Did you know this past Friday was Chinese New Year?
Now that I’m away from home, I don’t do as much for Chinese New Year as I did when I was younger and living with my parents, but there are a few traditions I still try to follow.
Eat noodles for long life!
Don’t clean the house… it washes away all the good fortune.
They’re all a bit superstitious, but they’re tradition! Plus, any tradition telling me not to clean the house is an easy one to keep.
It’s been around 30°C/90°F for several days now and as much as I love when the sun and my shorts come out (every Seattlite observes the sun with wonderment in their eyes), I’m melting.
For the last two nights, I’ve woken up in a sweat in bed, and had to move myself and my pillow over to the floor in front of the window.
The beauty of Seattle is no matter how hot it gets during the day, it always gets nice and cool at night. Unfortunately, sometimes it can take a little time for the indoors to catch up with the outdoors.
With the weather this way, there was no way I was turning on the oven.
On my team at work, we have a system where the person who most recently had a birthday is in charge of arranging some sort of celebration for the next birthday in line. That way everyone gets some birthday fun, but no single person gets burnt out on hunting down birthday cards and candles every few weeks.
But I’ve made it clear to the team that I can’t get burnt out on baking birthday cakes and they can always feel free to come to me for that sort of help. Birthday cakes are one of my favourite things to bake as I love finding all about a single person’s tastes and loves, and finding the perfect cake to make for them.
This week, the only information I had was sparse, but specific.
He loves beer and can’t eat dairy.
Hm. Not my typical list of requirements for cake, but no less exciting.
Although I now get giggly at a brand new pair of heels, I wasn’t always the stereotypical shopping girl. I was a pretty big tom boy when I was younger. In middle school, I wore my brother’s hand me downs. Not just t-shirts, I remember wearing his old jeans.
Nothing like a pair of shapeless, high waisted boy jeans to really make a girl feel like a lady.
But they didn’t get forced on me. I took them willingly because I used to hate most shopping. Toys? Okay, that was awesome. But groceries? Clothes? Meh.
There was one condition that could change my mind.