Chanel(ing) my Mom

Everyone’s mom smells like something. Grandmas do too. My mom smelled like Chanel No. 5.

She didn’t smell like that every day, of course. Only when she and my father went out, or had friends over, for one of their swanky dinner parties. Some of my earliest memories are of my parent's parties back in New York.

For as long as I can remember there was only one scent mom wore… Chanel No. 5. I didn’t particularly like how it smelled, especially when I was younger; it can be overpowering. But as I began to grow older, and undeniably more and more like my mother, I became somewhat obsessed with this fine French perfume. It wasn’t about the smell for me… it was what it represented. And, I guess, who.

I coveted my mom’s bottle of Chanel when she passed away. And sometimes, when I’m missing her so badly I can’t breathe, I put a dab of her perfume on my wrist and it calms me.

I’ve always, for my adult life at least, wanted something Chanel of my own. But I’d never ask for it. It just didn’t seem right and I couldn’t really put my finger on why.

Then, a few months before Christmas, I saw this post on my mom’s neighbor… and now my friend… John’s Facebook page. John is a wood-turner and creates the most beautiful and thoughtful pieces. Read the comments section on his post and you’ll see where this is going.

I had also coveted a piece of Sycamore wood, from a tree felled by a nasty storm, in Mike’s dad, and wife Dolores’s, front yard last fall. I’d been looking for something special to do for Mike and the kids since Pops died… something personal.

When that tree was being cut up and hauled away, at the exact time I showed up in Great Bend Kansas to help Dee with a project, I knew I needed a piece of it to take to John. He made three “Finders-Keepers Penney Jars’ for them… which we adore!

And he made this perfume pen for me.

How the perfume pen works is, you dip the wick, for a lack of a better term, in the perfume and it absorbs up into it.  I didn’t want to bring mom’s whole bottle of Chanel No. 5 to Beijing with me… I can’t risk something happening to it. So this is perfect; I dipped it right in and now I have her favorite scent, and some of my best memories, right here in China with me!

Today I went to the Pearl Market with my new pals Shelby and Bianca. This market, like most all the others, sells everything imaginable! I bought a lovely silk table runner and a few other textiles, to spruce up the apartment which is in dire need of a pop of color. We meandered though several other shops and bought a few trinkets from them as well.

But then we stumbled upon this… Chanel nirvana!

I am home now, Chanel(ing) my inner mama and all of a sudden I get it; Chanel was my moms. It was part of her identity… at least to me… and I had no right to it. And, because she left us so suddenly and unexpectedly, we were never given the opportunity to divvy up her legacy between those she left behind. But I’m quite certain she’s saying this tonight:

Chrissy gets Chanel.

I can only hope I wear it as well as she did; I love you mama!

Thank you, Lord

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

These were the first words I spoke this morning. My head was not even off the pillow yet; my eyes had just popped open in a way they don’t normally function at 6 in the morning.

Nick was home; his plane had landed in KC while Mike and I slept in Beijing. I awoke with an overwhelming feeling of peace and gratitude. Yep… my boy was home from Chile.




I’m grateful for countless things in my life. So much so that sometimes I wonder if the good Lord above isn’t tired of hearing from me. “Alright already, Chrissy, I know, I know!” But I just can’t help myself… I can’t.

But this day, in particular, I’m thinking about these kids.



I’m so thankful for their friendship and devotion to each other; they make me want to step up my game as a friend to others.

And I’m thankful for this huge bundle of pure joy and exuberance; don't be fooled by the tiny little package she comes in!



Belen… you are a gift to our family. Please pass along our thanks to your Grandpa Toto, and your Grandmother Monica, for opening up their incredible “Avocado Farm”, and their hearts, to Nick and Ben.

Pablo and Monica… you have an incredible daughter and this trip would not have become a reality had it not been for the two of you supporting Belen’s dreams and welcoming our kids into your home and hearts! We will be forever grateful.

And this kid…




Benjamin. This photo encapsulates you and Nick’s friendship perfectly. I know the two of you have many, many, more grand adventures ahead and as his Mama… there is no one I trust more than you to always have my boy's back. Love you, kiddo.





So for any of you out there who are waiting for someone to come home safely, or waiting on test results, or hoping to win the bazillion dollar Powerball this week so you can do really good works in the world… don’t forget to have a chat with the big guy upstairs; he's a really good listener!

And come on... he creates beauty (and kids) like this!





Thank you, Lord.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

*Disclosure: China internet, I’m finding out, is wonky; Blogger in particular has some issues. So some of my posts, though written in a timely fashion, are not always posted that way.

The Cat's Meow

I am not a cat person. Never have been, and never “thought” I would be. Now if you are a cat person please don’t get your fur all in a ball. I didn’t say I don’t like “some” cats… but rarely do I meet one that makes me think… “Man I’ve got to get me one of those!”

And maybe it’s just that my heart is being starved for puppy love right now that this is even a blog topic. But I’m obsessing about cats... in China!

It started with the crazy hybrid “cats in a box” Mikey told me about. There is a mall… yes another friggin mall… attached to our apartment building. It’s nice because it has some fairly good restaurants in it and when it’s -3 degrees celsius outside, like it is today, we don’t have to venture outside for dinner.

These “cats in a box” are in this mall; first floor… right next to the kiosk selling underwear. They are gorgeous… the cats, not the undies! They’re some kind of hybrid that strongly resembles a cheetah or a jaguar. I can’t stop looking at them; I must have 20 pics of them (so far)!

 Matt has seen them too. Now I know he’s not a cat guy; he’s even allergic. But he doesn’t shut me down near as quickly as Mikey does when I say “We’ve got to get us one of these cats!” In fact, I think he’s somewhere closer to my camp than Mikey’s… they’re that cool.

The obvious question is… “What are they doing in that box?” And the answer is… I have no friggin idea! But most days I have to wait patiently, to get up to the plexi-glass, to take the same damn picture I took the day before because that many people come by to see these damn cats in a box!

And they seem very happy in there; it’s filled with lots of cat toys and cat thingy-jigs.  But the whole set-up does lend itself to lots of questions. Namely… what are they doing in that fucking box? And do they go home at night? Is this home? So many questions!

Then today… more cats! Lots and lots and lots of cats.

I was wandering around that same mall… yes I snapped today’s obligatory cat pic… looking for the new laundry service I’m going to use… since I’m a total failure at Chinese laundry! One hallway led to another, and to another, and… Holy Cat-Piss… what the hell is that?!?

 There was a small, do I dare say, café? I saw a few people in there. And there were books on shelves but it seemed more library-like than bookstore-ish. But are those cats wondering around? What could this be? I had no choice… I entered!

Through two sets of glass doors, mind you… what is up with this place?  I bee-lined it right over to a snoozin cat who I became fast friends with; at first I startled him but then he rolled over insisting I rub his ample belly.

I wondered around a bit, I think my chin was on the floor and my mouth was gaped wide open. I took a seat at a table, because that’s what the two other people in there had done, and a little gal who thankfully spoke “some” english handed me a “rule card” and a menu. I ordered a latte and a piece of green tea cheesecake; my entry fee for this front row seat to crazy-cat town was paid!

The place is called “Meow Time”. I spent an hour there and came out no more informed regarding what the hell it is than when I went it. I stand by my first impression that it’s an internet café with (and for) cats. There were 9 cats that I counted while sitting there and that doesn’t count the few who wondered in and out the cat door to God knows where! (See cat door, in pic below, between sleeping kitty in hammock and lazy-ass cat sunning himself under a heat lamp.)

 These cats were in hammocks, on top of the book shelves, on cat perches, and just wondering around looking for an occasional scratch of the head. No one else there seemed too interested in these felines, they were there for the internet and snacks.

But after a while I came to my senses; I’d simply had enough cat time for one day. Maybe even a life time. And the good news is, I walked right past the “cats in a box” on my way home and as the real looker and I made eye contact… I gave nary a nod.

Although for a short while today I could have been confused with one of those crazy cat ladies… I think it’s clear now. I’m missing my pups.

 Whoof.