Happy Year of the Horse!

An email from dad, in which he refers to how our name is written in Chinese:

Wish you all the best in the Year of the Horse!

Our family name FUNG consists of two horses. That means this is our year.

Dad

Mama and Papa Fung at Qigong Class

After a hiatus, my mom and my aunt decided to resume their Qigong classes. This time, they managed to drag their husbands along with them. When I asked mom how the classes went, she only said, "The master thought your dad was someone's dad! Because he looks so old! The master is actually older than your dad, but your dad walks around like an old man." My dad's side of the story was different, however:

Me: So how did Qigong class go?

Dad: Fine! You know how I've been doing Tai Chi for many years now? So the movement was pretty familiar. We were doing the exercises and the master said that out of everybody in the class, I have Neigong!

Me: Neigong?

Dad: You know what Neigong is? It means I have natural power that comes from within! Like in those old movies where the kung fu masters can make it rain! Hahaha!

Me: And what kind of power do you think you have?

Dad: Oh, you never know. When it comes out, it can take over the world by storm! Hahaha!

Me: Mom doesn't have Neigong?

Dad: No. You know the two sisters-- They just follow the rules but they don't know how to do it naturally.

Me: Mom didn't mention anything when I asked her how class went.

Dad: Well, she probably won't want to go to class anymore. She probably thinks the master doesn't know what he's talking about.

-----

Dad returned the phone to mom, so I decided to probe futher.

Me: So dad has Neigong, huh?

Mom: Well, he already had learned the foundations before.

Me: You don't believe the master when he says that dad has Neigong?

Mom: No way.

Me: How did uncle do?

Mom: The master said he had the best sitting position. I didn't. After sitting for a few minutes, my legs hurt so much I couldn't get up. 

END.

My Parents Hate My Haircut

Over Thanksgiving, I got a rather drastic haircut. I went from the non-descript, medium length, standard woman-in-her-thirties hairdo that I had kept for the last four years to this:

(Needless to say, this is not me. This is singer Kina Grannis.)

And I LOVE my asymmetrical bob. The short length feels liberating. I can just just crawl out of bed, spray some product, and walk out the door. And the edginess reflects my personality better than the borderline soccer-mom thing I had going before.

My parents, however, have yet to get used to this look. They maintain a continuous commentary on it:

When I came home from the salon--
Dad: Did the stylist forget to cut the other side?

While I'm getting ready in the morning--
Mom: This haircut will make your neck hurt because you have to tilt your head to the side all the time. 

After I declared that I was drunk while we were in Mexico--
Dad: Was your stylist drunk too when she cut your hair?

While at immigration line at the San Francisco Airport, upon returning from Mexico.
Dad (gazing at the pretty Air Japan flight attendants): The hairstylists in Japan must be more skilled because all of those women's haircuts are even.

This morning--
Mom: I'm making a hair appointment for Saturday morning.
Dad: Are you taking your daughter with you?
Mom: Her haircuts cost $60. Mine cost $20.
Dad: If we pay another $60 do you think they'll cut the other half?
Mom: No need. I'll just cut her hair in her sleep.
Me (from the hallway): I'M UP! I'M UP! DON'T YOU DARE!


I am THIS close to getting a mohawk just to see what Mama and Papa Fung would say...