
So I love dumplings. You probably already knew that. I love dumplings so much that I’ve been dreaming about them. Yesterday, over lunch with Hubby, I devised a plan of how to get to my favourite dumpling place in Sydney {because my pursuit for the perfect dumpling up here has failed miserably}. We’re flying into Sydney next month for a trip, and I tried to work out how we could get there with our suitcases and gear for a dumpling fix. Hubby just shook his head and rested his head in his hands. “Are you for real? All for a dumpling?”
Sadly, it is so. I realised the ridiculous of it all and continued eating my egg and lettuce sandwich {which was clearly NOT a dumpling}.
There is an Asian Grocers in town that sometimes sells my favourite dumplings {xiao lang bao} in the freezer section. So we pop by now and then to grab some. Lacey and I were walking through the aisles, and it was in the oriental cracker section that a man spotted Lacey and laughed, “What a cutie!”
“Me? Or her?” I giggled.
He mumbled uncomfortably, and then there was just awkwardness. I made my way to the back of the store, as far as way from the uncomfortable atmosphere I’d created, where Lacey spotted some money for $1.29, “Can I have some?”
“Sure,” I said.
There were no dumplings, so I grabbed two fortune cookies and the money, and we made our way to the counter.
“What is that money for?” I asked.
“It’s dead money,” she replied, not offering any more information but looking concerned that we were buying it.
So we got back to the car and Lacey flashed her new money to Hubby who was waiting for us. “That’s burn money,” he said, slightly disgusted.
Turns out it’s money that the Chinese {or those in the Buddhist religion – I could be wrong} give to those that have deceased so they can have lovely things in the afterlife. Before I could take it and put it away, Lacey had happily opened it up and strewn it everywhere. Money for everyone! Gah.
Feeling icky, I took to Instagram and asked if it was bad luck to let her play with it. There were various responses, but many said that depended on how I felt. Was I superstitious? Did I avoid black cats and walking under ladders?
Black cats don’t bother me, but I wouldn’t voluntarily walk under a ladder. Would you?
The money is being packed up while Lacey is at school today and being put away. No hell notes for us.





























