(and what is it, you ask, that I do?)
Well recently, it's cooking.
Now, it's been a long time coming, and it didn't happen overnight, but over the last three years, I have developed a passion for cooking. I don't know where it came from (ok, actually, I do), but it is serving me well lately, and I have never eaten so deliciously.
I've always loved to bake. To me, it was simple - a random set of 15 or so ingredients mixed and re-mixed in different proportions. Flour, butter, salt, sugar, the occasional sprinkle of cinnamon, and voila - a delicious batch of cookies, or a cake, or muffins of some sort. But cooking always frightened me, with it's infinite number of ingredients and more challenging directions (slice, mince, blanche, sauté...). Plus, everyone around me was eating so well, and so healthily, and I wasn't even sure what to do with a head of garlic.
But all of that has changed. Many of the people around me (mostly my married friends) me have inspired me to become a great chef, which is a skill (whether great or not) that everyone should have. I'm not going to lie, I'm slightly embarrassed for my nearing- or past-30 friends who have completely empty pantries and one meal they can cook properly (whilst living on take-aways for the other 28 days of the month). And although that was me not so long ago (when I was closer to 25, really), I've vowed it not to be any more.
Becoming a cook doesn't come easy, or quickly. One has to slowly ease their way into ingredients. And when living in Japan, one has to be willing to improvise, try things a bit differently, and be prepared to make mistakes. But through those processes, the skill level rises, and pretty soon you've got a fridge full of fruits and veges that you know how to slice, mince, blanche, and sauté, a freezer full of spices to flavor it all up, and a pantry full of dried and canned goods that play great supporting roles.
So there - before I even knew what had happened, I was a great cook (with the fridge and pantry to boot).
Over the last four months, I've collected more than 6 different kinds of flours, four different kinds of sugars, nuts of every varietal, more canned tomatoes and garbanzo beans than you can shake a stick at, and so many colors of grains that my pantry looks like a rainbow. Also, since the purchase of my juicer, I have a freezer full of frozen fruits and pulps that go great in morning smoothies or cakes, as well as a couple of casseroles that have been frozen for quick and easy on-the-go meals.
But, what else do I do? Well, everything efficiently, of course, as most of you know, and cooking is no exception. So, the inspiration for this blog post came after a Sunday evening of cooking, which was so high-speed and maniacal, that I felt I had to share (probably because many of you aren't actually going to believe that yes, Wendy does, indeed, cook, but that yes, she does do it fast and efficiently).
I've gotten into this habit of trying to make my week as easy as possible by cooking up a heap of stuff on Sunday nights, or planning out my week from what's in the fridge. I don't like to be wasteful with food or time, so this suits me well. Sometimes I look up recipes and buy the foods, and other time I have the foods on hand and try to find a recipe that sorts it out. For this particular Sunday night, with a fridge full of food (Sundays are my grocery day), here's what happened...
I started off with a pot of homemade marinara. Only five ingredients, but a double batch will serve me for two nights of homemade pizza (from scratch - crust and all - that will be Tuesday and Friday night's dishes!) as well as extra for a pot of seafood linguini (next Sunday?).
While this was cooking on the stove, I cubed and baked up some croutons from two loaves of cinnamon raisin bread that I had purchased at a local ma and pa bakery. The croutons go great not only on salads, but as the base of a quiche I love to make (just blend until fine in the food processor, add a 1/3 cup of butter, and voila - insta-crust).
Of course, I love the sweet, so I put together a quick loaf of creamy jello for the week's dessert.
Seeing half of a jar of Old English Cheese in the fridge, I decided to whip up a mini-batch of crab canopes, and although Japan's version of canned crab isn't nearly as crabby (or delicious) as it is from the good old U of A, I made due. Into the freezer those went for a night when I'm feeling up to a quick and light meal (which is why they went in next to the frozen casserole).
To go with a tofu scramble I was just getting ready to make, I grated some cheese and threw together some quick gluten-free cheese biscuits, Red Lobster style, minus all the butter, garlic, and wheat flour. They turned out a bit doughy, but delicious nonetheless. I had made a half batch only, but it still yielded 12 biscuits, so I cooked 6 off and put the other 6 in the freezer. (Luckily, the crab canopes were frozen enough by then, as I was running room for all the pans in there!).
Lastly came the tofu scramble. I'm starting to learn to cook with tofu, and have erred on this many times (I dare you to try to come over and read the kanji for 'firm' tofu!). But, after about 6 attempts, and through a bit of help from a friend, I found some that was satisfactory enough to use as an egg substitute. And by egg substitute, I mean I made scrambled eggs without eggs, using tofu instead, and added curry, spinach, and onion. Really simple, and very delicious with drop cheese biscuits.
Then I sat down to write this. Whew. Tiring, but very satisfactory indeed.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Reform
I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Makate, Manila, where I've been for the last hour, finishing a fairly heated (passionate?) email that I've been typing since yesterday arvo. The subject is health care, my opinion on it, and is to a friend and staunch Republican whom I commonly share political words with.
I'd like to share this thread with you, his question and my response, and openly invite you to weigh in as well. I am more than eager to consider new opinions and ideas to better inform my decisions and attitudes about this, and welcome good conversation from either side.
His question:
Now on to politics - you have traveled the world, seen a lot of different systems, experiences, etc. You can't really believe that a government takeover of healthcare is good for our country, especially right now?
My response (slightly edited for anonymity):
Ok, so, for starters, I'm not sure that living abroad and travelling to different places really makes me an expert on health care around the world, especially when I am travelling through third world hell-holes most of the time. Here in Manila, just down the road from my high-priced hotel, are slums of naked babies playing and begging in roads caked with human feces. This is very common in many more places in the world than you can imagine from [where you are].
Health Care reform in America? Honestly, I am not informed enough to make a good opinion on its componants. My world news is limited to as much as 45 minutes of watered down broadcasting a day, as well as whatever tidbits I can bring up through the New York Times app on my phone. When I do get a chance to inform myself, I find it hard to find unbiased sources from either side. I do know that health reform hardly solves all of America's many crippling economic problems, and that it will be years and years before we'll be able to see the ripples that this dropped stone will make. I do have a limited knowledge, though, that many of our friendly allies, including the British and the Canadians, have found success with socialized health care for years. To me, their countries seem to be plenty strong economically, and by far more cohesive within.
What does matter to me, more than health care reform itself, is the way in which people are reacting. I am hugely unsupportive of any hateful, harmful, angry, or unjustified attitudes. I grossly disapprove of the mudslinging and overall invidious treatment and sentiment towards the whole thing, or towards anybody who was a part of creating it. I am also enormously bothered that those who tried to defeat the bill did it not only for their dislike of it, but also (and maybe more so) to undermine the president politically, and as a consequence, gave up an enormous opportunity to influence the bill in a positive way, to move forward with solutions or common agreements on how best to make this bill a success.
Would it be naive of me to wish that when it comes to what's best for America, it shouldn't be viewed as what's best for Democrats or Republicans, or the rich or the poor, but instead what is best for the overall whole. Given, this does come at a cost to some, but really, in most matters in life, when doesn't it?
Would it be too simple-minded for me to hope that this legislation will change our country's mindset on what it means to be healthy? That it might encourage people, corporations, or the government to act and encourage in ways that are personally and globally more healthy and wholesome? Or that as a result, people might possibly begin to understand that life is short, that maintaining good health is important, and that in the end, no government reforms will change that?
Is it ignorant of me to hope that this reform, the kind that proliferates equality (admittedly, again, at some expense) will incite people to do a better job of taking care of each other, from their closest neighbors to the poorest of strangers, instead of only thinking of themselves, or participating in the continual casting blame towards others?
If so, then call me naive, or simple, and they're names I'll wear proudly. At least I'm staying positive and supportive towards some sort of greater good. I think if all Americans would do more of that kind of thinking, it would really make a sizeable difference, not only in our morale, but in our policies, and in the way we are viewed by the rest of the world. Negativity for negativity's sake, including from you, will further no one, and for that reason, I just don't love talking politics with you.
In the end, I don't believe this bill, or any bill, will ever begin to make positive changes unless everyone begins to find some way to view it positively and move towards making it better, whether they like it or not.
The president, were he to be Democratic or Republican, has my support, and therefore, so does this bill.
:)wen
I'd like to share this thread with you, his question and my response, and openly invite you to weigh in as well. I am more than eager to consider new opinions and ideas to better inform my decisions and attitudes about this, and welcome good conversation from either side.
His question:
Now on to politics - you have traveled the world, seen a lot of different systems, experiences, etc. You can't really believe that a government takeover of healthcare is good for our country, especially right now?
My response (slightly edited for anonymity):
Ok, so, for starters, I'm not sure that living abroad and travelling to different places really makes me an expert on health care around the world, especially when I am travelling through third world hell-holes most of the time. Here in Manila, just down the road from my high-priced hotel, are slums of naked babies playing and begging in roads caked with human feces. This is very common in many more places in the world than you can imagine from [where you are].
Health Care reform in America? Honestly, I am not informed enough to make a good opinion on its componants. My world news is limited to as much as 45 minutes of watered down broadcasting a day, as well as whatever tidbits I can bring up through the New York Times app on my phone. When I do get a chance to inform myself, I find it hard to find unbiased sources from either side. I do know that health reform hardly solves all of America's many crippling economic problems, and that it will be years and years before we'll be able to see the ripples that this dropped stone will make. I do have a limited knowledge, though, that many of our friendly allies, including the British and the Canadians, have found success with socialized health care for years. To me, their countries seem to be plenty strong economically, and by far more cohesive within.
What does matter to me, more than health care reform itself, is the way in which people are reacting. I am hugely unsupportive of any hateful, harmful, angry, or unjustified attitudes. I grossly disapprove of the mudslinging and overall invidious treatment and sentiment towards the whole thing, or towards anybody who was a part of creating it. I am also enormously bothered that those who tried to defeat the bill did it not only for their dislike of it, but also (and maybe more so) to undermine the president politically, and as a consequence, gave up an enormous opportunity to influence the bill in a positive way, to move forward with solutions or common agreements on how best to make this bill a success.
Would it be naive of me to wish that when it comes to what's best for America, it shouldn't be viewed as what's best for Democrats or Republicans, or the rich or the poor, but instead what is best for the overall whole. Given, this does come at a cost to some, but really, in most matters in life, when doesn't it?
Would it be too simple-minded for me to hope that this legislation will change our country's mindset on what it means to be healthy? That it might encourage people, corporations, or the government to act and encourage in ways that are personally and globally more healthy and wholesome? Or that as a result, people might possibly begin to understand that life is short, that maintaining good health is important, and that in the end, no government reforms will change that?
Is it ignorant of me to hope that this reform, the kind that proliferates equality (admittedly, again, at some expense) will incite people to do a better job of taking care of each other, from their closest neighbors to the poorest of strangers, instead of only thinking of themselves, or participating in the continual casting blame towards others?
If so, then call me naive, or simple, and they're names I'll wear proudly. At least I'm staying positive and supportive towards some sort of greater good. I think if all Americans would do more of that kind of thinking, it would really make a sizeable difference, not only in our morale, but in our policies, and in the way we are viewed by the rest of the world. Negativity for negativity's sake, including from you, will further no one, and for that reason, I just don't love talking politics with you.
In the end, I don't believe this bill, or any bill, will ever begin to make positive changes unless everyone begins to find some way to view it positively and move towards making it better, whether they like it or not.
The president, were he to be Democratic or Republican, has my support, and therefore, so does this bill.
:)wen
Saturday, March 06, 2010
My Friend Debbie
Background: Debbie Miller has been my eduhero for the last 5 years. I can not count the amount of times I've referred to her book, Reading With Meaning in my teaching. My personal copy is all marked up with notes, full of old student work, and has traveled to every continent that I have. I just don't leave home without it, and I certainly wouldn't think of teaching without it either. One time, a couple of years ago, a good friend and teacher said, 'Wendy, can I borrow your copy of it?' to which I replied, 'Sure, but Paul [my principal] has copies that you can check out for loan as well.' She responded, 'Yes, but I want your copy. That's where all the real information is!'
So, in my first year here, when Paul asked what kind of professional development we should have, or what it would take to keep me at NIS longer, I shot for the moon. 'Bring in Debbie Miller,' I said. He looked up and gave me the e-mail address of her publisher, asked me to write a letter in his name, and submit it. What did we have to lose? Why not?
Well, Debbie responded. For a few months, she and Paul went back and forth with price and date negotiations, and before we even had time for it to sink in, Debbie Miller was penned in to our 2010 calendar.
I was of course, very eager, to continue to be a part of planning and organizing this event, knowing full well it could lead me to a place where she and I could talk openly about standards in education, and that she was someone I'd love to have as an educational contact (well, duh!). So, I let Paul know that I would work with him until she arrived to make the visit wonderful for her, and for us. So he put the load of non-official, non-administrative responsibilty on my shoulders, a burden I gladly accepted.
The whole Debbie weekend turned out to be a collaboration between NIS (who had the original idea) and EARCOS (The East Asia Regional Council of Overseas Schools), whom we championed to help us fund it (and it worked - they footed part of the cost of the weekend in order to have their name be stamped all over the official documents). This also allowed us to offer the conference to other teachers in schools all over Asia, and we ended up hosting 25 of our teachers plus 45 others from around asia (as far as Bangkok and Taiwan for the workshop on Saturday and Sunday. She was also contracted to stay for two private days with just our staff, which happened on a Monday and Tuesday.
My responsibilities included:
- being a second contact for Debbie (along with Paul)
- setting up and organizing kids for the Saturday/Sunday conference demo lessons (which were my students, thank you very much),
- sorting a schedule for Debbie's two days at NIS (for observations and demonstration lessons),
- organizing my teaching materials for Debbie to use,
- procuring and time-tabling subs for the demo lessons and debriefs at our school on Monday and Tuesday,
- purchasing a parting gift,
- picking her up at the airport,
- coordinating one of two groups of visiting teachers to go out in Nagoya on Saturday night of the conference,
- negotiating with a local restaurant to host a 20-person closing dinner
- greeting visiting staff and accepting payments (a very minor job)
and, now that it's over,
- writing a published article for EARCOS's monthly magazine
For starters, Debbie and I were in e-mail and phone contact since October, which was really neat. At first, like with most 'celebrities', it made me really nervous, but as time went on, and we chatted more and more, it was very normal to talk back and forth with her, and that nervousness went away. Honestly, she's kinda like your mom, really, in that she is just so real and bubbly and happy and educated and stuff. And not pretentious at all, which was so refreshing.
As we finalized the plans, by bit, our time with Debbie drew closer, and e-mail contact became more frequent, leading up to her arrival on a Wednesday. Paul and I headed to the airport to pick her up, which I really enjoyed. I really enjoy my principal Paul, as, when you get him one on one (and we do have a really good working relationship), he's good for good conversation (and free dinner!). We chatted about our excitement over coffee, dinner, ice cream, and two train rides, all on the way to get Debbie. When she arrived, we recognized her immediately, as she looks just like in her picture on her book (which, coincidentally, she once used as identification to get into America from Canada when she lost her real ID, a story I found incredibly hilarious!). We fetched her and her husband, and headed back on the train.
On Thursday morning she came to school to go over logistics for the weekend, including stage set up, lesson plans, and venue information (walking around and checking everything out). I left my kids (unattended) in the classroom for a good 40 minutes (they were angels!) while we went to the stage and discussed the lesson, which was to be with my kids. She had a vision, and I supported her on it, and for about 15 minutes we went back and forth collaborating on how the lesson would go (I about died! Me! Collaborating one on one with Debbie Miller!). At the end of our conversation, she looked at me and exclaimed, 'This is going to be so much fun!', followed by a generous hug. Sigh...
On Friday afternoon we set up the stage in the commons with my materials. My original intention was to share my easel, chair, lamp, and plant (the basics of what she might need), but Paul suggested that I hang some of my anchor charts up as well (for decoration, as well as to make it as close to a real literate environment as possible). So, I went all out, adding another easel full of anchor charts, a couple of book baskets, and four anchor charts hanging from the stage curtains in the back. (In the picture above, you'll see my classroom materials right behind her!).
On Saturday morning, everyone arrived for the conference. teachers started poking their way in and out of classrooms and taking pictures of all of our stuff, as well as what was on the stage (I imagine they figured they were Debbie's anchor charts!). I greeted Debbie and we went over last-minute details about the lesson we'd be doing with the kids (Yes! I said 'we.' Holy shit! I get to teach with Debbie Miller!), as well as the stage set-up. when the conference started, she started by thanking Paul, Rob (the headmaster), and me, for all of our work to get organized. To be honest, I wanted to die of embarrassment (well, secretly, I was like, 'Hells yes!', but on the outside I tried to be very humble and pretend I wanted to crawl under the table).
The conference was amazing. I took more than 14 pages of notes for those two days alone. Everything she said was so smart, and made me rethink everything I do in my classroom, not as though I am doing it wrong, but in the ways I could be doing it so much better. The lesson we did with my kids was spot on, both days, and i enjoyed being on stage with her. I also found that between sessions, she would come over to chat (which was to be her way for the next two days as well). I think she felt comfortable with me, having met me first, and knowing how much work Paul and I had put into it. In the end, she even gifted book from her lesson with my kids to us, with a nice inscription on the inside cover. Incredible.
What you find out early as an international school teahcer is that the networking that happens with conferences, the meeting and getting to know other teachers from other schools, is usually just as good as the conference itself. I was responsible for taking a group of willing teachers out for a night on the town in Nagoya, which ended up being legendary. Going out on this Saturday night put a chain of events into place that turned into one of the best 5 nights of my life in Japan. I am not kidding, the group of 8 i was with (all American/Canadian teachers from Tokyo, Bangkok, and Hong Kong) laughed so hard that it was almost embarrassing. Needless to say, we had a lot to (quietly) laugh about at the conference the next day as well.
Back to Debbie - during her two days at NIS, she observed different classrooms, as well as did demo lessons and debriefs with all of us. On those days, I took 9 more pages of notes on every word she said, each interaction she had with kids, and everything I could get out of her. We chatted often, she answered my questions, and whenever she had a free moment, she'd pop into my room and say, 'I'm in the library - come and chat!' And each time I would. She even wrote an inscription on the front cover of my Reading With Meaning book, which would be like having my Bible signed by God.
i honestly think Debbie will be one of those people I stay in touch with forever. She was so easy to talk to, and mentioned to me in various ways (notes, e-mails, inscriptions) that she wanted to stay in touch, 'for real'. In fact, the morning after she left, we e-mailed three or four times back and forth about some questions she was answering for me about the conference (for aforementioned EARCOS article). I've attached some of the snippets right here!
--------
"HI Wendy,
Yes! I'd be happy to answer your questions, either on the plane or once we get home.
AND GUESS WHAT??? At about 10 PM last night our son, Chad, texted us that he and Rachel were on their way to the hospital! We got texts throughout the night, and Baby Finley should be born within the next hour
or so. Now that's a nice homecoming present!
Have a great day at school today and tell everyone hi for me--I feel like I made new friends in Nagoya! Especially you. Talk to you soon. Debbie"
-------
"...I'm not sure what people/students picked up--you might have to ask them that-- but many did thank me personally. I did think it was the sweetest thing when someone said, "I was nicer to my kids today." I loved that.
We had a wonderful time in Japan, and I am going to write up my little cab reflections. I'll send them on when I do! Wendy--thank you so much for all you did to make us feel so welcome--you are a thoughtful and reflective teacher and person, all at 28! I can't wait to see what you do next! Love, Debbie
PS Finley is officially here!"
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Ten Minutes
I'm at dinner the other night with my friends Justin and Karianne. They're a teaching couple here at NIS, and came in with me in the same crew three years ago. We'd just sat down to a fine Indian dinner (ala our favorite local haunt, Fulbari) and were chatting about a recent interview they had with the headmaster of The International School of Manilla back in October. I was incredibly interested to find out that the principal who interviewed them only had one interview question:
'Tell me about yourself.'
He doesn't ask questions such as,
'Tell me about your teaching career.'
'What defines you as a teacher?'
or the ever-dreaded,
'Tell me about a time where you overcome difficulties in the classroom.'
Instead, he simply says, 'Tell me about yourself,' and rumor also has it that if you finish before you've talked for 10 minutes, he'll say, 'Tell me more...'.
This got me thinking, if I had to respond to this question in an interview, what might I say? I guess I think most people would probably start at the beginning, and tell all of the expected parts, such as where they grew up, where they went to school, and about their teaching experiences thus far. But my thinking is that this stuff is pretty much on your resume, and probably a bit obvious. So, I thought to myself, why not shake it up? What if, when asked such a question, you just replied with brutal and random honesty. I mean, if he wanted to know about your teaching experience, he'd ask, right? If he wanted to know how you've dealt with challenging administrators, he'd ask, right? But to unexpectedly get to know about you, really-and-truly you, for ten whole minutes of honest revelation - wouldn't that be great?
As I bathed, I thought about this more, and immediately recognized that the first things I would say would indeed be the random (and sometimes mundane) things that define me as a person. To me, it's the perfect kind of answer, and the kind of unique response I hope would make me a memorable candidate. So I went ahead and jotted down the first things that came to my mind (or as Ricco would say, 'first thought best thought'), and the following is what I came up with. If you care to visualize, I imagine that between each separate thought would be a big, dramatic, thought-provoking-looking pause, which would serve as the transition between all of the things you might hear if you sat down with me in an interview with me and said, 'tell me about yourself...':
-----
'Well, first of all, thank you so much for the chance to really and truly tell you about me. I intend to be nothing but honest as I acquaint you with the everyday person that is Wendy.
I have come to love the Japanese onsen experience. There is something so freeing about stepping into a public bath with perfect strangers and being comfortable about it. It's the perfect relaxer for muscles after a long day of skiing, and it's a casually intimate thing between friends. Aside from being one of my favorite thing to do, it's one of those things, like many, that one becomes accustomed to when living in foreign lands, and the kinds of cultures and customs that, although initially scoffed at, become increasingly acceptable. I guess my thinking is that this kind of small experience can be one that can not only become one that you enjoy, but one which eventually opens the door for further experiences outside of your own comfort zone.
(dramatic breath-pause, repeat between each paragraph/thought)
I have these smile lines on each side of my mouth. One is more prominent than the other because of a slight imperfection of my facial make-up. Up until a few months ago, I used to slather on cream to try to diminish the wrinkles, but have lately come to accept them as proof that I live a happy (and often funny) life.
Recently, I have begun to read, and completely enjoy the work of author Jhumpa Lahiri. I used be wearied by intercontinental travel, dreading 13 long and often sleepless hours on a plane, until I started treating myself to a new book before each flight. The third of Ms. Lahidri's books was one of my most recent choices before embarking on an aforementioned flight, and was a book that I finished within the many hours between take-off and landing. Upon my arrival in Japan, I immediately checked out and dove into her other two works, enjoying each one just as much. There is something so remarkable to me about any author who writes well enough to inspires me to be a voracious reader, which is the kind of reader that I love to inspire my students to be. Plus, for me, there's nothing better than falling in love with a good story, and not wanting to put it down. In my mind, that's the trade of a brilliant author.
I have one of the most enormous closets of clothes you've ever seen. It's like my clothes are procreating in my closet. And yet, each day, I can't find anything to wear. Do you ever feel like that?
I live most days in one of two ways: inexcusably lazy, or over-productively active. The best part is that both feel incredibly good.
One thing I am not is smart. I am not terribly bright about economics or politics, or even what is going on in the world each day. I watch the news every morning, but have a bad habit of not attaching anything to my schema. My world geography is abysmal, and once I've traveled somewhere, I rarely can recall the individual places I've visited there. I am, though, a willing researcher, and constantly use online and material resources to find out what it is that I am curious to know at that moment.
Along that line, I only have one regret from my time as a classroom teacher, and that is my vocabulary. I feel that 6 hours a day of conversing with 7 years old has really taken a toll on the amount of verbal words I can use. Consequently, I feel much more comfortable doing most things in writing, as in this venue, I have time to think about and perfect the words I can use. It is also within this venue that I share my world, as I am a blogger. Started as a journal of my first life overseas, it has now turned into a random free-for-all about my life. I have a loyal following of about 8 people whom I feel are truly happy reading what I write. And I very much enjoy sharing my everyday with them.
One of my new loves is cooking. I absolutely adore spending a Sunday trying new recipes and making things out of things I never knew I could make things out of. My winter obsession is soups and muffins. I love to be resourceful in the kitchen as well. At the end of one day, for example, after making muffins out of the fresh and fibrous pulp from my morning carrot/pineapple/orange juice, I was regretting the choice I had earlier made to buy a load of turnips. Within an hour, though, I had looked up and made a delicious and completely healthy mashed turnip dish with just a few basic ingredients. I also adore feeding my friends, none of whom can cook worth a lick (in their defense, cooking for one, especially in Japan, is a bit of a mission - and an expensive one to boot), and I feel that enjoying a freshly-made meal in the company of friends and laughter (and some red wine), is one of the best ways to spend time.
Nothing moves me more than great music. My first and true musical love was (and still is) the Beatles. And I love to sing. But only in the car, or the shower. The best purchase I ever made was a portable Bose sound-dock, which I carry with me all over the house and everywhere I go. Music is the background for my ever moving (although sometimes lazy) life.
(big dramatic, long-lasting, suspense-filled pause)
Lastly, at this moment, and every moment I have lived before this one, I am exceptionally happy. I am in complete awe of my amazing friends and family, and when I look back to my personal experiences, there has rarely been a decision or situation that did not somehow work in my favor. I have the world and all of it's wonder to be thankful for, and each day I truly and completely, without reserve, am so.
So, in the end, thank you, again, for the opportunity to speak with you today. I appreciate the chance to tell you a bit about myself. Of course, I also look forward to the idea of being a working and valuable member of your learning community..."
-----
Now, an afternote. Justin and Karianne (Cook), fortunately, were prepared for this interview question by an insider, a friend who encouraged them to reply. The Cooks are fantastic, fantastic teachers, and answered readily and honestly. They were offered positions there, and sadly will be leaving us at the end of this year.
But I wonder, having read my response to the same interview question, would you have hired me??
'Tell me about yourself.'
He doesn't ask questions such as,
'Tell me about your teaching career.'
'What defines you as a teacher?'
or the ever-dreaded,
'Tell me about a time where you overcome difficulties in the classroom.'
Instead, he simply says, 'Tell me about yourself,' and rumor also has it that if you finish before you've talked for 10 minutes, he'll say, 'Tell me more...'.
This got me thinking, if I had to respond to this question in an interview, what might I say? I guess I think most people would probably start at the beginning, and tell all of the expected parts, such as where they grew up, where they went to school, and about their teaching experiences thus far. But my thinking is that this stuff is pretty much on your resume, and probably a bit obvious. So, I thought to myself, why not shake it up? What if, when asked such a question, you just replied with brutal and random honesty. I mean, if he wanted to know about your teaching experience, he'd ask, right? If he wanted to know how you've dealt with challenging administrators, he'd ask, right? But to unexpectedly get to know about you, really-and-truly you, for ten whole minutes of honest revelation - wouldn't that be great?
As I bathed, I thought about this more, and immediately recognized that the first things I would say would indeed be the random (and sometimes mundane) things that define me as a person. To me, it's the perfect kind of answer, and the kind of unique response I hope would make me a memorable candidate. So I went ahead and jotted down the first things that came to my mind (or as Ricco would say, 'first thought best thought'), and the following is what I came up with. If you care to visualize, I imagine that between each separate thought would be a big, dramatic, thought-provoking-looking pause, which would serve as the transition between all of the things you might hear if you sat down with me in an interview with me and said, 'tell me about yourself...':
-----
'Well, first of all, thank you so much for the chance to really and truly tell you about me. I intend to be nothing but honest as I acquaint you with the everyday person that is Wendy.
I have come to love the Japanese onsen experience. There is something so freeing about stepping into a public bath with perfect strangers and being comfortable about it. It's the perfect relaxer for muscles after a long day of skiing, and it's a casually intimate thing between friends. Aside from being one of my favorite thing to do, it's one of those things, like many, that one becomes accustomed to when living in foreign lands, and the kinds of cultures and customs that, although initially scoffed at, become increasingly acceptable. I guess my thinking is that this kind of small experience can be one that can not only become one that you enjoy, but one which eventually opens the door for further experiences outside of your own comfort zone.
(dramatic breath-pause, repeat between each paragraph/thought)
I have these smile lines on each side of my mouth. One is more prominent than the other because of a slight imperfection of my facial make-up. Up until a few months ago, I used to slather on cream to try to diminish the wrinkles, but have lately come to accept them as proof that I live a happy (and often funny) life.
Recently, I have begun to read, and completely enjoy the work of author Jhumpa Lahiri. I used be wearied by intercontinental travel, dreading 13 long and often sleepless hours on a plane, until I started treating myself to a new book before each flight. The third of Ms. Lahidri's books was one of my most recent choices before embarking on an aforementioned flight, and was a book that I finished within the many hours between take-off and landing. Upon my arrival in Japan, I immediately checked out and dove into her other two works, enjoying each one just as much. There is something so remarkable to me about any author who writes well enough to inspires me to be a voracious reader, which is the kind of reader that I love to inspire my students to be. Plus, for me, there's nothing better than falling in love with a good story, and not wanting to put it down. In my mind, that's the trade of a brilliant author.
I have one of the most enormous closets of clothes you've ever seen. It's like my clothes are procreating in my closet. And yet, each day, I can't find anything to wear. Do you ever feel like that?
I live most days in one of two ways: inexcusably lazy, or over-productively active. The best part is that both feel incredibly good.
One thing I am not is smart. I am not terribly bright about economics or politics, or even what is going on in the world each day. I watch the news every morning, but have a bad habit of not attaching anything to my schema. My world geography is abysmal, and once I've traveled somewhere, I rarely can recall the individual places I've visited there. I am, though, a willing researcher, and constantly use online and material resources to find out what it is that I am curious to know at that moment.
Along that line, I only have one regret from my time as a classroom teacher, and that is my vocabulary. I feel that 6 hours a day of conversing with 7 years old has really taken a toll on the amount of verbal words I can use. Consequently, I feel much more comfortable doing most things in writing, as in this venue, I have time to think about and perfect the words I can use. It is also within this venue that I share my world, as I am a blogger. Started as a journal of my first life overseas, it has now turned into a random free-for-all about my life. I have a loyal following of about 8 people whom I feel are truly happy reading what I write. And I very much enjoy sharing my everyday with them.
One of my new loves is cooking. I absolutely adore spending a Sunday trying new recipes and making things out of things I never knew I could make things out of. My winter obsession is soups and muffins. I love to be resourceful in the kitchen as well. At the end of one day, for example, after making muffins out of the fresh and fibrous pulp from my morning carrot/pineapple/orange juice, I was regretting the choice I had earlier made to buy a load of turnips. Within an hour, though, I had looked up and made a delicious and completely healthy mashed turnip dish with just a few basic ingredients. I also adore feeding my friends, none of whom can cook worth a lick (in their defense, cooking for one, especially in Japan, is a bit of a mission - and an expensive one to boot), and I feel that enjoying a freshly-made meal in the company of friends and laughter (and some red wine), is one of the best ways to spend time.
Nothing moves me more than great music. My first and true musical love was (and still is) the Beatles. And I love to sing. But only in the car, or the shower. The best purchase I ever made was a portable Bose sound-dock, which I carry with me all over the house and everywhere I go. Music is the background for my ever moving (although sometimes lazy) life.
(big dramatic, long-lasting, suspense-filled pause)
Lastly, at this moment, and every moment I have lived before this one, I am exceptionally happy. I am in complete awe of my amazing friends and family, and when I look back to my personal experiences, there has rarely been a decision or situation that did not somehow work in my favor. I have the world and all of it's wonder to be thankful for, and each day I truly and completely, without reserve, am so.
So, in the end, thank you, again, for the opportunity to speak with you today. I appreciate the chance to tell you a bit about myself. Of course, I also look forward to the idea of being a working and valuable member of your learning community..."
-----
Now, an afternote. Justin and Karianne (Cook), fortunately, were prepared for this interview question by an insider, a friend who encouraged them to reply. The Cooks are fantastic, fantastic teachers, and answered readily and honestly. They were offered positions there, and sadly will be leaving us at the end of this year.
But I wonder, having read my response to the same interview question, would you have hired me??
Saturday, January 09, 2010
The promise of a new year
As I flew into Nagoya this evening, it was a bit of a surprise to feel so nostalgic. But, as I do each time I return, it feels like I'm back to an old familiar again. As Nags is a fairly lackluster town, and from the air (and especially at night), there is nothing to distinguish this city from any other. There are no immediately recognizable landmarks, just featureless streets, resembling so many in other places, only with tiny little lanes and tiny little cars. Regardless, flying into a city any time, and just knowing it is yours, knowing that you are home (and about ready to unload 140 pounds of new stuff!) feels good.
During this flight, my plane chased the sun. Each time this happens, I am always hopeful that well catch it, but am secretly glad that we don't, as falling behind the sun means dark skies and good sleeping. I sat next to two very nice English speaking Filipinos who crossed themselves at every opportunity: take-off, landing, before each meal, and during turbulence. I recognized this immediately as a sign of their devout Catholicism, per my connection with Mike, who is also Filipino and devoutly Catholic. Either way, this time I especially knew our plane was going to be all right (whether we caught the sun or not!), as they said enough Hail Marys for all of us.
I have decided that each flight home deserves the gift of a new book, as reading more books than last year serves as one of my new year's resolutions. On my way to America, I polished of two quick books before even setting foot in Des Moines. On the way back, I picked up and finished another, enjoying it immensely. Although the first two don't count, I did finish two other books I was half-way through, after the new year, bringing my total already by this day to 3.
During the initial descent over Japan, when I first recognized the northern peaks of Sendai and Aomori-ken, I struck me how amazing it is that once or twice a year I can hop on an industrial metal machine and fly (literally) halfway across the world to see family and friends. From door to door, it's 24 hours of travel time, with luggage stress and weight paining each leg of the journey. This time, the stress was in bringing back things for others. During my flight I had silently remarked to myself how any gifts I brought back, for teaching friends, Japanese teachers, baby presents, and a full workout kit for Ricco. A box of cereal, requested by my friend Karianne was the only one my suitcase could afford, ironic that in all the room I made for others, nary was a box of cereal for myself.
I anticipate 2010 to be a good year. Two years ago, December and January found me learning how to live and travel on my own. Last year at this time, I was nursing a failing relationship. This year, I intend on moving forward with what I have learned from those years past. I understand that old adages are true for a reason, and that time heals all wounds. What doesn't kill us does indeed make us stronger, wiser, and better prepared for the newer circumstances. And often, good things fall apart so that better things fall together. May it be a year of continued growth for me, and for all whose lives I am directly connected to. As I do for myself, I wish you the best as well.
Finally, in closing, I offer one of the more profound moments of my return: As I disembarked the plane, a well-dressed Japanese ariport employee headed down towards the aircraft. Ready to speak my (mother) tongue again, I politely offered 'Konbanwa' (good evening). He ignored me completely.
That's how I knew I was home.
During this flight, my plane chased the sun. Each time this happens, I am always hopeful that well catch it, but am secretly glad that we don't, as falling behind the sun means dark skies and good sleeping. I sat next to two very nice English speaking Filipinos who crossed themselves at every opportunity: take-off, landing, before each meal, and during turbulence. I recognized this immediately as a sign of their devout Catholicism, per my connection with Mike, who is also Filipino and devoutly Catholic. Either way, this time I especially knew our plane was going to be all right (whether we caught the sun or not!), as they said enough Hail Marys for all of us.
I have decided that each flight home deserves the gift of a new book, as reading more books than last year serves as one of my new year's resolutions. On my way to America, I polished of two quick books before even setting foot in Des Moines. On the way back, I picked up and finished another, enjoying it immensely. Although the first two don't count, I did finish two other books I was half-way through, after the new year, bringing my total already by this day to 3.
During the initial descent over Japan, when I first recognized the northern peaks of Sendai and Aomori-ken, I struck me how amazing it is that once or twice a year I can hop on an industrial metal machine and fly (literally) halfway across the world to see family and friends. From door to door, it's 24 hours of travel time, with luggage stress and weight paining each leg of the journey. This time, the stress was in bringing back things for others. During my flight I had silently remarked to myself how any gifts I brought back, for teaching friends, Japanese teachers, baby presents, and a full workout kit for Ricco. A box of cereal, requested by my friend Karianne was the only one my suitcase could afford, ironic that in all the room I made for others, nary was a box of cereal for myself.
I anticipate 2010 to be a good year. Two years ago, December and January found me learning how to live and travel on my own. Last year at this time, I was nursing a failing relationship. This year, I intend on moving forward with what I have learned from those years past. I understand that old adages are true for a reason, and that time heals all wounds. What doesn't kill us does indeed make us stronger, wiser, and better prepared for the newer circumstances. And often, good things fall apart so that better things fall together. May it be a year of continued growth for me, and for all whose lives I am directly connected to. As I do for myself, I wish you the best as well.
Finally, in closing, I offer one of the more profound moments of my return: As I disembarked the plane, a well-dressed Japanese ariport employee headed down towards the aircraft. Ready to speak my (mother) tongue again, I politely offered 'Konbanwa' (good evening). He ignored me completely.
That's how I knew I was home.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Gomen
(sorry.)
Wendy's World Tour is on haitus.
Lately, it seems that my blog is being read and scrutinized by people other than those intended, and the innocent intent of sharing the funny and enjoyable is being taken a bit too seriously.
Where and when persons who are easily and unjustly offended begin to complain and stir up muck, when my personal life and exploits are scrutinized, and when the actions of my friends and I are read by judgmental eyes, I find that the desire to share what's going on in my life, with all of you back home, falls.
For all of you friendly and faithful followers, I apologize.
To all the rest of you: blah.
Wendy's World Tour is on haitus.
Lately, it seems that my blog is being read and scrutinized by people other than those intended, and the innocent intent of sharing the funny and enjoyable is being taken a bit too seriously.
Where and when persons who are easily and unjustly offended begin to complain and stir up muck, when my personal life and exploits are scrutinized, and when the actions of my friends and I are read by judgmental eyes, I find that the desire to share what's going on in my life, with all of you back home, falls.
For all of you friendly and faithful followers, I apologize.
To all the rest of you: blah.
Saturday, November 07, 2009
Sofubus
(Grandmas and Grandpas)
I kid you not, that one out of every third person I see in the gym when I go at night in my weight lifting area, is a grandpa. And I wouldn't be surprised if, at any time, he could kick my ass in weightlifting. Or muscle building. Or running. Or life-longevity.
Imagine, if you will, 70-year old men with thick leather weight belts, pressing and squatting free weights without spotters.
Imagine, if you can, your grandpa doing the same. I mean, really. Could he? I know neither of mine could (no offense, Grandpa...).
These guys are nuts. Every time I go over to the free weight area to do dumbbell lifts (which, compared to what these guys can do, is pretty puny), I just stare. And stare. And stare some more in disbelief.
Last week, for example, I watched a man (who had to be pushing 80-years old), use a chair to climb up, and with pull-up wrist straps, wrap his wrists to the top bar of a free weight stand before kicking the chair away and doing 30 pull ups and inverse crunches. While hanging from the bar. He then simultaneously unstrapped his wrists and jumped down.
Raise your hand if you think you could do that (as I keep both hands on the keyboard).
Conversely, behind me in the glass-walled studio (which, isn't at all awkward, by the way), are 100 oba-chans (grandmas), pumping their legs up and down, sweating their wrinkles away. 50-, 60-, 70-year old women, keeping up to Ne-Yo and Lady Gaga on the overhead speakers, kick, push, step, up, up, up.
Usually that's about the time I head over to Starbucks for a venti-sized latte.
I kid you not, that one out of every third person I see in the gym when I go at night in my weight lifting area, is a grandpa. And I wouldn't be surprised if, at any time, he could kick my ass in weightlifting. Or muscle building. Or running. Or life-longevity.
Imagine, if you will, 70-year old men with thick leather weight belts, pressing and squatting free weights without spotters.
Imagine, if you can, your grandpa doing the same. I mean, really. Could he? I know neither of mine could (no offense, Grandpa...).
These guys are nuts. Every time I go over to the free weight area to do dumbbell lifts (which, compared to what these guys can do, is pretty puny), I just stare. And stare. And stare some more in disbelief.
Last week, for example, I watched a man (who had to be pushing 80-years old), use a chair to climb up, and with pull-up wrist straps, wrap his wrists to the top bar of a free weight stand before kicking the chair away and doing 30 pull ups and inverse crunches. While hanging from the bar. He then simultaneously unstrapped his wrists and jumped down.
Raise your hand if you think you could do that (as I keep both hands on the keyboard).
Conversely, behind me in the glass-walled studio (which, isn't at all awkward, by the way), are 100 oba-chans (grandmas), pumping their legs up and down, sweating their wrinkles away. 50-, 60-, 70-year old women, keeping up to Ne-Yo and Lady Gaga on the overhead speakers, kick, push, step, up, up, up.
Usually that's about the time I head over to Starbucks for a venti-sized latte.
Thursday, November 05, 2009
My pot of gold
My pot of gold looks like a tin can.
In fact, it is a tin can. It is a big, gold, tin can.
And in this tin can holds my new obsession - ¥500 coins.
¥500 coins, which roughly exchange to about $5, are easy to collect, and even easier to spend. Until you're on a mission to save them, and then they become, again, an obsession.
In the last 9 months, in any circumstance, I will go out of my way to tip the register so that my change includes a ¥500 coin. I constantly carry extra change so that if I find myself in a situation in which the till rings up ¥615, I can pay ¥1115 (and get a ¥500 coin back). I've even gone so far as to pay a ¥2913 bill with ¥3413 (so I can get that ¥500 coin back).
And what do I do with these coins?
When I get them, I pop them into the shiny little tin can container whence they belong.
And what do I do with this container? Well, I save, save, save! The containers, which come in different sizes, when full, can hold between ¥100,000 ($1000) to ¥300,000 ($3000) depending on the size, and are easy to fill when one is diligent.
Which I am.
Now, on one end, this means that every cup of coffee at Starbucks, or every meal at Mc Donald's, or every cup of noodle at the convenience store literally costs twice as much (because as instead of paying just ¥400 or so yen, I keep the other ¥500 as if I've spent it and and put it away).
But, on the converse, I save heaps and heaps of coins, which add up. Which is great. And diligence is key. When I started this last March, I was able to save up ¥95,000 before I went to Europe. And I was incredibly super diligent upon coming back to Japan - between landing in August and leaving for Vietnam, I was able to save ¥70,000.
A pot of gold for me? A piggy bank for grownups?
Yes. And worth every cent. Literally.
In fact, it is a tin can. It is a big, gold, tin can.
And in this tin can holds my new obsession - ¥500 coins.
¥500 coins, which roughly exchange to about $5, are easy to collect, and even easier to spend. Until you're on a mission to save them, and then they become, again, an obsession.
In the last 9 months, in any circumstance, I will go out of my way to tip the register so that my change includes a ¥500 coin. I constantly carry extra change so that if I find myself in a situation in which the till rings up ¥615, I can pay ¥1115 (and get a ¥500 coin back). I've even gone so far as to pay a ¥2913 bill with ¥3413 (so I can get that ¥500 coin back).
And what do I do with these coins?
When I get them, I pop them into the shiny little tin can container whence they belong.
And what do I do with this container? Well, I save, save, save! The containers, which come in different sizes, when full, can hold between ¥100,000 ($1000) to ¥300,000 ($3000) depending on the size, and are easy to fill when one is diligent.
Which I am.
Now, on one end, this means that every cup of coffee at Starbucks, or every meal at Mc Donald's, or every cup of noodle at the convenience store literally costs twice as much (because as instead of paying just ¥400 or so yen, I keep the other ¥500 as if I've spent it and and put it away).
But, on the converse, I save heaps and heaps of coins, which add up. Which is great. And diligence is key. When I started this last March, I was able to save up ¥95,000 before I went to Europe. And I was incredibly super diligent upon coming back to Japan - between landing in August and leaving for Vietnam, I was able to save ¥70,000.
A pot of gold for me? A piggy bank for grownups?
Yes. And worth every cent. Literally.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
What's the big deal?
Jusco is our local grocery store right down the street. That I know of, there's nothing fancy in it or around it, nothing special that would draw you in for any particular reason. It's just regular, everyday grocery store that just happens to be (as all things are in Japan) overpriced. Nary will you find a sale, or anything interesting worth going for, above and beyond everyday grocery items.
Having said that, I've always wondered at the crowd that gathers before the opening moments at Jusco on the weekends.
Some force draws people here, every Saturday and Sunday morning, to line up, if for nothing else but to be the first ones rushing through the aisles. Every Saturday and Sunday morning, as if it were the day after Christmas, scores of people line up and wait to get in. Upon looking inside the store, you'd guess that there was going to be shortage of food, a famine of rice or eggs. Alas, though, a 12-foot high mountain of soymilk boxes stand ready, and all of the shelves are stocked completely and neatly, with not a box or can out of place. $4 apples are on sale in the bins, just like they are every other day.
At 9 on the dot, the doors open, and you are ushered in to the sound of chiming bells and chirping birds, which is slightly reminiscent of a soundtrack that Rogers and Hammerstien wrote more than 40 years ago. All that's missing is Julie Andrews in a habit, although, in her place, are not hills alive with the sound of music, but the store employees, who have lined up on both sides of the entrance to bow and ask your honorable forgiveness for making you wait until 9 to get in, as well as share their honorable pleasure for the opportunity of getting to serve you so graciously each and every day.
And as the doors open, I am typing this on my 6-inch keyboard (while it's fresh in my mind), and 70- to 80-year old grandmas and grandpas barrel past me, angered by my lack of urgency. No joke. It's just what I imagine being on Supermarket Sweep is like, only with the smell of moth balls permeating your nose. Mothers with small children race past me to get to their kiddos shoved into the kiddy carts so that they can be first to the rows and rows of regular-priced frozen vegetables waiting to be purchased.
I just don't understand. Yet, something draws me as well. Is it the music? The honorable apologies at the door? The scads of oba-chans and oji-sans giving me the foreigner eye? Maybe. Whatever it is, I just can't bring myself to arrive any later than 9:00. I need to be there with the crowd. And now that I think about it more, maybe I believe, just like them like them, that one of these days, the eggs will actually be on sale...
Having said that, I've always wondered at the crowd that gathers before the opening moments at Jusco on the weekends.
Some force draws people here, every Saturday and Sunday morning, to line up, if for nothing else but to be the first ones rushing through the aisles. Every Saturday and Sunday morning, as if it were the day after Christmas, scores of people line up and wait to get in. Upon looking inside the store, you'd guess that there was going to be shortage of food, a famine of rice or eggs. Alas, though, a 12-foot high mountain of soymilk boxes stand ready, and all of the shelves are stocked completely and neatly, with not a box or can out of place. $4 apples are on sale in the bins, just like they are every other day.
At 9 on the dot, the doors open, and you are ushered in to the sound of chiming bells and chirping birds, which is slightly reminiscent of a soundtrack that Rogers and Hammerstien wrote more than 40 years ago. All that's missing is Julie Andrews in a habit, although, in her place, are not hills alive with the sound of music, but the store employees, who have lined up on both sides of the entrance to bow and ask your honorable forgiveness for making you wait until 9 to get in, as well as share their honorable pleasure for the opportunity of getting to serve you so graciously each and every day.
And as the doors open, I am typing this on my 6-inch keyboard (while it's fresh in my mind), and 70- to 80-year old grandmas and grandpas barrel past me, angered by my lack of urgency. No joke. It's just what I imagine being on Supermarket Sweep is like, only with the smell of moth balls permeating your nose. Mothers with small children race past me to get to their kiddos shoved into the kiddy carts so that they can be first to the rows and rows of regular-priced frozen vegetables waiting to be purchased.
I just don't understand. Yet, something draws me as well. Is it the music? The honorable apologies at the door? The scads of oba-chans and oji-sans giving me the foreigner eye? Maybe. Whatever it is, I just can't bring myself to arrive any later than 9:00. I need to be there with the crowd. And now that I think about it more, maybe I believe, just like them like them, that one of these days, the eggs will actually be on sale...
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Vietnam, Part 2 (Wendy, Ricco, Jen, and Rachel do Halong Bay)
10/20
10:45 - After three days in Saigon and on the Mekong Delta, we arrive at our very posh hotel room in Hanoi. Thank you, travel agent Jackie Wong.
2:00 - We grab lunch at Acalon, a high-rise eatery overlooking the pagoda lake. We play 'how much is it in dollars game' with Dong, as we still can't, five days later, wrap our heads around the currency exchange. I eat the most delicious spring rolls. Ever.
7:00 - Jen and I sit down for a seriously delish Thai meal. And huge glasses of wine. We have a great heart to heard, and I am, as always, glad that Jen is my friend.
8:15 - We grab a good-looking kid to tuk-tuk us around the city for an hour. Our hips together don't fit on the seat, so we take turns sitting over-under.
9:15 - We meet up with Ray and Ri for the famed and not-to-be-missed water puppet show. Ri tells us that he has just been propositioned to buy weed, which, as a good boy should, he turned down.
10:00 - We all agree that the water poppet show would have been better had we all been stoned.
10/21
Halong Bay
8:45 - We get into a comfy van and brace for the four-hour ride to Halong Bay. Almost immediately outside the city, Jen spots cornfields and remarks, "Is this Heaven? No, it's Vietnam." We are sure the nice older gentleman stuck with us in this van is wondering what he did wrong in a past life to deserve us.
4:30 - We stop at a secluded beach. At first it's just us, and after taking a quick dip, we strike up a three-on-three volleyball game. Before long, other junks arrive, and before we know it, the beach is boasting with hot Europeans and a 7-on-7 game, as well as an entire stand of spectators. Beach volleyball has never been so fun (or hilarious, as I was only sporting a bikini, and not a substantial top of any sort).
5:30 - Before dinner, we sit down to chat with Peg and Paul, an amazing couple who just happen to be 2 of the 8 other people on our bus. Like us, they are world travelers, and have visited (maybe my details are sketchy on this) more than 200 countries over the past 20 or so years. It was such a lovely pleasure to chat with them and get to know their story a bit better.
6:30 - We decide to top off lunch's bottles of wine with two more for dinner, as well as two bottles of reallybad cherry brandy. Our eight-course seafood dinner becomes a lively discussion.
8:00 - I tried squid fishing. And failed.
8:05 - Another bottle of wine is ordered. Jen tells the waiter to put it on Kyle's tab (where Kyle is Jen's husband who is not actually on holiday with us).
9:00 - We open up the third bottle of cherry brandy. Hilarity ensues.
10:00 - Jen challenges Ricco to a drinking contest. Jen wins. For the next hour, Jen continues to drink Ricco under the table. I think he lets her. But, still, he doesn't even know what hits him (except that it was probably a bus).
10:30 - We decide to make mischief. Ricco and Rachel attempt to pull up the anchor by it's rope. I attempt to steer the boat right out of the bay (all the while wondering what kind of captain leaves the steering room open at night?). We attempt fishing again, and re-inact the love scene from Titanic. Jen, still the most sober, captures it all on film.
11:30 - We return to one room where Ricco falls asleep. Jen and I, now resigned to sleeping in one twin together (as Ricco-bear is sleeping in MY bed), take advantage of the situation by dressing up Ricco in earrings and a red cowboy hat. We leave him like that, take pictures, and go to sleep.
10/22
Approximately 2:33 - I am awoken by Ricco, who is about to mistake the window next to our bed for a restroom. Suspicioisly, his cabin is exactly the same as ours, so I'm not sure what that was all about.
Approximately 3:15 - I wake up boiling, and realize the air con is actually on heat setting. No wonder.
6:55 - We are all abruptly awoken in the morning for 7 a.m. sharp breakfast. Evidently there was no come-and-help-yourself option. Breakfast at 7 or no breakfast at all. So much for our only day of sleeping in.
6:58 - Ricco denies all soul searching and bearing truths of his heart. Or wearing earrings and a cowboy hat. Or trying to pee out the cabin window. Except that we have pictures to prove it.
8:00 - We take a wooden boat into the heart of the caves of Halong Bay for an early-morning view. In an effort to force ourselves into sobriety, Ricco, Jen, and I jump in for a swim as the rest of our fellow passengers look on. Within a few minutes, Jen's back in the boat, and Ri and I are left in the lagoon. Never one to turn down a challenge, and to the cheering and encouragement of our entire boat, we swam the entire way back to our vessel. Hangover gone.
11:15 - We get back to Halong Bay and gather our belongings onto a smaller boat which will take us from our large boat to the dock. Because she was in the bathroom at the time, the smaller boat, after failing to quick count the passengers, started to leave without Jen. We quickly stopped them to wait for her. As she finally makes it on board, Ricco says, "Wow, Jen, you really missed the boat on that one."
4:00 - We arrive back at Hanoi after a four-hour trip. I have never, ever been so glad as I was to find out that a) the receptionist spoke kinda-English, b) that she knew what a tampon was, and c) that she pointed me in the right direction to find them. Disaster averted.
5:00 - Naps for (almost) everyone!! (Because Rachel prefers hour-long-runs-though-crazy-death-defying-traffic over real rest....).
7:00 - We find a fancy massage place and treat ourselves to 90-minute, posh massages. Because we are decadent...
9:00 - Dinner out. I order spring rolls and what turns out to be softshell crab, which is served and meant to be eaten whole. With the shell. And there's no way I'm eating that. Luckily, the spring rolls are divine.
10:45 - After three days in Saigon and on the Mekong Delta, we arrive at our very posh hotel room in Hanoi. Thank you, travel agent Jackie Wong.
2:00 - We grab lunch at Acalon, a high-rise eatery overlooking the pagoda lake. We play 'how much is it in dollars game' with Dong, as we still can't, five days later, wrap our heads around the currency exchange. I eat the most delicious spring rolls. Ever.
7:00 - Jen and I sit down for a seriously delish Thai meal. And huge glasses of wine. We have a great heart to heard, and I am, as always, glad that Jen is my friend.
8:15 - We grab a good-looking kid to tuk-tuk us around the city for an hour. Our hips together don't fit on the seat, so we take turns sitting over-under.
9:15 - We meet up with Ray and Ri for the famed and not-to-be-missed water puppet show. Ri tells us that he has just been propositioned to buy weed, which, as a good boy should, he turned down.
10:00 - We all agree that the water poppet show would have been better had we all been stoned.
10/21
Halong Bay
8:45 - We get into a comfy van and brace for the four-hour ride to Halong Bay. Almost immediately outside the city, Jen spots cornfields and remarks, "Is this Heaven? No, it's Vietnam." We are sure the nice older gentleman stuck with us in this van is wondering what he did wrong in a past life to deserve us.
4:30 - We stop at a secluded beach. At first it's just us, and after taking a quick dip, we strike up a three-on-three volleyball game. Before long, other junks arrive, and before we know it, the beach is boasting with hot Europeans and a 7-on-7 game, as well as an entire stand of spectators. Beach volleyball has never been so fun (or hilarious, as I was only sporting a bikini, and not a substantial top of any sort).
5:30 - Before dinner, we sit down to chat with Peg and Paul, an amazing couple who just happen to be 2 of the 8 other people on our bus. Like us, they are world travelers, and have visited (maybe my details are sketchy on this) more than 200 countries over the past 20 or so years. It was such a lovely pleasure to chat with them and get to know their story a bit better.
6:30 - We decide to top off lunch's bottles of wine with two more for dinner, as well as two bottles of reallybad cherry brandy. Our eight-course seafood dinner becomes a lively discussion.
8:00 - I tried squid fishing. And failed.
8:05 - Another bottle of wine is ordered. Jen tells the waiter to put it on Kyle's tab (where Kyle is Jen's husband who is not actually on holiday with us).
9:00 - We open up the third bottle of cherry brandy. Hilarity ensues.
10:00 - Jen challenges Ricco to a drinking contest. Jen wins. For the next hour, Jen continues to drink Ricco under the table. I think he lets her. But, still, he doesn't even know what hits him (except that it was probably a bus).
10:30 - We decide to make mischief. Ricco and Rachel attempt to pull up the anchor by it's rope. I attempt to steer the boat right out of the bay (all the while wondering what kind of captain leaves the steering room open at night?). We attempt fishing again, and re-inact the love scene from Titanic. Jen, still the most sober, captures it all on film.
11:30 - We return to one room where Ricco falls asleep. Jen and I, now resigned to sleeping in one twin together (as Ricco-bear is sleeping in MY bed), take advantage of the situation by dressing up Ricco in earrings and a red cowboy hat. We leave him like that, take pictures, and go to sleep.
10/22
Approximately 2:33 - I am awoken by Ricco, who is about to mistake the window next to our bed for a restroom. Suspicioisly, his cabin is exactly the same as ours, so I'm not sure what that was all about.
Approximately 3:15 - I wake up boiling, and realize the air con is actually on heat setting. No wonder.
6:55 - We are all abruptly awoken in the morning for 7 a.m. sharp breakfast. Evidently there was no come-and-help-yourself option. Breakfast at 7 or no breakfast at all. So much for our only day of sleeping in.
6:58 - Ricco denies all soul searching and bearing truths of his heart. Or wearing earrings and a cowboy hat. Or trying to pee out the cabin window. Except that we have pictures to prove it.
8:00 - We take a wooden boat into the heart of the caves of Halong Bay for an early-morning view. In an effort to force ourselves into sobriety, Ricco, Jen, and I jump in for a swim as the rest of our fellow passengers look on. Within a few minutes, Jen's back in the boat, and Ri and I are left in the lagoon. Never one to turn down a challenge, and to the cheering and encouragement of our entire boat, we swam the entire way back to our vessel. Hangover gone.
11:15 - We get back to Halong Bay and gather our belongings onto a smaller boat which will take us from our large boat to the dock. Because she was in the bathroom at the time, the smaller boat, after failing to quick count the passengers, started to leave without Jen. We quickly stopped them to wait for her. As she finally makes it on board, Ricco says, "Wow, Jen, you really missed the boat on that one."
4:00 - We arrive back at Hanoi after a four-hour trip. I have never, ever been so glad as I was to find out that a) the receptionist spoke kinda-English, b) that she knew what a tampon was, and c) that she pointed me in the right direction to find them. Disaster averted.
5:00 - Naps for (almost) everyone!! (Because Rachel prefers hour-long-runs-though-crazy-death-defying-traffic over real rest....).
7:00 - We find a fancy massage place and treat ourselves to 90-minute, posh massages. Because we are decadent...
9:00 - Dinner out. I order spring rolls and what turns out to be softshell crab, which is served and meant to be eaten whole. With the shell. And there's no way I'm eating that. Luckily, the spring rolls are divine.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Our First Night In Vietnam
(Written into the Iphone more than a month ago, this post, and the next have been back-dated to reflect the true date. Since the time was so long ago, there are no more memories than the ones described within these two. The writer gives sincerest apologies for neglecting to write more about this trip...)
-----
10/17
11:30 - Having just arrived in Vietnam, taxiing to our hotel, greeting Jen, and heading back out, we walk up the street towards the places we saw on our way in and want to go now. Hungry, we are side-tracked by a BBQ restaurant hat is still open. Never to turn down food or a BBQ, Ri makes the exec decision to stop in for our midnight meal. We are server barely-dead prawns and a plate of raw meat, both for self BBQ-ing.
12:04 - We see an employee using scissors to clean out his toenails. Except that the scissors he was using are the kind that are the exact same as customers are given to us to cut our meat with.
-----
10/17
11:30 - Having just arrived in Vietnam, taxiing to our hotel, greeting Jen, and heading back out, we walk up the street towards the places we saw on our way in and want to go now. Hungry, we are side-tracked by a BBQ restaurant hat is still open. Never to turn down food or a BBQ, Ri makes the exec decision to stop in for our midnight meal. We are server barely-dead prawns and a plate of raw meat, both for self BBQ-ing.
12:04 - We see an employee using scissors to clean out his toenails. Except that the scissors he was using are the kind that are the exact same as customers are given to us to cut our meat with.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Cereal
Cereal. It's the bane of my existence. I will eat cereal all day long. I will eat it and eat it and eat it, and then, if you give me some more, I will eat that too. And, in some cases, I will leave little trails down the hallway when I eat it, which means that everyone else knows I eat it too...
Yesterday morning I was walking down the hallway, getting ready to dive into my last (sigh, oh woe is me) bowl of Lucky Charms. Like usual, I had filled the bowl completely full (yes, I do go through a small box of Lucky Charms in three days), and then added milk (soymilk, of course). And as usual, I was trying to eat it and walk down the hallway at the same time. The problem, though, is that because it was so full (as it is every day when I face this problem), each time I wanted to take a bite, my spoon spilled little bits of charms all over the floor, leaving a trail behind me. Which I had to get down and pick up. In heels. Which made me tip the bowl and spill more. Which made me curse. And I was thankful that there was still an hour before school started so that a) no kids heard me cursing, and b) no teachers saw me on the floor picking up my precious Lucky Charms and (forgive me for those of you with a faint stomach) putting them back in my bowl.
Hansel and Gretel would be proud. Except for that part where I picked up my breadcrumb (i.e. Lucky Charm) trail and ate it.
Yesterday morning I was walking down the hallway, getting ready to dive into my last (sigh, oh woe is me) bowl of Lucky Charms. Like usual, I had filled the bowl completely full (yes, I do go through a small box of Lucky Charms in three days), and then added milk (soymilk, of course). And as usual, I was trying to eat it and walk down the hallway at the same time. The problem, though, is that because it was so full (as it is every day when I face this problem), each time I wanted to take a bite, my spoon spilled little bits of charms all over the floor, leaving a trail behind me. Which I had to get down and pick up. In heels. Which made me tip the bowl and spill more. Which made me curse. And I was thankful that there was still an hour before school started so that a) no kids heard me cursing, and b) no teachers saw me on the floor picking up my precious Lucky Charms and (forgive me for those of you with a faint stomach) putting them back in my bowl.
Hansel and Gretel would be proud. Except for that part where I picked up my breadcrumb (i.e. Lucky Charm) trail and ate it.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Fashionomics
Ok, so I am inspired to write this blog by Annie, a friend of mine whom I haven't seen in 10 years. She has always been trendy, and since leaving high school, has followed that inspiration to become an interior designer in California.
Just recently, I realized that An has a cool blog where she shares tips and ideas for things that inspire her in and within the world of fashion. It's a great site, and has recently started inspiring me, since I am also a big fan of all-things-that-look-good. The other day, she posted a contest on her blog, that in order to win a pair of gorgeous feather earrings, you just had to post a comment about what inspires you. So I did, and I won! There is more to the story about me being the fourth person to write on her wall (as well as my lucky number being #4), and she posted that on her blog as well (it's well worth a read: and the winners are...). Please check out her site: http://yolksy.blogspot.com for a bit of fashion inspiration of your own!
As a result of this random set of circumstances, An and I have been back and forth checking each other's blogs out, as well as getting back in touch via Facebook and e-mails. It just so happens that all of this reconnecting has happened in the last week, after I wrote the blog about my clothes fetish (see: stuff), which Annie enjoyed. So, in her latest e-mail to me, she said this: "You should send me pics of your organized closet...people go crazy over that stuff!"
Well, ok!
I mean, I thought about it for about one second, and realized that, YES! I do have some really great fashion tips for keeping scads of clothes organized. A few that would only personally work for me (like the bike - see below), and others that could be used (and should be used) for anyone (backwards hangers - it's for the environment!).
So, with pleasure, I present to you 'Wendy's clothesroom tips'...
1. Keep pictures that inspire you (especially of outfits that you'd like to try) clipped out and stored in a place where you can look quickly for inspiration (especially on a bad clothes day).
2. Use anything and everything you can to hang clothes, hangers, or odds and ends on (you see, storing my bike in my spare room was originally a ploy to keep it safe over the summer, but will remain an EXCELLENT clothes hanger, and a great place to put hangers, clothes that need ironed, and with two baskets, even dirty clothes!).
3. A girl can NEVER have too many shoes. Or belts. Or earrings. Or clothes in general, for that matter.
4. S-hooks can create space for you anywhere. I use them to hang belts in my closet, jeans from my curtains, and scarves from the door.
5. Clothes make great decorations too! A great jacket, a purse, some bracelets, and shoes can really brighten up a regular chair (and create more space elsewhere!).
6. Never, ever, ever, ever be far from your iron. The truly well dressed always look well kept too. (note to #2 - an ironing board is also a great stand for night-before outfits, didn't-work-this-time shirts, or occasionally, a chair).
Now, most of the above are fun, or easy tips that you can take or leave. But I do have one trick that I pride myself on for it's practicality, fashionability, and environmentally friendliness:
7. Each fall and spring, I hang all of my clothes in the closet so that the hanger's hook faces out. After I wear an item of clothing, I hang it back up in the closet with the hanger's hook facing in, in the opposite direction. For starters, this gives me a good indicator what I have and have not worn (lord knows we ladies like to wear the same thing over and over again - this ensures that you can be more uber-fashionable, as well as get more wear out of the clothes you have). As for the clothes whose hangers are still backwards after 6 months, and haven't been worn? They get donated or recycled.
Which gives me an excuse to go shopping again. So really, everyone is a winner, right?
Just recently, I realized that An has a cool blog where she shares tips and ideas for things that inspire her in and within the world of fashion. It's a great site, and has recently started inspiring me, since I am also a big fan of all-things-that-look-good. The other day, she posted a contest on her blog, that in order to win a pair of gorgeous feather earrings, you just had to post a comment about what inspires you. So I did, and I won! There is more to the story about me being the fourth person to write on her wall (as well as my lucky number being #4), and she posted that on her blog as well (it's well worth a read: and the winners are...). Please check out her site: http://yolksy.blogspot.com for a bit of fashion inspiration of your own!
As a result of this random set of circumstances, An and I have been back and forth checking each other's blogs out, as well as getting back in touch via Facebook and e-mails. It just so happens that all of this reconnecting has happened in the last week, after I wrote the blog about my clothes fetish (see: stuff), which Annie enjoyed. So, in her latest e-mail to me, she said this: "You should send me pics of your organized closet...people go crazy over that stuff!"
Well, ok!
I mean, I thought about it for about one second, and realized that, YES! I do have some really great fashion tips for keeping scads of clothes organized. A few that would only personally work for me (like the bike - see below), and others that could be used (and should be used) for anyone (backwards hangers - it's for the environment!).
So, with pleasure, I present to you 'Wendy's clothesroom tips'...
1. Keep pictures that inspire you (especially of outfits that you'd like to try) clipped out and stored in a place where you can look quickly for inspiration (especially on a bad clothes day).
2. Use anything and everything you can to hang clothes, hangers, or odds and ends on (you see, storing my bike in my spare room was originally a ploy to keep it safe over the summer, but will remain an EXCELLENT clothes hanger, and a great place to put hangers, clothes that need ironed, and with two baskets, even dirty clothes!).3. A girl can NEVER have too many shoes. Or belts. Or earrings. Or clothes in general, for that matter.
4. S-hooks can create space for you anywhere. I use them to hang belts in my closet, jeans from my curtains, and scarves from the door.
5. Clothes make great decorations too! A great jacket, a purse, some bracelets, and shoes can really brighten up a regular chair (and create more space elsewhere!).
6. Never, ever, ever, ever be far from your iron. The truly well dressed always look well kept too. (note to #2 - an ironing board is also a great stand for night-before outfits, didn't-work-this-time shirts, or occasionally, a chair).
Now, most of the above are fun, or easy tips that you can take or leave. But I do have one trick that I pride myself on for it's practicality, fashionability, and environmentally friendliness:
7. Each fall and spring, I hang all of my clothes in the closet so that the hanger's hook faces out. After I wear an item of clothing, I hang it back up in the closet with the hanger's hook facing in, in the opposite direction. For starters, this gives me a good indicator what I have and have not worn (lord knows we ladies like to wear the same thing over and over again - this ensures that you can be more uber-fashionable, as well as get more wear out of the clothes you have). As for the clothes whose hangers are still backwards after 6 months, and haven't been worn? They get donated or recycled. Which gives me an excuse to go shopping again. So really, everyone is a winner, right?
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Those who can't, teach.
I've always hated that phrase.
For starters, I don't understand it. What do you mean 'those who can't, teach?' So, like, if I can't play basketball, you want me to teach it instead? WIth all of my knowledge? I mean, if I'm not good enough to play it, why would you want me to teach it to others?
Secondly, as a teacher (and a darn good one), I take offense in thinking that teachers are lesser beings of a bigger purpose, and by lack of qualifications, resign themselves to teaching others (as a last result of a failed existence?).
Whatever.
Whatever, that is, except for today. Because by default, today the saying sticks. I am in charge of new teacher orientation. And because I am not (can not) be a new teacher, I get to teach the others who are. I can't, so I teach. And I've got this orientation thing licked.
When I was a new teacher, we had the most wonderful orientation by two amazing teachers, Brian and Leila, but it was all such a blur of driving down streets to places that I never actually found again. I didn't have any money or way to get around, which, along with being completely lost, kept me from waning to revisit any of the places they took us. In fact, in two years, I can count on one hand the number of places I have returned to after that first week. Not because I don't want to, but because I wouldn't know where to go if I did!
Last year's orientation, done by a different teaching couple, was much of the same. Of course, I didn't take part, but I have the notes, and can sense that it was a very similar overload to the year of my beginning.
This year, though, I have a better game plan. Although orientation doesn't officially start until Friday, I thought, 'Why don't I invite the new teachers over to my place to see what everything looks like?' They can check out the sizes of curtains, dimensions of couches, and so on and so forth. They can ask how to nail things into the wall? How to decorate? What kinds of things can they buy? And I can offload some of my possessions, that, after a summer home of shopping, I have no more room for.
Clever, right? It's a pretty good plan.
But it's even better. Because after that, I will walk them to sushi train (for yummy sushi!), and then Jusco, where I will familiarize them with the walking paths and store layout (and buy groceries for myself at the same time!). You see, this is what I would be doing anyway, only now I'm going to make it an 'official part' of orientation and multitask everything into one. It gets me what I want, gets them what they want, and clears out a bit of space for Friday's schedule, which will (surprise) include more shopping (at places I need to go to too!).
I'm not going to lie - I think I'm pretty clever. So, don't tell me what I can and can't teach...
For starters, I don't understand it. What do you mean 'those who can't, teach?' So, like, if I can't play basketball, you want me to teach it instead? WIth all of my knowledge? I mean, if I'm not good enough to play it, why would you want me to teach it to others?
Secondly, as a teacher (and a darn good one), I take offense in thinking that teachers are lesser beings of a bigger purpose, and by lack of qualifications, resign themselves to teaching others (as a last result of a failed existence?).
Whatever.
Whatever, that is, except for today. Because by default, today the saying sticks. I am in charge of new teacher orientation. And because I am not (can not) be a new teacher, I get to teach the others who are. I can't, so I teach. And I've got this orientation thing licked.
When I was a new teacher, we had the most wonderful orientation by two amazing teachers, Brian and Leila, but it was all such a blur of driving down streets to places that I never actually found again. I didn't have any money or way to get around, which, along with being completely lost, kept me from waning to revisit any of the places they took us. In fact, in two years, I can count on one hand the number of places I have returned to after that first week. Not because I don't want to, but because I wouldn't know where to go if I did!
Last year's orientation, done by a different teaching couple, was much of the same. Of course, I didn't take part, but I have the notes, and can sense that it was a very similar overload to the year of my beginning.
This year, though, I have a better game plan. Although orientation doesn't officially start until Friday, I thought, 'Why don't I invite the new teachers over to my place to see what everything looks like?' They can check out the sizes of curtains, dimensions of couches, and so on and so forth. They can ask how to nail things into the wall? How to decorate? What kinds of things can they buy? And I can offload some of my possessions, that, after a summer home of shopping, I have no more room for.
Clever, right? It's a pretty good plan.
But it's even better. Because after that, I will walk them to sushi train (for yummy sushi!), and then Jusco, where I will familiarize them with the walking paths and store layout (and buy groceries for myself at the same time!). You see, this is what I would be doing anyway, only now I'm going to make it an 'official part' of orientation and multitask everything into one. It gets me what I want, gets them what they want, and clears out a bit of space for Friday's schedule, which will (surprise) include more shopping (at places I need to go to too!).
I'm not going to lie - I think I'm pretty clever. So, don't tell me what I can and can't teach...
Stuff.
It's 8:33 and I'm struggling to stay awake. I laughed as I set my alarm for 8:15 tomorrow morning, knowing full well that I"ll be up a good 8 hours before that, but as a wishful thinker, I am setting my sights high.
Of course, I can't go to bed just yet. So, what is a tired girl supposed to do to fill her night for a bit longer?? Iron.
Earlier today, I unpacked my bags, all of them, and quickly and efficiently put everything away. As my closet (truly) filled up, I set aside a pile of wrinkled shirts to be ironed at a later time, which came just a bit ago. But, as you could expect after a summer of shopping, as I set to ironing, I ran quickly out of hangers.
Being a bit OCD, I can't just use any hangers - the ones I need have to be the same light-blue-with-grey-plastic-tip-from-Daiso variety, and although I am fortunately going there tomorrow, it doesn't help me tonight. So what do I decide to do when Ironing fails? Count my clothes.
No, really, I truly sat there and thought (and remember, I am really, really tired), 'Well, this closet looks (amazing and) full, we might as well just count it all up, for just the darn sake of it.' And so I did. I stood in front of my closet (much like a sales clerk inventorying on a clipboard) and tapped the hangers with my pen, creating categories, and writing the results on a pink post-it.
I was shocked (but silently pleased) at the amount of clothing I own. And I think, were I richer or more famous, People magazine would come and take a few shots. But, after getting over my guilty pleasure, it was only 8:30, and unable to go to bed, still, just yet, I set down to find more things to do to kill my time. The result? This blog. I figured, what the heck else do I have to do for the next hour than past my eyes wide open while I type? The subject matter interests me (although maybe not you so much), and the amounts I found are so shockingly ridiculous that they are worth you having a bit of a laugh at.
I no longer wonder where all my money goes. The proof is in the numbers.
The following stats on my closet do not include undergarments, fall/winter clothing, sports clothing (such as t-shirts or running shorts), or casual pajama/housewear. They also do not include my dirty laundry (that is pilling up, and worth a good stat of its own), outdoor-wear, swim suits and swim covers, or the clothes that still need ironed. But they do include the following:
26 pairs of pants (20)
4 skirts (2)
7 professional jackets (3)
18 collared/long-sleeved/lace shirts (10)
18 simple tees (16)
27 tank tops (19)
13 dresses (8)
7 pairs of shorts (5)
9 belts on one s-hook, 6 on another, and 3 draped over the closet door (6)
9 dressy scarves (7)
10 folded pairs of jeans, as well as three s-hooks containing 3, 5, and 2 pairs (15)
39 pairs of shoes (not including flip flops, which make up 10 more) (29!!)
6 pairs of boots (5)
12 clutches (7)
(and)
2 vests (2)
As I sit here, though, I realized that typing it out did not take as much time as I thought (or needed), so for fun (and because it's still not bedtime yet), I went back to my closet and counted only the new items. Then, I subtracted the new from the total, to calculate how many of each thing I had before I left for the summer. Those numbers are in parentheses above.
Evidently, though, having a lot of clothes doesn't solve all problems. You see, I am still not sure what I'll wear tomorrow...
Of course, I can't go to bed just yet. So, what is a tired girl supposed to do to fill her night for a bit longer?? Iron.
Earlier today, I unpacked my bags, all of them, and quickly and efficiently put everything away. As my closet (truly) filled up, I set aside a pile of wrinkled shirts to be ironed at a later time, which came just a bit ago. But, as you could expect after a summer of shopping, as I set to ironing, I ran quickly out of hangers.
Being a bit OCD, I can't just use any hangers - the ones I need have to be the same light-blue-with-grey-plastic-tip-from-Daiso variety, and although I am fortunately going there tomorrow, it doesn't help me tonight. So what do I decide to do when Ironing fails? Count my clothes.
No, really, I truly sat there and thought (and remember, I am really, really tired), 'Well, this closet looks (amazing and) full, we might as well just count it all up, for just the darn sake of it.' And so I did. I stood in front of my closet (much like a sales clerk inventorying on a clipboard) and tapped the hangers with my pen, creating categories, and writing the results on a pink post-it.
I was shocked (but silently pleased) at the amount of clothing I own. And I think, were I richer or more famous, People magazine would come and take a few shots. But, after getting over my guilty pleasure, it was only 8:30, and unable to go to bed, still, just yet, I set down to find more things to do to kill my time. The result? This blog. I figured, what the heck else do I have to do for the next hour than past my eyes wide open while I type? The subject matter interests me (although maybe not you so much), and the amounts I found are so shockingly ridiculous that they are worth you having a bit of a laugh at.
I no longer wonder where all my money goes. The proof is in the numbers.
The following stats on my closet do not include undergarments, fall/winter clothing, sports clothing (such as t-shirts or running shorts), or casual pajama/housewear. They also do not include my dirty laundry (that is pilling up, and worth a good stat of its own), outdoor-wear, swim suits and swim covers, or the clothes that still need ironed. But they do include the following:
26 pairs of pants (20)
4 skirts (2)
7 professional jackets (3)
18 collared/long-sleeved/lace shirts (10)
18 simple tees (16)
27 tank tops (19)
13 dresses (8)
7 pairs of shorts (5)
9 belts on one s-hook, 6 on another, and 3 draped over the closet door (6)
9 dressy scarves (7)
10 folded pairs of jeans, as well as three s-hooks containing 3, 5, and 2 pairs (15)
39 pairs of shoes (not including flip flops, which make up 10 more) (29!!)
6 pairs of boots (5)
12 clutches (7)
(and)
2 vests (2)
As I sit here, though, I realized that typing it out did not take as much time as I thought (or needed), so for fun (and because it's still not bedtime yet), I went back to my closet and counted only the new items. Then, I subtracted the new from the total, to calculate how many of each thing I had before I left for the summer. Those numbers are in parentheses above.
Evidently, though, having a lot of clothes doesn't solve all problems. You see, I am still not sure what I'll wear tomorrow...
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Happy Ending
(read first: Around The World)
I did make it to Narita (Tokyo) just fine. Upon finding the closest United counter out of the gate, and hearing out that there was NOT, in fact, a request for my ticket having been sent through, I was pleased that this agent did what the other two just should have, and plugged in a damn number in the first place. It took her less than 2 minutes and no hassle to just assign me a new ticket number to get me right as rain. Check-in was a breeze, and I dutifully collected my luggage. And to top off things going right for a change, I found an even happier ending when I located a luggage shipment service, cheap as chips, that will deliver my luggage from here in Tokyo to school (in Nagoya) by tomorrow morning. So in the end, I came home luggage-free and lightweight.
And satisfied. So satisfied, that, when I came through the terminal to the waiting area in Nagoya, where, like every other year, noone is waiting for me, I pumped my hands in the air and yelled loudly, 'Welcome home, Wen! Good to see you!' I got a few awkward stares, no doubt, but I am still satisfied.
Now if I could just ship these bags under my eyes. Bloody hell, I'm tired...
Welcome back, Wen.
I did make it to Narita (Tokyo) just fine. Upon finding the closest United counter out of the gate, and hearing out that there was NOT, in fact, a request for my ticket having been sent through, I was pleased that this agent did what the other two just should have, and plugged in a damn number in the first place. It took her less than 2 minutes and no hassle to just assign me a new ticket number to get me right as rain. Check-in was a breeze, and I dutifully collected my luggage. And to top off things going right for a change, I found an even happier ending when I located a luggage shipment service, cheap as chips, that will deliver my luggage from here in Tokyo to school (in Nagoya) by tomorrow morning. So in the end, I came home luggage-free and lightweight.
And satisfied. So satisfied, that, when I came through the terminal to the waiting area in Nagoya, where, like every other year, noone is waiting for me, I pumped my hands in the air and yelled loudly, 'Welcome home, Wen! Good to see you!' I got a few awkward stares, no doubt, but I am still satisfied.
Now if I could just ship these bags under my eyes. Bloody hell, I'm tired...
Welcome back, Wen.
Around the World
Please sit back and relax as you prepare yourself to go on a tiring and whirlwind adventure of an around-the-world traveler's journey through everything-that-can-go-wrong-will.
To start off, in answer to my earlier question (Read blog post Like Sands Through The Hourglass), I do believe that I am now one day older than I was when I left Japan. I have decided that, scientifically speaking, traveling west, continually, without backtracking east is a surefire way to thrust oneself into the future by a day, (that is, once you have landed where you started). I am officially claiming myself to have two birthdays next year - one on the 11th of May (my proper birthday), and one on the 12th (to celebrate my true age).
But aside from the physics of traveling through the space time continuum, and more importantly for this specific blog, I can also tell you that if you ever purchase an around the world ticket, that it is not advisable to take any chances, move any flights, or take part in any situations that would thereby alter the original ticket in any way. Rachel, Miche and I have learned the hard (and tiring, and tearful) way that much like the idea of traveling one direction entirely around the whole world, each flight on a ticket this kind of ticket is like a link in a perfectly circular chain necklace, where if one piece breaks, the whole thing can virtually be rendered useless.
This was the trouble I faced this morning - a worthless set of tickets. And let me tell you, it was a real mission to get home. I saw it coming - I really I did. I knew there would be trouble, and it started without fail in Indy where Dad and I spent 2 hours in line at the ticket counter as the nice airline lady frantically worked to get me on a flight.
(Quickly backtrack to 6 weeks ago, when while traveling from Barcelona to Nice, my fellow travelers and I, under no fault of our own, missed one flight and were redirected through Zurich instead. Happy to placate us for having missed a flight, the Swiss clerk put us up in a hotel for the night and quickly re-routed us the next morning, getting us to Nice fairly quickly and efficiently. What it seems she forgot to do, though, is keep the chain of flights in tact. By breaking it up and not carefully and correctly re-entering the order of flights, as they were, through the computer system, she effortlessly (albeit innocently) rendered our itineraries useless, and our ticket numbers simply vanished. As a result, ever since that flight, I have shown up to each airport with a paper itinerary that proves I have purchased a flight (16 flights, actually), with my name always in the computer, in the system as a scheduled traveler on each of the flights I have been assigned since the missed one. But, without that ever-so-important ticketing number, which was likely deleted during the re-direct, they cannot find my record in the system, thus making it impossible to get me on the plane).
Thus, the two hour wait at the counter in Indianapolis.
Now, although I missed my first flight out of Indy, I did catch the second flight this morning, with special exception to board the plane without a ticket, followed by explicit directions to, upon arrival in Chicago, leave the terminal (and out of security), to the ticketing counters to get paper tickets printed out. Of course though, as was my luck, my flight landed in Chicago behind expected time, leaving me less than an hour between arrival from Indy and departure to Tokyo. I was then faced with a split decision, a crap shoot: do I go all the way out of the Terminal and risk time and having to explain it all over again, or do I head to the gate and ask there, hoping for quicker and closer help? Well, with less than an hour to spare, I decided on the latter, against my good judgement, as it seemed easier and quicker and likely to be ok.
I was wrong.
(side note: missing my flight from Indy to Chicago was no big deal, as I was sure there would be 1-2 more flights going out that would get me there, which there was. In Indy, I was calm and collected. Missing a flight to Tokyo, though, is a different story, as one flight per day leaves for this destination. A missed flight is a bit more of a big deal when I have to wait 24 hours until the next one. I don't do calm and collected in that situation...)
The lady at the gate looked at me like I was the dumbest thing she had ever seen, and assured me that I would need much more than good credit to board the plane. It was at this moment when the situation, and my day, slowly began crumbling around me. In loud tears (I might even go so far as to call them sobs), I ran my bags backwards through the terminal to the ticketing area. Of course, each person who stopped me was sure she could help me, and, without time to explain the situation, I panicked even more, angering them and frustrating me. I then used my sobbing sorrow to cut in front of a ton of people to get immediate attention at the first counter where I could find a teller. Of course, as expected, I was unreachable in the system, a ghost, now outside of security, with no tickets, and 30 minutes until my flight left.
Now, I am not sure how often this happens to one person twice in a day, but the lady at the counter, after checking with a few other agents, says, "Ok, go ahead and take this boarding pass and get on this flight. We have no time to resolve this now, but we'll work on it while you're in the air." So, I sit on this flight right now, typing this out, as a non-existent traveler, hoping that the message gets through to Tokyo, where my boarding pass to Nagoya will be magically waiting for me. To ice the cake, my checked bags are full of kitchen knives, among other things, which leads me to believe that if I get stopped and searched, I just might end up in international prison. At least, that's how it seems to be going.
I have ended up in a middle seat between two nice men. Of course though, on the unfortunate side, I am surrounded in the front and from behind by the least-nice-to-sit-next-to-on-the-plane people. In front of me, a loud, screaming 5-year old whose parents have no tolerance level for the amount of sound that comes out of his mouth. Behind me are three 20 somethings who have just met, but are what I like to call 'one-uppers'. You know, we all have those friends, braggers who take turns telling stories to outdo each other. The married one on my behind right is obviously the popular one to the younger, more-impressionable college kid on my behind left, and they are enjoying each other's company a little more loudly than I would like. I feel like I know righty better than his wife, who he has mentioned at least 6 times, does.
On top of that, not only is this the FIRST international flight I have EVER taken that does not have private televisions in each seat (yes, I am watching the big screen in the front of the plane, just like it's 1998 or something) but my mid-flight meal snack was ramen. I mean, really. I am getting ready to go live in Japan for 10 months. Do you think what I want you to offer me on this flight is ramen? How about a bit of creativity here, folks? Who makes these decisions anyway!?
At hour 6, minute 14, as we begin our 'descent' from over Alaska towards Tokyo, I spilled bloody mary all over my white lace shirt. Luckily for me, I shop at Forever 21, which means that the cheap synthetic (and obviously plastic) fabric repelled the liquid magnificently. Whew. One less disaster averted. For now...
To start off, in answer to my earlier question (Read blog post Like Sands Through The Hourglass), I do believe that I am now one day older than I was when I left Japan. I have decided that, scientifically speaking, traveling west, continually, without backtracking east is a surefire way to thrust oneself into the future by a day, (that is, once you have landed where you started). I am officially claiming myself to have two birthdays next year - one on the 11th of May (my proper birthday), and one on the 12th (to celebrate my true age).
But aside from the physics of traveling through the space time continuum, and more importantly for this specific blog, I can also tell you that if you ever purchase an around the world ticket, that it is not advisable to take any chances, move any flights, or take part in any situations that would thereby alter the original ticket in any way. Rachel, Miche and I have learned the hard (and tiring, and tearful) way that much like the idea of traveling one direction entirely around the whole world, each flight on a ticket this kind of ticket is like a link in a perfectly circular chain necklace, where if one piece breaks, the whole thing can virtually be rendered useless.
This was the trouble I faced this morning - a worthless set of tickets. And let me tell you, it was a real mission to get home. I saw it coming - I really I did. I knew there would be trouble, and it started without fail in Indy where Dad and I spent 2 hours in line at the ticket counter as the nice airline lady frantically worked to get me on a flight.
(Quickly backtrack to 6 weeks ago, when while traveling from Barcelona to Nice, my fellow travelers and I, under no fault of our own, missed one flight and were redirected through Zurich instead. Happy to placate us for having missed a flight, the Swiss clerk put us up in a hotel for the night and quickly re-routed us the next morning, getting us to Nice fairly quickly and efficiently. What it seems she forgot to do, though, is keep the chain of flights in tact. By breaking it up and not carefully and correctly re-entering the order of flights, as they were, through the computer system, she effortlessly (albeit innocently) rendered our itineraries useless, and our ticket numbers simply vanished. As a result, ever since that flight, I have shown up to each airport with a paper itinerary that proves I have purchased a flight (16 flights, actually), with my name always in the computer, in the system as a scheduled traveler on each of the flights I have been assigned since the missed one. But, without that ever-so-important ticketing number, which was likely deleted during the re-direct, they cannot find my record in the system, thus making it impossible to get me on the plane).
Thus, the two hour wait at the counter in Indianapolis.
Now, although I missed my first flight out of Indy, I did catch the second flight this morning, with special exception to board the plane without a ticket, followed by explicit directions to, upon arrival in Chicago, leave the terminal (and out of security), to the ticketing counters to get paper tickets printed out. Of course though, as was my luck, my flight landed in Chicago behind expected time, leaving me less than an hour between arrival from Indy and departure to Tokyo. I was then faced with a split decision, a crap shoot: do I go all the way out of the Terminal and risk time and having to explain it all over again, or do I head to the gate and ask there, hoping for quicker and closer help? Well, with less than an hour to spare, I decided on the latter, against my good judgement, as it seemed easier and quicker and likely to be ok.
I was wrong.
(side note: missing my flight from Indy to Chicago was no big deal, as I was sure there would be 1-2 more flights going out that would get me there, which there was. In Indy, I was calm and collected. Missing a flight to Tokyo, though, is a different story, as one flight per day leaves for this destination. A missed flight is a bit more of a big deal when I have to wait 24 hours until the next one. I don't do calm and collected in that situation...)
The lady at the gate looked at me like I was the dumbest thing she had ever seen, and assured me that I would need much more than good credit to board the plane. It was at this moment when the situation, and my day, slowly began crumbling around me. In loud tears (I might even go so far as to call them sobs), I ran my bags backwards through the terminal to the ticketing area. Of course, each person who stopped me was sure she could help me, and, without time to explain the situation, I panicked even more, angering them and frustrating me. I then used my sobbing sorrow to cut in front of a ton of people to get immediate attention at the first counter where I could find a teller. Of course, as expected, I was unreachable in the system, a ghost, now outside of security, with no tickets, and 30 minutes until my flight left.
Now, I am not sure how often this happens to one person twice in a day, but the lady at the counter, after checking with a few other agents, says, "Ok, go ahead and take this boarding pass and get on this flight. We have no time to resolve this now, but we'll work on it while you're in the air." So, I sit on this flight right now, typing this out, as a non-existent traveler, hoping that the message gets through to Tokyo, where my boarding pass to Nagoya will be magically waiting for me. To ice the cake, my checked bags are full of kitchen knives, among other things, which leads me to believe that if I get stopped and searched, I just might end up in international prison. At least, that's how it seems to be going.
I have ended up in a middle seat between two nice men. Of course though, on the unfortunate side, I am surrounded in the front and from behind by the least-nice-to-sit-next-to-on-the-plane people. In front of me, a loud, screaming 5-year old whose parents have no tolerance level for the amount of sound that comes out of his mouth. Behind me are three 20 somethings who have just met, but are what I like to call 'one-uppers'. You know, we all have those friends, braggers who take turns telling stories to outdo each other. The married one on my behind right is obviously the popular one to the younger, more-impressionable college kid on my behind left, and they are enjoying each other's company a little more loudly than I would like. I feel like I know righty better than his wife, who he has mentioned at least 6 times, does.
On top of that, not only is this the FIRST international flight I have EVER taken that does not have private televisions in each seat (yes, I am watching the big screen in the front of the plane, just like it's 1998 or something) but my mid-flight meal snack was ramen. I mean, really. I am getting ready to go live in Japan for 10 months. Do you think what I want you to offer me on this flight is ramen? How about a bit of creativity here, folks? Who makes these decisions anyway!?
At hour 6, minute 14, as we begin our 'descent' from over Alaska towards Tokyo, I spilled bloody mary all over my white lace shirt. Luckily for me, I shop at Forever 21, which means that the cheap synthetic (and obviously plastic) fabric repelled the liquid magnificently. Whew. One less disaster averted. For now...
Friday, July 31, 2009
Shout Out
To those about to be named/mentioned/described, you hold a special place in my summer home, and I salute you...
1. First and foremost to my friend Nikki, whom words can not describe (well, at least not so few words as this will be - look for Nik to star in an upcoming blog post). One of my best friends in the world, and my kind host this summer, Nik deserves an award for the best laugh, greatest hair, and kindest heart. For months and months, you will be seeing me and Nik go back and forth with inside jokes that have been a part of some of the funniest moments I have EVER lived.
2. To, Jen, the Hanf House members, and Mooncheez, who are my favorite form of summer entertainment, thank you. From Rockband jam sessions, writing Japanese on your chalkboard, and glow-in-the-dark sardines games, thank you. I am honored to be a part of your coffee table, as well as your circle of friends.
3. To Jess and her beautiful, beautiful girls, thank you for allowing me to be a small part of your big lives. You and your children are so gorgeous, and I loved every moment of our time together, even if we did only talk about nursing, phonics, and photos. Plus, you had the best PBJ lunch I had all summer, which assures I will come again next year and dine again!
4. To my (literal) old school, from Aimee and Melissa (and Ken) to Randy and Cheryl, and all in between, I appreciated the calls, the coffees, the barbecues, the volleyball games, and the new babies. I wouldn't call it a summer home, or a complete trip if I didn't have time to catch up with you, all of you, who shaped me into who I am today. The team may be split, moved, and switched around, but a better group of people I know not of.
5. A big "talofa lova" to my new friend Albert, whose accent was slight enough to be caught, and whose new friendship included my introduction to arena football, as well as a great partner for coffees. I am still sorry about punching you in the face...
6. Marm and Auntie, my number two girls, thank you so much for all that you give when I am home. I couldn't get around and see people without the both of you, and your patience and giving throughout my summertimes home is not unappreciated or unnoticed. I miss you two an awful lot when I'm away, but know that you are both always ready to welcome me with open arms (and a huge sign) when I come home.
7. To Tandem, I give you lucky number 7. Along with Nik, as a person who influenced my summer in such a positive and healthy way, you deserve one of the biggest shouts. What started out as checking out a movie with Hayley and turned into more games than pool than I can count, time with you was an unexpected surprise and a great treat. I am glad and fortunate to have crossed your path so early, and then so many times thereafter (although I could have easily, and greedily been happy with a little more). You have such a great heart, and I am glad you let me have a little piece of it...
8. Kel-bel, you also fall into the category of 'people I didn't get to spend nearly enough time with.' I enjoyed our dissertation of Harry Potter, a cool night out with some guacamole, and a day at the pool. Next summer we'll do it again, only more.
9. Uncle Don and Grandpa, my golf partners, are the (most patient and) coolest guys to play a round of 9 with. I, like usual, will not do any practicing this year in Japan, but will be glad to take your advice and tutelage next summer, for sure!
10. To the Waages, Foxes, Orths, and Megan - some of my best old kiddies and their families, thank you for all of the traditions - Friday night steaks, Dairy Queen, and Stella's. I look forward to these trips down memory lane more than you know, and it is so much fun to watch you all grow!
11. To the University of Iowa pitching coach - it was nice talking to you at the game. Although you don't know it, I thank you for the inside jokes that my friend Nikki and I still (and will always) have at your expense. If you're ever in my neck of the woods, and find yourself NOT married, call me, because you have great skin.
12. Gary! I enjoy baseball the most when I am: a) sitting front row, b) a bit drunk, and, 3) with you. I love our tradition of catching as many front-row games as we can, whether or not I can or can't speak Japanese to the players. You are one of my favorite people in the world, and I thank you for being my sports pal each and every summer. Next summer, though, let's just share one brat, and splurge more on beers instead!?
13. Dearest Brent, please continue to treat my friend Nikki nicely. She deserves it, and frankly, so do you. I look forward to more free ball games, and fun times at Johnny's with you, and your friends, next summer.
14. To my Chi-town girls (and guy), Tess, Mary, and Tera (AJ too!), thank you so much for making my weekend in Chicago so fun and friend filled. How fortunate I am to have good friends who would come so far to spend some good time together.
15. And lastly, to Daniel - I missed you and our good times this summer, and vow not to do the same next time around. Thanks for your late-night texts, they always made me smile. Even if you do live 1500 miles away (at the closest)...
1. First and foremost to my friend Nikki, whom words can not describe (well, at least not so few words as this will be - look for Nik to star in an upcoming blog post). One of my best friends in the world, and my kind host this summer, Nik deserves an award for the best laugh, greatest hair, and kindest heart. For months and months, you will be seeing me and Nik go back and forth with inside jokes that have been a part of some of the funniest moments I have EVER lived.
2. To, Jen, the Hanf House members, and Mooncheez, who are my favorite form of summer entertainment, thank you. From Rockband jam sessions, writing Japanese on your chalkboard, and glow-in-the-dark sardines games, thank you. I am honored to be a part of your coffee table, as well as your circle of friends.
3. To Jess and her beautiful, beautiful girls, thank you for allowing me to be a small part of your big lives. You and your children are so gorgeous, and I loved every moment of our time together, even if we did only talk about nursing, phonics, and photos. Plus, you had the best PBJ lunch I had all summer, which assures I will come again next year and dine again!
4. To my (literal) old school, from Aimee and Melissa (and Ken) to Randy and Cheryl, and all in between, I appreciated the calls, the coffees, the barbecues, the volleyball games, and the new babies. I wouldn't call it a summer home, or a complete trip if I didn't have time to catch up with you, all of you, who shaped me into who I am today. The team may be split, moved, and switched around, but a better group of people I know not of.
5. A big "talofa lova" to my new friend Albert, whose accent was slight enough to be caught, and whose new friendship included my introduction to arena football, as well as a great partner for coffees. I am still sorry about punching you in the face...
6. Marm and Auntie, my number two girls, thank you so much for all that you give when I am home. I couldn't get around and see people without the both of you, and your patience and giving throughout my summertimes home is not unappreciated or unnoticed. I miss you two an awful lot when I'm away, but know that you are both always ready to welcome me with open arms (and a huge sign) when I come home.
7. To Tandem, I give you lucky number 7. Along with Nik, as a person who influenced my summer in such a positive and healthy way, you deserve one of the biggest shouts. What started out as checking out a movie with Hayley and turned into more games than pool than I can count, time with you was an unexpected surprise and a great treat. I am glad and fortunate to have crossed your path so early, and then so many times thereafter (although I could have easily, and greedily been happy with a little more). You have such a great heart, and I am glad you let me have a little piece of it...
8. Kel-bel, you also fall into the category of 'people I didn't get to spend nearly enough time with.' I enjoyed our dissertation of Harry Potter, a cool night out with some guacamole, and a day at the pool. Next summer we'll do it again, only more.
9. Uncle Don and Grandpa, my golf partners, are the (most patient and) coolest guys to play a round of 9 with. I, like usual, will not do any practicing this year in Japan, but will be glad to take your advice and tutelage next summer, for sure!
10. To the Waages, Foxes, Orths, and Megan - some of my best old kiddies and their families, thank you for all of the traditions - Friday night steaks, Dairy Queen, and Stella's. I look forward to these trips down memory lane more than you know, and it is so much fun to watch you all grow!
11. To the University of Iowa pitching coach - it was nice talking to you at the game. Although you don't know it, I thank you for the inside jokes that my friend Nikki and I still (and will always) have at your expense. If you're ever in my neck of the woods, and find yourself NOT married, call me, because you have great skin.
12. Gary! I enjoy baseball the most when I am: a) sitting front row, b) a bit drunk, and, 3) with you. I love our tradition of catching as many front-row games as we can, whether or not I can or can't speak Japanese to the players. You are one of my favorite people in the world, and I thank you for being my sports pal each and every summer. Next summer, though, let's just share one brat, and splurge more on beers instead!?
13. Dearest Brent, please continue to treat my friend Nikki nicely. She deserves it, and frankly, so do you. I look forward to more free ball games, and fun times at Johnny's with you, and your friends, next summer.
14. To my Chi-town girls (and guy), Tess, Mary, and Tera (AJ too!), thank you so much for making my weekend in Chicago so fun and friend filled. How fortunate I am to have good friends who would come so far to spend some good time together.
15. And lastly, to Daniel - I missed you and our good times this summer, and vow not to do the same next time around. Thanks for your late-night texts, they always made me smile. Even if you do live 1500 miles away (at the closest)...
Monday, July 27, 2009
Can you make it?
Let's pretend you need to pick up some papers at your doctor's office (on one side of town), some items at Target (on a different side of town), and meet friends for coffee
YES! It IS possible to do all this. You see, you might as WELL go do some errands on your way because a) you know you'll have to go through West Des Moines to get downtown anyway (lord knows it would be too convenient to get from Urbandale to Downtown in one shot), and b) because you know you'll have no time to do it later since after your 12:00 coffee, you have another coffee date as far away from Target as you can get. So, you leave your doctor's office in Urbandale at 10:25 and get on to 35 going south towards Kansas City, getting off at Hickman to head to the Target in West Des Moines on the back roads. At Target, you can shop and send 4 texts, pay with debit card, and hold two doors open before getting back onto 235E and making it downtown to Java Joe's. Then, continually re-acclimating yourself with one-way streets, you can pull in with enough time to go in and out of three parking spots, realize you have no change for the meter (thus forcing you to run into Java's to get some before feeding it), and sit to start on a postcard before your friends even arrive.
I can also tell you that you can leave 42nd street and get to 14th (where you cut across 4 lanes to stop for gas, chat with your uncle (what a pleasant and unexpected surprise!) then drive around the one-way-street block 4 times) to park near a school where you're picking up a date for sushi, in only 21 minutes...
----
Now, for those who, like me, aren't in town on an all-the-time basis, let me offer an important tip I quickly learned this summer - small signs that say 'No right turn on red' are procreating near the freeway exits around town, and should be heeded with caution. If you're like me, you'll not-notice them about 4 times, and will make the mistake of turning right illegally, before searching them out finally becomes a habit to you (and if you're really like me, you'll be ready to leave town once you've finally figured it out!). But, if you DO get pulled over, but happen to be pulled over by a cop who was once stationed on a military base in Japan, he'll not mind so much that you ran the red light, and will instead banter with you a bit about living in the Far East, choosing to send you on your way instead of ticketing you. At least, I am guessing that's what could happen were you to ever find yourself in that situation.
YES! It IS possible to do all this. You see, you might as WELL go do some errands on your way because a) you know you'll have to go through West Des Moines to get downtown anyway (lord knows it would be too convenient to get from Urbandale to Downtown in one shot), and b) because you know you'll have no time to do it later since after your 12:00 coffee, you have another coffee date as far away from Target as you can get. So, you leave your doctor's office in Urbandale at 10:25 and get on to 35 going south towards Kansas City, getting off at Hickman to head to the Target in West Des Moines on the back roads. At Target, you can shop and send 4 texts, pay with debit card, and hold two doors open before getting back onto 235E and making it downtown to Java Joe's. Then, continually re-acclimating yourself with one-way streets, you can pull in with enough time to go in and out of three parking spots, realize you have no change for the meter (thus forcing you to run into Java's to get some before feeding it), and sit to start on a postcard before your friends even arrive.
I can also tell you that you can leave 42nd street and get to 14th (where you cut across 4 lanes to stop for gas, chat with your uncle (what a pleasant and unexpected surprise!) then drive around the one-way-street block 4 times) to park near a school where you're picking up a date for sushi, in only 21 minutes...
----
Now, for those who, like me, aren't in town on an all-the-time basis, let me offer an important tip I quickly learned this summer - small signs that say 'No right turn on red' are procreating near the freeway exits around town, and should be heeded with caution. If you're like me, you'll not-notice them about 4 times, and will make the mistake of turning right illegally, before searching them out finally becomes a habit to you (and if you're really like me, you'll be ready to leave town once you've finally figured it out!). But, if you DO get pulled over, but happen to be pulled over by a cop who was once stationed on a military base in Japan, he'll not mind so much that you ran the red light, and will instead banter with you a bit about living in the Far East, choosing to send you on your way instead of ticketing you. At least, I am guessing that's what could happen were you to ever find yourself in that situation.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
My first true love
Des Moines.
Having had the chance to check out Des Moines this summer from the top of a well-located, downtown Whiteline loft, I can say that the city, my first real home, holds a place in my heart as the most beautiful city, even above the skyline of Paris or from the highest hills of Barcelona.
Although it was terribly difficult to choose just ten, here are the top things I love best about going home to Des Moines:
1. The aforementioned view of the capitol, day or night.
2. Downtown, including, but not limited to, Raccoon River Brewery, Johnny's, free dancing at Liar's Club, and Mooncheez.
3. I Cubs baseball
4. Continually circumnavigating familiar streets
5. Getting a beer (and a good one) for only $3.
6. I Cubs baseball
7. Downtown and Valley Junction's Farmer's Markets
8. Being reminded of great memories of great past times by great friends
9. Target
10. Midwestern boys, and lots of them
I guess, the old adage is true, there's just no place like home.
Having had the chance to check out Des Moines this summer from the top of a well-located, downtown Whiteline loft, I can say that the city, my first real home, holds a place in my heart as the most beautiful city, even above the skyline of Paris or from the highest hills of Barcelona.
Although it was terribly difficult to choose just ten, here are the top things I love best about going home to Des Moines:
1. The aforementioned view of the capitol, day or night.
2. Downtown, including, but not limited to, Raccoon River Brewery, Johnny's, free dancing at Liar's Club, and Mooncheez.
3. I Cubs baseball
4. Continually circumnavigating familiar streets
5. Getting a beer (and a good one) for only $3.
6. I Cubs baseball
7. Downtown and Valley Junction's Farmer's Markets
8. Being reminded of great memories of great past times by great friends
9. Target
10. Midwestern boys, and lots of them
I guess, the old adage is true, there's just no place like home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
