Sunday, September 5, 1999

We started our Saturday with a walk in the park.

At 6 a.m. it already full of people exercising.  Elderly folks practiced Tai Chi in solitude along the lake shore.  Groups of women performed dances with red fans.  Power walkers. People walking backwards.  Runners.  Ping Pong.  Extreme badminton.  Two old guys on a park bench with small finch-like birds in cages.

In America, if we're up, we're hitting the coffee and doughnuts and watching the Today show.

Another milestone:  At the breakfast table, I saw 8 oz. of formula go from a bottle to Kaylee's tummy to the front of Cindy's new jumper.  Kaylee and I found it funny.  Just wait, said Cindy.

We went to the Buddhist temple, where the monks did a blessing for the babies.  We burned incense and prayed for Kaylee and her grandparents.  When you face anyone's Supreme Being, you have to figure out what you really want. For Kaylee, I guess it's what everyone wants: health and happiness, to control her own destiny, to appreciate all the beauty around her.

At night, we busted out.  Off to the Hard Rock Cafe for Babystock '99.  American rock and roll.  Nachos.  Onion rings.  Barbequed pork.  Fries.  Beer.  Didn't see the Tai Chi folks there.

We had the run of a room.  Later, a lame Chinese lounge band took the stage.  As we started to pack up, the band played some indiscernible ballad.  Suddenly, a call went out for Baby Slow Dance.

Parents with babies sprinted into the main restaurant and, in front of 150 baffled Chinese diners, created a dance floor. Hey, Kaylee: Don't forget who's taking you home and in whose arms you're gonna be.  Darling, save the last dance for me.