KEEP IT IN THE PHAMLY

Mum Pham was always a little fragile even in my early memories with her. Once upon a time, according to old photos she was young and - well, ‘fit’ might be an exaggeration. I suppose she was more ‘physically able’ because she was slimmer, but she preferred to walk and sit rather than run and jump. She kept her figure when Big Brother Pham was born but when I happened, she ballooned and couldn’t drop her pregnancy weight. Yup, I ruined Mum’s body with my pho cravings from inside her belly.

Dad Pham was always invincible from as early as I can remember. Dad has always been super fit because he was active as a kid - his favourite past time was swimming and playing at the beach, even when it meant a good beating when he got home because he’d skipped all his meals and curfew to stay in the water. Dad had a black belt in taekwondo, and could never sit still for long when we were growing up - he’d pace up and down the hallway while Mum and kids watched TV on the couch. And did I mention he was in the navy for most of his young to adult life?

On one of my Sunday visits with Dad this year, I noticed he was struggling to open a glass Moccona coffee jar. His fitness is finally fading in his mid-70s, though I think if Mum Pham was still around he’d be fighting fit because he needed to take care of her. Since the heartbreak of losing her, he’s aged dramatically. It’s like love kept him young in a very real way.

It’s jarring to see Dad Pham is now old and frail; it feels like it happened overnight. Luckily Little Sissy Pham and I are better equipped to aid him having learned from our experience with Mum’s ailing health. I replaced his glass coffee jar with one that has a plastic lid so it’s easy to open and close. It’s the little changes in what he’s capable of that remind me he’s not invincible anymore.

I take Dad Pham to the local lake every week so he can sit and watch me walk around the lake. Once upon a time, he would have been able to join me but these days he’s not that mobile so he sits on his favourite bench with a hot coffee in his Contigo Travel mug, and waves to me when I’m close enough to see his arms in the air.

I wear a Nike cap for sun protection on these walks. One day Dad looked at me pensively and said, “Nike is an expensive brand. You’re fortunate.” For a man who wore $1-$5 apparel, footwear and accessories most of his life, a $21.95 Nike cap on sale is a luxury.

Dad revealed he felt responsible for the charity bin clothes and hand-me-downs we wore growing up, because parents always want the best for their children and it was his duty to get that for us. I told him it doesn’t matter - it taught us to appreciate the nice things we have now, and we wouldn’t have gotten to where we were without him.

As a kid I didn’t know any different; we went to a public primary school where there were lots of kids in the same boat. Then as a teen, I knew I wasn’t trendy but I also didn’t care so it never impacted me to wear my brother’s old jeans and baggy tees. Though, now I think upon it, my older cousins seemed to like gifting us clothes. Maybe it bothered them.

Dad’s happy that we have nice things these days. Like always, we wish Mum Pham was here to enjoy the good lives she and Dad helped us build.

I've worked in the retail industry long enough to know that supply and demand is a thing. But I don't really acknowledge that popular things are real until they enter my world. Introducing the Contigo Travel Mug.

I used to drive to work with a Keep Cup with hot tea but because it was hot, I couldn’t close the lid lip. It surprisingly only ended in a couple of spills for the year I did that. And then I met Contigo Travel Mugs at Biome.

The clever autoseal lid means no accidental spills; perfect for a klutz like me. Plus, hot drinks stay hot and cold drinks stay cold for hours on end. I learned the hard, tongue-burning way the first time I used my Contigo mug to leave the lid off for a little bit before sealing hot drinks inside.

I also learned the expensive, lid ruining way that you must rinse the lid as soon as you finished drinking your tea or coffee if you use soy milk ‘cause that shit sticks to the spring structure of the autoseal and will eventually ruin the lid after months of regular use. I had to buy me a new Contigo mug, and while I was at it, I got Dad Pham one too so he could have hot coffees by the lake on our Sunday walks.

These days, I have halved my work commute thanks to earlier work hours to avoid peak, peak hours and moving a tad closer to the office. I no longer sip tea for an hour each morning so my contigo mug instead keeps cold water cold for the warm drive to and from work, and for my gym sessions. It’s a fun time. Cannot recommend these mugs enough.

I love other people’s happiness so much I asked to make it my official duty at work. I even got a budget for it and everything. By “budget” I mean I have a challenge to buy something for everyone from Daiso. Boy, there are some fun and bizarre items on the shelves there.

We tend to celebrate the achievements of people who work on projects and campaigns because look! Something new and shiny! We don’t always acknowledge the people who work to keep the business running daily in the same way.

I wanted to level the playing field, and celebrate the achievements of all team members so I came up with an idea: Work Birthdays! Celebrating people’s achievements over the past year on their anniversary. Team members come and go so it’s worth celebrating those who remain by recognising another year of a job well done.

In the context of work, an anniversary is better than an actual birth date because every chump alive was born - their parents did the heavy lifting there; not everyone can progress their career and personal development - that needs to be earned.

It means a bit of extra work for me on weekends to buy work birthday gifts, and coordinate messages with team leaders, which I then hand write in cards I’ve hoarded over the years. We then present the gift and card to team members in our weekly group meetings, and then on their actual anniversary day I send an email of what we wrote in their card.

It’s corny but I don’t care. It makes other people happy and lets them know that they are appreciated. Happy work birthday!

There was a 6 week break in my blog while I was doing the opposite of holidaying. First, there was a big work deadline that took over my life for a couple of weeks. Then I (and most of my team) was wiped out by a couldn't-see, couldn't-think, couldn't-function virus for a full two weeks - give or take a month either side for coughing fits. It was the second sickest I've ever been in my life; actual influenza was bone-achingly worse than this virus.

Our office is a disease incubator. The air conditioning doesn’t work so well to keep us cool in summer but it sure is great at spreading germs over the cooler months. I caught a cold in April that left me with a cough until early July when I didn’t get better - no, as a matter of fact, I got terribly worse.

I'd been lethargic and tired for weeks while I recovered from the latest outbreak. It took me 4 weeks to draft and publish Marco Polo because I couldn't think straight or find inspiration every time I sat down to finish it. I've had a new car for nearly two months and I hadn't told you about it!

Things are looking up though. I eased myself back into gym workouts; can't believe how quickly my muscles and stamina faded away. They also came back quickly. At the start of week 4 and I'm feeling fit and strong again, and motivated to write. Write. Write!

I have a new boy in my life; his name is Marco and he's my first ever brand new car. In case you haven't guessed from his name, this blog post title or the photo, he's a Volkswagen Polo. Named after Marco and Polo - the two crows that used to sit on the fence outside my bedroom / home office and keep me company while I worked from home and went stir crazy and started conversing with crows.

I've only ever driven second hand cars, and until the latest Getz all of them were bombs that Mum Pham and Dad Pham scrimped and saved to buy. Us Phamlings shared the cars because neither of our parents can drive. It was, how you say, the pits. Mum and Dad did so much to try and provide for us with the little they had. I wish Mum could see me now. I can afford a fancy European car that was Made in Germany like me!

I went with a VW Polo after my partner recommended it, and we rode in the back of his friend's GTI where I learned they've updated the chassis so it's not boxy and cramped like older models. It was the first car I test drove and the only one I test drove because I fell in instant love. Polos are a dream to drive. Everything is so well-made and has a luxe feel without the price tag. The Germans sure know good, efficient design. It is hands-down the best quality, small car in its price range ($19,999-$24,999 for the trendline with a few extras).

My Marco is so shiny, and new, and has so much tech that I was intimidated by him for the first couple of weeks until I finished reading the 400 page manual, of which, half wasn't relevant to my Marco because I got the basic, trendline model (still very fancy) but not feature packed liked the upgrades. Even so, after reading more information than I needed to, I understood Marco's tech isn't there to judge me for bad driving, it's there to assist me and keep me safe.

Except: I wish I didn't have him measuring me because I am obsessed with good stats (hence, fitness tracker life). I avoid zoomies in Marco even though he's so very fast to accelerate with his 1.0L Turbo engine. Gotta keep my eco stats high to stay fuel efficient! And that means accelerating steadily. Sigh. I refuse to use the stop/start engine; I know it's an eco feature to save fuel but I don't like the slight delay in accelerating and the jerk it adds to starting the car. Plus, I can't imagine it's good for the battery to stop/start so often in peak hour traffic.

Before Mum Pham managed an epic house move on her own, and before Little Sissy Pham was sleepwalking off trains; Dad Pham was flying solo in Brisbane. He came up to house hunt. The Phamly was moving away from Melbourne to get a fresh start and Dad was looking for a new home to rent.

He wasn't have much luck though. A family of 5 - two adults on the pension and three high school and uni aged students. We had no income except for government support. Being Vietnamese probably didn't help - Brisbane folk were openly racist back then.

Out of options, Dad went a different tactic. He went to the real estate, inspected a couple of houses in the morning, went home and called Mum Pham and asked her to call in all favours to pull together a house deposit. Because we have amazing family and friends, she managed to get the $10k (yeah, I know, that kills me) they needed in addition to their measly savings, and my cousin was willing to be their guarantor. That same afternoon, Dad went back to the real estate and bought what has now been our Phamly home for nearing two decades.

Yes, you read right. Dad Pham bought a house because he couldn't rent one on his pension. As he says, only in Australia. What a lucky country to live in.




If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

I learned this year that I don't hate the gym; I just never knew how to use them for my benefit so I thought they weren't for me.

My boyfriend introduced me to gym life again earlier this year. However, he had no idea how to dumb his workouts down enough for me, an office pleb who did swimming and beginner dance to remain on the outskirts of unfit. After the first sessions with Boyfriend I couldn't walk properly for a week, so he introduced me to his friend and trainer, Elliot Burton who runs Physique Academy. He's based in Perth but does online training as well as in-person training.

Who knew Personal Trainers can show you how to make the most of a workout? Not me! My first, last, and only experience with a PT had been at a Snap Fitness and the chick didn't read her audience right. I woke up with a crook neck and couldn't go back to the gym for two and a half weeks, and Little Sissy Pham could barely walk. Never again! I said.

Then I started doing personalised Physique Academy workouts this year. Elliot eased me in with his personalised program, getting me used to the movements, and using muscles I didn't know I have. Physique Academy is based in Perth so my training is managed remotely. I have a training sheet to follow, and whenever I don't know how to do something I can hit up the Physique Academy Facebook group and Elliot will post a video demonstrating and explaining the move.

Now I gym more than my significant other. Sure, he plays basketball and does basketball training sessions that would probably make me vomit and pass out, but I go to the gym more so I win this round! This is the strongest I've ever been. in my day to day life things that used to be cumbersome like refilling the water cooler are now easy. Instead of awkwardly carrying/hugging one bottle, I carry one in each hand up the mother effen stairs. Little Sissy Pham looks at me legs, and exclaims "Whoa you're so tough now."

I've been sick for 6 weeks - run down from juggling work, house move, car hunt, and then Dad Pham had a hospital scare (he's fine, just a dizzy spell). But I'm back in the gym now and it's the best time.

If you've ever felt like me and thought gym isn't for you, it might be the workouts you're doing are not for you. Hit up a professional. I, of course, recommend Physique Academy. He knew how to ease this frumpy office potato into gym life.

Little Sissy Pham was a serial sleepwalker growing up. Most of the time it was harmless episodes like she'd stand up from the couch where she'd fallen asleep and bend double over trying to look for her slides, which were by her feet but in dream land she couldn't see them. Other times were a little scarier like when she'd try to open the front door, though luckily in dream land she couldn't see the deadlock was still locked. The worst was when she'd try to walk out onto the balcony in her sleep. Big Brother Pham caught her that time, and held the door shut while she tried to get out.

Well, that was the worst episode until the last time she sleepwalked. It traumatised her so badly it scared the sleepwalk right out of her.

Mum Pham and her three Phamlings were on a train from Melbourne to meet Dad Pham in our new home, Brisbane. It was the middle of the night and Little Sissy Pham and I were seated next to each other across the aisle from Mum Pham and Big Brother Pham. When the train stopped at a station near the border of NSW-QLD, Little Sissy Pham got up and sleepy me let her out thinking she was going to the bathroom. I flopped over and went promptly back to sleep without realising she was in a sleepwalk.

Little Sissy Pham blinked awake when a horn sounded. She felt disoriented like she was in a dream but fully alert. Where was she? What was she seeing? A train pulling away from a train platform. A train she was meant to be on. She looked around and there were a handful of other train passengers who disembarked but they all left shortly because it was the middle of the night in an isolated regional train station. She was lost.

Little Sissy Pham had no phone, no phone numbers, and no idea where she was. Luckily payphones were still a thing back then, and the phone at that station worked. She called 000 who directed her to the nearest police station, which was a long time away for a 15 year old waiting alone in the middle of the night.

The cops eventually arrived and drove her to their station where they interviewed Little Sissy Pham and couldn't believe her predicament. She didn't have a number for Melbourne because we moved and disconnected the line, and she didn't have a number for Brisbane because we didn't have a number there yet. The young officers tried to keep a straight face but she could hear them laughing at her outside the room. Eventually a senior officer arrived to weigh up the options, and he determined the best plan was their only plan - get Little Sissy Pham back on that train.

They called the trainline and had it stopped, while an officer sped through the regional NSW at 180km/h to get Little Sissy Pham back on the train. It was all very dramatic and Mum Pham got the shock of her life when police officers boarded the train and approached her. She thought she was in trouble for letting us smuggle our cats onto the train, but turns out it was about the daughter she didn't know was lost. Needless to say Little Sissy Pham was devastated none of us had noticed her missing when she was safely returned to the train. After the worst night of her life, she never sleep-walked again.




If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

Let's talk about balls. Massage balls in cars, specifically.

The great thing about dating someone whose family is very different to the people I know is I get exposed to new ideas. One night while a relative from New Zealand was in town, we went over to their motel for burger dinner. They were in Brisbane for a track & field event (yeah, I know - no way would we have crossed paths if my boyfriend wasn't a relation) and for half the night they talked about work in the sports field.

The dad demonstrated different deep muscle stretches on the kids who were staying in another room but came over for dinner. I thought they were awkward because they are teens for a start, and then teens being bent every which way in front of strangers. It wasn't until after we'd left that I learned those weren't their kids. They were traveling together for the track & field event but the couple's own kids were back in New Zealand. That would explain why the kids were extra awkward being massaged in front of total strangers.

Anyway, during the night I learned that you can sit and lean on massage balls while you're driving. Mind blown. I hadn't thought to do muscle work while driving but it makes total sense. I've been driving with one for nearly a year now, and it's the best thing ever. I arrive at work more awake because I've stimulated blood flow. And then I arrive at home feeling relaxed because I've worked out the knots from sitting and standing at a computer all day long.

I'm passing on this good advice from my boyfriend's people-bending relatives. They know what's what. I have a spiky ball so sometimes when I get over enthusiastic it looks like someone's beaten me with a meat hammer on the back, but a smooth massage ball or tennis ball will work just as well, and probably leave less damage if you go too hard.

Little Sissy Pham and I are very same-same but different. So when Google Photos' face couldn't figure out if we were the same person in our baby photos it got me thinking...

Little Sissy Pham was an accident. Mum Pham and Dad Pham made her 2 months after I was born. I, on the other hand, was planned. And by 'planned' I mean Mum Pham gave up on her dream of being a pharmacist because re-learning everything again in German and working under racist employers was not for her. Instead, she went off the pill and made another baby: me! So while Little Sissy is a happy accident, I am a symbol of a refugee woman's defeat.

Despite our different reasons for being, we had the same lives growing up and are pretty much the same person. Well, in our values and principles. On paper, we aren't alike at all. She's a homeowner who's worked in the public service since forever and has a consistent personal style - I can pick things up in a shop and say, 'This is very you.' I chop and change constantly - rental homes, jobs and personal style.

But our calm energy and the positive vibes we give off are very similar. So similar in fact that even though we don't look alike - I take after Mum, she takes after Dad - people often mistake us for one another. And I don't think it's a casual racist thing; well, not all of the time.

Being less than a year apart, we are super close. We have the same sense of humour and sometimes our in-jokes carry on so long we don't even remember where they originated. We have lived in different cities but always emailed and messaged to stay in each other's lives. Then when we both ended back in Brisbane, we lived at home together, then moved out together, and commuted to work together, and would meet for lunch when we both worked in the city, and timed our exits to catch the same bus home together.

So to answer your question, Google Photos, we are the same person even though we're different people.

There are two main things I remember about The Phamly's move from Melbourne to Brisbane. The first is I had to give up my upright piano because it made more financial sense to sell it to pay to help move the rest of the household than to pay even more to move the heavy item. Adult me now sees why my parents decided to sell it, but at the time teen me was very emotional and upset, and swore to never play piano again. What a little shit I was, I've since forgotten most of my piano training.

The other thing I remember because we repeated the story so often because it's hilarious. We caught the train from Melbourne to Brisbane because back then air travel was way more expensive compared to land travel. On the ride, Mum Pham sat next to Big Brother Pham and I was seated next to Little Sissy Pham. At a train stop in rural NSW she got up to go to the toilet. Being the responsible, caring sister that I am, I flopped over into her seat and promptly fell asleep.

Next thing I know, I wake up because the train has stopped and there's a fuss up ahead where policemen have come onboard our carriage. They start walking down the aisle and everyone is confused wondering what the hell is going on. When the cops stop at Mum Pham, the expression on her face is priceless. I've never seen someone look so shocked yet guilty. Unbeknownst to everyone else there are cats on the train. Our cats.

We smuggled Cuddles and Tigger Pham onto the train in our carry-on because no way was my immigrant mother paying to fly these furballs to Brisbane and no way was this attached teen letting her give our cats away. We cut off the top of a rectangle laundry basket and placed it inside a black bag, and our petrified kitties huddled in there quietly for most of the ride. At one point Cuddles, the braver of the two crawled out while we were both sleeping and was walking about. Little Sissy caught her before anyone else noticed.

Had someone in fact seen? Had they reported us to the authorities? How much trouble were we in if the police was involved? All this was racing through Mum Pham's head when she was looking up at the cops who had asked for her by name.

To her great relief, they didn't know about the cats. They were on the train to return her youngest daughter who had sleep walked off the train in regional NSW with no home address or forwarding phone number because we had left our old house, and nobody thought to give us kids the new address or contact details for Brisbane because we didn't plan on anyone getting lost off the train.

Mum Pham aged a couple of years that night and Little Sissy Pham was so traumatised she never sleep walked again after that night. Tune in next time for the saga that was returning Little Sissy Pham to the train. That's another entertaining story for some regional file, not so much for Little Sissy Pham.




If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

I visit Mum's grave in Melbourne whenever I am in town and have car to drive out west to lay flowers and pray to her. Mum was never big on flowers, but leaving food there to rot is against the rules and also just wrong. The memorial garden is peaceful and well-maintained. Flowers that begin to die are removed by the groundskeepers so the cemetery is kept nice and fresh for grieving visitors.

I make the trip and lay the flowers to show my respects, but I don't feel connected to Mum in the graveyard. I feel connected to her when I find myself standing with my hand on my hip while I stir food in the stove like she used to. I feel connected when I wash my face in the morning and glimpse myself in the mirror looking like Mum Pham - except that she looks a bit blind because she can't see much when she takes her glasses off to wash her face, whereas my LASIK laser eyes are tired from not enough sleep.

I feel connected to Mum on Mother's Day when we celebrate with Dad Pham because it always falls near his birthday. This year it happened to be his birthday. We celebrated by making Dad one of his favourite dishes - bánh cuốn. But then because he'd spent his morning mopping the kitchen for Phamly feast, he was fast asleep before we got to dessert. That's OK, I'll be back this weekend for our tradition of sleepovers, and 5am wake up calls for the Eurovision Finale.

I used to dress like a toddler's dream in glittery rainbow unicorn everything. Anything bright, colourful and shiny that caught my eye would join my wardrobe. Essentially, I dressed like I was destined to visit the Unicorn Store, and sometimes I still do but usually only on weekends. Last year my preferences changed so I went through a movie maker to make my colours less crazy, and more subtle.

After 30+ years on earth I wanted to dress more my age in the office. I mean, they say to dress the part and my part is no longer new kid on the block, I'm in a senior role because I got old and gained experience. Suddenly I'm in a position where I don't feel comfortable wearing short Garfield dresses or fruity tops and bottoms or fruit in general to work.

This change was also spurred by watching my boyfriend go to a new job looking sharp in dress pants and a button-up every day. There's something nice about looking smart. Then when he got a work uniform, seeing him come home and change into his casual clothes to relax was also very appealing. I haven't really had that separation between work me and home me for most of my life because I've worked in street fashion and music where casual clothes is the uniform. Most people probably wish they could be more themselves at work. Me? I wish I was less homely at work.

These days I've added clean lines, simpler patterns, and solid colours to my work wardrobe. I found a nicely cut, plain dress that I bought in three colourways that I call my 'work uniform.' And have some mix and match tops and skirts so I don't always wear the same outfit to work. I still get the urge to buy bright colours, clashing prints and crazy patterns but when I do, I remind myself I barely wear my current unicorn clothes anymore. Movie makeovers don't happen overnight but they do happen. For me, it took about 6 months to slowly gather work wardrobe staples until one day I realised I hadn't dressed like a kid at work in weeks. Look at me... finally growing up.

I find social media to be quite social, and not dehumanising like naysayers say. Unless it's Tinder and I don't understand why people are so weird and gross. I guess it's because I use social media to connect with people, and see what they share about their lives instead of, you know, trolling strangers because I am unhappy with myself, feel disconnected from humanity, and lack the community that humans evolved from.

I've stayed in touch with interstate friends who I probably would have lost touch with over time. I see their latest life updates so I don't feel like I'm completely out of the loop the next time we catch up in person. I've reconnected with some awesome people I had lost touch with like The Other Phams. They wouldn't have found me otherwise, especially since I legally acquired an English first name since leaving school.

I've gotten jobs from LinkedIn and Facebook. I've hired from Twitter and Instagram. I got my current job via a Facebook status asking for job leads. I ended up meeting with the CEO and two department heads, then they created a role to suit my skills, and over 3.5 years later this is the longest I've stayed in anyone role.

I date a Perth boy so his friends and family got to know me through Facebook, Instagram and FaceTime long before I met many of them in person. We'd been living together for months by the time I met his parents. This Easter I went to Perth mainly to meet Rex, his brother the cutest and fluffiest German shepherd; but also to meet the many faces I've seen online for over a year. Social media is a good starting point but it's always nice to take life offline sometimes to add real friends.

Mum Pham's side of the Phamly are mostly in Melbourne. Whenever I'm back in town, I try to visit my Aunty in Sunshine because it's a trip we did every Sunday with Mum and Dad Pham. Two buses, the 402 from Kensington to Footscray, then the 220 or 410 to Sunshine. Now that I'm all grown up, live comfortably above the poverty line, and have more confidence on the road than I should, I roll up in a fully insured rental car.

Back in the day, my Auntie's house was full. Another aunty and uncle lived there with their family of three. My cousins were in their 20s then and setting up their lives. Then on Sundays Uncle 10 and his family of three, and another cousin with his family of four. The Phamly feasts we have now are nothing on the triple table spread Aunty had in her kitchen.

Us kids would play in the backyard - roller skating, hopscotch, ball games; help pluck herbs in the giant herb garden; pick fruit from the fruit trees, or play tag running circles inside the house. Then whenever our piano teaching cousin had free time, he'd give each of Phamlings a piano lesson.

I never asked Mum Pham if she enjoyed living in Melbourne, but I imagine she would have even though that was when our Phamly struggled to stay above the poverty line. Mum lived for Phamly, she moved away for her own Phamly but she would have thrived being so close to her sisters and brother.

These days, everyone is grown up and spread out. Some have passed away. The big feasts are a thing of the past. Now are visits are quiet, civilised chats over a meal or three. Aunty catches us up on the last year or years of life in Melbourne, and we catch her up on Queensland relatives. Aunty always makes my favourite che dau trang (a sweet rice, black eyed peas and coconut dessert), and regrets that I am vegetarian. "Such a waste." Little Sissy Pham gets a delicious beef noodle salad. There's no such thing as a Phamly catch up without food.



If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

You guys I am such a grown up now. This year at Not So Single Ladies Galentine's Day, we went to a fancy restaurant and by fancy I mean I didn't wear sneakers.

We went for a lovely dinner at Persone in the city where I felt out of place because I'm a child of poor refugees, and tend to save my money, not eat it - so my thoughts went something like this: Should my bum be allowed on this luscious lounge? This cloth napkin is too nice to sully, I'll wipe my mouth on the tissues in the my bag. Does anybody know what cutlery should be used first? Is it weird to ask to take the balloon heart on our table? We totally took the heart on the table.

Even though Persone has fancy interior and brilliant view of the cityscape, it's affordable for the quality of food you get, and the decor. We wined and dined, and watched the awkward, or quiet, or bored dates around us. The only other table who seemed to have fun was a big group of men and one lady who seemed like an office party. Gosh, Valentine's Day is a sham.

The one time a year men feel obliged to treat their ladies special by taking them to a nice Italian restaurant, and playing on their phones or sitting in silence. One hetero and one gay couple seemed to enjoy the experience and their partners that night. The rest of the tables in our view were a little depressing.

I like that my boyfriend could not give a shit about a commercial holiday. I like that I don't spend Valentine's Day on forced dates. I instead surround myself with the strong, funny and intelligent women in my life and we catch up on each other's wins and hurdles, and most hilarious stories since we last all caught up on Galentine's Day. Cheers to another year gal pals. Love you long time.

1. brisbane redlight district - yeah... i'm sorry to disappoint whoever landed on my blog through this search.
2. vietnamese sissy - sorry I keep misleading peeps with my sister's nickname.
3. potato chip tree - someone actually googled this?
4. william pham dentist - oh yay! our beloved dentist is being google stalked! highly recommend!
5. what is a pham sissy - I'm afraid to google this myself.
6. . - I don't know how someone got to my site searching a full stop but OK. Period.
7. amy pham nude - I haven't googled this to see what results come up, but I'm guessing Amy is a fabulous naked hottie so they would have been disappointed to find frumpy ol' me.
8. accidentally drank betadine - oh bro, same.
9. quitter - ...hey! I'm stubborn as hell. I should quit when I don't. How'd this lead to my blog?

I don't give gifts because I want or expect gifts back, but other people's social guilt has delivered some excellent return or retaliation gifts. During our team break up lunch over Xmas, the Work Pham surprised me with two photo mugs.

The sneaky bastards had gotten our social media gal to lie about taking behind the scenes pics for a story when she snapped us playing Uno on one of our daily brain-breaks. While I feel betrayed and will never trust anyone at work again, they couldn't have gotten a pod photo otherwise. The thought counts for something I suppose.

The second mug is my favourite though. Instead of lying to my face, they hid behind my back. They waited until I was away from my desk and window that looked on onto the park so I wouldn't see them out there wearing matching outfits doing a photoshoot on the swings in the playground. The shoot went exceedingly well. Now, whenever I make a cup of tea or coffee, I see their gleeful faces smiling at me. It's going to be sad when we boot one of the guys out of our pod because my team's expanding. But at least I have something to remember him by. And also, I will see him over the divider.

I'm a feminist but I bought lipstick that doesn't transfer because my boyfriend told me to. Well, he told me about them after yet another smooch left us both looking like clowns.

I didn't really have a need for lip colour that won't budge before now because you don't smooch much when you're single and failing at online dating. Also, I only got into bold lips since I traveled Europe and saw so many glamourous ladies walking along cobbled streets in their heels in chic outfits and perfect make up. And I thought to myself, there's no way in hell I'll wear heels every day, but makeup I can do.

Stila Stay All Day Liquid Lipstick is the bomb. The pigments are gorgeous and the colour stays put during my morning coffee, Voost, and protein shake. For darker shades like Vino I always reapply after lunch because I find just touching up can look splotchy. For lighter shades like my go-to nude FIA, sometimes I get away with not reapplying all day - and only need a touch up if my lunch is greasy.

I find the matte formula drying, and I wish it didn't accentuate the wrinkles in my lips, but I still love the overall look of matte colour. If anyone knows of matte lippy that doesn't dry your lips or transfer colour please hit this sister up.

I've only tried one brand so far so can't give you a comparison, but I bought a set of six minis in a limited edition gift set over Xmas. I work in a fashion office with trendy kids who live and breathe fashion, and they always compliment every new Stila lip shade I try. It's just a very flattering range.

Once upon a time the FitBit Charge ruled my life. After a couple of years the rubber band crumbled and was too warped to charge so I stopped the fitness tracking thing. Then last year when I started up my walking again, I looked for a fitness tracker that did all the things I wished my Fitbit would do.

My wish list looked something like this:

• Doesn't look like a fitness tracker.
• Or a chunky sports watch.
• Easy to charge.
• Long lasting battery.
• Replaceable wristband.
• Progress indicator so I don't waste time pushing buttons and wasting battery to see how I am tracking.
• Simple app.
• Syncs with Google Fit.
• Sleek minimalist design so it won't age poorly.
• Small enough for my delicate (scrawny) wrists.

I'm not asking for much, right? While I was wowed and distracted by the shiny designs of Michael Kors, Kate Spade and Guess hybrid smartwatches; the tech and specs didn't meet my selection criteria. Only one watch did and I didn't even know it existed until I researched the crap out of hybrid watches: the Nokia Steel HR (same watch as the Withings Steel HR but with a different logo on the face).

Sleek design - I bought the Black/Black version because I like how the digital screen and the daily progress indicator look like regular watch dials until you look closer. I have the smaller 36mm face for my tiny wrists.

Wristband - It came with a nice matte rubber band that I thought I'd replace but instead have kept it because it looks really nice, and not cheap like other rubber bands I've seen.


Easy to charge, long lasting battery - I opted for the HR version not because I wanted heart rate monitor, though it's a bonus, but I wanted a rechargeable watch. My Steel HR lasts about 3-4 weeks depending on how much activity I track on it - ping pong, weights, walks, runs (jogs, really), dance. The battery charges super fast and it gives me plenty of warnings via light vibrations so I know it put it on charge when I get to couch at home one night. You just lay the watch on top of the charger so no issues or awkward angles to plug a chord into the back of the watch like with my old FitBit.

Simple app - The watch uses Nokia's HealthMate app, which took little configuration to set up how I wanted it. And the data usually syncs to Google Fit without an issue. It doesn't sync heart rate info however so if that's a deal-breaker for you then this watch is no-go.

Notifications - I don't use this because for a logical reason I can't fathom, the watch only alerts me when my phone is on do not disturb, and not when it's on silent. But when my phone is on do not disturb, it means I don't want to be disturbed.

Sleep tracking - it was cool for the first few days until I developed a rash and boyfriend said what's the point of sleep data anyway if I don't use it to better my sleep. So I stopped wearing it at night because the sweat rash I get is real gross, itchy and painful.

Water resistant - You can wear this in the pool to track swims but if course I moved into the one Brisbane suburb whose public pool closed down so I don't use this feature.

I love my little watch and have an epic watch tan to prove it. I highly recommend it to anyone who wants a reliable, easy to use hybrid watch.

When I moved back to Brisbane after Mum's passing, I was pretty broken and broke. Dad Pham took money out of this mortgage to buy me Luigi, a Hyundai Getz. Luigi was pummeled to death by hailstones and I got Luigi II thanks to RACQ insurance. And my desk buddy thinks insurance is a scam - tsk.

The Luigis helped me set up my life - going to job interviews, my daily commutes, moving houses, and now take Dad on his weekly grocery runs, and many a road trip up and down the Coast with friends. I've had some fun times with Luigi, but with my not so little eldest niece about ready to get her licence, it's time to pay Dad's good will forward to the next gen PhamLe.

For her birthday, I promised her my car once she gets her Ps because it's mainly P-platers and the elderly who drive the Getz. I'm too middle aged for my car. Now it's eldest niece's turn to set up life in this zippy, reliable little vehicle; and time for Aunty Jade to level up her car game.

So.... Any suggestions for a vroom-vroom?

I was an Elle McPherson Intimate Collections fan for the longest time. Things changed when they rebranded with Heidi Klum and the materials and construction lost their quality feel, while the price tag stayed the same. Once I wore my Elle McPherson to death, it was time to find a new favourite.

I don't know any women who enjoy bra shopping. It's always a gamble taking bras into a change room because what looks cute and comfy (rare combo for me) instead pinches in places you forget you have nerves or has room enough in the cup to store multiple socks and maybe a kitten. It took weeks of bra-testing across too many stores in all of the malls before I found my match: the Pleasure State My Fit OMB Super Boost push-push up bras.

I am small-boobed and wear a push up bra that doesn't so much push up as it helps me fill the cup so it doesn't look like I'm a kid playing costume in my mum's bras. The Pleasure State My Fit OMB super boost cup is lined with suede which is soft and comfortable, and the shape holds you in nicely without leaving a cavern between where your boob meets the cup edge. I have, of course, bought multiple quantities in multiple colourways - black, nude, white, blue, grey and red. I'm also eyeing the green, pink and purple. So many options!

Dad Pham had a little heart scare when we got back from Europe in September 2017. He’s on a tonne of daily morning and evening medications now, which Little Sissy Pham dutifully packs each week when we visit. He is forever at risk of a stroke which is scary. He suffers from schizophrenia and that irrational part of him doesn't believe he has a heart condition so sometimes skips medicines that are keeping him alive, which is even scarier.

On one of these occasions he went to hospital with nausea and vomiting. When we later saw him at home, he told us to take his meagre savings when he passes away. Now, Dad Pham likes to preach about not being stingy because we can afford not to be tight-asses so it was shocking to learn he had saved some money. We were financially challenged growing up and into our late 20s but the Pham siblings have come good - we can all take care of ourselves these days, and each other and Dad Pham, which is probably why he could afford to save a bit of money on his single pension.

The point of helping Dad Pham out is so he can spend his twilight years enjoying himself and not having to worry about bills and meals and his kids. As soon as we found out he was saving money to pass onto us one day, we told him to 'Treat yo'self!' instead. It didn't take much convincing, to be honest. He recently got rid of his super old, ratty recliners. They were due to be tossed half a decade ago but he held onto them this long because Mum Pham had loved them so much.

We took him furniture shopping and Ted, a friendly salesman at the local A-Mart lucked out 'cause Dad Pham walked in and within 30 minutes had picked out a leather recliner and 10 dining chairs so we can finally seat everyone at the table. We had planned on me being single forever, but things changed so we've been one chair short ever since. Not any more!

As Dad likes to always tell me when I'm looking for a bargain while grocery shopping, "Stop being cheap - Mum only did that because we couldn't afford nice things. You have money - buy the best there is." Solid advice.

Pham is the fourth most common surname in the Vietnamese community (Nguyen is top at nearly 40%, then Tran & Le) so it wasn't a huge coincidence that our neighbours across the hall in the council flats were Phams. The Other Phams as they are known in our world were a Phamly with three boys and a girl, the youngest. We went to the same primary school and their Middle Brother was in the same year as Big Brother Pham. The younger two kids were closer in age to Little Sissy Pham and me. I don't have any photos with them - I guess none of us had cameras back then.

Big Brother Pham and Middle Brother Other Pham were the best of friends before we moved to Brisbane. I remembered they came over and played computer games a lot at our house, and we'd all play downstairs together. Big Brother Pham and Other Brothers Pham played basketball and cricket while the younger siblings played less coordinated games.

The Other Phams adored Mum Pham and Dad Pham. Middle Brother Other Pham told me that in a way my parents were more like parents to them than their own. Sadly for The Other Phams, their parents worked crazy hours and were always away. Unlike my parents who were on a pension and always home, so super attentive of us spoiled Pham siblings.

Often we'd come home from school or grocery shopping on weekends, and one or more of the kids would be sitting on the steps outside the landing to our respective flats because their parents weren't home, and they were locked out. Mum Pham would invite them to ours, and feed them snacks and if their parents weren't home in time dinner too. I still remember Little Brother Other Pham stuffing his face on chicken wings, home made hot chips, and tomato sauce like there was no tomorrow. Funny how random memories stick.

Life in Melbourne wouldn't have been the same without The Other Phams next door. In my hazy childhood memories, it didn't seem odd that they were always around because as kids you just accept that the world is the way it is. It wasn't until we reconnected years later that I learned how special this time in the flats was for them. I hope Mum Pham knew how much of a positive impact she had on The Other Pham siblings. She did a lot of good things for people without asking for thanks, and I still learn new ways to appreciate her to this day several years after she's passed. Thanks Mum for taking care of all Phams.


If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more