Passed Go!

I passed the patent bar last week. I cried at my desk. Then proceeded to throw up in the parking lot. The physical toll it took on me, with the acid reflux and bowel eruptions throughout the insane 6 intensive process, it was a wander I finished every question with seconds left remaining.

I prayed to grandma the night before to help me through the long arduous test. I lit 4 incense sticks, and Kaolin held onto one for me. I waited for the incense to burn all the way down and for the light to fade so that I could fill my famished stomach. Twenty minutes passed and the sticks were only half way through. Time seemed to be on a stand still that night. All I wanted to do was to comfortably prepare for the next day. One stick faded midway through. I relit it and worried that this could have been a very bad omen of what was to come. Why did one fade? It's never a good sign when an incense stick fails to burn all the way through. But perhaps it could also be a warning from grandma. That I needed to maintain stamina and push through. Even though I was starving and the bowl of rice and chicken was tempting me on the counter before grandma's alter, I had to respect time and all the elements surrounding it. I stared at the ashes until the very last moment when the light flickered to quiet darkness. Then I quickly kowtowed and ate my dinner to fill.

In reflection, I think that was exactly the lesson grandma wanted to give me before the next day because that test was hell and the acid reflux could have killed me. I have no doubt now that my grandmother is watching over me. Time to pass go.

A Tangle With Fate

Searching inside me for calm before tomorrow's storm. Tomorrow I will be kissing fate and hope that she kisses back.

Pink and Blue

It was three o'clock and the sun was brilliant. The sky was blue. Just like in those stories you read with the happy endings. Today, I felt happy. There was so much happy I could have stretched it out for the rest of this year. I ran in to school and surprised my little daughter. She didn't expect to see me at all and was momentarily confused by the time. Tinges of jealousy began showing in the eyes of the other children. "We are going out for an ice cream treat".

I looked my daughter in her eye and she saw that sparkle of magic in mine. All we could talk about in the car were the flavors of ice cream we would try. The air was filled with giggles and bubbles of excited anticipation. I think we literally sprinted from the school to the car and from the car to Cold Stone.

"Kaolin, which flavors do you want to try first?!!!" There were so many firsts? Our first bubble gum flavor. Our first keylime. Our first blueberry. We settled on "pink and blue". Black rasberry and blue bubble gum. With the brilliant day light wrapping itself around us while we sat by the big window and little spoons eating pink and blue ice cream, I knew that I had died once before and was living this very moment in heaven. This is what the American dream is about. People around the world kill each other and themselves to find a pathway through the ocean and over walls to come to this soil so that that they can have a moment like mine. Private and peaceful moments happily eating one dollar ice cream cones with the ones they love, caring for nothing else beyond the flavor, the color and the laughter all the hard work had brought.

This has become a tradition between Kaolin and me. Our secret rendevouz celebrating each victory, big or small, that we succeed to overcome. We celebrate with pink and blue ice cream.

Where the Home Is.

I was preparing for trial three weeks ago. Here's how it went. Baby and I were sick the week prior. Finally got over the flu the week of. Daddy had design review and had to work late the entire week of. The weekend of, our friend flew in to stay with us for the coming two months. Daddy and friend hung out the entire weekend while I had to hire a baby sitter to watch baby for 10 hours. The night prior, baby was screaming at me, banging at the door, while I tried to frantically wrap things up with my trial notebook in the bedroom. Finished at 10 p.m. Grabbed baby and calmed her down with a bottle. Baby falls asleep at 11:30 p.m. Meanwhile, daddy is watching t.v. outside. 11:30 pm, I iron my clothes for the next day. Next morning, trial. No breakfast. Too much coffee. I don't know how I got through it.

Sometimes I wonder if the situation is one which truly fosters and support my aspirations. There are times in which it feels like I'm fighting my way out of a box. Clay keeps telling me I should use the coupons for the housekeeper he purchased as a gift for me several months ago. The coupons are good for maybe 6 or 7 visits. Who's going to take care of the house the rest of the days out of the year? I'm burnt out just keeping up with the weekly cooking, dishes, laundry, sweeping, baby sitting, dog sitting, etc. together with work, which amazingly has been bleeding into my weekends. I'm not even working full time.

Once in a while, I'll run into the more successful female attorneys in town who are themselves mothers of young children. In nearly half the cases, the father is the stay at home spouse/parent. He never seems too happy to me either about the current state of his profession. Sometimes I think, deep down inside, all Clay wants is a stay at home wife who will bear his children, cook him dinner, let him alone to enjoy his life, keep his house clean, and be smart enough to have entertaining conversation with. That seems to be the case already now. Lately, I've found myself running up against a wall. On all six sides. I find myself asking again the question of where I'd have the energy and time to do more than I am now. We both want a second child. But I can't foresee the amount of support necessary for me to pursue both my career and a family.

Most of the spouses in this town are stay at home mothers. When I tell Clay about the difficulties of being an out of town Kohler-spouse trying to acheive balance between work and family, he refers me to his female coworkers with infants who are able to work full time and take the kids to swim lessons every week. I don't know what he thinks their lives are like? I don't think he'd be happy with overcooked lasagna or reheated meat loaf every night. What does he think it takes to get him what he's getting when he comes home each night?

I worry. I worry about my future in this town. Clay tells me that I don't realize how easy I have it here. Cost of living being so much greater in the metropolitan areas, not including the commute and the fierce competition (I highly doubt as far as my field of practice goes in this fish bowl of pirranahs I've been practicing in) I'd be lucky if I could even find a job that would accomodate my current schedule. I don't know what my expectations are with a bigger city. I miss the color and energy. I miss being around my own peers. I miss the different options for entertainment. It would be lovely to escape on a pms day like today into a museum with Kaolin for an hour before lunch and find inspiration through some real fantastic art and history. Maybe my career and life options in a larger city wouldn't be much different from what it is here. But I'd feel more connected there. This year marks the fifth year we've lived in this town. Beyond the birth of my daughter having taken place in this town, I still haven't found one real constant thing which connects me...which makes me feel at home. It's sad and I'm desperately trying to find it. The hope is that it is just around the corner and I simply need to work hard enough to get to it.

Going in for the dunk.

I am so tired of life on the cusp. Time finally feels like it's on my side and I'm one step away from controlling my own destiny. How many more questions needs to be answered before I can cash in on some holy points? It's difficult but I have several things juggling which must be aimed flawlessly before the end of this year. I must accomplish them all. There is no room for failure. I pray to God and all my ancestors to help me through. However, the feeling is, this one's on me entirely. This is my final examination. The prize is something even bigger on the other side. Note to self, there's no room for bullshit.

The letter! The letter!

The USPTO's letter finally arrived last Friday. My window period for the exam is going to be between September 9th through December 5th. Today is the 7th and next week I hope to close my first case. As one door closes, the other door reopens. A lot is coming together at the same time. I believe things happen in a certain order for certain reasons. The fact that my application for the exam has been sitting unnoticed on someone's desk for two months has been a blessing in disguised. In that time, I've had the opportunity to manage my first case and accept a part time job teaching legal writing to paralegals. Everything has occurred backwards according to my plans, but the list is still being checked off within the originally planned time frame. Maybe in another year, I'll understand the reason why things happenned in the order that it has.

Meanwhile, Kaolin is turning two years old next Tuesday. I can't believe how proud I am of her. She's not yet two but can already speak in full sentences, has a mind of a precocious teenager, and has fully potty trained herself without anyone's help. Although it remains hard, trying to balance family and work, the fact that I own my schedule and my career entirely is liberating. I think my daughter senses it too. She still attends daycare full time, but that's probably not a bad thing. I see her flourishing socially. When she comes home, she is ready for the next thing and she has my full attention. No computers. No t.v. No cell phone calls. We cook together, eat together, play together, read and sing together, and fall asleep together. It's less time with me, but it's jammed packed full and extra condensed mommy time. Combine this with a full day of socializing, learning and playing, she's really getting double the stimulation most kids get when they're at home with a working parent. It's really impossible to be fair to either your job or your child when you put the two together. Not only are you putting your clients' case at a greater risk for error, your poor child spends the entire day feeling rejected due to your need to work. Talk about developing an inferiority complex and suffering from lack of stimulation. I know how that feels personally. There's no need to put her through it. Things are working out for us so far. I'm thankful.

A couple of years ago, I wrote a letter to Warren Brown, owner and proprietor of Cake Love. I'd just passed the Wisconsin bar, after a long ordeal of difficulties with the exam. Then came the job search. I must have been sending out ten resumes a week. Sitting before the television, with the food network on mute and the lap top buzzing away with clickity clicks of my key board, I was struggling. I remember the bright sunlight of the morning, the feeling that I had encountered an invisible wall of discrimination and in the background, foodnetwork's new show about cooks who had changed profession. Warren Brown was on, demonstrating his process for making german chocolate cake and strawberry shortcakes. Cake? My brain switched from lawyer to baker and I turned off the mute button. I heard Mr. Brown tell his story about his prior life as an attorney. I wondered how long he'd been practicing for. The cakes were delicious and he explained how he too had struggled to realize his passions in life. He seemed so happy and passionate about baking cake. This was the inspiration behind the name of his bakery, "Cake Love". The name continues to inspire me to find that kind of love in my career. The tears begin to fall uncontrollably from all the frustrations I had encountered since I'd moved to Wisconsin. I was moved to meet another person who had been where I was then, found his truth and changed his destiny. I was desperate to know what my destiny was but the timing was not ripe yet. So I wrote a long emotional letter to Warren Brown thanking him for sharing his inspirational story. A little over a year later, over New Years Eve, I received a letter from Mr. Brown of Cake Love. A really awesome warm and encouraging card reminding me where the light is. I hang it over my refridgerator, tangible proof of accomplishment and bravery.

tick-tock

I've been living the Howard Hughes life these past few months. Pure isolation. Just not worth getting out of the house and wasting time. It feels like I am waiting for something big to happen but time keeps on dragging. Each day I check the mail for a letter from the PTO with my registration information. But no mail in sight. So it's patent exam limbo land till whenever. Ugghh. Meanwhile, other things are going on that weighs on my heart and mind. My profession gives me a heavy heart and makes me wonder if it's even healthy for me. Compassion fatigue is the new classification for what many family lawyers go through. I just want to invent the next toothpick - floss, make a few million dollars and retire. Switch tracks. Clear the slate. I think that this will be the last case I'll have on my plate for a while. Right now, all I want to do is to go to quiet church and be anonymous with God. However, the blood sucking Lutheran churches in this town stress me out and they all have contact lists. Guess it'll just be the computer and more work and more waiting. Nothing worse than waiting. Why didn't I become a pharmacist?

The Past and Future

Summer is finally around us in Sheboygan and everyone is desperately accomplishing as much sun-filled activities as possible. This is Kaolin's first summer in which she can actually stretch her legs, run around and be a free soul. I'm so excited for her and am trying not to be too much of a hermit so that she can get her fill of sunny days. The winter here is too long and some years, too dark.

Two days ago, I had an epiphany. It was the most perfect day I'd experienced in a long long while. After pouring over my books for 6 gruelling hours, I went for a 2 mile jog. I felt so balanced. My mind, body and spirit were humming in harmonious connection that afternoon. Following the run, I decided to water the plants. And that lead me into a meditation...we live in a very nice simple place. Simple is a luxury so many people would pay anything for. I am living the Winslow Homer life. I don't know why I hadn't seen it before?

This morning I entered the restroom and was caught off-guard by a long forgotten familiar flowery scent. It was from a brand of body soap we hadn't purchased in a long time. I was instantly seized and transferred to another place, in the tiled bathroom of our old Dobbs Ferry apartment. It was my second year in law school, our best friend Nancy Casadone lived downstairs, autumn was long and brilliant, we'd walked to our favorite local diner on Sundays and spend lazy afternoons reading over coffee at the bookstore...we'd take monthly escapes to the city and meander for hours through the Metropolitan Museum. Those days seem like a golden haze that's so far away, like another carnation of myself in another dimension separated by a glass wall, by time. I miss the spicey scent of fall in New York. I miss those drives through the greenary of the Saw Mill parkway and exploring Connecticut's country side. Mostly, I lament the fact that I am growing old and that those memories are now lost to time, with no witness or souveniers. Only our memories.

Life, at a certain point, becomes measured by achievements and action rather than by ticking minutes. Two years can go by and if the goal is simply focused on just one matter, that goal being met, you are effectively on the right track. This November marks our fifth year in Sheboygan. What a whirlwind experience that's been slow in the making. These past five years ticked by with an eternity of seconds. Yet I don't know how I managed to squeeze everything in. Clay and I are now talking about the next phase in our lives. I wonder how it will unfold.

It's Friday and the last day of a gruelling 3 day training session. My mind is mash potato and my emotion is spaghetti. I sit with my computer to the corner of the conference room, relegated here by plug access. Not totally isolated since I'm sitting next to two other people. But these past 3 days has been a constant intellectual and emotional battle against myself, against the purpose of this course, and against the purpose for why these other lawyers are here as well. We are being trained in mediation. It's quickly occurring to me that divorce mediation is a business practice in counseling and lawyering by lawyers who aren't counselors and are forbidden to act as lawyers.

Going Solo

This week, I am starting my own law firm. I have my first potential client. And, the phone, fax, email, website, and malpractice insurance are close to materializing. Those close to me are excited for me. There are some in town who are a little confused as to what it means for a Kohler-wife to start up her own business in Sheboygan. Is it for the purpose of getting me out of my important and busy husband's way while occupying me part time...an expensive hobby? Is it another one of my crazy endeavors to find legitimacy in this crazy town? I don't know, but the awkward inarticulate questions and the glazed half interested looks confuse me sometimes.



I was originally planning on studying for the patent bar first and then launch my portable family law and patent law practice immediately after getting the exam out of the way. Seemed logical enough at the time. Then I get a call from a potential client this weekend, only a week after quitting. It makes sense to begin now afterall, since you have to prepared for success if it comes your way. I'll be ready to take on some pro bono work as well. This reminds me of the fortune cookie that B got during my going away lunch at the office. It said something to the effect of, "If you want to fish, first you must go home to build your net." B laughed and thought it was the worst fortune cookie grammar he's seen yet. I gave it some thought and felt that it was pretty much right. I have to quit my job, go home and build my own business if I really want to find success in my career. I should have collected everyone's fortune cookie that day. They were all eerily approprote.



So, the story continues with this next chapter in my life. The most surprising part of it is how comfortable I feel so far moving quickly in my own direction and building my own solo practice. It actually feels very natural. And the unknown with regards to what I may encounter with my own inexperience doesn't scare me so much anymore. I've realized from the last two years of practice that I can handle nearly anything that comes my way and my own gutt has served me well as a true guidepost.

Fifteen minutes before court and my stomach is erupting with butterflies. I've prepared so thoroughly for this case for the past six months that I'm surprised how nervous I feel right now. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that today is the finale to a long drawn out matter. Under the butterflies is a pillow of calm. I've done my best.

A note to my daughter. One day, you will be ten years old and for the first time you will be big enough to feel your own individuality. Your highly evolved human brain will begin to mature with nascent cynicism and the sun that use to follow me will now be casting shadows. A restless atmosphere will overcome you on occassion. On those such days, you may want to sit alone and sit and stare out the window. I hope on those such occassions you ponder the world stretched out far before you but not forget that we remain connected. As you stretch your arms out, you may need to do so to push me away. For the connection of our souls may become burdensome to your confused heart. If you are my daughter, I know you will have to run away to learn the meaning of life. As myself, you will never stop asking. I don't want to spoil the fun by giving you the answers. We are together pieces on a chain, an ancestry of strong willed women. Each link measuring out the strength of our evolution. It is only natural for you to leave your origin in order to find your own reconnection point. I will be there with my hands stretched out when you come full circle.

It's February 14, 2010. Valentines Day and Chinese New Year happens to fall on the same day this year. To celebrate, I'm making a special - decievingly complicated provincial brined chicken with a ginger and scallion slaw. It's both traditional and our favorite since our first taste of unadulerated Chinese food in New York City.

New Year in Sheboygan is such a non-event. There is only a spritz (not even a sprinkle) of Chinese and Vietnamese people in this town. We know that the other exists through our connection at the Hmong Union Asian Supermarket. The Union market is the glue that bonds all eastern Asians within a 50 mile radius of here. It's a mystery to the store owner and I where these rare Chinese people reside though. They've only been sighted in the back kitchens of the Chinese buffet and to-go restaurants and a couple of the Thai restaurants restaurants around town. We suspect they live further north towards Manitowoc and Greenbay. On a day like today, I miss the buzz of people in the market shopping for prized flowers, fruits, vegetables and meats for the big feasting and celebration at home. I use to complain about the chaos found in Asian communities. Now, I feel lonely without its homely familiarity.

Kaolin celebrates her 17th month birthday today. The plan originally was to go all out with the traditional fare but the week got in the way. With two trials less than 6 weeks away, I felt a bit obligated to head to the office for a few hours this morning. But ofcourse, I didn't have my cell phone so I couldn't call my boss to figure out the new passcode to the office door and after the third try, was totally locked out of the key pad entirely. Maybe Grandma was telling me that I should really be enjoying this important spiritual day of my ancestor's with my new family. So backwards I went on my trail to the supermarket for plump chicken, spices and a bottle of Cakebread wine for honey. Inspiration got the best of me so I ran to the Union market and found a package of red envelope and a plate of sugar cured coconut candy to go along with the rare kamkuates that was on sale at Walmart.

I couldn't help but get teary eyed on my ride back and forth between stores. The more authentic ingredients I was able to obtain, the more old forgotten pieces of New Year and my childhood was resurrected. The day's homesickness started with an episode of Anthony Bourdaine's travel through Los Angeles' Thai town. For the first time in my life, I missed being surrounded and lost in a sea of Asian Americans. For better or for worst, I want to relate with my ethnic peers again. Times have changed and we have become our own people in the United States. I am now a mother, a professional and a part Asian - part American woman. The period of identity crisis from a decade ago is come and gone and today, we look at each other with a sense of knowing and with less likelihood of judgment. We are grown up now and I want to share the better part of the coming experiences with my familiar, those who can laugh at the inside jokes.

I know only 3 sets of Chinese people in Sheboygan. A distant Kohler colleague of Clay's in the marketing department, a Kohler engineer and his wife-kids-mother who live down the street, and the Thai-Chinese woman who runs the Thai Cafe. I discovered for the first time that she is in fact 100% Chinese except that she grew up in Thailand. Her husband is American and she also has lost touch with New Year celebration primarily because she has no other family nearby to celebrate the tradition with. To cheer each other up, we wished each other happy New Year in our familiar language and for a second, was standing on the footsteps of our mother's and grandmother's kitchen door way, smelling boiled brined chicken and hearing the clangs of women working for hours over pots of gastronomical delights.

So Gung Hai Fat Choi and San Lien Fai Loc from Sheboygan.