|Is that a dummy smothering the pilot???|
When one is born a Chinese descent, you know that on Lunar New Year's eve, you'll see so many people you don't know, that you call something or rather title (apparently related somehow to you), they'll be eating the food that your mom slaved over for days to prepare, and goes home only to appear again the next day, wearing new shiny traditional Chinese clothes (or red in colour), bringing their entire family (the more kids they have, the bigger headache your mom has) and talk loudly with your parents while their kids receiving red pocket called 'angbao'.
Then your parents would nudge you to say that Chinese lines that you've practiced over and over again, fold your fist together and expects to be given an 'angbao', too.
From then on, every year approaching that Lunar New Year's eve, you'll hear your mom stressing out on how the house should be painted over outside, then inside, then outside, then inside, then new furniture is imperative, then new dining set is a must and the list goes on.
As she gets older and we get more mobile, she'll start telling you to stop sweeping the floor on New Year's day, don't cut your nails or use scissors on New Year's day, don't work on New Year's day, and a bunch of new rules to follow on and on and on.
Then your mom goes through a phase of acquiring new skills, Chinese art of Feng Shui and other Chinese metaphysics topics. The bunch of rules for New Year, became more exact and calculated. It becomes a hard line doctrine. Stars are flown every year and plants move accordingly. The repainting and redecorating becomes even crazier, because apparently you're a Goat, she's a Snake, and dad just shook his head thinking oh boy what are we arguing about!
This is the auto pilot of a well versed overseas Chinese. Perhaps some other can tell me their version of auto pilot before Christmas. Thankfully, I'm not on auto pilot anymore.
In fact tomorrow, I might just start my day by sweeping the floor, washing my hair, and working all day. Let's see what happens to me this year.
|Fly horsey, horsey, doesn't matter if you're a wooden horse, I know you're made of cloud, so, fly.....|