Vintage Photos: My Family

My mom sent me some vintage photos of my family the other day, and I can't stop thinking about them. I feel like I'm looking into a time-machine, and I love it. I wish I could have been a part of those pictures. 

My grandma in the 60s, very pregnant with my uncle.

My great-grandma on Christmas Eve in the 60s

My dad in his first kung-fu film in the 50s

My great-grandma and my grandma dressed up for a night out.

My grandma and (biological) grandpa on their wedding night.

My grandma on the beach in the 50s.

~C

Remembering: Thanksgiving

I wasn't planning on posting anything about Thanksgiving because my celebrations tend to look pretty much the same each year. It normally involves my whole family in LA, a huge turkey and lots of friends. But this year was different. Looking back at the photos of this year's dinner, I realized how special it was to be able to spend the one-on-one time with my aunt.

Typically, I would be fighting the crowds at Oakland Airport on my way home to LA. This year though, I happily opted to stay in the Bay and celebrate with my aunt who lives up here. Neither of us are big turkey fans, so we decided to go the non-traditional route and had a Thanksgiving melting pot of different foods. We spent the whole day together just hanging out, watching movies, eating and chatting. I loved it!

I think as long as you're with people who you love and who love you in return, then it doesn't really matter where you are or what you're eating.

Breakfast of champs: champagne, cheese and crackers

~C

Harvest Hell {Guest Post}

I've always wanted to do a series of guest posts written by friends and family, but I just haven't gotten around to bugging enough people to write something for me. Luckily for me, someone actually wrote something for me without too much pestering on my end! 

Below is a post written by my good friend Dustin who recently spent a few months harvesting wine in Oregon.
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We are all familiar with the idiom “this is when we separate the men from the boys”. Well, the harvest season in any wine producing region across the world is truly an example of the men proving that they are men, and the boys falling to pieces.  

Mr. B

I'm obsessed, nay, infatuated with Anthony Bourdain. I've watched every single episode of No Reservations, read his most recent book, am reading his first book, follow him on Twitter and on Facebook, and try to get him to respond to my tweets basically everyday. Clearly, he's not having it.

That's okay, he's like the dealer to my food porn addiction and I'm still planning to hussy up every buck I have to make sure the supply never runs dry.

Alright, in reality, I like the way he thinks and expresses himself. Sometimes crude, sometimes harsh, almost always sarcastic, but frank and to the point. I appreciate honestly without all the BS. I like the fact that he can sit at a bar in Boston and take shots of whiskey with the locals, and the next week sit down to a typical, yet basic family meal in Vietnam, and have a good time either way. I like that when he's eating, he can get along with everyone (have you seen the Ted Nugent episode?) Yes, he's rough around the edges, but no one is perfect.

Pumpkin Patch

Last weekend's trip to Marin by ferry to go get a pumpkin! 

 ~C

(PS. Just noticed how ugly this post looks on Safari! Check it on using Firefox instead!)

Tales From A Cafe: Nightmare

"He looked through me like I was thin air. I'm so stupid. He didn't even remember me and that night wasn't even a month ago..." Her mind kept wandering back to the last hour before she had left the restaurant. The bus ride seemed like an eternity, and she still had a few blocks to walk before reaching her apartment. The signal was red; she waited to cross the street. The light above her flickered on and off, and finally shut off leaving her standing in the dark.

"...I just can't believe  it. I'm so emb..." She felt a cold hand grab the back of her arm. A young girl with jet black hair and bright blue eyes stood behind her, staring up at her wide-eyed and emotionless.

Startled, she shook off the cold, pale hand and ran across the street. Once on the other side, she turned to look back, but the girl was gone.

"This town is creepy," she thought to herself as she hurried home. She felt a sudden gust of wind and sensed that someone was following her.

"Were those footsteps or the wind howling?"

She glanced over her shoulder and saw the girl following a few paces behind her on the opposite site of the street, head bowed.

She walked faster, fumbling in her bag to find her keys. Her heart pounded in her chest as she unlocked her front door, ran up the stairs into her apartment and bolted the chain behind her. With all the lights on, she crept to the window to peek outside. Down below, she saw the girl's blue eyes staring up at her and jumped back, dropping the window shade back into place.

Tales From A Cafe: Peephole

He tried to hold his breath to still the sound of his beating heart as he listened to the voices on the other side. They were talking in hushed voices and he couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

The thump thump thump of his heart only loudened as he grew suspicious of their words. "What are they talking about? Did I just hear my name? Why are they talking about me?" Thought after thought rushed through his mind even though he knew that the probability of him being the subject of their conversation was close to zero. After all, he had only seen them from a distance getting into the elevator before the doors closed tightly shut.

He glanced through the peephole of his front door again. Nothing. "They must be around the corner," he muttered to Sophie, his white and orange tabby cat who brushed up against his legs.

~C