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Yang and I are in a mall in the Zhongguancun (中关村) neighborhood of Beijing. It’s where Yang grew up back when it was considered the boonies. Aidan calls and wants to make sure Santa knows what toy he wants. We get home after some less than successful shopping — my basic approach is to reject everything until i am so tired of shopping that i make the worst possible choice – and Aidan asks about his toy. Diligent, that one. Yang tells him she told Santa and Santa knows exactly what he wants. Then Aidan makes a connection better not made. He asks Yang if she knows the English name of the toy. No. Then how could Santa know since Santa only speaks English. Yang tells me at which point I tell Aidan that of course Santa speaks Chinese. ...

It is cold outside so we are cooped up inside without much to do. Aidan and Lydia have roller blades on and I am not sure whether I am more worried for their safety or our floor’s safety. Or maybe simply the safety of our toes since we don’t where shoes inside the house and Aidan and Lydia are not skating in a very assured way. I am on the computer playing with some new photo software when I notice a picture of Lydia taken at about the same age as Elisa is now. I show it to Lydia and ask who is it. She says “Elisa”. I say “No, Lydia”. Lydia holds her ground. It is definitely Elisa. You judge for yourself. ...

I’m home after a short trip to the states and feeling pretty jet lagged. Ready to collapse. In the middle of this fog my son stands in the middle of the living room and performs a Peking opera song. I am a bit perplexed. I figure I am hallucinating or this is what he learned at school. I wonder how much of his school time is was dedicated to it. I think the hallucination might be the better root cause. Then I smile, thinking it is better than the song he learned before I went off to the states. The song that ended with “down with the american imperialists” or some such thing. Peking Opera is this super high pitched singing which allowed the songs to travel down the small alley ways of Beijing. Two nights later Aidan performs more Peking Opera this time sans singing. Not a huge loss on that front. ...

In order to keep my sanity I must go insane from time to time. Take tonight for instance. I got back to my hotel late after a hyper organized day. I immediately started becoming complexly unorganized. Clothes on the floor. One sock thrown on the desk, the other left on a door handle. My briefcase tipped over, the contents spilled. My cell phone lying open, battery exposed. I got completely undressed and then put on my sweats, sans underwear. I put a tee shirt, some big stupid nirvana thing, that singer who needed to be sane in order to be insane until he just…wasn’t. ...

I walked through the HK airport thinking I’ve seen all of HK and I’ve seen nothing at all. As I near the gate, I see a final chance to buy a toy for the four year old who is awaiting my arrival. I walk on past, thinking I have already done enough. Thinking that the rest, as they say, is history. Thinking that I’m glad her tastes are not yet expensive. ...

We are driving north towards what I call the “mega spa”. I refer to it as the “mega spa” because I don’t know its actual name. Not in English or Chinese. It is slightly north of the 6th ring road and will take us about 30 minutes to drive there. Our new GPS is telling us that I need to take the off ramp 4K ahead. Then 2K. Then now. It is remarkably precise…or so it seems…being it talks in Chinese I can’t actually tell. Yang bought me the GPS for fathers day but since all the instructions were in Chinese it sat around on a counter until Yang had time to set it up. Yang has had other things on her mind and in her womb recently. ...

“Your twitters are so dark” and “i don’t understand your status messages” are the most common response to his micro blogging. He thinks he needs to find a new micro blog neighborhood where he will not coax his messages for his audience. But, of course, – and there is always an “of course” -- his messages will be coaxed for his audience anyway. It’s a matter of whether he wants to coax it one way or the other. ...

I head out on a run (or as I like to call it – accelerated walking) and realize it is about time from Aidan and Lydia to get out of school. It is the rare workday that I am home early and an even rarer Friday. I had been in training across town and decided to work from home when a repeated wrong number call woke me up from my cat nap. In any case, I decided to run to the school to see if I could catch Aidan and Lydia. I walked into the playground and wandered a bit when Aidan came running up holding his jump rope. The one with a pink tint which seems weird. He gave me a demo of his jump roping skills. I think he made 10 loops. ...

She told me I need to be less cynical. That I needed to be more visibly passionate. I told her this was hard for me to do. That the thing I liked the best about me was my cynicism. That when it was right, it was right. To ask me to stop doing that would be the same as asking me not to be me. She said, that well, that was the only way I could achieve and grow. I thought maybe I didn’t want to grow then. That maybe I didn’t want to become her, in all her splendor. But I didn’t say this out loud. I just turned on my mental cynical filter which went something like this: ...

I am driving. Aidan, Lydia, Elisa, and the mother in law unit are in the back seat. Yang is in the passenger seat. There is some type of conversation going on about the weather. I haven’t showered and somehow have ended up wearing with a black polo sweat shirt with dark blue sweats. My hair is uncombed, my face not just unshaven but unevenly unshaven. It is just then that I think this is an all together different type of expat life that most folks sign up for. ...