed telling others I'm part Hawaiian. I'm not ashamed, nor do I have anything against Hawaiians, but so many people would latch on to that little bit of me and deny the fact that my pigment has more to do with being African American.

I can't tell you how many times I've heard, "Oh but you don't look black" or even worse "You don't act black." I've heard, "Wow you've really taken after your Hawaiian side." I have so many stories I could tell, but let's stop for a minute. How much influence does one-sixteenth really have on my appearance? I look like a short version of my mom who is black and Japanese. And that is why I deny being Hawaiian.

My cousins, I'm sure have all had different experiences, based on the way the gene pool has been distributed in my family. We're all mixed with varying quantities of the same ethnicities. Some appear to be only African American, others could even pass for being only Caucasian. How we all appear has influenced the groups we most identify with and least identify with.

My boyfriend is half white and half Mexican, born in Chihuahua, Mexico, yet most people are shocked to find this out due to his light skin and hazel eyes. While he doesn't deny being Mexican, he identifies more with being white. And even though him and I are both multiracial, I have had more jarring experiences with ignorant assholes based on my darker pigment.

I've been accused of "acting white" (by both black and white people) as Rachel is in the book, and yet I find that I identify more with being black and Japanese. Maybe it's because I'm very close to my biracial mother. Who knows? Insert sociological study here.

Boyfriend and I were having a good discussion about this over dinner one night. He thought it was neat that there was a book written from this perspective, and brought up the point that it was only in 1967 (when both of our parents were around 10 years old) when interracial marriages were even deemed legal in the U.S., based on a Supreme Court decision. Being multiracial has only begun to gain more awareness and acceptance within our own generation.

Of course there were interracial marriages and mixed children before. But you had to identify with being one or the other. My own mother's birth certificate identifies her as "Negroid", even though she is also half Japanese. Not to mention, it is completely politically incorrect to identify somebody that way. We've come a ways from the 50s. It wasn't until my own post-high school experiences that I even began seeing options to check "more than one race" rather than the "other" box or "choose one."

The bottom line is, you can be many within one. I am proud of my ethnicity and heritage, and I am proud to see more people celebrating being mixed.

*Fun fact: my second language is Spanish. I only know a handful of phrases Japanese, and I can count to ten. Expect the unexpected.

Hip Surgery Complete!

That dangly thing is my torn labrum. Sayonara, sucka!

Eleven months after I began having hip pain, I finally had surgery to fix it yesterday. The good news is, they didn't find the bone impingement they thought I had, so all they had to do was remove a good chunk of my labrum. They also drilled slightly into my bone so that it would generate new labrum (who knew joints could do that? The human body is amazing!). 

They filmed the whole surgery, which initially I didn't think I would watch. But I changed my mind and found it to be really interesting. My labrum was misshapen and detached from a different piece of cartilage it was supposed to be pals with, and it was slipping in and out of my joint causing me all of that pain. I have photo evidence as well, but I'll spare you the rest of the stomach-churning media. 

The surgery only took an hour, and I don't remember a thing about it. The last thing I remember before they put me under, was the anesthesiologist asking if I was nervous (which I totally was). "Your heart rate shot up! It's in your target zone for running a marathon. Don't be worried - you're in great hands here!" Then I went to sleep. 

I barely remember this, but the first thing I asked the nurse when I woke up is if they fixed me. When she said yes, I then asked if I could go hiking. She laughed, "Probably not today." 

Then she wheeled me out, and the first thing I asked Boyfriend was if he could cook me pancakes, hasbrowns and maple sausage. The nurse interrupted again and said I could only eat lightly that day. She was pretty much ruining my day's plans. 

But she really did end up being right. I was pretty drugged up most of yesterday (and today) and my mom came up to visit and help Boyfriend wait on me and make me comfortable. 

When I got home, Bowser instantly sensed something was wrong with me and followed me around all day, sniffing me, giving me kisses and laying by me. If he got up for awhile, he returned to the room every so often to check on me. He's such a great dog!

The drugs I'm on have me dreaming all kinds of craziness. Boyfriend came in to bed long after I had fallen asleep last night. I don't know what I thought was happening, but the second he came in the room, I started shrieking and screaming, and Bowser jumped off the bed and started barking, and I woke my mom up who was sleeping down the hall (and probably my neighbors too). 

Boyfriend, who was half-asleep prior to the shriek attack, was wide awake now and said, "Calm down! It's just me. Sheez!" 

Sorry, everyone!

I'm able to bear weight on my hip and walk a little bit, but I will still be on crutches so I can take it easy. I'm feeling better than I thought I would and look forward to starting my rehabilitation exercises so I can be active again. Hiking, biking and hot yoga are on my goals of things to do next year. I'm so happy the hard part is over and so thankful for all the well wishes and prayers my family and friends said for me. They really did help!

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but being in good health is priceless (and this post is pretty darn good for being on Oxy!). 

AMEN

I liked Anna Newell Jones' post so much today that I'm just linking to it for my own update. Sweet, simple, to the point:

http://www.andthenshesaved.com/and-then-she-saved/the-day-chuck-palahniuk-won-my-heart.html

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but we could all break a few spending habits.