The radio on my alarm clock went silent. That's my signal to leave the house. Otherwise, I'll be stuck in traffic on Highway 99W. Once again, I didn't have time to apply dark shadow to the outer corners of my eyelids, not to mention mascara. However, a layer of a neutral shade over the entire eyelid to cover the surgically created crease is a must.

    My Caucasian friends don't understand the fuss that Asians make about their eyelids. They can't see that the added crease makes our eyes appear more Western. At the age of twelve, I so wanted to look like the young Demi Moore in the movie Ghost that I begged my mother to pay for my eyelid operation. She agreed, but she asked me to wait three years. As soon as I turned fifteen, I got rid of my Chinese eyes. Admittedly, I'm as shallow now as ever. I don't really care about what's going on around the world as long as I see my perfect face in the mirror every morning.

    Slinging my purse and laptop over my shoulders, I dashed to give my handsome husband a quick kiss before I headed out the door. Sean and I live in the beautiful wine country of Dundee, Oregon. His grandparents owned this piece of land before the caravan of wine makers moved into the area. Co-workers can't fathom how I can spend an hour and a half of my life driving each way between work and home. But I don't mind it.

    Life has been good to me so far. I love what I do. I adore my husband's deep blue eyes and his soft wavy hair. And on weekends, I enjoy the serene vista of the surrounding vineyard from our front porch with a glass of red. Everything is perfect. I told myself as I sped along the rocky dirt lane passing row after row of the pinot noir varietal on both sides.

    I had no idea that changes were coming.