I Believe You Believe What You Believed You Saw....

Several weeks ago I was all alone in my house one night (the kids were sleeping over at their dad's) and dreamed I was being caged in with spirits at my childhood home in Vietnam, except I thought it was my marital home which had been converted to a rental property for a few years now... until I realized with tremendous relief upon waking that the house I saw in my dream didn't have the configuration of my former home.

If you thought the above sentence was terribly convoluted and made absolutely no sense, you might just be about as confused as I was when I shook myself free from my nightmare and realized it was just a dream, although the imprint it left on my senses was so vivid and frightful, it scared me into a stupor deeper than the original dream itself.  "Oh my God, I can't ever move back into that house because it's haunted!" was what first came to my mind.  Then it dawned on me very slowly, as I mentally retraced the incidents in my dream... "Wait a minute, my house on Pieper Lane didn't have a balcony that ran the entire length of the upper floor; it didn't have a walk-in shower smack in the middle of the upstairs quarters; and the floor plan included double stairways leading up from both the kitchen and the hallway, which my childhood home in Vietnam didn't."  At that point I went limp with relief even though I was still half frozen in my bed by fear.

And if you thought I was being melodramatic and a nutcase, imagine yourself as a child living in a country with a war being ravaged years on end where people were dying every day, inside hospital grounds near a morgue (my father was the province's medical chief-of-staff), with a grandmother who told ghost tales as bedtime stories (and she was really good at it, too!), and you would understand how I got to be the way I am.

I could never tell you why, as fearful as I was of ghosts, my favorite shared pastime with my siblings as children was taking turns pretending that we were, or being pursued by, evil spirits.  We became almost possessed with this thrilling game as we chased one another nightly down the balcony of our childhood home until we dropped from exhaustion and our hearts nearly stopped with fright.  Most of the times, whoever happened to be the "pretend ghost" lurking in the dark ready to pounce on their victims would be scared stiff that a real ghost might just be out there waiting to get them.  It certainly was a strange way for kids to amuse themselves.

I don't know if I can wholeheartedly say I believe ghosts exist, and don't even want to contemplate the possibilities, but I did tell my ex (just in case), when he was still my husband, if one of us happened to go first, the one left behind didn't need a visit or a sign.  If you died before me, please don't come back in any shape or form, even if you had good intentions and desperately wanted to communicate with me for whatever reason.  I'm better off not knowing you're there.  You might scare me out of my mind if I realize we were sharing the same space!

My sister Midol saw a ghost at her apartment once and it took her a long time to recover from the incident.  She's still a little miffed about her boyfriend's comment upon hearing her story, which went something like this:  "I didn't say I don't believe you.  I believe you believe what you believed you saw was a ghost."  What the heck!  She knew what she saw.  And I happened to agree with Midol that what she saw was most likely a ghost, even though I didn't see it myself and hoped to God it never paid me a visit.

What happened was my sister has lived in her Seattle apartment by herself for over 10 years without witnessing any paranormal activities until that evening when she realized with some bother that she needed to get her laundry done and it was already getting late. As Midol recounted to me, she was lifting her laundry basket ready to step into another room in order to leave the apartment when her heart suddenly jolted in her chest and she felt a powerful physical force pass through in front of her.  It made Midol stop in her track and pull back instinctively, although at that split second she had only felt its presence and not registered anything visually.  Then her eyes naturally riveted toward the opening that led out to her small kitchen and she saw a woman standing there.  A stranger in her apartment!  When and how did she get in?  Midol looked again and the woman was gone.  It was as though she had never appeared in the first place.

Midol was stunned and frightened.  She looked everywhere for physical evidence of the woman she saw, but could find nothing.  She couldn't explain away the apparition because she was wide awake and fully conscious when this happened.

It wasn't the first time a member of my family had seen a ghost.  My sister Terra and my mom both saw the same ghost on a trip to Florida to attend my other sister Peni's wedding.  The night before the ceromony was supposed to be held, they arrived at the home of Peni's future in-laws and were shown to the guest room.  That night, Terra awoke around 3 AM and saw a Caucasian man in the room with his back towards her.  Her first thought was that he was an intruder, because everyone in the house at the time happened to be Vietnamese, but she looked again and the man had disappeared.  Terra was so scared, she desperately wanted to poke at my mom to see if she was awake, but didn't dare stir.  In the morning, during breakfast with their hosts, my mom told everyone she saw a man in her room last night, one that fit Terra's description exactly.  Peni's in-laws admitted that their house had been haunted ever since the former owner's brother died in an accident while remodeling it after a wooden beam fell on top of him.  They said they and an elderly aunt in the family would sight his spirit most often as they walked the grounds of their estate in the evening.

Several days after my nightmare, I thought I'd finally encountered a ghost!  It was 10 in the morning and I was alone in the family room working on my computer.  I'd heard indeterminate shuffles from upstairs which I attributed to the aftershocks of a passing train (my house was in close proximity of the train station).  Then my master bedroom door started squeaking loudly and I became more than a bit alarmed, but tried to reason that it could've been the wind from the windows that someone forgot to close.  I continued entering data on my computer with half a mind, thinking if I heard anything more definitive, it would be best just to bolt out the front door quickly.  Unfortunately, I didn't have the chance to inch toward the hallway yet when the unmistakable sound of footsteps treading down my staircase became ominously apparent.  I briefly considered escaping through the back door, but realized with panic I hadn't called the builder to request repair on my French doors that had been stuck for a while because of excessive humidity from the recent rainstorms.

So I braced myself for what seemed certain in coming – either an intruder to whom I'd beg to spare my life, or a ghost!  I wasn't sure which would be the more scary possibility.

Just then my daughter Andrea breezed into the room.  "Hi Mom!" she said.  The sight of her was never more welcomed!  "Can you take me to school?  I don't have IVC classes today so we should leave for Beckman in a few minutes?"  I had totally forgotten that the quarter has ended for Andrea's college courses, so I still had a kid home at 10 AM.  Thank God for short-term memory loss!

Andrea in her Halloween costume

"How To Be Single" a Novel by Liz Tuccillo

I was browsing the Bargain Books section of the Marketplace Barnes & Noble recently when a provocative title caught my eye, How to Be Single, by Liz Tuccillo.  I'd recognized the author's name as the female half of the duo who a few years ago penned that enormously popular self-help book He's Just Not That Into You, a terribly boring read of self-evident relationship advice that had amazingly garnered some sort of award (I think it was the Quill Award in the Health/Self Improvement category) and was later adapted into a clever romantic comedy of misread expectations between the sexes I found  surprisingly enjoyable.  Just the week before, I'd seen her literary other half, Greg Behrendt, perform at the Irvine Improv.  His foul-mouthed stand-up routine made me long for clean comedy.  I'd come away totally disappointed and debated whether I should take a chance with Tuccillo's book considering how I felt about her friend/co-author.  Fortunately, my excitement for bargain books eventually overcame my initial reservations.  How to Be Single turned out to be a delightful, breezy read.

The book's title reminded me of an incident a few summers ago when I was looking to re-read the first novel in the Lindsay Graves trilogy, To Catch a Husband.  To Keep a Husband, the sequel to the original novel, had just come out and I'd wanted to refresh my memory of Graves' desperate housewives characters before delving into the second installment of their continued saga within the well-heeled (but fictional) Southern Cal enclave of Colina Linda.  Instead of braving my dusty garage in search of my own copy of the book, I decided it'd be easier to visit the Tustin Library instead.  The unsmiling lady at the circulation desk curtly informed me after performing a quick computer search that her branch didn't carry that title.  "I'm positive you do," I protested, "I saw it on display near the check-out line last week, but it was a long line and I thought I could come back for it another time.  Could you look the book up by the author's name instead?  It's Lindsay Graves."  After reluctantly fidgeting with her keyboard some more, the lady told me she'd found the novel in question.  The reason her original search turned up empty was because she'd typed in "How To Catch a Husband!" as the book's title.

I could feel myself reddening and although I was fairly certain I didn't emanate desperate vibes that could be picked up by strangers, it was still disconcerting to realize the librarian had conveniently assumed I was looking for a self-help tome with so transparent a message.  After that incident, I became a little paranoid even when searching for books online.  For example, I'd casually looked up To Kill a Husband a number of times before, but now I was careful enough to add "a novel by Lindsay Graves" in my search box just in case!  If anything should happen to my ex and some Javert-type detective came up with my computer search history, the incriminating "evidence" would look very damning indeed.  Just send the hapless ex-wife straight to prison and don't even bother with the trial!



Getting back to "How to Be Single", the word "How" in the book's title was somewhat misleading, as this novel definitely belonged to the chick-lit fiction genre I generally favored and not a self-help guide.  How to Be Single actually translated to "How Any Woman Is Single" (as in the individual circumstances that conspired to keep the poor thing from attaining coupledom), and its subtext a cumulative lesson on How to Be Single Without Doubting Yourself and Your Luck, How to Be Single Without Hating the Opposite Sex, How to Be Single Without Feeling Beaten Down and Losing Hope, How to Be Single Without Becoming Desperate and Sacrificing Your Dignity, and finally, How to Be Single Without Turning Deranged Eventually.

Which is a tremendously difficult thing to do when you're hitting forty and living in a city famed for its cruelty to unattached women!  The girl posse in the novel comprised of New Yorkers Julie Jensen, a single 38 year-old book-publicist-turned-writer who, despite being sucky at romance (or maybe because of it) successfully convinced her editor to give her the plum assignment of traveling the world in research for writing a book about how women of all nationalities were coping with their single status; Julie's friend Georgia, a newly-single mom of two whose missteps in the love department were equally tragic and hilarious; Alice, a Legal Aid attorney whose solution to the single curse was to quit her job and devote herself full-time to dating with a capital D; Serena, a kind-and-gentle soul who mistakenly believed she'd stumbled upon love after prematurely relinquishing all hopes to become a sannyasin; and Ruby, a depressed single searching for her object of affection in a cold and unfeeling metropolitan.

The book is funniest precisely at those moments when our heroines, one by one, totally lost their emotional moorings and descended into the collective pit of despondency and humiliation:

– The Rio Incident, when Julie was admonished by a bikini saleswoman for having cellulite.

– The Whole Foods Incident, when Georgia angrily confronted "Grocery Guy" for not calling her after getting her number from their chance meeting at the supermarket vegetable aisle.

– The Elopement That Never Was, when Alice impulsively proposed to her Nice Guy, Jim, only to successively cancel their wedding that almost turned into an elopement upon realizing she couldn't force herself to settle.

– The Bad Karma incident, when Serena became unraveled and hysterically disruptive at the Jayananda Center upon discovering her hot swami was sharing his "enlightenment" with other disciples besides her.

– The Love Substitute train wreck, when Ruby attempted to distract herself from the loud ticking of her biological clock by volunteering at the animal's shelter at the expense of her mental health and, eventually capitulating, begged around pathetically for sperm donations from her uncooperative gay friends.

I don't want to give too much of the story away... you can buy the book and find out the rest.  I got my hardcover title at Barnes & Noble for only $5.98.  No need to wait for the paperback version.

A view from the other side of the fence:

http://www.momlogic.com/2009/01/i_miss_being_single_and_depres.php

How to Be Single, the Book:

http://howtobesinglethebook.com/

How to Be Single, the World Wide Webisodes:

http://howtobesinglethebook.com/video/



Our Family Fashion Show

These were photos taken at my high school (Chau van Tiep) reunion held at China Feast restaurant on Saturday, January 15, 2011.

The Vietnamese school system did not include middle school or junior high, so I entered Chau van Tiep right after graduating from elementary school and passing my high school entrance exam (in Vietnam, admission to public high schools was not automatic).  I attended CVT through the 9th grade, when I left my country at the end of April, 1975, when the communists overtook South Vietnam.

Chau van Tiep was a small high school in the sleepy town of Phuoc Tuy (also called Ba Ria) at the capital's outskirt that bordered the more well-known beach town Vung Tau.

My mom taught at the school for several years and my dad was the province's medical chief of staff, so our roots in this town ran deep.

I didn't know many of the people attending this year's reunion; most were from a class at least 7 years before mine.  However, we did run into a family that had long-standing associations with us. The father (now deceased) was the town's Postmaster when we were living in Phuoc Tuy; and the family's matriarch was a close friend of my mom's.  When I was a child, we used to always visit them on occasions like the Mid-autumn Moon Festival and the Lunar New Year, when I was given beautiful Chinese lanterns and lucky money envelopes from our sweet hosts.

We were thrilled to be able to recruit a few non-Vietnamese teens (friends of Audrey's and Natasha's) to wear ao dai's and participate in our fashion show, essentially a repeat performance following the success of last year's program.  They were:  Laura Licata, Ellen Colvin, and the sisters Amanda, Ariel, and Madison Hayag.  The rest were our family's home-grown models, plus the kids' cousins.  Lauren happened to miss this year's show because she already had plans to attend her friend Shane's Bar Mitzvah, but my niece Gisele got to participate for the first time and became the youngest ao-dai wearing attendee at the event.



Monique

Natasha

Laura

Michelle

Amanda

Natasha & Madison

Nina

 Mommy & Baby models (Hanh & Gisele)

Gisele got super excited watching her cousins do the catwalk

Doca's family
 



Are you a Tiger Mother?

Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704111504576059713528698754.html

Amy Chua with her daughters, Sophia and Louisa

This woman is absolutely maniacal!  I'm not one for political correctness, but don't see how an article like this could get to be the Wall Street Journal's Saturday Essay if not for the redeeming fact that its author is a Yale Law School professor with impeccable credentials.

I don't even want to dignify Ms. Chua's growing internet notoriety with a well-crafted rebuttal, as many other mom bloggers must already be racing to respond to her incendiary message .  All I want to say is that if your definition of child-rearing success is turning out superior robots, then Ms. Chua's methodology is definitely the way to go.  In all likelihood, her over-achieving offsprings will turn out to be exactly like their arrogant and high-strung mother, in both the good, and especially the bad, ways.  Which is a shame because their father came across from the article as the adult who provided a voice of reason in the family, albeit too softly to be heard over the clamor of his strident, demanding, obsessed, wife.

In Defense of the Guilty, Ambivalent, Preoccupied Western Mom

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703333504576080422577800488.html

In dealing with the backlash prompted by her shamelessly self-congratulatory article, Ms. Chua solf-pedaled quite a bit in her interview on the TODAY Show, but her proclamations of love and understanding rang false and didn't make her extreme parenting dogmas more convincing or palatable to any reason-minded person.

http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/41005969/ns/today-books/

Retreat of the 'Tiger Mother'

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/16/fashion/16Cultural.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1

I know a Tiger Mother like Ms. Chua.  The first time I spoke with her for more than a minute when we were just mere acquaintances, she'd unleashed a litany of complaints about how stressed and unfulfilled she was that her son had continued to defy her by refusing to follow in his father's footsteps (the elder is a physician).  She didn't bother to hide the fact that after trying to cope with her relentless cajolement... graduating to pressure and then coercion... for years, her son finally broke down (though not in the way his mother would've wanted) by closing the door on her literally and figuratively.  He disappeared into his room and didn't speak to his mother for three months one summer.  Their testy relationship didn't induce guilt on the part of the mother or deter this single-minded oman from her ultimate mission.  When I again met her husband at a party and inquired about the ongoing conflict, he confirmed mother and son were still at odds and seemed resigned to the idea that their home atmosphere would be one of unhappiness and dissension when it came to the subject of their children's career paths.

It should be noted that the "rebellious" son had gotten in Pharmacy school and wanted to stay there and finish his degree.  Apparently this wasn't good enough for his mother.

My children should be so glad I'm not a superior Chinese mother and even proud of it!

Viewers' comments from the Diane Rehm show:

http://thedianerehmshow.org/shows/2011-01-12/amy-chua-battle-hymn-tiger-mother



Savor the Moment

My sister Midol was flying in to visit us at Christmas and asked if her friend, Sandy, could join her as well.  They knew each other from work and Midol is actually Sandy's supervisor at Expeditors in Seattle.  I was a little surprised that someone would be willing to pay holiday airfare for what was essentially a one-week blind date with our family, but Midol assured me Sandy would feel at home spending her vacation time with us.  She didn't have in mind a specific itinerary, but decided to join Midol on a lark just for the experience of going away and trying something new.  Sandy's parents were Chinese immigrants who happened to be very old-school and overly protective, and Sandy often felt smothered under their constant scrutiny and expectations.  She had also lost quite a bit of weight recently and was enthusiastic about being more active in all aspects of her life.  Midol and Sandy had done many outdoor things together, including mountain hiking, but Midol begged off when Sandy wanted her to attempt a 9-hour hike that (including travel time) would require their leaving home at 4 in the morning and not getting back until midnight.  Sandy gamely completed the climb without Midol, although she almost gave up the ascent to the top due to exhaustion.  Encouraged by her accomplishment, she didn't hesitate to sign up for another more challenging mountain climbing expedition, this time requiring an ice pick.  Again, Midol begged off.

For the duration of her stay, Sandy eagerly participated in any activities we suggested and consistently documented just about every event, no matter how mundane, with her camera.  She got some nice pictures of us that I'd posted on my Christmas Eve 2010 blog.

Seattle doesn't quite compare to Orange County, widely considered the mecca of Vietnamese expats, and Midol was determined to have her friend sample authentic Vietnamese dishes from as many restaurants as their time here would allow.  Our family came from Central Vietnam, and the cuisine we grew up with is what we favor.  Among the more popular dishes associated with that region were mi Quang and banh beo chen, pictured below, which we shared with Sandy.

  

Mi Quang

(Yellow noodles, pork & shrimp)

Banh beo chen

(Rice cakes with shrimp flakes)

My mom can whip up any dish as good as what the best Vietnamese restaurants in town had to offer, but Midol wanted to mostly go out to get Sandy acquainted with the countless eateries in Little Saigon.  We visited Brodard, famed for their nem nuong (broiled pork meatballs wrapped in rice paper), and Quan Hy – the latter twice in two days!  On the way, we stopped by Vua Kho Bo (Jerky King) and Sandy promptly spent close to $100 within minutes on their famed $18/lb snacks.  Midol and Sandy also bought for their white colleague at Expeditors who's crazy about Oriental beef jerky.

Sandy at Quan Hy

At the restaurant Sandy was careful to take a photo of every dish before we ate.  We teased her about her posing with a glass of cafe sua da (Vietnamese iced coffee) in hand as if it were a trophy, but she wasn't flustered.

Sandy spent Christmas Eve with our family and participated in our rowdy gift exchange.  She also went trap shooting with the kids.

  

Sandy under our Christmas tree

She managed to capture a stately picture of my Buddha statue in the living room with the twinkle of the Christmas tree lights as background...



My sister Terra, our family's resident tour guide, was always happy to accompany our guests on any excursions they chose.  After a whole week of unrelenting rainstorms in Southern Cal, the sky was still overcast and the weather gloomy, but that didn't keep Sandy from enjoying her moment on the beach.

Midol and Sandy at Balboa Beach

Midol and Natasha

Midol's minimalist impulse was thwarted when Sandy reminded her not to delete any pictures on her camera, even the blurry ones.  Sandy once took hundreds of photos on a trip they went on together and kept every single one.  When Midol decided to delete an unflattering photo of herself, Sandy was aghast and upset.  They'd both recounted the incident separately to me and  I sided with Midol, although I didn't tell Sandy so!



Sandy "Holiday Lights" pic

I named the following photo "Sandy foggy."  Normally, my perfectionist penchant wouldn't allow me to do a careless job of captioning, but in keeping with Sandy, I'm not sweating the small stuff!  It's actually a nice pic of her, but even if it were clouded over with haze, she would still treasure the photo for the memory it held.

 Sandy foggy

Sandy spent her last day in California taking the train to L.A. and Santa Monica by herself, since Midol had returned to Seattle on the 26th.  When I picked her up from shopping at South Coast Plaza, I asked if she'd had dinner yet.  Sandy said she wanted a taste of In-N-Out Burger (supposedly Midol had raved about them which made her curious) and luckily, we spotted one of their drive-throughs on the way home.  Believe it or not, Sandy had me snap a picture of her eating the burger in my car.  LOL!

We learn something from those around us every day.  From my time spent with Sandy, I learned to savor the moment and document, document, document. :)

(As if I hadn't already documented My Ordinary Life to excess!)

My Shopping Excess

After the holiday glow had worn off, inevitably the letdown began.  It was still raining in Southern Cal and although this occurrence was a welcomed rarity in our drought-ridden areas, the gloomy weather definitely brought on an attack of the Rainy-Days-and-Mondays blues for me.  For lack of other hobbies, I've found there's nothing like a little retail therapy to lift a girl's mood. :)

In past years, it's been my routine to let the kids sleep in after the Christmas hubbub and sneak out alone to the mall for a 4-6 hour wander fest.  Shopping right after Christmas is as delicious and satisfying as having apres-ski hot chocolate... plus it's addicting!  Without the pressure of having to come up with the perfect gifts on deadline, it's possible to browse leisurely with an eye for bargains and that's much more fun. 

We've almost completely settled in our new home and I didn't really have much to shop for in terms of housewares or furniture.  As the kids go, since Audrey has traditionally gotten the biggest slice of pie from the family's clothing budget (mostly because she's so easy to buy for and an equal-opportunity dresser who makes use of everything given to her, from a Target T-shirt to more high-end items), I decided to focus on Andrea this time.  Her sparse closet was practically shouting out for attention, plus I figured it's high time to prepare for her going away to college (we're still undecided about where she'll go or what she'll study, but if she had her way, it'd probably be out of state).

Just two weeks before the holidays, I was shopping for well-priced blankets and throws to donate to transitional shelters and found several nice designs at Kohls.com, which I already thought were great bargains at just above $10 each.  While idly browsing online the day after Christmas, I stumbled across a 75% additional off sale of all close-out items at a linen outlet where I bought this 412 thread count comforter for Andrea's dorm use:

Private Essentials Collection bedding in Aqua

(their Twin XL comforter was only $10.48 when I got it!)

The same comforter is available in other colors shown below (I like Sea Green best).  I've purchased from linensource.com several times before and never been disappointed with their Private Essentials bedding, although the same thing could not be said for other brands sold on their site.

Then there's the matter of Andrea's wardrobe!  Comfort is key for her so I've always gravitated towards flannel sleepwear except for the fact that this type of fabric generally looks wrinkled and well-worn before its time.  That's why I hesitated when I saw these boy-cut pajama pants on sale after Christmas at Abercrombie & Fitch.  Their whimsical moose print was terribly cute and they also had other more conventional tartan plaid and floral patterns in pretty colors, but I decided to test out these pairs in the laundry first.  Fortunately, they held up very well through the washer and dryer so I'm definitely coming back for more.

"Arielle" pajama pants in red, $17.40 at Abercrombie & Fitch

"Arielle" pajama pants in blue

For the first time in her 17 years, I was able to get Andrea to wear a handbag... my after-Christmas present for her!  She actually took it on a trip to L.A. on December 31st with her sisters and their cousin, Steven.  In the past Andrea had always walked out the door with a few dollar bills tucked into her jeans' pockets.  I knew she would not wear a girly handbag... ditto for purses with designer logos, funky hardware, or trendy designs... but I've never been able to zero in on an understated style that she liked.  This cross-body purse is small enough to suit Andrea's petite frame, came in two gender-neutral colors (black and nutmeg) as well as other fashion colors that she'd never touch, and looks unfussy enough to be in keeping with her minimalist tendency.  For whatever reason, the 50% off price tag at the store did not show up online, and I ended up having to make a second trip to Macy's to purchase my second handbag in black.  I just couldn't resist because with my 20% off coupon, the price came down to just under $23.  Plus I'll probably never duplicate my feat of getting Andrea to feel halfway excited about a fashion accessory!

Nine West Emily small cross-body purse

I also scored a great purchase for my sister Terra... this one will be saved until Christmas next year since our family has decided to get the item on Terra's wish list for her birthday in January.

Tignanello multi-pocket backpack in Glam Red

I think Terra would prefer the above design, but in a more "quiet" color like the one below:

Tignanello organizer backpack in British Tan

A Little More on the 25th

Our family couldn't help milking the holiday revelry for all it's worth!  Here we are on Christmas Day still opening presents in defiance of the Nguyen's new gift exchange rules.  The kids presented me with their "Bedrock" music video spoof that depicted me as a wacky mom who chased her tail every single day.  The cleverly adapted lyrics made me laugh and cry at the same time.   Audrey also got me a set of sepia prints from photos she took of me a while back. 

  

 Sisters

Cousins

  Wacky mom and her paparazzi daughter



Lauren and her cousin Natasha both received sleepwear for Christmas.  I've found pretty pajamas and robes to be fail-proof presents for girls their age.  Lauren adored hers and wore a different set every day during Christmas break.



If you noticed, Audrey was showing off her present from Lauren – the Bacon Genie – in one of the photos.  It's supposed to make short work of cooking bacon, Audrey's favorite snack.  Unfortunately, I later came across a scathing review of this particular gadget on Amazon... LOL!

A Molten Plastic Mess

Used this product for the first time yesterday. Cooked 12 pieces of bacon beautifully. After breakfast, saw that we still had 4 pieces left over in the package, so put those in to cook (after draining the grease from the first batch). Three minutes into the cooking process, noticed a funny smell. Opened the microwave and the product had melted -- hole in the bottom, so grease is all over the microwave (luckily, we have a glass tray in the microwave, so it captured most of it). Went to remove the pieces of bacon from the rack and off came a string of plastic with one of the pieces where it had melted to the bacon!