Greg and Kat's blog

Facebook: not just for stalking anymore. It’s amazing the things you can learn while bumping around Facebook.

One of the things I recently learned was that the feather duster is the preferred implement for Chinese child whoopin’. (Apparently you hold the feathery-end and whop them with the stick part. The more you know.)

So having come across that new stereotype, I had to go hunting for others. Sure enough, I started to notice a trend among the many photos I had seen.

Here’s my new stereotype: Asian people take a lot of pictures of women standing beside flowers. [Most of the links below are to Facebook pictures, so your enjoyment of this post may be impaired by not being in the SFU network, or not having a Facebook account at all if you’re a complete loser, Eugene.]

Let’s start with some clear examples of the genre. We have Nicola in Hawaii and Jessica, a former 120 student, went to a tulip festival. That last one might be too easy to count.

I’m not sure that this one of Eunice can be included, she’s not much of a good-Asian-girl, but there are flowers in the background. Check.

Daniela, while not Asian herself, was in Thailand for her flowers-and-tree picture, so I’m counting it.

Suyoko inherited her obsession with the garden from her father (the Japanese half). There are also thousands of pictures of him with various plants hidden away somewhere.

On the family side, I have a picture of Pam in the back yard and one of their Ama. I’m sure I have seen a Kat-with-flowers picture, but can’t locate it at the moment. Kat’s experience is “we don’t want to waste the film on just the flowers… go stand beside the flowers so we can get a picture of them.”

Finally, just to show that it’s not an exclusively-Asian phenomenon, here’s Sara and some kind of flowering tree.

So, I took the plunge and moved my hosting from my computer behind a cable modem to a Dreamhost account. At US$8/mo (if you pay for 2 years) it’s pretty damned cheap for a full-featured hosting account.

If any of you notice any problems with this blog or the gallery, let me know. Everything should be faster (unless you’re in my house, then it will be slower) too.

By the way, if you want a Dreamhost account and follow this link to Dreamhost (or enter the promo code GREGBAKER01), you’ll use my promo code and get $40 off any hosting package. (I get stuff too, so I’m not being totally altruistic here.)

I believe I have mentioned my landlady before, but I’ll recap. I live in the downstairs apartment; she lives upstairs. She’s an old Chinese woman whose English is, at best, vaguely understandable. Her husband is dead and the kids have moved out, so she likes having somebody else living in the house.

Tonight, her computer did something unexpected and she asked if I could help her. I went upstairs and clicked “okay” in a dialog box. Then, she was feeling a little chatty, so I talked with her for a while.

Part way through the conversation, she was talking about her son growing up. Keep in mind that I only understand about every third word she says at the best of times. I still have no idea what she said, but what I heard was “The… uh… penis… up, down, up down, up down… he.. ah… hurt himself”. Again, that probably wasn’t what she said, but it’s what I got.

Has anybody else ever tried to keep a straight face with an old Chinese woman after she’s just brought up her son’s spontaneous erection injury? It’s about as difficult as you’d think.

The other choice quote was about some relative (didn’t catch which one–maybe a son in-law?): “in the mind… he a little bit slow.”

And, of course, her catch phrase: “I’m a little bit scared”. Bless her heart, she’s a little bit scared of everything: going outside, being in the house alone, going to China, having her granddaughters stay with her, … . The pronunciation (which I know because I’ve heard her say it probably 20 times) is something like “I a liddle beet scaaed.”

She’s really quite sweet. If she feels better about having me live downstairs, I’m kind of happy about that. Just as long as I don’t have to talk about her son’s penis again.

I have seen several of these on Facebook. “You know you go to UBC when…” “You know you’re from BC when…” “You know you’re Indian when…”

I can’t find an SFU one. So, I’m taking suggestions.

You know you go to SFU (Burnaby) when…

• you know how to get between any two points on campus on a rainy day without getting wet.
• you know that “a rainy day” is synonymous with “a day”.
• the people at Renaissance know your drink order before you say it.
• Parminder at Renaissance knows you by name.
• you longer wonder where floors 1-6 are.
• you can actually find the first floor in the AQ.
• you have even been stuck on the hill because of 1 inch of snow.
• you notice when people you don’t even know are studying in the wrong place, because they usually study over there [points].
• you have an opinion about the CFS… a STRONG opinion.
• heading for the bus stop, you look at your watch: if it’s 20 after, you kill ten minutes to wait out the bus rush.
• you have found yourself unable to remember significant parts of a Pub Night (or GIC Social).
• you have used a cafeteria tray to slide down the slopes near the gym after it snowed.
• “Purple Library Guy” doesn’t make you think of a lame superhero.
• … you know Purple Library Guy’s story.
• you can talk about “the Clan” without thinking about white hoods and torches.
• you are surprised when you meet your TA and they speak English.
• you ever decided not to take a course so you wouldn’t have to come to campus on Tuesdays.
• you know every takeout place that delivers to campus.
• you know several people that ride up the hill but would never do it yourself–that’s crazy.
• you have had an argument on the various merits of study locations on campus.
• you’d go to your prof’s office hours, if you could only find their office.
• you can walk from the Skytrain to the 145 stop with your eyes closed.
• it would never occur to you to ask “which one” when somebody refers to a “pub”.
• it’s going to take you seven years to finish your undergrad, but you’re okay with that.
• you have “gone swimming” in the pond in the AQ. Once. Never again.
• you have spent five minutes looking for your car in the parking lot before realizing you’re on the wrong level.

Okay, I’m out. Please add more in comments. More for inspiration.

Scalloped potatoes definitely a comfort food for me. As many know, potatoes were the unchallenged starch in my house. Pasta or rice could occasionally be served, as long as they were accompanied by potatoes in some form. At some point, I realized that it was conceptually possible to have an evening meal without a potato component. Somewhere in my heart, I still don’t feel it.

Kat’s family seems to be about the same way with rice. Noodles or potatoes? Fine, but get yourself some of the steamed rice to go with it.

Anyway… I had the foresight to have my mother write down her scalloped potato recipe at some point (from memory, naturally and it’s exactly what I remember). I made it for myself tonight.

• 4 baking potatoes, peeled and sliced
• butter
• flour
• salt & pepper
• milk

Most scalloped potato recipes call for first making a roux. Totally unnecessary. Cheese? Interferes with the potato flavour.

1. Set your oven to 325°F. Find a casserole dish somewhere in the 1.5–2 litre range. Butter the casserole dish generously (i.e. smear butter around with your fingers; there should be a few little butter goobers left around).
2. Lay down a layer of potato slices in the bottom of the dish. Sprinkle about 2 tbsp of flour. Salt and pepper.
3. Repeat until you get near the top of the dish. (Throw in a little more butter or some chopped onions if you feel the urge.) Finish with an un-topped potato layer. Give it a bit of a push down so everything settles.
4. Pour on milk until you can just see it around the edges (maybe 3/4 of the way up the dish).
5. Cover and throw in the oven. It can bubble-over: consider sliding a baking sheet under it.
6. Stir the whole thing around after an hour. (If it looks too wet, only half-cover it.) Cook until tender, 1.5–2 hours (total).

Eat it while it’s still screeching hot. Mmmmm… childhood.

Good thing I paid for the wi-fi. I have now been in the Raleigh-Durham airport for 7 hours, and have one more ahead of me (if all goes well). I bet AT&T didn’t think people would use the “one day” account at the airport for more than a few hours. Hah! Showed them!

Where were we… My Air Canada flight to Toronto was canceled. I phoned Air Canada and was told I could get to Toronto tonight, but not Vancouver. Fine, I’ll stay here and with Kat for another night.

When I went up to the desk to get my free shit, the guy said “you can’t get on the O’Hare flight?” He worked for United, not Air Canada, and put me on their flight to Chicago and then Vancouver, getting in at something like 23:00.

I had to go get my bags and check back in. No problem.

I got my bags and went to the counter. Since they had a canceled flight, there was pandelirium. But, I already had my ticket, and went to the electronic checkin. No problem, except the guy who was either (1) retarded, or (2) new and received 5 seconds of training before being put on the desk. The woman ahead of me who was trying to change her ticket befuddled him for probably 15 minutes. After somebody came and helped him, I put my bags up and said “have boarding pass; take bags”. He had to have somebody help him with that too.

Then, off to security. Who’s been selected for special screening? Nope… Nope… Nope… Yeah, that’s right! It was me!

So, I get patted down. Not that bad, I guess. Once again, they were friendly, and even slightly jovial.

The kicker for that: there’s a notation on your boarding pass that indicates that you’re up for special screening. So, if I had been a ne’er-do-well, I could have easily noticed that and, before getting anywhere near security, thrown out my knitting needles or toothpaste, or whatever. Nobody would have been any the wiser.

There’s a airport spa here. I got the 25 minute stress-reliever massage. That helped.

Now, I’ve got another hour before my flight. I found a seat near power, but should probably give it up and get something to eat. Maybe a drink.

Update 12:10: Home after 19 hours of travel containing maybe 6 hours in the air.

So, I’m still in the North Carolina airport. My flight that was delayed half an hour is now about 2:00 late. We spent about 1:30 sitting on the plane before the pilot decided we’d be more comfortable sitting in the terminal.

When we got off, they were still trying to get a maintenance crew to the plane. The guy on the intercom just said they’d have an update for us in about a half an hour.

I had a 2:30 layover in Toronto, so I’d be sure I had enough time to get the connection, having missed connections on a 1:30 layover there before. Good one, Air Canada!

Update: flight canceled. Rebooked with a Chicago stop. I may, in fact, get to Vancouver tonight. Late.

I’m heading back to Vancouver today, flying from Raleigh-Durham, through Toronto to Vancouver.

I left plenty of time to get to the airport, since I had to fill and return the rental car and get their shuttle to the airport. It turns out that at the Alamo rental car, a guy with some wireless dohickey comes up to your car and checks you out right there. There was a shuttle waiting to leave, so the whole thing took about 60 seconds.

Check-in and security were empty, so I sailed through there.

And, my flight was delayed about a half hour, so I’m here with almost 3 hours to kill. I might have to pay the $8 for wi-fi.

As an aside, the TSA people were almost… well… friendly. I know it’s contrary to everything I have read on the Internet. After the woman asked me to take my shoes off, she smirked and said “when they lower that threat level, you can keep your shoes on.” I told her that the floor was colder last time, so it was okay.

Yeah, I’m paying for the wi-fi…

I posted some more pictures of the tree that I took this morning.

I did a panorama from the upstairs balcony that gives a better idea of what happened. I had rolled my car a few feet forward before this picture (to leave room to get in and clear stuff out).

There’s a guy with a chainsaw clearing the last of the tree away right now. I’m hoping he’ll get the last chunks of log off the SUV so I can get some clear pictures of what’s left.

Just to add something else to this entry, I just got the strangest piece of spam:

Why? You stupid fat fuck. Have you looked at yourself in the
mirror lately? What a joke. Your lucky I am even writing this
because I can’t stand you most of the time. Why do you not get
serious about looking better? With all the bullshit out there
right now and dam results I’ve seen in the people I know, your
an idiot not trying something. My fuckin sister lost 52 lbs
not even exercising using this crap http://?????????.com

It’s about time you stopped being a lazy piece of shit and
do something about yourself.

-You know who I am probably

So, they’re trying the lesser-known sales technique “you get more flies with vinegar than honey and boiling vinegar is even better.” Clever.