I don’t get to see my dad often, so it’s always a little weird when I do see him the few times that he’s able to visit from Hong Kong.  I always catch myself looking at the tufts of gray hair poking from underneath his cap.  And mentally measuring how much girth he’s gained since the last time I’ve seen him.  No butter.  No eggs.  Less carbs.  More fruits.  I nag him as he bites into his piece of french bread smeared with a huge dollop of butter.  He whines, I don’t get to eat this often.  So I let him, because I always do.

While we wait for our food, he whips out his smart phone and begins snapping pictures.  Of everything.  The restaurant’s front.  The flowers beside our table.  My mom as she pretends to ignore him.  My mom as she gives in and flashes her camera-ready smile.  And then me, even though I’m doing my best to look annoyed.  He pats my head and tousles my hair like I’m still nine.  But I let him, because the little things matter.   Because I know these pictures would be his reminders of what I look like until the next time I see him.

After our meal, we walked to the Palace of Fine Arts Theater.  It’s the first time I’ve been there and I wish I could’ve stayed longer.  But it was also crawling with tourists and couples in the middle of their wedding/engagement photo shoots. I bet the place would look even more gorgeous at dusk.  Next time.

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I can’t remember the last time that my parents took a photo together.

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And….giant bubbles!  We saw these while my mom and I were visiting Sausalito two weekends ago.  They’re intriguing to watch, these over-sized amorphous blobs.  And menacing up close, since I imagine it’s not very pleasant to have one of these babies pop over your head unless you like strings of soap in your hair.  But you can’t deny that they look super fun to make.  Who wants to get two sticks, a piece of rope, and some soap water?  Me!

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