que pasa

(By the time I post this, it will be Friday morning.  But all references to "tonight" actually mean Thursday night, and that makes 'tomorrow" today i.e. Friday)

It is my dad's birthday tomorrow and mom does not like to celebrate birthdays after the fact.  So, seeing as my brother would not be free tomorrow, we went out for dinner tonight.  No cake or anything, just making time to go out together for a meal. 

Family dinners are usually on Sundays.  A home cooked meal.  Talk about things that happened during the week because we do not get to see each other much.  Not enjoyable always, kinda quiet sometimes, but it is important to be there.  Like a ritual, a time pre-allocated for family.  Discussions and debates.  My dad always seems to have an answer for everything.  Incredible.  He may not always be right (or we may not always agree), but he sure sounds like he knows what he is talking about.

At these dinners, Mom takes occasional trips down memory lane to remind my brother and I of our childhood behavior.  Like how my brother used to love going to Parkway Parade (the mall we used frequent every week) and he would hint subtly to my parents by singing "I want to go to Yaohan, I want to go to Yaohan..."  (Yaohan was the Japanese electric store at Parkway).  Mind you, there is no such song "I want to go to Yaohan" and if he sings anything like his shower-time rendition of Titanic's My Love Will Go On, I suspect that it was one crazy tune.  My brother (now a mature 30) claims that he was just merely being communicative. 

And I just found out tonight that when I was seven, I drew a picture of wallet and there was a dollar bill with wings flying away.  And the wallet had a speech bubble saying, "Come back!  Wait for me!"  My mom thinks it was an sign that I might grow up to be a spendthrift and would probably always be broke.  She is right.  I probably spend too much, and am probably doomed to be a poor sod.  Snugly stuck in the proletariat class, I say.  Too bad she does not have the drawing anymore.

Then I randomly commented that I want to write a book (which seems to be the dream of half the bloggers worldwide).  To which my mom reminded me that when we first moved to our current residence, I actually wrote a weekly newsletter for the house.  For all of two issues.  Haha.  I think I might start that home newsletter thing going again.  Maybe not a newsletter, not that much happens at home.  (My dad says if there were so many things to write about we would all die young.  Funny man.)  Maybe a weekly column I can post on my door.