The Year of the Dog
I'm super excited to ring in the Lunar New Year tonight with Jeremy. Since my family is on the west coast (and my extended family even further beyond that), we don't really do anything huge to celebrate. However, I'm going to whip up a hearty bowl of noodles (which represent longevity) and I'm going to try to convince Jeremy to watch Mulan with me for the seventieth time. Oh, and do a load of laundry. Boy, this celebration is going to wipe me the fuck out.
Speaking of Lunar New Year, it's the Year of the Dog (my dad's year) and I'm pretty bitter that there's no year of the cat - considering that I'm now a cat person. There are a ton of stories out there to explain why, but my favorite one is the one that blames the rat. Having ridden the New York City subways for one too many years now, I'm well accustomed to those bastards. Legend has it that Buddha was having a meeting to give all the animals a year in the Chinese zodiac; the rat didn't bother waking up his friend, the cat, and so the cat missed the meeting. This not only explains the lack of cat in the zodiac, but also why cats hat rats, the shadiest of all specimen.
Wow! I like you look, very nice! :))
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