Guest Post Entry 1

I have the first submissions to the guest post contest! There's still plenty of time to enter- send your entries to storiesfromkorea@gmail.com

From Anonymous:

My toddler had butter and coffee for breakfast. Am I a bad mom?

Okay, okay, that one was totally me. But here's a REAL one:

A Confession: Milk Bones

I sometimes buy milk bones and eat them. I don't even have a dog. They're not bad, either. They taste like crunchy pizza crust.

Blahg Relief

I know what I need! A new contest and guest posts all at the same time! Fun, fun, FUN!

Here's how it works:

1. Send me something to post. It can be anything- a story you're proud of, an anonymous rant, even a one line postsecret-y type secret. Use your double top secret email address if you need to.

2. I will post them in the order they are received.

3. After the last one, readers can vote for their favorite.

4. Winner receives a prize. Sent to your double top secret PO box, if necessary.

So get cracking, because I cannot wait to see what I get! Send your submissions to storiesfromkorea@gmail.com.

Crazy

Yeah, yeah, I know. I said I didn't have anything I wanted to write about. But just when you think you've seen it all in this crazy place, you see something even more bizarre and blog-worthy than ever before. To tell you about it, I will have to be very, very clever so that the hordes of North Korean spies who hungrily devour my every oh-so-carefully chosen word will not figure out any of the secrets of Osan.

So. The PEOPLE here sometimes do THINGS that they take very seriously indeed. They use some real accessories, like trucks, green clothes and very loud and annoying loudspeakers, and also some pretend things. If you can picture hugely overgrown four year old children wearing matching clothes and playing with sticks and rocks you will get the idea.

This THING causes disruptions to my daily life, and of course we all know that maintenance of my routine is the sole reason for military presence here. Stores and offices are open at different times, or not at all. Lloyd's work schedule is outrageously altered, forcing me to contend with bedtime alone. As you can imagine, this does not endear the enormous green-clad gamers to me, but endure I must.

As I set out about my errands, at an unspecified time and/or date, I encountered some or all of the following:

Very, very small car entirely entombed in plastic wrap and duct tape;

Large green vehicles parked across the sidewalks; and

Costumed participants sprawled in uncomfortable and unnatural positions littering the roads and parking lots.

At the same time, all sorts of normal things were going on. A construction crew working, moms with strollers stepping over the bodies, taxis rolling down the main drag. Crazy, I tell you.

There, I'm done. NOW I need the guest posts. And the chocolates. Especially the chocolates.

Blahg

Blah humblog. I have been trying to post for DAYS. I hate it when I don't have a good post. I've started lots of them and there is something wrong with all of them. This one's too dreary, that one needs to go on the secret blog, the other one is too much like a million other ones (I foolishly try to go somewhere, the kids are dirty and screaming, people are glaring at me, I'm embarrassed, blah, blah, BLAH). I don't want to write about my dirty house, the latest happenings around Osan, or Weston's latest brilliance.

I need some inspiration, in the form of guest posts and/or chocolates. Please send them right away. At least three Stories from Korea readers will be grateful.

Certainty

I am far from certain about many, many things:

How computers talk to each other, how germs make you sick, why the base would give me paint that doesn't match my walls, and where every single pair of sunglasses I own is.

One thing I do know for sure is that I live with a four-year old boy. Here's how I can tell:

I hover over my own toilet;

I say things like 'You can't snap your pants with that drumstick in your underwear';

I believe that throwing dirt at the wall is a good idea, because the alternative is a skewer fight;

I am actually pleased when Weston and Shane want to sit still for three seconds to watch TV, even if it is Tom and Jerry; and

All day long, I hear 'Sorry, Shane!' (Sorry I accidentally cut you with scissors. Sorry I hit you in the head with a truck. Sorry I spit at you. Sorry I ripped a toy out of your hands. Sorry you screamed and made Mom come in here. Sorry I had to go to time-out).

Easter Video

The Easter Bunny made a visit to the garden and deposited and enormous number of eggs, after leaving giant bunny tracks in the garden (naughty bunny!)

And here is a link to Helen's much longer and nicer video.

Conversations with Weston: Sustainable living

Tonight, Weston was getting ready for bed. While I was waiting for him to finish, I was tidying up the bathroom. There was an individual-sized pack of kleenex that had been soaked in the aftermath of the day's activity of mixing water, shaving cream and Avon body paints all over the countertop. I tossed it in the trash, resulting in this:

Weston: Why did you that away?
Me: Well, we try to use things until they're gone, or compost them, or recycle them, but some things we just have to throw away.
Weston (nodding sagely): Yeah, sometimes you can't recycle it or put it in the compost or give it to someone else, and you gotta throw it on the floor, or out the door.
Me: Like what?
Weston: A dead cat.

So, if you come to visit, watch where you step, and don't let the dead cat hit you in the ass on the way out.