Year of the Pig

I wonder can a whole year be Trayf or Haram? It is my year. I was born in the year of the pig, December 1959. My oldest Daughter was born in the year of the pig, February 1995. We are so alike.

Year of the Boar

Yesterday my partner was ill (fever, sore throat and the rest) so I took C, M and L to Chinatown for the Chinese New Year fireworks without their Mom. We got there with just enough time to buy the last 7 baked Pork Buns at Sun Sai Kai (go there and get the “over-rice” dishes for lunch: great, cheap and unforgettable).

We walked down Baxter Street eating our Pork Buns. Lennox was particularly happy with hers: “this is nice and warm daddy, I was very hungry and cold.” When we got to Columbus Park I walked in as far as I dared go while Chandler and Mason announced that they were going to go to the front, “we’re kids dad, they won’t mind.” Lennox and I stood by and when the fireworks started I put her on my shoulders.

The park hadn’t been shoveled, so we were standing on the glacial remains of the sleet storm of Valentine’s day: still ugly and still cold. There were new “fireworks-less fireworks” meter long tubes that shot confetti with cans of pressurized air (we learned later from an NRA badge wearing veteran on the N train platform). Their litter is what I made the photo with.

It was great to be out with the kids, though the wind chill was down into the low single digits. We had an adventure, and I got to see them all spreading their wings differently. C allowed herself to be a little girl, which she does often, though it is incongruous with her developing beauty. She even borrowed M’s hoodie because she was cold (a fashion felony under less dire circumstances). Mason ordered for himself at the awful off the beaten path restaurant that we ended up at. He is usually too reserved for that. Lennox played hagman while we waited for the octogenerian waiter to bring our greasy food back from New Jersey, or wherever the hell it came from. She beat them with the Article “the” and then did “_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ,” which for a newly minted 5-year-old is impressive. It was a whole sentence! She is reading and writing!

Because the 7-train is shut down we had a frosty adventure getting home, but we were all in high spirits. In spite of the fact that they didn’t drink any tea at the restaurant (I hid the sugar), they were up until near 11:00 telling mom about their adventures and finishing off the Pork Bow and Vietnamese Sandwiches.


2 responses to “Year of the Pig

  1. Wonderful slice of life story—joyful without false sentiment. Great picture too. Thank you.

  2. I thought the Boar might be “too real.” The kids make life good, though they keep me from movies in theaters.

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