And the same 2 taken a couple of weeks ago at my dad's birthday party.
They are lovely younge women, who I am genuinely thoroughly proud of. Thanks for doing a good job as our flower girls those 12 years ago.
Love,
Your Komo.
*
8.11.2008
Anniversary Thoughts or, the Difference 12 Years Makes
Our anniversary is coming up this week, so I'm looking through some pictures. I found this one of my nieces. [They are cousins.]
And the same 2 taken a couple of weeks ago at my dad's birthday party.
They are lovely younge women, who I am genuinely thoroughly proud of. Thanks for doing a good job as our flower girls those 12 years ago.
And the same 2 taken a couple of weeks ago at my dad's birthday party.
They are lovely younge women, who I am genuinely thoroughly proud of. Thanks for doing a good job as our flower girls those 12 years ago.
8.10.2008
<>Hey, Who's This Cute Baby?
I just got a scanner! I scanned in one of my favorite pics of Boo. He's around 17 months old here. We were at a local park in State College.
Is he cute, or what? ;-)
*
Is he cute, or what? ;-)
*
8.09.2008
The Blackbelt Strikes
I know you've been wondering what kind of shopper I really am...that I call myself "Blackbelt."
"Show us your stuff," you've been saying. OK. Well, today, was a yard sale coup. I definitely lower my average with this:
If you know what that behemoth is, you'll know that a new one costs close to 2K, and a reburbished one a grand. I got this recent model at a yard sale today for about the price of, like, a Dirt Devil. Which I also own. And they threw in a fertilizer spreader and a bike helmet, too.
Hmmm, I guess I'd better start vacuuming my house once in awhile ;-)
*
"Show us your stuff," you've been saying. OK. Well, today, was a yard sale coup. I definitely lower my average with this:
If you know what that behemoth is, you'll know that a new one costs close to 2K, and a reburbished one a grand. I got this recent model at a yard sale today for about the price of, like, a Dirt Devil. Which I also own. And they threw in a fertilizer spreader and a bike helmet, too.
Hmmm, I guess I'd better start vacuuming my house once in awhile ;-)
*
8.08.2008
The Serenity Award Goes to...
Not me.
Boo has had a tough coupla weeks, what with harabuji and halmuni invading our space an' all. He did great for what I expected from him, but still, it was hard to go from a family of 3 to a family of 5. With one who couldn't communicate with him.
Almost instantly from the time I put my parents on the plane, Boo became his ol' self. We've had a great coupla days, but a tired 6 year old is still a tired 6 year old. And a tired mom is still a tired mom.
So the Boo got a little defiant last night, not wanting mommy's help in the bath. And what did he do? HE LOCKED THE DOOR! Which for some reason infuriated me. BANG! BANG! BANG! OPEN THIS DOOR! I said as the model of serenity. Ahem. And when he did, WHACK right on his soft little tush. You know, as a reward for obeying me right away. [You got the sarcasm, right??]
You know the look...the tears welled up in his eyes, the lower lips started to shake...and I felt like the worst mom...no, human being on this whole earth.
He climbs into my arms and immediately whispers in my ear, "Mom, do you still love me?"
*
Boo has had a tough coupla weeks, what with harabuji and halmuni invading our space an' all. He did great for what I expected from him, but still, it was hard to go from a family of 3 to a family of 5. With one who couldn't communicate with him.
Almost instantly from the time I put my parents on the plane, Boo became his ol' self. We've had a great coupla days, but a tired 6 year old is still a tired 6 year old. And a tired mom is still a tired mom.
So the Boo got a little defiant last night, not wanting mommy's help in the bath. And what did he do? HE LOCKED THE DOOR! Which for some reason infuriated me. BANG! BANG! BANG! OPEN THIS DOOR! I said as the model of serenity. Ahem. And when he did, WHACK right on his soft little tush. You know, as a reward for obeying me right away. [You got the sarcasm, right??]
You know the look...the tears welled up in his eyes, the lower lips started to shake...and I felt like the worst mom...no, human being on this whole earth.
He climbs into my arms and immediately whispers in my ear, "Mom, do you still love me?"
*
8.06.2008
This is Ugly
Although this will seem terribly irrelevant, let me tell you that I speak perfect English. I have no Korean accent. I have a college degree. Two, in fact. I don't mumble. I have no speech impediments. Or hearing deficits. And I'm Korean. Right? So . . .
I took my parents to the airport to take their flight back to Korea. We had a bit of the ol' run around at check-in. Bear with me, I'll try to make this part brief. We were lead from one line to another to another in the space fo 45 minutes, and finally ended up at what we thought was check-in, with an agent behind the counter. We stand there, waiting, a bit anxious. It slowly dawns on us that this is one of those self-check-in kiosks, which we didn't want. But there we were, so we read the long instructions on each screen, scanned in their passports - and then waited to check thebags. The guy behind the counter, it turns out, is not an agent but a bag handler. He says "did you get a slip of paper?" I said no, so he says to try again. When I try again, the monitor says "TOO LATE TO CHECK-IN." So I tell this baggage guy and he tells me we have to go to the end of the line!!!! OK, the irony is not lost on you, I hope. It is too late to check-in, but we have to go to the end of the line...the one we were just in for 45 minutes!
I am, like, "Are you kidding me?!" So I leave my parents there and go find an agent and explain to her that SHE had directed us to this check-in, an automatic kiosk, and now we have to wait in line again? Is this right? And she says it is!! Totally befuddled and flabbergasted, I go back to where my parents are. What else am I to do? I have to give this agent some points because she came to find us. I try to explain the scenario again, thinking, "this can't be right, there must be someother option." She then says . . OK . . . drumroll . . .
"I can't help you with the kiosks. It comes up with all this Chinese and I don't know what it's saying!"
HUH?!?! Excuuuse me??? [Picture like a a cartoon dog or something, shaking his head and going "blahblah blah blah blah!"] OK, am I in OUTER SPACE? Chinese?! Who said anything about Chinese? I am speaking PERFECT ENGLISH TO HER! At a loss for words, I say, "I'm not Chinese. I don't speak Chinese. You never helped me with the kiosk!" This goes on a couple of times, but frankly, I don't know how long. Have you ever been in a traumatic situation and time goes r-e-a-l - s-l-o-w? That's how it was for me - dream-like.
To add insult to injury, she then says, "I'm sorry if I offended you - it was SOME Asian language!" She thinks this is a policitical correctness issue, with all of its pejorative innuendos. She thinks this is my issue, that somehow I am oversensitive and I might sue. No, lady! This is about imcompetence! ["Some Asian language?!" That's like saying "Oh, it was English or Russian, or some western language!"]
It finally, slowly, dawns on me that this is a case of mistaken identity. She must have helped another Asian woman, because, you know, WE ALL LOOK ALIKE! I tell her, "You never helped me with the kiosk. You must be confusing me with someone else." [By the way, Asians think all Caucasians look alike! tee hee] For some unknown reason, it is only then, that she tells us to go to a separate Special Services line, which only has one person in it! Two minutes before, we had to go to the end of the regular line, but somehow, miraculously, we can now be second in a "special" line??
United, which is a MAJOR international carrier, has an agent that:
1] is totally racially ignorant
2] doesn't know how to use the kiosk
3] and as an aside, has a stupid check-in system
And THAT, is the end of this Ugly Story. For now. Until the next time.
*
I took my parents to the airport to take their flight back to Korea. We had a bit of the ol' run around at check-in. Bear with me, I'll try to make this part brief. We were lead from one line to another to another in the space fo 45 minutes, and finally ended up at what we thought was check-in, with an agent behind the counter. We stand there, waiting, a bit anxious. It slowly dawns on us that this is one of those self-check-in kiosks, which we didn't want. But there we were, so we read the long instructions on each screen, scanned in their passports - and then waited to check thebags. The guy behind the counter, it turns out, is not an agent but a bag handler. He says "did you get a slip of paper?" I said no, so he says to try again. When I try again, the monitor says "TOO LATE TO CHECK-IN." So I tell this baggage guy and he tells me we have to go to the end of the line!!!! OK, the irony is not lost on you, I hope. It is too late to check-in, but we have to go to the end of the line...the one we were just in for 45 minutes!
I am, like, "Are you kidding me?!" So I leave my parents there and go find an agent and explain to her that SHE had directed us to this check-in, an automatic kiosk, and now we have to wait in line again? Is this right? And she says it is!! Totally befuddled and flabbergasted, I go back to where my parents are. What else am I to do? I have to give this agent some points because she came to find us. I try to explain the scenario again, thinking, "this can't be right, there must be someother option." She then says . . OK . . . drumroll . . .
"I can't help you with the kiosks. It comes up with all this Chinese and I don't know what it's saying!"
HUH?!?! Excuuuse me??? [Picture like a a cartoon dog or something, shaking his head and going "blahblah blah blah blah!"] OK, am I in OUTER SPACE? Chinese?! Who said anything about Chinese? I am speaking PERFECT ENGLISH TO HER! At a loss for words, I say, "I'm not Chinese. I don't speak Chinese. You never helped me with the kiosk!" This goes on a couple of times, but frankly, I don't know how long. Have you ever been in a traumatic situation and time goes r-e-a-l - s-l-o-w? That's how it was for me - dream-like.To add insult to injury, she then says, "I'm sorry if I offended you - it was SOME Asian language!" She thinks this is a policitical correctness issue, with all of its pejorative innuendos. She thinks this is my issue, that somehow I am oversensitive and I might sue. No, lady! This is about imcompetence! ["Some Asian language?!" That's like saying "Oh, it was English or Russian, or some western language!"]
It finally, slowly, dawns on me that this is a case of mistaken identity. She must have helped another Asian woman, because, you know, WE ALL LOOK ALIKE! I tell her, "You never helped me with the kiosk. You must be confusing me with someone else." [By the way, Asians think all Caucasians look alike! tee hee] For some unknown reason, it is only then, that she tells us to go to a separate Special Services line, which only has one person in it! Two minutes before, we had to go to the end of the regular line, but somehow, miraculously, we can now be second in a "special" line??
United, which is a MAJOR international carrier, has an agent that:
1] is totally racially ignorant
2] doesn't know how to use the kiosk
3] and as an aside, has a stupid check-in system
And THAT, is the end of this Ugly Story. For now. Until the next time.
*
8.05.2008
Internet Cafe Chat
Kim over at Internet Cafe Devotions asks a good question:
What is one thing that you absolutely love about friendships? Why?
On the other side, what is one thing that you find absolutely difficult when it comes to friendships? Why?
At some point in the past decade or so, I have come to expect less of friendships. Does that sound sad? defeatist? negative? No! Bear with me. Actually, it has been freeing and enriching for me and I can only assume, for all of my friends.
Please - beg to differ if this isn't true for you. It seems that most of us women defined our friendships as little girls. The giggling, the passing of notes, the co-miserating, the shopping. The physical intimacy of whispering, doing each others' hair. The emotional intimacy of sharing something secret. Then as we aged, it seems that we kept looking for that kind of intimacy, but with more adult topics to whisper about, designer lables to shop for.
So what do I mean that I expect less of friendships? I mean this: I do not expect any one person to fill all my friendship needs. I have learned to accept my women friends as they are, and enjoy the parts that connect. Whatever other commonalities we discover, or intimacies forged are accepted gratefully, delightedly. I no longer look for the best friend of childhood, to fill some hole in me. And in that, there is tremendous freedom.
I actually have a best girl friend. I have known her since college days and have gone through many phases and stages of life. We remain best friends because we have committed to be that for each other. I have disappointed her, I am sure, and she has disappointed me. But even this best girlfriend of mine, I have removed expectations from, so that she can be free to be who she is, who she wants to be, for me. I only want what she wants to give; what she can give.
I'm not really answering the first set of questions, but they made me ponder the notion of friendship. So, my mind wandered. The second question? The most difficult part is when a friendship dies. I don't mean when life takes us in different directions. I mean when words fall out of our mouths, dead, dry, and pile up in the space between us. One thing you can count on with us women-folk: WE CAN TALK THINGS OUT! But when that fails? Well, I lose a little Hope. I had this happen once, in a particularly painful way. The cause, I think, was unmet expectations.
I am blessed with many friends, literally across the country. Some are close and intimate. Some are far away, but nonetheless precious to me. Each friend offers me something that is unique. I try to allow them to be. To enjoy and appreciate what they are.
And I offer myself . . . just as I am.
*
What is one thing that you absolutely love about friendships? Why? On the other side, what is one thing that you find absolutely difficult when it comes to friendships? Why?
At some point in the past decade or so, I have come to expect less of friendships. Does that sound sad? defeatist? negative? No! Bear with me. Actually, it has been freeing and enriching for me and I can only assume, for all of my friends.
Please - beg to differ if this isn't true for you. It seems that most of us women defined our friendships as little girls. The giggling, the passing of notes, the co-miserating, the shopping. The physical intimacy of whispering, doing each others' hair. The emotional intimacy of sharing something secret. Then as we aged, it seems that we kept looking for that kind of intimacy, but with more adult topics to whisper about, designer lables to shop for.
So what do I mean that I expect less of friendships? I mean this: I do not expect any one person to fill all my friendship needs. I have learned to accept my women friends as they are, and enjoy the parts that connect. Whatever other commonalities we discover, or intimacies forged are accepted gratefully, delightedly. I no longer look for the best friend of childhood, to fill some hole in me. And in that, there is tremendous freedom.
I actually have a best girl friend. I have known her since college days and have gone through many phases and stages of life. We remain best friends because we have committed to be that for each other. I have disappointed her, I am sure, and she has disappointed me. But even this best girlfriend of mine, I have removed expectations from, so that she can be free to be who she is, who she wants to be, for me. I only want what she wants to give; what she can give.
I'm not really answering the first set of questions, but they made me ponder the notion of friendship. So, my mind wandered. The second question? The most difficult part is when a friendship dies. I don't mean when life takes us in different directions. I mean when words fall out of our mouths, dead, dry, and pile up in the space between us. One thing you can count on with us women-folk: WE CAN TALK THINGS OUT! But when that fails? Well, I lose a little Hope. I had this happen once, in a particularly painful way. The cause, I think, was unmet expectations.
I am blessed with many friends, literally across the country. Some are close and intimate. Some are far away, but nonetheless precious to me. Each friend offers me something that is unique. I try to allow them to be. To enjoy and appreciate what they are.
And I offer myself . . . just as I am.
*
8.03.2008
Theology with the Boo, 2
Keep in mind that to a little one, the older you are, the bigger you are. So I overheard this conversation this morning:
HH: Hey Boo, you're getting so big! You hardly fit in my lap!
Boo: Is God bigger than you, dad?
HH: God is w-a-y bigger than me! In every way!
HH: Hey Boo, you're getting so big! You hardly fit in my lap!
Boo: Is God bigger than you, dad?
HH: God is w-a-y bigger than me! In every way!
Boo: So, when's his birthday?
*
8.02.2008
Up a Tree
.
It has not been easy trying to find an activity that would be enjoyed by my parents and my 6 year old. Boo has tolerated several shopping trips. I don't want to test him again. I decided to take everyone to Tyler Arboretum, which is having a Treehouse exhibit. My parents, like most Koreans, love nature walks. My son, like most children, love treehouses.
There was a fire pole at the end of this tree house and Boo went down again, and again . . .
. . . and again!
*
It has not been easy trying to find an activity that would be enjoyed by my parents and my 6 year old. Boo has tolerated several shopping trips. I don't want to test him again. I decided to take everyone to Tyler Arboretum, which is having a Treehouse exhibit. My parents, like most Koreans, love nature walks. My son, like most children, love treehouses.
Ta-DAH!
There was a fire pole at the end of this tree house and Boo went down again, and again . . .
. . . and again!
And fun was had by all!
*
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