The Black Pearl

I told you he was the best husband ever!  Last week the fed-ex man came to my door bearing presents.  Sorry the photo is slightly out of focus.  You all know now who the photographer is in the family.  Anyhow, I was given a matching necklace, earrings, and ring.  In the picture, I am wearing the pearl ring with my great-grandmother's wedding band.  The wedding band was just sitting in my jewelry box after I inherited my great-grandmother's wedding jewelry.  So I figured why not get it resized (from 7 to 4); at least it wouldn't be collecting dust. I'll try to take a better photo tomorrow.

I love you, Sean!  Watch out for those water balloons! 

 

xoxoxo Tragic

 

Us, two days before deployment

 

Here we are, the amazingly happy couple on one of our last nights together, a Saturday.  It's been longer than a month now since he's been gone.  One down, five to go.  He's spoiled me though because he calls everyday (mostly, unless there's a storm or something) and I get emails too.  How did I get so lucky to catch such a great husband? 

We've been married for ten months now!

The Quest

My husband readership may be aquainted with this particular quest. The quest for the moped. My inlaws purchased a Thai moped during the family sojourn. This decision was based on the ease of another import from Thailand made in the previous year, which was a bicycle. However, the import of an unmotorised vehicle is quite different from the (attempted) import of a moped. This became evident after two failed attempts to gain custody of said moped (the second just three days before my husband went to Iraq.) After his deployment, I inherited this task.

One week after he left for Iraq, and I'd driven to San Jose we found out that the shipping company in possession of the moped was going to beging charging us rent for holding the thing (because it was taking up valuable space for other items which had recently arrived.) Being the only member of the family unemployed, as well as the only member of the family with access to a large vehicle I decide to bear this particular cross. After driving the Beetle to San Jo on March 27th, I found myself driving back to San Diego on April 5th.

Although I have never witnessed a monsoon in person, I'm fairly sure I have an excellent idea of what one may look like because, curiously enough on both March 27th and April 5th, violent rain and wind storms would ravage California. Imagine that. Still, driving a Beetle in a pounding rain (nay, monsoon!) through California's central valley is one thing. Driving an empty cargo van through California's central valley is quite another. My first taste of the vicious wind I will face is East bound on Highway 152. The posted speed limit of 65 is wishful thinking, a joke.

Of course it got worse once I hit South bound Interstate 5. Despite my best intentions, I do not get an early start on the drive. I have to make a stop at my dad's office and pick up proof of insurance as well as a letter authorising me to operate the van. I'm concerned that I will not make it to Inglewood before the company we hired to assist us in the importation closes. I'm also concerned that if I run too late, the warehouse in Torrance will be closed as well. Once again, the speed limit is a joke. Even if the sky was not unleashing a torrent of rain down upon the unfortunate few who chose April 5th to drive to LA, I have to keep the speed down for economic reasons. One other big difference between the van and the beetle is this: the van is a gas pig. It gets okay gas mileage for a behemoth, but at that particular point in April the per gallon price of 87 octane is about $3 a gallon. This translates to an approximate cost of $85 to fill the tank completely up. So I try to keep my speed between 55 and 60, which means I am stranded behind all the big rigs in the slow lane. (As the more adventurous whiz by in the fast lane at estimated speeds of 90 miles an hour, despite billboards that warn "1,015 licenses taken here last year!". A speed violation over 100mph is a felony. Do not pass go, do NOT collect $200.)

The drive worsens still as I reach the grapevine, which is the winding route of I-5 which climbs over the mountains at a peak elevation of 4,000 feet. A blinking road sign is warning that "HIGH WIND ADVISORY: Big rigs, Trailers are not advised." In fact, it is raining so hard and is so foggy that I can barely see the 5 feet of road in front of me. I begin to worry that snow will be falling and that I will either have to purchase snow chains or rent a room just short of the summit and wait out the storm. Happily, there was no snow falling that day. That was the only break I got, the only thing that went right that day. The distance from Bakersfield to LA is given as 110 miles, but it felt like twice that. Instead of heading East on the highways tp avoid the rush hour LA traffic, I have to take 405, the San Diego freeway right into the belly of the beast.

After locating the office in Inglewood, the people who eased the import of the moped into America I have to drive around the block to find a parking place big enough for the van. I walk three blocks in the rain to pick up all of the official paperwork I will need, including a shipping list, and a packing list with the address of the final destination. (The closest port to Paulden AZ is, apparently, Long Beach!) My purse brimming with papers I make my way back to the van huddled under a violet umbrella.

The first stop went so well that I was beginning to think the rest of my endeavour would be equally simple.

This assumption was completely incorrect.

I find my second stop in Torrance simple enough. I exit the freeway on a completely random street and after making three left turns I find the street that I need. I consider this to be a stroke of considerable luck.

After parking my van in the warehouse parking lot, I make my way through a tangle of big rigs which are backing up and pulling forward, nearly hitting one another in an attempt to get into the slips. I stand in a drafty office while a secretary processed all of my paperwork behind what I assume was bullet proof glass. She types away and informs me that I have to pay $100 before the moped will be released to me. Cash. I have exactly $50 on me, and the company does not take plastic. It was 6pm and the warehouse was closing, so I trudged back to the van empty handed.

The AAA California map indicates that Long Beach is 113 miles, or one hour and forty minutes to San Diego. My empty hands and empty van are insult to injury, as it takes five hours at the neck-break speed of 15 mph to get to San Diego.

The next morning a Wednesday I wake up late (again) and call my mother-in-law about the $100 fee. She had tole me I wouldn't have to pay any money, but she authorises this fee and deposits the money into my account. The van and I suffer through another commute up 405 back to Torrance, which took two hours. I am confident because I am armed with $200 cash. I am getting that moped or will die trying.

And once again I find myself standing in a drafty office, only this time I have about a dozen burly truckers to keep me company.

You can imagine my horror when I present all of my paperwork including a power-of-attorney (all official and stamped) only to be told that the moped will be released to me after I pay the $399 in cash which is owed to the shipping company. The man in the office laughs in my face when I state that I only owe $99. He seems incredulous that I do not have $400 in cash on my person. Again I call my mother in law and inform her of the situation. We are in so deep now that there is no turning back, and she deposits the amount I need into the bank account. When I get to the ATM I learn that I have exceeded my withdrawal limit for the day, and can only take $150.

I now have on my person $400 exactly. After my paperwork is okayed and I fork over the $400, I am told to back into a slip between two big rigs.

I now have on my person exactly $1.

Since my fan is considerably smaller than a big rig I am told to pull around back by a grove of palm trees. The last piece of paperwork is signed by yours truly as the forklift approaches and the doors of the van are open.

My first sight of the moped occurrs at this moped. It is surrounded by a giant crate made of pallets. The crate is too damn wide to fit in the back of the van. Because the young guy in charge of the work crew recognises me from the day before he rides back to the main office to ask permission to remove the moped from the crate. Permission is granted.

But it will cost me $100 in cash (natch) to do so.

I am sunk.

Faced with the probability of having to try again on Thursday, I explain the situation to the young work crew. "I drove down from San Jose to pick this up.... My husband is in Iraq... I have only $1." The manager of the work crew translates my dillema into Espanol.

After I promise not to hold any of them responsibl;e should anything go wrong, four guys flip the crate on it's side while it is still on the forklift. I crawl into the van to detach the spare tire from the left side of the vehicle. Every millimeter counts. Two guys crawl into the van but cannot stand up because of their height. Two guys and a forklift stand on the outside pushing with all their strength while the other two guys are pulling with all they've got. They have to pull in and up to make it over the wheel wells that jut up in the cargo area. This takes about 45 minutes. But finally the crate is IN! I thank them profusely and feel bad that I don't have any thing to reward them with.

It took roughly three hours to get home. But I was just happy to finally have that supid moped in my possession.

Let this be a lesson to you. Unless you like cutting through tons of red tape and spending lots of money, unless you want to deal with a business run by Tony Soprano or one of his close personal friends, never NEVER import a motor vehicle!!

Good night and Good luck, Tragic

Holy Sh^t!

The quest for the moped

My wonderfully amazing husband!

Here's a photo of my husband and I when he re-enlisted back in October. I was so sick that day! (But my hair looks great!) And doesn't my husband look too handsome??

I love you Sean! Thanks for calling when you can!

Congratulations!!!!!!!

YayY! On April 6th Tom and Mieke Dumont welcomed their first child, a son. According to People magazine, the whole family is having a blast with their son whom they named Ace. Ace will join Mason (Adrian and Nina's son) as the second child to be welcomed into the No Doubt family. But there's still one to go: Gwen Stefani and husband Gavin Rossdale are still waiting to welcome their own child, who is expected in May or June (depending on the source.)

Once again, CONGRATULATIONS Tom and Mieke!!!!

xoxox Tragic

My new Pet!

adopt your own virtual pet!

Dodger's 12th birthday

This Valentine's day my doggie turned 12! Alas, I could not be there to help him celebrate.


cake, his favorite prey

:) Tragic

Visit to the Midway

Back before the New Year, my husband and I, and one other blogger (Fuzzybear Lioness) made a visit to the Midway. We had tried to visit once before, but my little Oldsmobile began to sputter, leaving us to coast off of I-5. This slow death began around Memorial Day with a car full of passengers, when for no apparent reason, my car stalled in a parking lot.

Our second visit to the Midway was made in the Beetle, and I'm pleased to say that the drive was breakdown free. The only hitch was that I had a bad cold, complete with a cough and runny nose. Due to a childhood accident when my nose was broken in three places (and never corrected) my sinuses don't always drain as they should. It was a chilly, yet sunny day at the Embarcadero, and I found myself wishing I'd worn more layers. As I was not feeling my best, here is my concise and almost clear recollection of that day. If I hadn't felt so ill, I'm sure I would have enjoyed more of it since I'm such a history buff.

The flight deck was really cold as there was a strong wind that day. Brr! There were also some old-timers (volunteers) telling old war stories in front of different aircraft.

The "museum level" complete with cafe and souvenir shop was also very chilly. Although there were walls here, there were also many places that were open to the strong breeze. 'Brr, I could never live here' was my most dominant thought.

As we followed the tour throughout the ship we passed through various other levels, where I found myself thinking one of the following at every turn:

-It's too cold, I could never live here.

-It's too cramped in this section, I could never live here.

-It's too hot in this section, I could never live here.

-This part of the ship is too orange, I could never live here.

xoxox Tragic

Another New Year

Well, here we are... another new year. 2006! Sheesh. I have to admit that out of all the holidays, I hate New Years Eve the most. I hate it more than Arbor Day, Columbus Day, or whatever other petty holiday you can think of. (Columbus Day is just too polarising these days anyhow.)

Maybe I just have a bad attitude, but more likely it's just past experiences. New Years Eve, is generally about people getting completely drunk off their asses and making promises they have no intention of ever keeping. ("I'm going to lose 15 pounds!," "I'm going to stop smoking," "I'm going to stop selling drugs.") This is my problem with the whole stupid holiday. In my own personal experience, New Years Eve marked, for five consecutive years, the most awful fights I ever had with my ex.

Our second New Years Eve together was 2000, the Millenium! The potential end of the world, and one of the worst nights of my life. I never really saw any reason to celebrate the New Year because every damn year was the same, at least in regards to the relationship. What was there to celebrate?

Last year, although with a new guy, I had strep throat, and spent the dreaded holiday in bed with a fever and almost unconscious. But this year, even though I was sick, I didn't have a fever. So I had to face my most unfavourite holiday.

I was in bed and asleep by 11:30pm, missing the ball drop and all that craziness. It's better that way anyhow.

Merry Christmas

from Dodger, Tragic and Sean

Best TV shows you never watched...

I blame you. Yes you! You lazy people who never give exciting new TV shows a chance. You know who you are. You're the viewer who watches the latest remix of "Survivor", "American Idol", or (god help you) that really awful show where people eat worms and drink 100 year old eggnog to win money. So I hold you responsible for the death of the following shows.

Dead Like Me

Here is what Entertainment Weekly had to say about this promising show back in 2003:

''Dead Like Me'' begins with a renegade toilet seat breaking free from the Mir space station and plummeting to earth, flattening aimless teen Georgia ''George'' Lass (Ellen Muth). Once dead, she finds direction via a grim reaper named Rube (''Chicago Hope'''s Mandy Patinkin, pictured with Muth), who talks George into spending her afterlife collecting souls. ''We facilitate their journey, wherever they're headed,'' says Patinkin, whose reaping team includes the bubbleheaded Betty (Rebecca Gayheart) and the rough-and-tumble Roxy (Jasmine Guy). Though George is initially sullen about her soul-trolling duties, is it really any surprise that death helps her, you know, appreciate life? ''I love the last line in the pilot,'' says Patinkin, who hasn't done series TV since he left ''Hope'' in 2000. ''George is sitting in the closet, looking at the young sister she never recognized in life, and says, 'I think for me, death was just a wake-up call.''' -- Lynette Rice

This show was a real gem. It was a shame that it only ran for two seasons. I really identified with the smart-ass Georgia and her struggle to become a grown up-- in life and in death.

2. Wonderfalls

Here is what Entertainment Weekly had to say about this show:


"The pitch must have sounded preposterous: ''There's this girl, Jaye. She just graduated from Brown, returns home to Niagara Falls, moves into a trailer park, and gets a job at a souvenir shop. Animal figurines start commanding her to do God's work, which leads to a huge revelation about her estranged sister and an emergency tracheotomy. Oh, and we want a former Canadian child star for the lead.'' The funny thing is, Wonderfalls works -- due to the charismatic and soulful performance of Quebec native Caroline Dhavernas, 25, who has the potential to be Fox's biggest (and flightiest) heroine since Ally McBeal.

EW What attracted you to the role?

CD I love that she has a philosophy degree and works in retail. It's different from what I had seen on television recently.

EW Well, how about that other sullen girl who takes orders from God on CBS?

CD Joan of Arcadia is much more dramatic, and it's quite different to talk to animals than the people she interacts with. Plus, Jaye doesn't want to help people. Helping people to her is disgusting.

EW Are you prepared if this show takes off?

CD I lived a little bit of it in Quebec -- we have our own little star system there. A show becomes really huge and no one else in the world hears about it."

This was another brilliant show that didn't even last a whole season. It was cancelled, I believe after a mere 6 episodes. You can order the complete first (alas, only) season through Amazon.com. This show was just so far out, which I absolutely loved. Again, what I really appreciated about the main character was her ennui: a grafuate from Brown who is so disaffected she works at a souvenir shop in Niagara Falls. One of my favourite episodes is "Karma Chameleon."

3.Firefly

"Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand." Sweet Lord in Heaven, did I ever love this show. Here's what EW had to say:

Lordy, does Joss Whedon ever love to tell a story, spin a yarn, get off a good 'un. Along with David Chase (''The Sopranos'') and J.J. Abrams (''Alias''), Whedon does what too many feature filmmakers these days do not: entrance us with elaborate narratives in which small, precise details add up to a coherent philosophy -- a worldview.

"In the new Firefly, Whedon's messages are: Learn to take care of yourself, because no one else is going to; and be stronger, smarter, faster than the next guy/gal, or he/she will get the drop on you. The show is Whedon's daring attempt to go where men have gone before all too often: to the frontier -- two frontiers, at that.

The notion of yoking the Western to science fiction isn't original. Michael Crichton did it 29 years ago in ''Westworld'' (remember Yul Brynner's robot gunslinger?), and while I never watched ''Star Trek,'' even I know there was at least one transporting-into-the-Old-West episode. But ''Firefly'' benefits enormously from Whedon's ability to take the clichés of any genre and give them a good, hard yank.

This series is the brawling saga of Capt. Mal Reynolds (Nathan Fillion) and the crew of his ship, Serenity, on the run from a totalitarian, multiplanet regime called the Alliance. We're told that Reynolds and his rebels -- who call themselves Independents -- will accept ''any job, anywhere'' to keep fuel in their tank and food free-floating through their space capsule. This means, in the premiere, agreeing to thieve cargo for some brutish space goons led by a graying baddie with a vaguely European accent, of whom Mal says, ''He's not the first psycho to hire us, nor the last.''

Excellent: moral relativism, plus a crew member (Gina Torres) who blasts people with (I'm dating myself here, but so is ''Firefly'') a sawed-off shotgun just like the one that Steve McQueen used in the 1958-61 series ''Wanted: Dead or Alive.'' Add to that Mal taking a bowie knife in the shoulder in the first episode and self-consciously funny dialogue like ''Time for some thrilling heroics!'' -- and count me as being on board for this sucker. Grade: B+"

Sadly, this show also died a premature death. It barely ran one whole season, but you can buy the complete DVD box set from any quality techie store. Also, you can buy the big screen movie, "Serenity" that starts up after the cancellation of this unique 'verse I came to love so. If you have never seen either, I recommend buying the DVD set of the tv episodes first and then the movie. Trust me. It's far better to see a story such as ths in chronological order. (Unless your FOX network, in which case you will air the episodes out of order, and then only after the series is being cancelled, air the pilot episode.

FOX TV: Where Great TV Goes To Die!!!

(off to bed)

xoxox Tragic

Books Read 2005

Well, the year is almost up. Every year, I tally up the books I have read and enter them in a list. I've been doing this since 1999, which probably makes me really obsessive compulsive.

Anyhow, Here's my (gasp!! very very short) list for 2005:

1. Reading Lolita In Tehran: A Memoir In Books by Azar Nafisi

2. Finding Serenity: Anti- Heroes, Lost Shepherds and Space Hookers in Joss Whedon's "Firefly" Edited by Jane Espenson

3. A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray

4. Witch Child by Celia Rees

5. Maus II by Art Speigelman


6. Wicked by G. Maguire

I hang my head in shame. 12 whole months and all I read were 6 books. Ack! What has happened to me??



xoxox Tragic

Sunday's Suck

Sundays are the worst day of the week. Sunday evenings are the worst time of the week. Because you know, you just know Monday morning is on the way.

As the Great Dylan once said, "My weariness amazes me." And so, I'm off to bed.

Happy Holidays,
love, Tragic

Germs suck!

arghhhhhhhhhhh

Sick again! About three weeks ago, I got permission from my boss to take October 14th and 17th off. (Yes, Tragic is a working girl now.) My plan? To fly back to good ol' San Jose and visit with the family (and of course mi perro, Dodger.) My dad and I, Firefly fans from way back, wanted to go see "Serenity" together. Although I always miss my husband when we are separated, I also had a case of home-sickness. I hadn't seen my family or SJ friends since right after the wedding. Of course I missed Pizza Fresh (The B*E*S*T pizza in the entire world) and Hukilau and Tsuguru.

My sister-in-law, brother-in-law, and little nephew are visiting from Arizona, so Sean and I have been quite busy lately. There was a haunted house, haunted hay-ride, 3-d maze, street festivals, and so forth. Last Saturday we went to the Pacific Beach Street Faire, which was very cool. (also literally, as there was much fog.) My sweetie bought me a ring with a heart shaped amber stone. I bought myself two Chinese-themed parasols which I love. To tell you the truth, the whole inspiration came from a scene right out of "Serenity", the very first two-hour episode. (This was supposed to be the pilot, but FOX executives, showing off their usual stellar stupidity, decided to air the pilot episode last-- after the show had already been cancelled.) There is a scene at the Eavesdown docks where Kaylee twirls a beautiful parasol behind her.

Anyhow, after all this, my poor husband started to feel ill on Tuesday. And then, despite our best efforts, I fell ill yesterday.

(Tragic needs sleep, to be continued.)

x0x0x0x0 Tragic Tuyen

PS. I miss you and love you more than you will ever know, my husband

Hey you with the wedding dress on, With the white chiffon blowin' in the wind...

I've returned form my blogging vacation. The past month or so has been crazy-busy for me. Along with unpacking all of my belongings in San Diego, I also had to contend with the last few details of the wedding. After waiting almost too long, I placed the order for both wedding flowers and wedding cake. I'd say 95% of my wedding stress was caused by a really mean bridesmaid of mine, whom I actually ended up relieving of her duties. (I'll write more about this later.)

The wedding was beautiful! I couldn't have asked for a better wedding. Everything went perfect (there was only ene tiny glitch in the music.) I just wish my grandfather and my best friend, Dodger could have attended.

Oh, by the way, my mom has started up a new website called: http://shadesofgreen.fotopages.com. You should check it out. ; )

xoxo Tragic Saturn (brand new wife.)

Sandbox Pin Up Challange Pic

Punk Rock Mommy has put together a Sandbox Pin Up challange for female bloggers and here's mine.

XOXOXO

Fire Is Rarely A Sign Of Imminent Safety

After my stay in San Diego, it was time for me to drive back to good ol' San Jo. It was Saturday, June 4th. I'd been back in town to move as well as to take a marriage prep class with a few other couples and the Chaplain. Friday afternoon was spent on the beach, taking it easy.

But Saturday I was headed home to doggie sit, since my dad would be out of town. That morning I woke up with a terrible kink in my right shoulder. After breakfast in bed and a hot shower, there was no improvement. I had to get going anyway. It was already 1pm, and if I waited any longer, I'd be getting home at 11pm.

I sadly waved goodbye to my fiance and climbed into my dad's behemoth of a van. After filling up the gas tank and buying some sunglasses (I'd lost my previous pair) I hit the open road. Although I had horrible visions of terrible Los Angeles traffic, the situation wasn't that bad.

Listening to mix tapes, I quickly zipped from La Mirada to the Grapevine. The radiator and all the other important parts ran wonderfully going up the mountains, although I did shift down one gear. Soon, I was cruising up the fruited plains of I-5, blaring the tape player. Earlier in the day, I'd taken a naproxen to end my hideous pain, and it was actually working.

Feeling still unfamiliar with the van, I decided not to take any chances. I pulled off the freeway at Harris Ranch (Coalinga) and refueled. Not wanting to stop again for more gas, I decide to top off the tank. I went into the snack shop to see if they had any postcards, which they didn't. I'm so used to my sedan that I was shocked, SHOCKED, to return to the van to see it had taken $56 worth of gas! I climbed back up into the drivers seat, turned the key, and merged back onto the freeway. In the distance, I saw some smoke, but it was way off on the left side of the freeway, so I wasn't worried.

Since I had so few audio tapes for this trip, I'd turned off the tape deck. As I drove down the highway, I could hear the wind pick up a bit. Being in such an unaerodynamic vehicle, I also begin to feel the wind batter the van, ever so gently. The smoke in the distance created a beautiful, if not slighty foreboding effect as the sun set. The sunset, bright sunflower yellow where the smoke had not drifted across, soon became a magnificent, menacing volcanic orange. 'If Sean were here,' I thought with a smile 'he'd be snapping away with his digicam.'

After about ten minutes or so, some smoke began to blow my way, but I wasn't really worried about it. The wind was just blowing the smoke from a distant fire in my direction, I figured. Nothing to worry about. Another few minutes went by, but I was still unconcerned even as heavier smoke blew my way. (Yet not enough smoke to hamper my vision.) As I drove on, I made out a strange shape in the distance. I was in the fast lane, or number one lane, and I could swear I something coming towards me. A few seconds went by and I changed lanes just in time to see a newish sedan speed by in the wrong direction. True, the driver had the hazard lights on but I-5 is a major artery from the Bay Area to Los Angeles.

'Holy Crap! What's up with that?' I thought to myself as the car sped along, southbound in the northbound lanes. I refocused my attention on the highway ahead of me, still wandering about the previous aberation.

About five minutes ticked by as I drove on in silence. Then, the smoke became heavy. The light gray smoke which could have been coming from some one's chimney gave way to thick, slate coloured clouds. I gently applied the brakes and turned on the headlights. I could make out the headlights of the car in front of me, for a little while. Once again, the wind picked up. I quickly sped up, and after about twenty dreadful seconds, the blue sky appeared above me.

My relief, however, was short lived. Gusts of smoke battered the driver's side of the van, and caused me to slow down even more. By this time, the red tale lights of the little Japanese car which had been in front of me are gone. I quickly checked my rear view mirror and noticed that there were no cars behind me. In need of advice, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed my fiance. Surely he'd have an idea or two. Having finally memorised his number, I punch in his number, only to get his voice mail. 'Crap,' I thought. With my mind starting to shift into overdrive, I started to leave a very disjointed message. I tried my very hardest not to cry as I talked into his voice mail. The same thought kept recurring to me...

I was alone.

At precisely 7:28:54pm, I place a call to 911. Up until that moment in my life, I fortunately have never had to dial that number. (Even with all the car accidents I've been in.) So you can imagine my surprise when the phone on the other end rings 3, 5, and finally 10 times before I hear a recorded message. My sarcasm begins to kick in, 'What if a crazed gunman was chasing me?' 10 rings is an awful long time to wait. First in English, then in Spanish, that my call will be recorded and that I need to relay my approximate whereabouts. Finally, the operator picked up and asked me to explain the nature of my emergency. As I told her the nature of my problem, and relayed my location, she replied "Yes, we've had several calls of a huge wild fire in that area. The fire department is on their way. I'm almost certain she asked if I could see any flames and at that particular moment, I could not. So she told me to be careful and that was the end of our call.

By this point in time, I couldn't see anything. Blackness descended, as if someone had blind- folded me. I turned in my hazard lights and pulled off to the right hand shoulder. I didn't exactly know what to do, it didn't seem wise to keep going down the highway when I couldn't see anything. As I sat on the side of the road, I heard a 'Woosh' sound.

I turned my head to the left and saw a wall of bright orange. Given the apparent choice of driving into the unknown, or having a full tank of fuel come into contact with a wild fire, I picked the first option. As fast as my fingers could do so, I turn the key in the ignition, and shift into drive. My right foot punched the gas pedal, hard.

As I forcefully applied the gas pedal, I could hear the whine of the engine. (A V-8 engine, but one, nevertheless, with 153,000 miles on it.) In front of me, blackness is punctuated by bright orange swirls. The temperature begins to rise. It feels like I've got the heater on maximum. Sweat drips down my forehead into my eyes. I can hear the air screaming through the wings in front of the wind-down windows. Soon enough, noxious smoke begans to pour in. That's about the point when I started to cough. I felt a tightness in my chest. The wind still battered against me. It seemed like I was in a vortex. Driving in a straight line became a challenge, and the overall effect was that I was a barreling down the center of both lanes. Bright orange flashes flickered in my peripheral vision and sweat stung my eyes. I hoped with all my being there were no cars stopped in front of me, because the spedometer was maxed out at 85, with the needle actually hovering past the last numbers on the gauge. I started to cough more and thought 'This might be it.'

It's funny how fast your brain can work sometimes. In the amount of time it took to have the aforementioned thought, I remembered what it felt like to have a laser treatment. I remembered the pain, the heat of the last treatment I had. The throbbing. The burning. The blistering. And that was only half an arm. With all the force I could muster, I pushed down on that gas pedal. Hoping it would help the van carry me from painful wounds or a horrible, exploding death. Smoke is coming through the vents even though I don't have the climate control on.

After one last bright flash of neon orange, the smoke eased up a bit. I could make out traffic ahead of me and quickly slowed down and pulled into the slow lane. Traffic ahead of me was stopped.

This was about the time that Sean called me. Despite my best efforts, I start to cry, through my coughs, as we talk on the phone. Just as I thought he would, he gives me advice. Since I'm idling on the freeway with a fire nearby, he tells me to turn off the engine. As I talk to him, cars start speeding up the shoulders on both sides as the fire edges towards us in the median. A U-Haul truck blazes by me on the right hand shoulder, probably going about 80 miles per hour.

As I talk to Sean, there is still no sign of any fire department trucks.

Finally, I see one truck edging towards us in the median.

Ever so slowly, traffic begins edging forward. Sean and I say good bye. Those of us who have made it through the fire storm form a sort of convoy. We start of slowly at first, wary of smoke and flames. But after a while, the smoke is behind us.

I count my lucky stars, and, as traffic speeds up, I put a No Doubt tape into the deck. While I try to relax again, the pain in my shoulder comes back. It feels like barbed wire had unspooled in my shoulder.

Oh well. At least I didn't burn to death.

~ Tragic Saturn

(For a different version of this story, read the archives of Doc in the Box.)

A Very Long Drive (With The Man I Love)

With the van being all packed, Sean and I set out to San Diego from San Jose. Sean took the first turn behind the wheel as we headed south on that Tuesday morning. We stopped for breakfast at the world famous Casa de Fruta (http://www.casadefruta.com/VISIT_restaurant.html). I ordered the Bacon, Avocad0, and Cheese omelette, while Sean ordered Fish 'n' Chips. The waitress was super nice, she brought me so many water refills, I lost count. Unfortunately, the "cup flipper" has long since retired. Many moons ago, on a senior tour bus trip, my grandparents saw his act and told me about it.

Casa de Fruta is about 12 miles from my mom's house in Hollister. I sent some goodies from the fruit stand in a package to some army aviators, via Books For Soldiers. I still write to one of those guys-- he's happily married to a wonderful woman with two adorable kids. He's in paradise, literally-- when he got back from Iraq he was transferred to Hawaii! (Maybe Sean and I will party crash and stay with them if we go there on our honeymoon!)

After our breakfast, we hit the fruit stand and bought some dried pineapple. That's my favourite. How can anyone say "no" to that super sweetness? (And if you can, I ask, what's wrong with you?) On our drive down, I played DJ. My dad's van has no cd player. We have a CD/ tape adaptor that we use in his car, but the van is just too noisy that we wouldn't have been able to hear it. I've never seen the van so full! It was practically stacked from floor to ceiling.

Since I'm becoming a veteran of this route, I'm learning where the cheap gas stations are. This knowledge was gained after being ripped off several times in the middle of that desolate nowhere along Interstate 5. After filling up the van, I took my turn behind the wheel.

My dad is an avid viewer of "The David Letterman Show", and I remember seeing an episode where Paris Hilton was a guest. Mr. Letterman asked her what it was like driving that huge motorhome around the US. She answered that she was used to driving a Porshe, and driving a motorhome was like driving four Porches put together.

This is how I felt behind the wheel of the van. I'd driven it around town before, even taken it down to Beverley Hills. But never had I attempted to drive the thing packed so full. As we started to climb up the Grapevine, I noticed the wind pushing against us. I slipped the van into second gear and tried not to over react to the wind. Believe it or not, we did lap some cars and trucks going up the mountain. Who's driving makes a big difference! : )

Instead of taking I-5 straight through downtown L.A, we decide to take a chance on 60 East (the Pomona Freeway). I made one lane change to the right, getting ready to move all the way over to exit when Sean says "Oh no, It's a left exit." This means I have to move back over to the left. Once I put my blinker on, though, all the drivers in the other lane seem to ride the bumper of the car in front of them. Freakin' LA! Eventually I make it over, and away we go, away from the horrible Interstate 5 traffic!

S0 it was a bit disheartening to hit an equally large, possibly bigger traffic jam on 60. Faced with the slow-n-go traffic, we decided dinner was in order. I exited on Garfield Avenue, and we planned to grab something at Carl's Jr, or Taco Bell. We drove and drove and drove. Nothing but houses, we'd ended up in a residential area. Finally, we hit an area with shops and cafes. I pulled my behemoth vehicle into a free parking lot, and we made out way to the Eight Cafe. After using the bathroom, we were surprised to discover that everything on the menu, and on the walls, was in Chinese. The waitress didn't know any English at all, except, apparently, for the phrase "Beef Stew!" She said it several times, rather excitedly, as we indicated that we didn't speak Chinese. She seemed truly disappointed when we left.

We left the first establishment, walked a bit, then crossed the street. The second place had menus in English, and we placed our orders. It was only after that waitress brought tea for us that we saw the "cash only" sign. Neither of us had any cash that moment, so, after cancelling our order, we moved along. On the opposite side of the street, we once again passed the Eight Cafe. We saw one huge Asian grocery store, one of those Boba tea places, and quite a few beauty salons. Finally, we saw another restaurant! We were near the Intersection of Garfield and Garvey. The name of the place was Mei Mei Seafood Restaurant. If memory serves, "mei mei" is Chinese for little sister, so I'm thinking "Little Sister Seafood Restaurant. (I could be wrong though!) There was English on the menus and a VISA sticker on the window, so we were set! We happily sat down with our growling empty tummies.

Apparently, when we'd gotten off the freeway, we driven into Montebello's Chinatown. For a girl like me, with a bit of wanderlust, I've always wanted to go to different foreign places, exotic places. As we wandered down Garvey Avenue, I thought "This is probably the closest I'll ever get to the real China!"

I can honestly say that I've never been to a place with a similar menu. For appetizers, there was calamari, oysters, pig ears, and parts of a duck that I didn't even know could be eaten. On the wall were eight by ten photographs of their various specialties. The few I remember include South African scallops, which was in the neighborhood of $30, and some sort of Spicy Schezuan (Hmm, I can't spell that, but I think you all know what I'm trying to say, lol) Clam dish. I believe that Sean ordered Kung Pao Seafood, while I ordered the Seafood with Pan fried Noodles.

MMm! My dinner was so yummy! The sauce went great with the noodles, and helped soften their crunch. My favourite seafood for that dinner was scallops, which I'd never ever had before. Sean and I shared our meals and compared the tastes.

We slowly made our way back to the van with full tummies. Sean volunteeres to drive because we thought that, in order to exit the parking lot, we'd have to make a tricky left turn across Garfield Avenue. Sean snuck us down an alley though, and we went around the block. After getting back on the freeway, we found more traffic. Not as bad as before, but enough to slow us down from time to time. East we drove, until we hit Interstate 15. Although the day had been very long, we finally slipped into the parking place in front of the house. It was 9:30pm.

(for more of your heroine's adventure, please stay tuned!)

xoxox Tragic Tuyen

Graduation Day (Part 2)

Morning came early! I could barely open my eyes. My parents were already up, already showered. I let Sean sleep a little longer and took a shower. After getting done with that, I got dressed, and (with my mom's help) made Sean some coffee.

As usual, with my parents being involved, we were one of the first families to show up for graduation. We parked in the old shuttle bus lot and made our way to the bleachers. Sean bought me an orchid lei, which was absolutely beautiful. I'd always wanted to wear one after seeing them in the past. Sean and I wandered around the mostly desolate Spartan stadium taking pictures. Also, we bought a giant pretzel and shared it. Around 9am, all of the graduates had to make their way to the various staging areas.

Not wanting to leave my fiance, I grudgingly made my way to the Social Sciences crowd. Our of the 29 history graduates, only 9 of us actually showed up for the big university-wide graduation. With it being so early, I fully understood why.

After waiting around for 45 minutes, our group finally began the long march to our seating area. On the way there, we were given our free license plate frames and had our pictures taken (I haven't gotten mine in the mail yet.) Our commencement speaker was Dr. Lily Wong Fillmore ("an international authority on literacy and second language learning and a life-long champion of helping immigrant children with language skills.") After her speech, the honorary degrees were given to Tommie Smith (Bronze Medal, 200 meter dash) and John Carlos (Gold Medal, 200 meter dash.) You may remember them from the 1968 Mexico City Olympics. Both San Jose State graduates, they protested the state of civil rights in the United States by raising black gloved fists during the medal ceremony. Although the political statement was incredibly unpopular in 1968 (some people thought their medals should be revoked), with the passing decades, they earned more and more respect.

At this point, the sun was beginning to sort of come out. It was a chilly, cloudy San Jose morning. We graduates were all getting antsy. The crazy business majors were trying to get "the wave" going. All around me, people were on their cell phones. Phuong skipped graduation because it was too early for her to wake up. Every once in awhile, if I looked around the kid in front of me with the big block head, I could make out Sean and my parents.

But there was more waiting. First, we had to wait for all the master's candidates to be confirmed and hooded. This took forever in the business and engineering colleges.

Finally, it was our turn. The College of Social Sciences went last, but when we were announced and confirmed, we all screamed, waved, and jumped up and down. The communications majors threw confetti!

And just like that, we were officially Graduated!! All of that hard work over all those years finally paid off. I made my way to my family and we made our way back to the car. By the time we got back to the house, my uncle and grandparents were already there. I introduced Sean to my Uncle, but he'd already met everyone else. Also, after a little bit of time, Preyma, my oldest and bestest friend ever showed up. I felt so bad because she had to take BART and then get a ride from her dad.

In addition to my orchid lei, I also got flowers from my dad and Preyma. It figures that with this rapid influx of flowers, the vases would all be in boxes in San Diego. I had to use a water pitcher for one bouquet.

For food, we had my grandma's famous macaroni salad, barnecued chicken and hot dogs, vegetarian pizza from Pizza Fresh (the best pizza in the entire world!!!), and Sean's legendary curry! My maternal grandma absolutely loved the curry, as she has an affinity for spicy food. Don't forget, dessert!

We had a giant chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate filling! So so yummy! It said "Congratulations for the graduate, 2005!", and had yellow and blue roses on it. As I cut the cake, I made sure that I got a rose.

Around 6pm, everyone started heading home. Sean and I drove Meera to Fremont so she could catch BART back to Berkeley. We were both so tired that night that we could barely stay awake past 10pm.

The next day we'd have to get an early start, because we were driving up to Sacramento to visit with Collin. I was afraid we'd hit serious Memorial Day traffic, but we got off super easy. Sean bought peppered mangos, which I'd never had before. (I'd never even heard of such a thing.) We all went to see "Madagascar," since "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" wasn't showing. It was pretty funny for a kid's movie, can you imagine that Chris Rock is the main character? Afterwards, we went and had ice cream at Marble Slab. The sweets were followed by lots of shopping in these two outdoor malls.

I didn't think about it until after the fact. I could just imagine Sean's son going home with dinner ready. Only, of course, he wouldn't be hungry because he had just eaten a sundae as big as his head. (It was pretty close, actually.) Oops! Anyway, we had a really good time, and like our trip North, we hit very little traffic on the way home.

The next day, Monday, was spent packing up my dad's van with quite a few of my belongings. My dad and I wanted to take Sean to Tsuguru, our favourite Japanese restaurant. But like most of the restaurants we could think of, they were closed for the holiday. We ended up having vegetarian pizza from Round Table, left over macaroni salad, and of course, cake.

Unfortunately, we couldn't have any of Sean's curry, because it met a dark end. My dad was attempting to put it in a container and place it in the icebox when it slipped from his fingers. I was so sad to see the splattered curry, and I felt bad for Sean having put so much effort into it. That night, Sean and I finally got to see"The Grudge," which we'd been trying to see for months.

It spooked me good! Silly me, I thought I was over my fear of the dark.

The next day, we set off on a long drive to sunny San Diego!

xoxoxox Tragic Tuyen

Graduation Day (Part 1)

Graduation Day finally came! I never thought it would, at times. On Friday, May 27th, the small history department graduation was held. In attendance were 27 out of 28 graduates, family, friends, and faculty. We graduates had to be there an hour early, 3pm. The graduation itself was held at 4pm.

After escorting my family, mom, dad, and grandma, to the engineering building where the graduation would take place– the history building is very old and not at all fancy, while the engineering building is sparkling gem, you can tell what college the university values most– I made my way to Dudley Moorehead Hall. Once I was there I met up with Phuong, *the* crush of two years, and other peeps. After I picked up my gag diploma, we all headed outside for pictures. We had a few taken of the three of us, and then I took several of Phuong and the crush.

I had left my brand new camera with my mom. My fiancé (the most wonderful man in the entire world) had got my present to me a few days early. He had bought for me.... the Harajuku Lovers Camera (HP Photosmart R607)!!! I never ever expected such a wonderful present! In case you are not familiar with it, this would be the camera co-designed by Gwen Stefani and HP. It’s a digital camera that has 4.1 megapixels. I’m not quite sure what that means, but it must be important because it is written rather prominently on the box.

After taking pictures of our own, then we gathered for pictures by the professional photographer. I had opted not to buy a picture because it was a bit too steep for my blood. The photographer made us stand in two different places and kept rearranging us before he actually took any pictures. Plus, he would not let us keep our sunglasses on.

Following pictures, we were once again rounded up by faculty members. For the last time, we sat in DMH 150 while Prof. Underdahl gave us our directions. He was in the military for a long time and taught at a military college. While speaking to us, he proceeded to draw a diagram on the white board on how we would....

1. Enter the Lecture Hall where the ceremony would be held

2. File into rows and seats, in alphabetical order (including contingency plan in case we ran out of chairs)

3. Cross the stage when our names were held

4. File out of the lecture hall.

Despite several diagrams with many arrows in different colors, we still managed to get all messed up. Hey, I was listening to the instructions!

After a very long commencement speech by Dr. Vasquez, our names were read and we crossed the stage.

VOILA!!

We were now officially graduated!! It was a very surreal experience for me. During my long hard slog through academia, I just never ever thought the day would come!

After we left the theatre, Prof. Cirvilerri came up to me and congratulated me. He asked me about my future plans, grad school and so forth. When my parents caught up with us, he told my family about what a wonderful student I had been, and about my incredible presentation on V.I. Lenin. It turns out that he had done his dissertation on Lenin and that I did very good, thorough work. (Sorry, I don’t get to brag very much about academic praise with my measly 3.2 GPA.)

The history department had a sort of picnic/ buffet waiting for us. While my parents and I were snacking (my poor allergy prone mother could only have the lemonade because she was unsure of all the other ingredients) Dr. Reynolds came up and congratulated me. I really wasn’t expecting that he’d remember me, but he did. He too asked about my plans, grad school, careers, etc. I took two classes with him, History of World War II and History of China from 1600. For our term paper in WWII class, I chose to write about the Battle for Stalingrad, because the directions were very vague. Anyway, it turned out I’d written on the wrong topic– I was not the only one to do so. When I got my 30 page paper back, he had written something like "Did you even read the term paper guidelines? If so, it is not apparent. Nevertheless, you have done a fine job which deserves to be rewarded." He game me an A-. I was always sort of afraid of screwing up in his classes after that.

Dr. Underdahl also came up to me to say goodbye and ask about..... GRAD SCHOOL! He even said he would be willing to write me a letter of recommendation. Also, he asked about my husband-to-be. We had been talking once and I had said that Sean was over in Iraq, and it turned out his son had just got home from Falluja.

After posing for a few more pictures with Phuong, Mai, and Lisa B, we had to skidaddle. Sean’s plane was due to land in about an hours time. SJSU is very close to the airport, but the day before my dad and I had been there to pick up my grandma, and it was super busy! Probably because of the upcoming Memorial Holiday weekend. We scored a primo parking place right outside of baggage claim, and walked as far as you can walk nowadays to the terminal. My entire family and I perched on an uncomfortable bench and waited for my San Jose bound Sean.

Finally, after the plane landed, I looked to my left and saw him walking towards me. That’s one of the great things about having such a tall guy– easy to spot! After some kisses and hugs, and don’t forget, pictures, we were off to baggage claim, and eventually a restaurant to feed out hungry tummies.

Due to the varied likes and dislikes of my family, I picked two places to eat: 1. Great American Cheesecake Factory, and 2. Buca di Beppo. Since Sean and I had already been to the Cheesecake Factory (the night we got engaged!), we were leaning more to Buca di Beppo. All the restaurants were packed. I kept seeing people in blue caps and gowns walking around. Sean and I went to the bar and settled in for at least part on the 60 minute wait. I had a lemon drop, Sean had some sort of beer in a very tall glass. After I started to feel the alcohol, we walked around Oakridge Mall a bit.

My poor family waited for what seemed like forever for our table. Then, the hostess called my name and we became the chosen ones, being led to a table. Having never been there before, I did not know that the menu was family style. This means that the portions are either for 3 people or 5 people. We ended up ordering cheese ravioli, spaghetti, and potato gnocchi. The gnocchi was my favourite because it came with mushrooms, artichokes, cheese, and all kinds of other yumminess. We’d also ordered a bread pudding dessert, but our waitress forgot it and we had to get it to go. Keep in mind, we got to the restaurant around 7:45pm, got seated around 9pm, and by 10:45 our dessert still hadn’t come. The food was very, very wonderful, but be prepared that you will face a long wait if you go there without reservations.

Despite her best efforts, my mom had a mild allergic reaction to the garlic bread and had to spend the night. It’s only the second time she’s stayed here since the divorce. She had to take some benedryl and then was too sleepy for the 50 mile drive back home.

I had promised my friends Phuong and Lisa that Sean and I would meet them at a club that night. But we didn’t get home until 11pm. Poor Sean, up since 7am or so, being dragged out to a bar at midnight. He was a good sport though and didn’t complain once.

By about 1:45am, we drove back to my house. We fell into bed and into an easy sleep. Morning came early when my mom knocked on my door at 6:15 to wake us for the big University graduation.

(tbc)

xoxox Tragic Tuyen