The Heusens

Maryn's Last Supper
My little sister Maryn is my best friend. Obviously, I have known her my whole life.

Maryn's last supper is extremely nostalgic of our childhood and includes many of the same things I would choose to eat for my last supper. So I thought I'd write some fun facts about Maryn and her childhood (I was there, you know).

1. At age two, Maryn picked up a dead rat (which she thought was the cutest thing in the entire world) and ate too many Flintstones vitamins.
2. Maryn was obsessed with pigs. She wanted a pot-bellied pig very, very badly. So badly, in fact, that her fourth grade New Year's resolution was (and I quote): "Get a pig. If I can."
3. Maryn slept with her yellow blankie and Birthday Bear every night.
4. Maryn was such a messy eater that my parents put a pink beach towel underneath her dining room chair, to catch the spillover. Which might give some context to Maryn's Last Supper:

What would you eat for your last supper, if you could have anything you wanted?
My last supper would include all of my favorite childhood foods, because they remind me of how wonderful my family is! For old time's sake and as a testament to my appreciation of food and passion for life, I would have my beloved pink fish beach towel draped over my chair in honor of my days as a messy eater. I would start with a breakfast course, which would include first and foremost Cheese Egg Souffle (a sizzling, crispy corner with extra bacon is a must) as well as my very own Puffy Pancake (with extra lemon and powdered sugar). I would then move on to Mom's homemade Crab Dip with Ruffles, Wontons, Macaroni and Cheese (extra crispy, please), and finally, an extra-large Round Table Pizza (thin crust, cheese and pepperoni only). For dessert, I would have rainbow sherbet from Fosselman's.

Where would you eat it?
I would eat the dinner in the dining room of the house I grew up in on Laurel Street in South Pasadena.

With whom?
My family and of course Brian. I would also like for my late Grandpa John and Grandma Aiko to be there, and Charlie and Missy too!


Brian's Last Supper
Brian is Maryn's boyfriend. I met Brian when we were freshmen at USC. We co-hosted a radio show together from 1 - 4 a.m. on Monday nights, and then went to Denny's after. I got re-acquainted with Brian at a friend's party and told him "you must meet my sister!" And lo and behold...here they are two years later.

Brian is also known as "handyman". We are polite people and don't ask where that nickname came from. Another time, my mom referred to Brian as an "M. A. N." (yes, she spelled it out). And real men love meat.

What would you eat for your last supper, if you could have anything you wanted?
You know how tough this one is for me...I'll try to narrow it down to a few hundred items. The easy part of this answer is the nice, juicy, medium-rare rib eye steak big enough to touch the edges of my plate. The other easy answer is that A-1 (or any other steak sauce) would be as far away from it as possible. Salt, pepper, fire. That's it.

The hard part of my answer is what the side items would be. Garlic mashed potatoes, mac & cheese from Pete's Cafe & Bar in Downtown L.A., and crisp green beans all top the list for now. Then, I'd have an all-you-can-eat jumbo shrimp, split between plates of deep fried and grilled with melted garlic butter.

To drink, I'd order one of those eternal life potions that Meryl Streep drinks in Death Becomes Her...wait, that turned out to be a morally bad thing...nevermind. Vodka on the rocks and a prayer instead. Moving on to dessert, what's better than cheesecake? Maybe the Grand Marnier souffle from Mr. Stox in Anaheim. I'll take both. And black coffee to wash it all down.

If there was still time before the end, I'd pretend it was the next morning and pour a bowl of Trix (the original spherical kind), just for ol' times sake.

My future patio overlooking the ocean.

With whom?
Maryn, of course! But, I'd also like to have my late grandpa there since Maryn and him never got the chance to meet while he was still alive. And the rest of my grandparents should be there because they're so fun to be around!

Posted by Ashlyn at 11:48 PM | Permalink | Comments

Two comments on sleep deprivation.

Yesterday, Kris and I went to small claims court (long story...for a different post). This was our conversation before we left for the courthouse:

Kris: Did you darken the circles under your eyes with makeup?
Me: Huh? Why would I do that?
Kris: To get more sympathy from the judge?

Did I darken the bags under my eyes? No!
Did it look like I'd darkened the bags under my eyes? Maybe.
Was it inappropriate for Kris to ask me that question? You decide.

Then, our conversation last night at 1 a.m.
Saya woke up and I brought her into the living room to feed her.

Kris: Oh no, why is the baby still alive?
Me: Uhhhh. I hope you meant to ask why the baby is still awake.
Kris: Oh yeah. Sorry, I'm tired. I'm glad she's still alive though.

Posted by Ashlyn at 11:45 AM | Permalink | Comments

I'm taking care of Saya today. There are some benefits to not having mom around. Especially being able to dress Saya in blue & gold without mom ripping my head off! Doesn't she look great?

GO BEARS!

(Outfit courtesy of Miguel.)

Labels: photos, Saya

Posted by Kris at 11:30 AM | Permalink | Comments

Apparently, the uncontrollable urge to perch feet on Kris is a trait inherited from yours truly.


Pink hoodie = instant street cred. Am I right?


I don't look like someone who would spend the day emotionally manipulating her parents.
Or Do I?


Bathtime is one of the few times I take a break from emotional manipulation. I've taught my parents how to play a fun game called "Throw Spaghetti Against a Wall and See What Sticks."


There is nothing to fear but fear itself:


The best Halloween card ever from Auntie Maryn. What's not to love about fuzzy ghosts?



White on white:


The new hoodie. What appears to be the remnants of something gross in the background is actually the remnants of something amazing: Food & Wine Magazine's Green Chicken Masala. Try it, you'll love it. Kris cooked the chicken per-fect-ly.


Here is the chicken dish prior to consumption. Definitely make this - it's quick and easy, and it's the perfect one-pot dish to eat all winter long...


...along with the Lamb Tagine.* Which is not quick and easy, but is totally satisfying and makes about 5 servings. Score another for Food and Wine!


*Served with the Barefoot Contessa Moroccan Couscous. Which is out-of-this-world and super easy to make.

Labels: Food, photos, Saya

Posted by Ashlyn at 10:09 PM | Permalink | Comments

Both Kris AND my father were JFK on the What Famous Leader Are You? quiz:



And let me just say, it was totally not awkward when my dad read this description to me over the phone!

Also, my dad took the color test and he is 78% Red. I don't bring this up to insinuate that my father is crazy, but to make the point that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree (i.e., my personality faults are not really my fault, if you catch my drift).

Posted by Ashlyn at 8:40 PM | Permalink | Comments

Let me clarify.

Manpoo does not refer to the feces of a male. It refers to shampoo that only men use.

I recently ran out of shampoo and asked Kris to pick up a replacement at the grocery store. He came back with Head & Shoulders Manpoo. I do not bring up this incident to imply that Kris has a dandruff problem, but rather to highlight the need for women to provide precise directions if ever a man buys shampoo for them.

Because I am cheap, I began to use the Head & Shoulders so that we could get through the bottle faster. Let me tell you what I discovered: I love the little tingle that I get from a little pyrithione zinc! Yay for manpoo.

Two days ago (October 12), we celebrated our second engagementversary. Meaning that Kris proposed two years earlier. But because Kris is a "man" he does not find this date worth celebrating. He thinks the wedding anniversary trumps all prior anniversaries, and that we only need to celebrate one now. So beware: manniversaries just mean no anniversaries.

Another thing I would like to talk to you about is this blog. You may notice that this blog is full of a variety of topics: politics, parenthood, academia, cooking, embarrassing moments and other nonsense. Kris thinks that, to increase readership, I need to "focus" my efforts on just a few things. Others have told me that the blog needs to be "more Saya, less Ashlyn." Which kinda defeats the purpose of me using the blog as a way of maintaining an individual identity beyond that of a parent.

Which types of posts do you enjoy the most? Do you want to be more entertained? Do you want more embarrassing moments? More pictures? Or do you appreciate the sheer randomness and - dare I say - breadth of this blog?

I was talking to one of my friends last night. For anonymity's sake, let's call her "Schnicole." Shnicole stated that my recent post on Dwight Schrute and Type I and Type II statistical errors "didn't quite do it for her." When I asked why, Schnicole replied "because it just seemed like you wanted to talk about Dwight Schrute and Type I and Type II errors in statistics!" Which, my friends, I did. I did.

Here's a hint: Comments are awesome and let me know which types of posts you like best.

Posted by Ashlyn at 3:39 PM | Permalink | Comments

Since this blog is becoming a bit confessional, I thought I'd share some other juicy tidbits from my life. I realize that this may make you feel a bit unsettled, so feel free to avert your eyes if you are easily nauseated. I thought I'd start with a brief history of my dating life. And let me tell you...it is indeed brief!

The first half of my life consisted of a series of unrequited crushes and bizarre interactions with the few boys who did like me. I can name all of my crushes, starting from preschool:

Preschool: Eric (I think his last name was actually Onion. But that could've just been wishful thinking on the part of my child-brain).

Kindergarten: Joseph Hogan. Joseph Hogan really did not like me back. In Kindergarten, Mrs. Gardner assigned floor seats to all of us by marking the floor with tape. One day I gathered up all my courage and sat next to where Joseph Hogan's assigned seat was. When he came and sat down, he said to me "Hey. That's not your seat." I was mortified and scurried back to my assigned area.

First Grade: Andrew Chang. My first crush on a hapa kid (his mom was blonde, as I remember). He had really nice handwriting that slanted to the right. I remember I was at Sarah Silverman's house (no, not that Sarah Silverman) and I drew a picture of myself, holding hands with Andrew. There were bubbles coming out of our mouths, saying "I love you" and "I love you too." Of course I was the one saying "I love you TOO" because of course Andrew just couldn't wait to say it to me first. I labeled our pictures "Andrew" and "me" and was mortified when Sarah's parents saw it and started giggling.

2nd Grade: Brett Barhydt. Now, Brett and I actually had a relationship because I played the tomboy card. Which allowed us to hang out together, but did not endear him to me in any sort of romantic sense. Later, Brett ended up at USC with me, and we took a teacher education class together. He turned out to be quite introverted. Which totally cured me of feeling rejected at age six.

Another thing that happened in 2nd grade: I was the object of Eamonn Lynch's affection. He was our neighbor across the street (yes, the neighbors who had 16 children). One day I was wrestling with him and he pinned me down. I remember his face right above my face. First he dangled a long strand of spit down toward my face while his brother Killian laughed. Then he threatened to kiss me. I was absolutely horrified. Then he bent his head down, really quickly, and landed a sloppy wet kiss on my cheek. I was so indignant, I marched myself straight home.

Grades 3-6 were consumed by a huge crush on Joey Chan. Again, you may think that I had a penchant for the Asian men at an early age. But no. Joey Chan was a white kid who was adopted into a family with an Asian dad and white mom. Joey never expressed any interest in me, except for when I tried to convince him that my "Turn Back the Clock" Babe Ruth baseball card was an authentic Babe Ruth card. In fifth grade, Joey had a major crush on Lisa Turner and would give her presents while we all lined up after recess. This broke my heart into little tiny pieces every time. But not to worry - it has been eighteen years and I am so totally over it!

I also have to write this update. You know how when you are a not-so-cute dork, you fantasize about running into your crushes later in life, and they are blown away by how HOT HOT HOT you are? And they tell themselves "Wow, I was an idiot not to pay more attention to her!" I always hoped this would happen with Joey Chan. This is what did end up happening: I did not see Joey for years...from sixth grade onward. Then, during my senior year of college (when my attractiveness level peaked and I spent an hour getting ready every day), I ran into Joey. But it did not happen how I hoped it would happen. I was in the hospital after just being admitted for appendicitis. I had been up for 24 hours, had no makeup on, was in excruciating pain, looked like death, and was wearing an open-backed hospital gown. As I was dragging my IV pole into the bathroom, my mom opened the door and yelled excitedly, "ASHLYN! GUESS WHO'S HERE TO SAY HELLO?!! JOEY CHAN!" Apparently, Joey Chan happened to be there because a friend of his was sick or something. I remember slamming the bathroom door in a panic and not coming out. I mean, how could my mom do that to me? I think he may have glimpsed the back of my hospital gown and the side of my pale, tortured face.

Grades 7-8 were a bit strange for me. I was attending an all-girls school so my options were limited. My neighbor across the street, Sean Lynch (Eamonn Lynch's brother) had a crush on me. So even though I was not into him at all, I thought, Why Not? We "dated" for two weeks. Our dates consisted of tossing a football back and forth in the street, while I tried to convince him to get better grades: "Sean, it's really important to me that you raise your "D" that you have in history." Sean also tried to climb the giant oak tree in front of our house in order to spy on me, and then got stuck up there until he mustered the courage to jump down.

The final straw in our relationship was that he gave me a gold heart-shaped necklace. I wore it to his house one day and his mom said "Hey, that's mine." What the heck! I sheepishly gave the necklace back to her. It turns out this was a foreshadowing of things to come because Sean is now serving time for robbery. I kid you not.

In seventh grade I joined the South Pasadena Sea Tigers swim team. First I had a crush on my swim coach Matt Tredyte, but he was 21. Even though I hoped he would say that he would "wait for me" until I turned 18, even I knew that was unrealistic. Then I got a crush on Petter Andreissen, who was a recently immigrated Swedish boy a year older than I was. He was so mature...I mean, his voice had already changed and everything! Petter caused me a lot of grief. As social chair of my swim team, I managed to think up an excuse to call him...every single day. It still pains me to recall the lame pretenses under which I would call him: "Ummm, hi Petter, I'm taking a poll to see who likes brownies." Stuff like that. I basically called him every day for like eight months. After asking him my lame introductory question, I would then try to launch into some personal conversation, which Petter would shut down pretty quickly. Even more awkward was the fact that we would then ignore each other at swim practice...which was every day for like two hours. I'm still not entirely sure what was so unappealing about me, in a bright orange swim cap, with my braces, acne, and my Sea Tigers swimsuit highlighting my skeletal, pre-pubescent body.

This concludes the first half of my awkward dating life. Stay tuned for more!

Posted by Ashlyn at 1:59 PM | Permalink | Comments