Owned.

When we lived in Vienna, my dad brought home an awkward looking metallic tube with pump handle on top one night. I, with my wild 6 year old imagination, thought that it was a canister that held some sort of crazy nuclear waste. However, as with most things imagined as a child, it so happened that this object was not a radioactive containment tube after all. Turns out that the metallic contraption was actually a soda water maker.

You see, my dad's always liked sparkling mineral water. He just thought that by buying this device, he could enjoy sparkling water at the comfort of his own home and at a cheaper rate. But little did we all know, my mom had other plans up her sleeve ...

I came home one day from kindergarten, and as usual, my momma was making me a mid-afternoon snack, because even at that age, it was clear that I ate like a horse. She told me from the kitchen that she was making me tuna sandwiches and asked what I wanted to drink. For some reason, I was craving something sweet and bubbly, so I suggested Fanta. After a slight hesitation, she said that there was some, so I was excited and eagerly anticipating the pleasure of washing a delicious tuna sandwich down with orange goodness.

A few minutes later, I was sitting in the kitchen enjoying my tuna, but to my dismay, there was no Fanta to be found! When I asked my momma about it, she told me to wait a minute. That should've been the first red flag, but the sensation of food in my mouth had me too distracted to care. When she turned around to hand me my drink, I noticed that she was stirring my Fanta with a spoon. Again, red flag number two went unnoticed as well.

And then it happened. As I lifted the glass and the orange soda was approaching my lips, I noticed some stuff floating on the surface of my drink. But it was too late...

As I took the first sip, I simultaneously noticed that the drink was SO not Fanta and a ball of orange powder was exploding upon contact with my lips. Then it all connected. What my mom was stirring was indeed not Fanta, but Tang mixed with the tonic water from my dad's soda water maker. And that explosion? A Tang bomb.

Looking back on it, some of the things that I thought was "normal" in my childhood was actually really ghetto. It's not that we grew up poor; I think it comes from the whole frugal Asian family mentality. I guess that's why when reflecting on a majority of my childhood, I can't help but smile and laugh.

here we go again...

i decided that the purpose of this blog is to record the story of my family, one anecdote and essay at a time.

so, as my brother likes to say, here goes nothing...