News Roundup

The winner of the mystery won is Janelle. I will be sending her fabulous prize out early next week. Congratulations, my friend! Don't spend it all in one place.

In blog news, I am looking for a new name for 'Stories from Korea', since my stories are no longer from Korea. If you have any ideas, let me know! As soon as I get a new name, I am going to have to figure out a way to get a new header. My clever brother-in-law made my existing one, which I love, but he is very fancy and important and most likely has better things to do than draw cartoons for me. Hard to believe, I know. Then, when that's done, I'm going to set up an email subscription form like Helen did. If you haven't signed up for notifications from 'Tips from the Trenches', you totally should right now, because it's awesome.

In some random Seattle-ish news, there are like a bazillion bald eagles flying around here all the time, a rousing Endangered Species Act success. Super cool. Also, I am very pleasantly surprised with the driving situation around here. There is a noticeable improvement in the traffic flow, even during the busiest times. Lloyd thinks it's because no one has a job anymore but WHATEVER; it gets me to the thrift store way faster than ever before!

And speaking of the thrift store, here's the weird news of the day: thrifting seems to have partially lost its luster. Maybe it's because all those people without jobs are can't afford to drive their cars to the donation center? That must be it. GET WITH THE PROGRAM, PEOPLE! GET BACK ON THE ROAD AND DROP OFF ALL YOUR OLD CRAP RIGHT NOW! There, that should do it.

And finally, here is the last boil report ever: the gaping hole has turned into a handsome little scab. Now it looks exactly like a half healed-up wound from a glancing blow from a paring knife. On my hipbone. Not that I would know.

Have a happy weekend! I'm off to the thrift store to get Janelle her treats from America. Okay, FINE. Maybe I'll go to Target, too.

The Lamest Thing Ever

You might remember a satirical little essay I wrote a while ago, called 'Tensions', about the ongoing battle between me and my jeans. At the time I found it quite clever and entertaining. Today, however, I am no longer amused. Today, I had to go to the BX and pay FULL CLEARANCE RACK PRICES for three pairs of new, next-size-up pants, mere weeks before I return to my Mecca, the land of plentiful Goodwills. I think this is the worst day of my life. I care not at all about needing bigger pants. In fact, I am surprisingly pleased with them. They're quite sassy. It's just that I had hoped to hold out until we got out of here, but the pants apparently did not get the memo.

I was down to four pairs: the ones that ripped at the library, a pair of baggy bleach-stained black sweatpants, and two pairs of five-year old Old Navy cords, of which one had paint stains. And, of course, the three pairs of jeans I can barely squeeze into and no longer want to wear because of the pinching. But those ones don't count. Well, okay, if I'm going to tell the WHOLE truth, the ratty cords were getting a little snug, too. Oh sure, I could take the pinching as a warning sign that something is seriously wrong and go on a crash diet sensible eating plan until the pants fit properly again. But I'm a practical girl, and that's really not gonna happen.

What really chaps my hide, besides pinchy pants, is that three new pairs of pants cost SIXTY DOLLARS! Outrageous! For sixty bucks I could get between eight and twenty pairs of pants at Goodwill, and some of them would still have the tags on. Then I wouldn't even care if I spilled paint or bleach on them, or if I busted out of them. In fact, I would welcome it, because then I COULD GO SHOPPING AGAIN. I know that an average of twenty dollars per pair of jeans/pants is cheap for a non-thrift store venue, and I have had good luck in general with finding clothes I like at reasonable-compared-to-other-new-stores-but-not-compared-to-thrift-store prices at the BX, so really I should just shut up and happily wear my sassy-larger-than-usual new pants. BUT I CAN'T.

I don't LIKE the BX, of course. Don't get me wrong here. I have plenty of complaints about AAFES: They run out of the most ordinary things like fluoride-free toddler toothpaste, number 10 envelopes or the crappy but only variety of water processed decaffeinated coffee available anywhere. Then it's weeks or months, or NEVER when they get restocked. AAFES is very weird and annoying, if you're not familiar with it. It's the retail service for the military (except for groceries, which is another freakish patron-screwing agency called DeCA) and it's part of the government with a General in charge and everything. They claim to return all their profits into base programs, but they'd just as soon hose you over as look at you. The local manager has little or no discretion about what to stock; they get a 'set' of goods that depends on how big the base population is and some little formula they use. So even though 95%+ of the Osan population lives in apartments, they have tons of space devoted to garden sheds, giant patio furniture, hoses and lawn mowers. And wait, I'm not done! There's WAY more!

Wow, I don't know how that happened. I started talking about my pants and all of a sudden I veered off onto a completely irrelevant rant about the BX. Hey, do you think maybe it's time for me to get out of here? Also, I DEFINITELY need some ice cream right now. So, anyway, I came home and put on one of my new pairs of jeans to go to the commissary. I used to wonder why people would go out and buy bigger clothes instead of just going on a diet so they could fit the ones they have, but now I know. Having new, slightly bigger clothes makes you feel nice and skinny, so you deserve that extra cookie and the third beer. Maybe even at the same time. AWESOME.

Let's see....

Let's see, let's see, what's going on at Osan these days? Oh yeah, I know! We've had another one of those THINGS that we regularly despise. You can read about one here but basically the military is practicing in case the VC overrun us or something. I'm not really sure; I don't really pay that much attention except as it directly affects my life. And it does, believe you me. Lloyd is working long and hateful hours, from the early afternoon until sometime in the middle of the night, leaving me in sole charge of dinner and bedtime. Then he sleeps the morning away, leaving me alone and in charge of breakfast, lunch and all other daily activities. This gets a bit onerous, as you might imagine. Surprisingly, no one here cares AT ALL what I think.

Since he has to be all fresh and perky every afternoon, I have to get up when Shane wakes up, and he has been waking up a ton all week, probably because he's not used to me doing bedtime. I have these big huge circles under my eyes and I am exhausted. Yesterday, I was laying down, trying to get Shane to take a nap. He wasn't going for it and got up to play. I didn't want to get up, so I didn't. I just laid there, sort of dozing, sort of listening to what they were doing. I guess my dozing was a little better than my listening, because after a while, I heard them down the hall arguing about who had locked the door. Then the doorbell rang. I still didn't want to get up, and usually they run to answer the door, so I waited a minute. When they didn't dash to get it, I heaved myself up, grumbling under my breath about who would be ringing my doorbell. I looked out the peephole and saw some little kids. Figuring they would be easy to get rid of, I answered it and saw my own two children out there, one of them naked. Turns out they had decided to go next door to return a drawing the neighbor kids had left at our house, and if they hadn't locked themselves out I never would have known. Luckily they didn't see anyone but our next door neighbors and they're unlikely to rat me out, because I have the goods on them. Sometimes they feed their children store-bought bread instead of homemade, AND I heard the kids bicker once, can you believe that!?!?!?!? And that's all I have to say about that, capische?

In other non-negligent-parenting-related news, I just read possibly the worst book ever: 'Trial by Fire' by J.A. Jance. It was truly awful. Interestingly, J.A. Jance has a blog at Seattlepi.com and I recently read this post about how she gets nasty letters from readers telling her how much they hate certain books, and what a waste of their time that is. When I first read it, I totally agreed with her. But if I had spent my hard-earned money on a hardback copy of 'Trial by Fire' instead of checking it out of the library, I might have written her an angry letter, too. I also might have slashed her tires; that's how bad it was. I was going to do a whole review with all the things that are wrong with it, but it's so bad that I don't even have the energy to start. It's just horrible; DO.NOT.READ.

And, on the cape front, my ever-so-helpful sister sent me this link to capes for sale on Etsy. Over 1,200 capes! I'm sure one of them would suit me. But then she said that capes were really more for willowy people and someone like myself might want to consider another solution for flattering ripped-pants coverage. I'm not really sure what she meant by that, are you? Oh well; she says weird stuff sometimes. Check out the Etsy link and help me pick out a cape!

Festive

I feel clever, oh so clever.....

It's Tuesday, so naturally I was at the Thrift Store bright and early this morning. I scored some nice goodies: a Michael Kors skirt for $3, a few books, some crafting stuff for Weston, and a pair of cap guns. As I was about to check out, a particularly entertaining customer was talking to the staff, so I pretended I was looking in the glass case by the register so I could keep eavesdropping. You would not believe the characters that hang out at the Thrift Store here. Oh. Well, maybe you would. Never mind. Anyway, as I casually looked over the jewelry, watches and little trinkets, I saw it. The most beautiful three-strand shell pink necklace the world has ever known. I waited ever so patiently for the clerk to come get it out of the case for me, and then quickly checked the price tag. How much would it be? Five bucks? Ten?! Would it fit in my holiday budget?? My quivering fingers turned over the tag. $1.50, my friends; can you believe it? I snapped it up so fast the crazy Thrift Store people thought I needed medication.

I tried it on as soon as I got it home. Perfection in pink, it was. But something was missing. Just the littlest thing. Something, something, what was it? And then my eye fell on some of my Christmas ornaments. The little flesh-toned orbs I bought last year for the nursing-themed Christmas tree that the Breastfeeding Support Group entered in the decorating contest at the Officer's Club. They are all different skin colors: bronze, tan, chocolate, peach and pink. The perfect matching shade of pink. Could it be? It's so crazy it just might work, I thought. Trembling, I affixed the ornament to the center of the bottom strand of the necklace. It was just right. I felt BRILLIANT. If you have ever met me, you know that I have no talent whatsoever and that this stunning success is something on the order of Scooby Doo proving Fermat's Last Theorem.

Of course, not everyone can pull off a Christmas ornament around her neck, but I'm just the girl to do it. And, there's not a lot of places you can wear something so fabulous, but I'm working up a list: The BX, the Commissary, the library, the playground.....

Guilt

Well, sorry, I don't have much to say today, but I always feel guilty for not posting in a timely manner. Why, I have no idea. It's not as if it's an assignment that I have to complete or else my GPA will go down or something equally horrifying. It's not even as if anyone cares. BUT, there you have it. So today I am posting a somewhat goofy picture of me in my reading glasses; I'm sure you have all been dying to see them. Have you ever noticed how ridiculously hard it is to take a picture of yourself? This was definitely the best of the bunch. I like one other one quite a lot but some evil camera plot made it appear as if I had a double chin in that shot, and of course I most assuredly do not. As far as you know. Can't you tell from the picture that my chin is extremely svelte?!?!?!

And, just for funsies, here are a few strange Osan sightings over the last few days:

1. Man and woman (IN FRONT OF ME) at the thrift store, purchasing every single children's book there- a couple hundred books, plus some Christmas decorations. They told the cashier they were from the library (?!?!?), and then, after they were rung up (which took a LONG time, and did I mention they were IN FRONT OF ME?), they asked if they could come back and pay later. Ummm, okay? Off they went, leaving their bags of books at the checkout. In front of me.

2. Cabbie peeing in his taxi in front of the commissary. He was standing by the open driver's side door, facing into the car, and I can only assume he was holding a bottle or some other receptacle. This is a common sight on the streets or highways; Koreans don't mind peeing freely. And yay for them, right? Who cares? But there is a bathroom just inside the front door of the commissary, not 50 feet away from where he was parked. This is a strange, strange place, my friends.

Oh, Boy

I try to honor all the important boycotts: I hate greedy, soul-sucking corporations just as much as the next guy. Maybe even more! But I'm starting to have trouble keeping up with which evil behemoths torture animals, which ones fund terrorists, which ones hate gay people, which ones are chopping down the rainforest with reckless abandon, and which ones enslave their workers and use sneaky tricks to make it look like their prices are the lowest (cough cough, Wal-Mart, cough cough).

I looked at the list of products that Nestle, that baby-killing exploiter of the poor, makes money from, and Cheerios are on the list, people! Cheerios! Most of the items on the list present me no trouble: I can easily buy Hershey's chocolate chips instead of Tollhouse, for example. And while I'm talking about chocolate, you simply must know that I just read a fascinating book called The Emperors of Chocolate, about the Hershey and Mars companies. Just so you know, you can feel reasonably good about buying Hershey: at least at the writing of the book, the stock was controlled by the Hershey Foundation, which does fabulous things for thousands of orphans, including giving them outstanding prep school educations. So most of the profits gained by hosing chocolate farmers in poor countries and spewing out toxins go to orphans in New England so they can grow up to proudly carry on the corporate tradition, despite their unfortunate beginnings. Mars, on the other hand, is family-owned, and those people are just nuts. Oh yeah, sorry about the Amazon link to the book. They discriminate against gay people, you know. And as soon as I move away from this place where yellow slips in my mail box tell me I have a box of the retail joy that makes my life tolerable, I'll never shop there again. Sorry, gay people; catch you on the flip side.

But back to the Cheerios. I'm not sure I can live without Cheerios. Not for us, so much; we go through some serious quantities, but they are not necessary to our survival, say. But they are my sole successful technique for placating our little 11-month old neighbor. She comes over every week with her sister and brother because I swap childcare with her mom, and she LOVES me. Never before have I been any too popular with babies that aren't mine, so I'm pretty sure it's because I'm her Cheerio connection. I just sort of dump some around her and she's happy for HOURS. She doesn't eat a lot of other things yet, so it's not like I can just replace them with something else. She does eat bananas, but even I can see the folly of placing piles of bananas around a baby sitting on the carpet.

So, see? This is a real dilemma. What's more important: personal comfort or the greater good? I swear, the only place I can shop in good conscience these days is Etsy. Oh, and the thrift store, of course. Sure, it sells Spiderman watches that don't work, and never has a deinonychus colored shirt when I need one, but it's a small price to pay, don't you think?

Irrational

Here in Korea, we are constantly threatened by a cruel dictatorship. You probably know what I'm talking about: the ration control system. If you're lucky enough to live in the land of Target and drive-throughs, you will probably not have encountered such a thing. Here on an American oasis in the not-quite-right desert, ration control is the law of the land. Everyone gets a ration card, and when you buy something at the BX (general purpose store, similar to a lousy Wal-Mart), commissary (grocery store) or shopette (convenience store, liquor store and video rental store), your ID card gets scanned. Every tub of oxi-clean, every roll of duct tape, every bottle of wine, every copy of 'Subversion for Dummies', and every pair of ever-bigger pants goes on your report. A person COULD shop off-base to avoid this, but the options are limited, and there are many normal American things we can't get off base, so most everyone hits one store or another multiple times a week. The cards have social security numbers on them, too, just for a little extra invasion of privacy.

Why on earth would they do this, you ask? What possibly could be the reason for such oppression? The BLACK MARKET! Ooh, sounds scary, doesn't it?? Yes, freedom and democracy depends on keeping an accurate account of my Dove Bar purchases. Apparently, goods bought on base are sometimes resold in town, throwing a wrench into the entire world economy. Oh, except the human trafficking trade, because that seems to be going strong; I don't see any ration cards being issued to juicy bar patrons. You know.... oh wait, where was I? Oh yeah, my ration card. I'm going to try to stick to the subject because I've decided my outrage, no matter how justified, doesn't get me anywhere, and it's just too, too exhausting.

So, the military tries to keep rationed goods off the local economy by tracking everything we buy. Well, except for goodies from the thrift store, and we can all be grateful for that. If you go over your dollar limit, buy too much beer, or make a suspicious purchase such as 40 pounds of beef, the bossman gets a notification and you have to go explain yourself. Fine, whatever. While I DEEPLY resent having the big blue machine looking at what I buy every month, I recognize that the military is rife with similar indignities and I have been beaten into submission. I can no longer whip myself up into a froth of indignation, because I only have a few more months to suffer. Soon, I will be able to buy an entire cart full of lentils and no one will bat an eyelash. Not that I would; those things are disgusting! Ration away, people, if it makes you feel powerful and efficient. But maybe you should take a closer look at your system. Today, I was looking at my card and guess what? It's been expired for weeks.

Back

Well, I'm back. I didn't really mean to take a blogging vacation. I guess I just... did. So here's the latest.

The picture is of Weston playing with some new and dangerous dinosaurs. We were walking to church this morning and saw this set of pewter dinosaurs. There are four of them and they were approximately $17. I know I am a total sucker, because I am completely unable to bargain and Lloyd wasn't there, but I had some won burning a hole in my pocket and couldn't resist. After church we had lunch at a little Korean restaurant off the beaten path, followed by an ice cream cone at the Baskin-Robbins on the 'strip'. The lunch was 11,000 won; the cones were 12,000 won. Funny, huh?

I have some posts in the works; my favorite one is all about how hard it is to be a man. Really, it's true! This is a subject that troubles me deeply and I have some VERY important thoughts about it that I positively need to share with everyone. And, you probably haven't noticed, but I took my counter down. I found that I was entirely too concerned about how many hits there were. It was very freeing to do away with it, kind of like when you toss the scale in the closet and cover it up with broken toys, dirty winter coats, shopping bags and shoes. Or when you switch to the wine in a box so you don't have to watch the level drop and ruin all your fun. At the same time, I am quite interested in knowing what kinds of posts people like the best, so I'm thinking of putting up a poll later this week. I often have vicious internal debates about what to post, and I think a little bloggy input would be most welcome.

Other than that, it's all quiet on the northern front, my friends, and we all know how that ends, right?

Korean Pots

So! Let's talk pots! Now that the weather is changing and feeling a little fallish, it FINALLY seems like we'll be moving soon. One of the things I have been wanting to do before we move is buy some kimchi pots, but I wanted to wait until just before we move so we don't have them sitting around taking up room in our apartment. Fall is coming and I wasn't sure if the kimchi pot store has winter hours, so we decided to spend labor day shopping for fair trade, locally made, environmentally friendly goods. The pots are big brown crocks with lids that Koreans use to make kimchi, a fermented cabbage dish. The pots are in every yard, and Koreans eat kimchi for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I don't think I'll be making much kimchi but the pots make nice planters or garden art. Sorry about the picture, it is right side up in the photo library and I have no idea how to fix it.

Then, we went to Emart to buy Weston a piggy bank. On the way, we saw a new Home Plus/Tesco store and decided to check it out. The store wasn't that great so we didn't stay long, and on the way out, I stopped to go to the restroom. It was a quiet morning at Home Plus and there was no one in the bathroom when I went in. I walked in, passed a row of urinals, and went into a stall. I sat down, and thought, hmmm, that was strange; why would there be urinals in here? I looked around and realized that the things you always see in a stall in the ladies room were missing. Hmm, stranger still; this here Korea sure is a weird place, I thought. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a man in the bathroom and I realized I was trapped in a stall in the mens room in a Korean discount store. Yep. There was nothing to do but march right out to where I left Lloyd, scream 'RUN!' and bolt for the car. So that's what we did and we will never discuss it again. We went to Emart and found no piggy banks that meet our exacting specifications, so we came home and Lloyd made one out of a juice bottle. It's just the right size to double as a pee receptacle, if you're someone who likes to go shopping but has vowed never to use a public restroom again.

Fourteen Dollars

Fourteen dollars. For fourteen dollars you can buy a tub of lower-end night cream. You could buy a new sports bra on sale, a diet book, two brow waxes plus tip at the BX, or an iron.

Fortunately, I don't need any of those stupid and useless things. Instead, I took my fourteen dollars to the thrift store on bag sale day and came home with a hot pink purse by Matt and Nat (or a Korean facsimile, natch), an elephant print scarf, two pairs of new looking shoes for Weston for next year (one pair are Keens), space pajamas for Shane, three books for the boys, four nice shirts for me and a pair of flannel lined pants that will fit Weston this (cold, Korean) winter.

I know I promised something new and exciting today; I do realize that most people do not consider my thrift store purchases very fascinating, and almost no one is interested in lengthy discussions about thrifting philosophy. I am a very poor dinner guest, as you have probably long suspected. I really do have something different, coming soon, but you probably still don't want to invite me to dinner.

Sort of

It's Sunday night. Sort of. Sunday night in Korea is late Saturday night/early Sunday morning in the states, and is thus very boring. Everything is closed, no one is on the computer to talk to. And to make matters worse, tomorrow is Monday, sort of. Monday morning here is Sunday afternoon there, and there is a total blackout all day. No new blog entries + quiet Facebook + no emails= AGONY.

I used a recipe for dinner. Sort of. I read this book, 'The Ungarnished Truth', by Ellie Mathews. She is a Seattle hippiegeek (new word; do you like it? I'm aware that individual people have already used it, but I'm using it to sterotype an entire group of people. I'm still toying with the capitalization issue; I'll keep you posted), who won the Pillsbury Bake-off for her recipe for salsa couscous chicken a few years ago. I had to make a few substitutions, of course. There is no way on God's green earth you would find currants at the commissary, so I had to use chopped up apricots instead. There is, however, plenty of soy sauce, Crisco and Count Chocula, should you want to whip up something scrumptious with those.

On the topic of the commissary, which we were, sort of, I found the commissary more appalling than usual today. Right in the front where you walk in, where you would expect to find the ads posted in a normal store, was a display titled 'Gender Report'. It was exactly what it sounds like- a report listing elementary school students by classroom and gender. Also a perfect pedophile's shopping list but no one asked me. I am reminded every single day that no one has any privacy here: you can't even have a few beers too many and throw up on the sidewalk without someone making a big deal about it; you have to have your ID scanned at the BX to buy Oxi-clean and Maalox; and when your new stripper pole comes in the mail everyone knows about it. I can live with those things, sort of, but if my kid's name was on the 'Gender Report' posted at the commissary I would be beyond furious. Not that anyone cares.

I'm ready to start a new week. Sort of. We are leaving here soon, sort of, and the weeks are going slowly now and my energy and enthusiasm are waning. There are never enough books, enough time, but always too much laundry, too many eggs mashed into the carpet and too much noise. I want to write, sort of. There are lots of ideas, but never enough time and always too much noise. I can ignore the laundry, sort of, so here you go: I updated my blog. Sort of.

Goods

I have been volunteering at the thrift store here on base for a while now; maybe about a year, because it's for charity, blah blah blah and it gladdens my heart to help those less fortunate I like to find giant bags of neat stuff for myself, the more the better!

But I haven't been for more than two weeks. It wasn't very fun the last couple of times, so I'm on strike. So far, no one has seemed to notice but soon the unsold inventory will start oozing out of the windows and they'll be begging me to take them back! In the meantime, I have seen some interesting effects:

1. I have saved a ton of money. Babysitting costs + thrift store budget = surprisingly large amount of cash retained.

2. The BX is infinitely more appealing. Is it because I simply must feed my shopping habit somehow, or because the BX goods are new to me because I didn't shop there as much prior to the thrift store strike? I don't know and I don't care! Look at my goodies! Huh, my picture won't post. Here, read my long-winded description:

Super cute black, silver and red Timex sports watch (15.95, purchased with my Mother's Day Gift of a BX gift card) and extremely cute red plastic egg carriers with handles, like you would use to take eggs camping(2.29 each). I have no idea why someone would want to take eggs camping; all you REALLY need is beer and puffed wheat. Oh, and meat to put on a stick, but they didn't have carriers for that.

I suppose, possibly, you might be wondering why I NEED those egg carriers. No? Oh well, I'm going to tell you anyway. They're for our upcoming trip to Seattle. One for each boy, for treats and little toys! Oh, and eggs. My brilliance knows no bounds, my friends.

Fabulous Prizes!

And the winner is.... Anonymous, for Guest Post 7: Irony. Fortunately I know who Anonymous is and I can deliver her prize. The prize is the mug pictured above, which I snapped up at the Chosun Gift Shop at Yongsan this week. The inscription reads: 'Ugly Mug for Ajima and MIL to share. Dishwasher Safe'.

I decided to give a runner-up prize to Jennifer, for Guest Post 6: The Way of the Woo-woo, mostly because I spotted the perfect prize while at the Chosun. It's the elephant shaped tea-pot, cute and the perfect size for floating above someone's head.

Congratulations, ladies, and thank you!