The Unfortunate Asian Blush

I was in the States when I heard her - "Oh I cannn't wait - to end this day with a glass of red wine in my hand and to kick the cat as I lay back on my rocking chair."

'Is she nuts?' I asked the Friend, who proceeded to roll said eyes at me (which is rather normal; I know I have some weird Friends). Teetotaler me was actually referring to the first part. That was a mere two years ago. Then poor frog in the well me discovered beer. It could be European beer or Tiger beer. Give me my beer anytime, any brand. Kick up your leg in the most unglamorous way ever - on a leather armchair - and lean back and really savour and breathe as you sip. Mmmmm. Oh, Tiger Beer, hire me as your model already - I could bring you trillions a year. (yes I am kidding.)

Except of course I have this very lovely deficiency in acetaldehyde dehydrogenase (ALDH2), which they call the Asian Blush. How very not discriminatory. As I use the wonderful Google mechanism, I discover that this deficiency results in a higher risk of esophageal cancer. As Dear Tiger Beer sits happily half drunk on my coaster, at this very moment. Poor remaining Tiger Beer shall visit the sink soon and stay in the pipes forevermore. All of a sudden, I feel an immense annoyance towards the Google brainchild. Honestly, ignorance is bliss.

I am tired and need to cease typing so I can sign off without any elaboration or ado. Sounds very familiar; the Client wrote it in his e-mail today. I yearn for the day when Every Email shall include that - pretty much like a signature sign-off. (Oh, you know, the day before I cease to be a Shark; I mean lawyer.)

a Very Asian Blushed Out
claire.

***

I am increasingly depressed as I find a PLos research finding that confirms the increased cancer susceptibility in us Asian Blushers. Now, now, who will save us from the dearth of alcohol? That doesn't sound terribly Christian I'd admit. But take away the pretence and wanting to be seen in pubs superficialities, I truly enjoy a good beer or cocktail, in the same way that I love my can of real coke (yes, I mean Coca-Cola).

That aside, the Lord is good - I now know why He sent me crashing and subsequently self admitted to a hospital because I drank and ate some stuff that clearly didn't like each other very much (and all that which resulted in that episode is a glass of vodka mango; yeah it's sad I know). That trip eliminated alcohol in all sorts and forms for months, and I never quite figured out what the Lord wanted to tell me, till now. Praise God. And let me go now to silently mourn the demise of a Very Celebrated Friend in my life.

claire.