Middle aged, Asian other, meat.


Passport photo for me today.  My friend and I were lamenting about the march of time across our faces and our hair.  Neither of us is coloring our hair.  Me, because I’d rather look older than spend the $.  Her, because she doesn’t want to spend a whole morning or afternoon in a chair at the salon every 6-8 weeks plus touching up the growing out roots.   I think I’m aging gracefully, but Jeremy insists I’m still fighting it.  He thinks I’m not comfortable with it as much as he’s comfortable with it.  This is true.  But he is a man.  And anyways, Jeremy’s aspired to be middle-aged his whole life.  (Jeremy’s in Portland now, where he remains middle-aged.)


This is the only time in my life that I’ve been Asian Other.  It’s a little funny to have all Chinese people dumped in the “other” category.  If the Asian Indians get a shout out, I think the Asian Chinese should too.



Dad and Max enjoying a tender moment (involving meat).


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