So I met the fam. I had a really nice time in Ohio (I know, shocking, right?) and Sherpa’s family were all welcoming and friendly and fun. We went on a whirlwind tour of ice cream (Graeter’s, Aglamesis, and Jeni’s – Jeni’s was the clear winner for me) and other foods, and visited and enjoyed family company.
We went out as a group for Dim Sum in Columbus and among many other tasty things, I had some rice porridge, which according to Google is called “jook,” but that’s not what it sounded like when I asked what it was called and how to pronounce it and I had to repeat this completely foreign word over and over, apparently incorrectly although I really, really thought I was saying it right. “No, no, it’s like a ‘D’ but not really…” and it didn’t seem to have a “K” in it at all. More like “dzoo.” I never got it right. But I digress.
We traveled to Cincinnati later that day and visited with his Chinese aunt and uncle. Sherpa’s aunt regaled me with tales of him as a “naughty cute” little boy, spraying people with hoses and generally being mischievous. Then we got onto the topic of the Chinese horoscope, and I said I was year of the monkey. Sherpa is year of the dragon, and she told me to watch out, because monkeys don’t like to be “held,” and dragons are the “kings” so he will hold me anyway. “You will suffer,” she laughed, and said, “It’s OK. I’m a monkey too, and my husband is a snake. I suffer, too. We suffer together.”
But then she heard I liked the rice soup, and she was taken completely aback. “What?! You liked jook? You are already 60% Chinese.”
Then she hugged Sherpa goodbye and said, “You marry her!”