KEEP IT IN THE PHAMLY

The first time we came to Brisbane from Germany, The Phamly didn't have the best run. We were renting a house on Wedgetail Street, around the corner from where Dad Pham and Big Brother Pham now live. I don't remember much of the time here - I was only 5 and the memories are flashes of scenery or moments that don't make sense because I'm missing context.

What I know is that something bad happened, and Mum Pham moved us away to Melbourne to be near her side of The Phamly after only 6 months in Brisbane. Mum and Dad never went into it when we were kids. But decades later, I'd learn it was because one of our relatives was a struggling heroin addict at the time and stole jewellery and cash from us for their habit. There was a big fight and Dad conceded to move The Phamly to Melbourne to be closer to Mum's side of the family.

I clearly remember one of the items that was stolen: Mum's jade bird necklace. It wasn't of much value compared to other heirlooms that were stolen but I loved that necklace. I used to play with it when Mum held me to her chest as a baby. It was of a bird in flight - similar to how children draw birds in the sky as two arched lines with curved tips. A plump version that was curved to a natural rock formation and polished with gold chain tassels on the tail. I've never been able to find anything close to the design. Maybe one day I will stumble across the original. It's somewhere in Brisbane still, I hope.

Since the initial robbery that made us up and move to Melbourne, my parents have helped bail this person out of other debts too. When I learned about everything that went down, my uni years suddenly made more sense. This relative used to visit us and would often sneak me a bit of cash for 'being a good girl.' I realise now they felt indebted to my parents and wanted to give something back once they were in a good place and could help.

Life would have been very different if we hadn't moved to Melbourne. But we did. And that's a story for next time.



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've been distracted from writing of late. Two things - One: I met a boy. Two: we moved in together. So, in your face, Dave! I did get a boyfriend with my OnePlus 5t.

It's been a whirlwind year of 3-month upheavals. After Europe last year Little Sissy Pham's boyfriend moved in with us. Then I met someone at work and three months in, we started dating. A few more months of share housing with my sibling and her man, and it became obvious I was the third wheel preventing them from being a bike. By that, I mean, most bikes need to settle down with two wheels. I feel like I'm not making sense but you get what I mean. In short, a few months ago I was tossing up whether to live in a sharehouse for affordability (but people, ew) or paying 30% more rent to live alone (but expensive, ew).

New boyfriend of a few months gave me a third option when he asked if it would be crazy for us to live together. Well, yeah it is. But we did it anyway. And so here I am a few months later and we're living together in a cosy apartment - him with his black and white minimalism. Me in my rainbow splattered everything.

We're complete opposites in most ways. He likes gyms, I like swims. He plays basketball, I throw pokeballs. He raps, I can't. He sings, I won't. I dance, he don't. I love the outdoors, he prefers temperature controlled environments. I'm all about summer, he's all for winter. And let's not talk about the long list of things he won't eat. There's one thing I don't eat - animals.

We don't even use the same words to describe things. I say extra, he says spare. I say drizzling, he says sprinkling. I say yah huh, he says nuh uh. I say shut up, he says shush. Why does English have so many words that mean pretty much the same thing?

Somehow we work though. After all the bullshit and mind games of online dating and being with a serial liar and cheater, this is the first romantic relationship where I haven't felt like it is an effort to make it work. When it's right, it's easy. Unlike all of my previous boy history, this one comes Phamly approved. It's nice to be in love with someone worthy of it. I'm a lucky girl.

I never knew I took soup for granted until I started dating the soup nazi. No, he doesn't make amazing soup and withhold it as punishment for misbehaving. He hates soup as a food category because he has terrible taste (why do you think he likes me?) and we eat dinner together so I now never eat soup for dinner. Noodle soups, hearty soups, chunky soups, wonton soups, laksa, gia ri (Vietnamese curry) - none of these are in his realm of edible foods. It kills me.

Before this I never carried soup to work because it's messy and I only had cheap takeaway containers that aren't spill proof. Since soup for dinner is no longer an option, I'm eating more and more soup for lunch at work because my cravings are next level especially during winter.

I had a couple of spillage issues on the way to work with my regular cheapo takeaway tubs so I went to my old favourite, Biome, to get a soup-friendly reusable food container. Hello, Thermos. I don't need it to be insulated because there's a microwave at work but boy-oh, it's sooo nice to travel with and I like having the option to take hot or cold foods with me on a picnic that I won't share with the boyfriend because he doesn't do soup.

My Thermos Funtainer Food Jar in Charcoal (470ml) came with a folded metal spoon in the top compartment but I took that out since we have cutlery at work. Instead, I fill it with fresh garnish like spring onion and chilli or coriander and fried shallots instead. I've level upped my office food game this month. Yay me.

One thing I've learned transitioning from a small business where it's usually me and the owner then maybe another colleague or two to medium and corporate offices is that shared spaces with five colleagues and more is never a good time. There are always the clean freaks, the careless and the adult kids whose parents never taught them any better. Put the spectrum in one space and sparks, in the form of passive aggressive signs, fly to no avail.

Don't get me wrong. I'm on the passive aggressors' side. Clean up after yourself, follow Dan Savage's relationship advice - leave the campsite better than you found it... There shouldn't be the need to put up signs instructing people to be decent human beings. Why am I picking old banana peels and plastic bags out of the recycling bin when someone put up a sign that explicitly explains what can and cannot be recycled? Ew!

One of my favourite signs in the office though is in the toilet cubicle. There's a not so secret war against whoever is not replacing the toilet paper roll. Something about the sign combined with the toilet paper brand name 'Who Gives A Crap' gives me the giggles. Clearly the culprit does not give a crap when they take a crap. Not knowingly at least.

The culprit is still wiping right by wiping at all because the more toilet paper we use, the more Who Gives A Crap can contribute to building toilets for the less fortunate. We take toilets and toilet paper for granted in Australia but it's crucial for hygiene and health.

Work uses the regular Who Gives A Crap toilet paper but I am a Premium subscriber because I want only the best for my bum cheeks given the choice. The subscription is 100% flexible - you can log in online and change the next delivery date if you have too little or too many toilet rolls left. They come in boxes of 48 so prepare to store a big box of toilet rolls. I build a pyramid next to my bed currently but when I move to my own place this weekend I'm going to stake a spot and claim if for Who Gives A Crap toilet paper storage. I also use their facial tissues. I tried the paper towel but it's not very absorbent so I haven't ordered more. The delivery service is super quick and free to metro areas. Plus, their customer service team is excellent - I've canceled subscriptions before to change my order and both times I contacted them, they were quick to respond, helpful and stupidly friendly. These people give a crap and so should you.

So, I've been keeping a secret. I'm dating someone. I've been seeing him for a while but kept it offline because we met at work and were avoiding some inconvenient office politics. The good news is, he's since left the company so I can write about him. He's great - he's funny, smart, and my friends' favourite part is he's upfront and honest (unlike previous people in my life). A bit too honest. Which is why at 34, I learned that I don't know how to chew and breathe at the same time. I am a mouth breather when I eat. Little Sissy Pham backed him up enthusiastically saying I am so loud when I chew.

We were listing things we found annoying about one another because that's totally healthy. We couldn't think of anything really so we picked petty little things we don't really mind. My two annoying yet tolerable traits are I don't push in the chair at the dining table, which I've since started doing and I chew loudly with my mouth open, which I can't figure out how to do quietly.

I have a persistent stuffy nose because I'm allergic to life. My hay fever is nowhere near as bad as it used to be in Melbourne, my eyes aren't red and sore most of the time but my nose lives in two states - runny or clogged, never clear. So while I can't chew with my mouth closed all the time like a regular a person, I can suffer through it until I run out of breath then try not to suck in air too noisily before I begin chewing again. My attempts have been very poor, according to him... but at least I try or, think about trying. Some of the time.

Such is my life right now. But hey, we're all learning and growing every day, right?

It's Phamly tradition to sleepover at Dad Pham's house for the Eurovision finale. This year it happened to be Dad's birthday weekend so it was double the fun. On Saturday, he invited his siblings over for lunch and Little Sissy Pham and I made Vietnamese Pancakes - it's the only recipe I've ever posted on this blog because writing recipes is too much like my day job and blog writing is self indulgent fun. For 70 and 80 year olds, they sure know how to party. My Aunty rocked up with more beer than she could carry. Lunching, drinking and chats went for 4+ hours - Little Sis bowed out and went home before any of the elder folk. Dad Pham was exhausted by the time everyone left but he had a blast because it's rare for him to see his siblings all together.

After lunch, I sat with Dad for a couple of hours just chatting. It's been a long time since I've had proper downtime with Dad. Mostly we grocery shop, and cook so our hangs are chore driven. I'll save his stories from today for another time.

That night, I made more pancakes for Big Brother Pham and Sister Not-in-Law. It was a fun time. I was so pooped after a whole day of cooking and hosting, I feel asleep early that night. I slept in the lounge room because Big Brother Pham's tools have taken over what was once my bedroom. Guess that's what happens when you leave home, your room becomes storage.

The next morning I awoke to Dad Pham beaming down at me at 4.40am. He woke me up early because he expected to have to come back and wake me up again like he usually does. But this time, I popped right up - went and made a coffee and set up snacks on the coffee table. Then we settled in for 3.5 hours of Eurovision glory.

This year was not a disappointment. The majority of the songs were decent tunes and we couldn't pick who the top songs would be. Australia totally tanked this year - the novelty of having Australia in the competition is gone and while Jessica Mauboy's song was good, it didn't stand out against the stiff competition. I didn't love the winning song - I thought it was different and quirky, but so ridiculous. I guess that's Eurovision for you, though. Here are my highlights from this year.

Dad's top pick was Sweden's Benjamin Ingrosso with "Dance You Off":

I thoroughly enjoyed good old fashioned power pop from Lea Sirk from Slovenia with "Hvala, ne!" but it's way to cool to actually win Eurovision:

This is the type of crazy that wins Eurovision - Netta with "Toy" took out the gong for Israel:

It's rare I like the French entry but this year they were all class with Madame Monsieur "Mercy":

Finally, I have a thing for Vikings so Denmark make my highlights list. Oh, hellooo Rasmussen with "Higher Ground":

I don't remember leaving Germany. I don't remember the flights to Singapore then Brisbane. But I do remember the very first time Brisbane's heavy, humidity hit me in my chubby little face because it felt like a clinically obese cat had pounced on my chest and I suddenly had trouble breathing when I stepped out of the plane. I stood there gasping in air until Dad Pham lead me down the steps onto the tarmac. After the initial shock, I was fine. Well, for now. We went inside and met Dad's eagerly waiting Phamly.

Dad Pham tells me they took us back to our new rental home on Wedgetail Street in Inala, around the corner from where Dad lives now. I don't remember the ride back from the airport though.

My next memory of Australia is crying alone on a sofa. I had been crying for a long time so the adults had left me alone because I was inconsolable and everything else they had tried only made me cry harder. Dad and Mum Pham don't know why I was crying so hard. I was only 4 years old and couldn't possibly understand what was going on. Maybe part of me knew everything was different now.

I remember my cousin came out to offer me a bag of peanut m&ms. I took them and ate them - still sobbing. I fell asleep on the couch exhausted hugging the bag of chocolates, and so began my love affair with my favourite, guilty pleasure comfort food. Peanut m&ms is how I cope with all life trauma now. Except for watching A Quiet Place. Boy-oh, did I regret bringing a loud snack into the cinema - oh how I longed to munch on them to cope with the stress of living the brilliant story, but I couldn't because the cinema was dead silent.




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've been dying my hair black since my early 20s. I don't know what I was missing in my diet or if it was all the stress of being zen but I've had grey hairs for as long as I can remember. That said, I have a terrible memory and can't remember much about most things including university even though I'm still paying off that debt - good one, brain, you waste of money; high school; and childhood. I do remember having grey hairs in early high school though so I may have had them in primary school and only noticed once I hit puberty and self-consciousness in high school.

I used to have bright red hair back in the day which was a high cost, high maintenance time in my life. These days I dye my own hair using a supermarket dye because black is easy peasy; it's an all over even colour, and very low maintenance.

I swim 2-3 times each week and chlorine dries my hair out something awful so I need a hair dye that is gentle enough not to wreak havoc on my already damaged head. Schwarzkopf Perfect Mousse is the gentlest permanent dye I've found. I've been using the black 1-0 shade every 5-6 weeks for years and have had no issues with it. I am a messy person due to clumsiness so I have accidentally dyed things that aren't my hair using regular dye pastes. The foam is super easy to apply and manage, and if you do manage to get it somewhere it's not supposed to be (like a bathroom wall) because it's gentle, you have time to wash it away without staining.

Chemist Warehouse has them for $8.99 ($6 less than the RRP). Bargain!

Uncle 10 on mum's side moved to Melbourne, Australia from Germany before we did, and told Mum and Dad Pham that in Australia they have plenty of Vietnamese foods in comparison to Germany, which had next to none at the time. Our cousin benefited from this gap in the marketing, she opened up a highly successful Asian grocer in a small town in Germany. It's the only place you can get Asian food items in the area.

Mum and Dad were sold when they heard that Australia was warm enough to grow many of the herbs, fruits and vegetables from back home. They decided to migrate to Australia...because food. There was one catch. Mum's weight meant she didn't pass the medical requirements and Australia wouldn't accept their application because health concerns - they didn't want her to be a burden on the system. Boy oh, they didn't realise Dad Pham was a bigger concern there. More on that at a later date.

Mum Pham blames me for getting fat. When she was pregnant with me all she wanted to eat was pho. All that delicious soupy noodle made her bloated, and then getting pregnant again less than two months later with Little Sissy Pham didn't help. In order to apply to migrate to Australia, Mum needed to drop over 15kg. On a scale of stroll in the markets to fleeing a war torn country, losing weight was on the easier side.

She began by eating nothing but salads, and I vaguely remember making her laugh by laying down to do leg-ups with her. My fat baby gut must have looked hilarious trying to do core exercises. Mum Pham worked her ass off within weeks and went back to get her medical approved. In case you're wondering how this story ends, I'm sitting on a couch in Brisbane, Australia as I write feeling guilty that I can't lose and keep 5kg off to stay in a healthy weight range, while Mum Pham tortured herself with lettuce meals morning, noon and night to get fit enough to move her Phamly to the other side of the world.

I am always so grateful to her for all the things she did for us. I honour this by stuffing my face stupid on all the glorious Vietnamese foods in Inala where I take Dad Pham shopping every weekend. We cook mostly Vietnamese food for Phamly dinner too. Mum would be proud.




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 was sad to bid goodbye to Corny Chips last year, and devastated to farewell my work bestie soon after. I farewelled another colleague a few weeks ago, and another one just today at lunch with two more long-termers bowing out in the next few weeks. I realise I've never really stuck around any workplace long enough to farewell more than one person, or worked in a company big enough to have such a high turnover rate. It's sad to see good people go. It's much easier when you're the one leaving for exciting new things, not left behind to miss everyone. There's only been one person who I've been happy to say goodbye to (for now).

Rachel Burke of Apomogy, Tinsel Town and @imakestagram fame. This ray of sunshine brought such positive and proactive vibes to the office every day. I'm not even mad at her for leaving to pursue her creative dreams full-time because it means she can share more happiness with the world. Rachel makes every day life more vibrant and fun and creative with her larger than life vision. Since stepping out on her own she's released a new collection of apparel, did a pop up studio at a shopping mall, and also making custom orders for celebrities and artists around the world. Amazing!

To honour Rachel on her last day in the office I dressed up in a special jacket she gifted me at her Tinsel Town art exhibition, and glittered up my face because fabulous is the only way to look and feel in a Rachel Burke creation. I couldn't happier for this crazy talented lady. Her happiness leads to Other People's Happiness. It's a wonderful thing. I can't wait to see what she gets up to next. Follow Rachel Burke in her creative world at @imakestagram - it's a good time.