Year One

Last week was my niece's first birthday. I cannot believe it's been a year since I was so traumatized by a hospital room. And, only a year and a half since I cried for the first (and last!) time ever in an office I've worked in.

For a Hlivkova, she had a pretty Korean blowout. There was a bar with awful wine and a delicious full Korean buffet with random, un-Korean things like lasagna. The place was minutely organized to the millimeter, and the workers there had the precision of baby-related Navy SEALS. Although, the woman assigned to feed and care for my niece seemed to make her hysterical by being within ten inches of her, which did made us feel bad.

She did this traditional Korean thing where they put a bunch of objects in front of the baby, who chooses one (babies like to grab things after all), which determines his or her future. She grabbed a bowl of rice, but nobody really understood what it meant because it means something like money – which is confusing when one of the other things is actual money. There's also a pencil and other things I can't remember. Oh actually, they did let her pick a second thing, which was a golf ball. We understood that one even less. 

I think my parents forgot to do this ordeal for me, or else they would have saved up a little more for art school.