KEEP IT IN THE PHAMLY

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.