Erin and the Container Hearts

I've put considerable thought into what matching tattoos on Seb and I would look like. Currently I'm lobbying for bookends. Not like the sad ones from that Simon and Garfunkel song but pretty much the sad ones from the Simon and Garfunkel song forty years before it's relevant enough to evoke sadness.
Anyway, he's not the tattoo sort--but he will be if he ever falls into a coma.

My birthday has come and gone in a flash and a flurry of other people's kindness. Seb and I went into the city and partied last Saturday night. We tried to go to this American restaurant called Charlies Kitchen, but it was not to be.  Mingtian as a suggested reservation time is the last thing you want to hear when you haven't had a burger in 4 months.
We still had a goodly amount of fun. Our friends gave me a succulent and we ate copious portions of succulent meat at a German restaurant. We were there with a German exchange student who was a good sport about the whole thing. Plus I learned three new drinking games, including two played in Chinese.
I also palled around with a pair of puppies. Total success as evenings go.

My birthday wasn't technically until Tuesday and Sebastien woke me up before my 9 o'clock class with coffee in bed and a cake and cream puffs on the table. He likes to hide my presents. It's really cute because I usually forget until my pillow is suddenly lumpy.  The pinnacle came attached to the card which read, "Something to celebrate your father by and complete quests left unfinished." The box he handed me was playing the Legend of Zelda opening theme for NES and turned out to be my kindle on to which he had installed NES and SNES emulators. He had including not only my personal favorite titles, but all the games I used to watch my dad play and am super nostalgic for as well. Upon unboxing I hit start onceand tapped Fred into the account of the first character bank, because as I reminded Sebastien for at least the fourth time, my dad named his saved game after me. For dinner that night we made pizza from [post Universe invention] scratch and my student gifted me with a scarf she describes as being China red.

Sebastien's parents sent a second package to make up for the one we all assumed  was lost in the mail back in September and they both showed up on the same day. We now have 4 pounds of coffee and something like 27 chocolate bars. Best of all, the oatmeal cookies from the September box were still edible. Or they were until we consumed them all.

I finished Infinite Jest two Fridays ago and read the Magician King and The Book Thief in quick succession. I love the idea of books that have books of their own. It lends such a richness to that universe. Midterms went smoothly for us and this weekend we're heading back into the city to do a Thanksgiving approximation with the other Laowai we know.
It's hard to remember a time in my life where I didn't hate Thanksgiving and/or Christmas. They were never the best of times. Lots of yelling and stress, kids table ranking--plus whose idea was it to start mashing up carrots and turnips? Why is that even a thing??

 I sometimes think that if I could just have my own little family in a far flung corner of the world I could enjoy these sorts of events. But the duty of family is always scraping at my knees trying to get me to cry a lot and eat food I don't enjoy. If it weren't for novels or the X-Files marathons of yore, I'd have never have made it this far.
I'm sure we'll make the best out of this gathering. I'm really looking forward to seeing faces of people who I haven't talked to offline with since this summer.

For our contribution we made chocolate chip cookies, three kinds of crepes, roasted red peppers in an olive oil, rosemary and garlic marinade, and we'll share our last terrine that we smuggled into China from France.
Speaking of France, Sebastien's colleague, Jerome, went recently to Beijing and brought us back a Camembert....
These aren't exactly what you would describe as lean times.

There is snow on the ground and there are slippers on my feet. There's a scarf around my neck and hot cider in my cup. I'm wearing flannel in a tidy living room, and as I sit here upon my couch dipping an "extra" chocolate chip cookie just deep enough to leave morsels only slightly cold on the inside. I am relaxed and warm and I can't help thinking of something a Chinese American friend once told me, "White people smell like butter."

Sometimes you have to take a deep breath and embrace who you are.

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