Amanda Takes Off...

Good Man glared at an animal. "Why are there so many squirrels in America?"

"Why do you say that?" I asked, "And perfect, by the way!" Months ago, squirrel was "squillel."

"They are like 비둘기!"

"비둘기?"

"Um, pigeon? They are like those!"

I laughed, "Why?"

Good Man said very indignantly, "They eat junk! And they're chubby!"

He sounded so angry about these chubby, junk-eating squirrels. I couldn't stop laughing.

He continued, "When I came to America, I thought, 'Wow, this is like heaven! Look at all this grass and all these trees!' And then I saw those squirrels! And they were climbing around a trash can! And they are like 비둘기. In Korea those birds eat trash and they get so fat they can't even fly! We don't even call them 비둘기. We call them 닭둘기—chicken-bird, because they are like chickens!"

At this point I had actually stopped in the middle of the sidewalk because I was doubled over with laughter.

"Yeah," Good Man growled, "we should call them chicken-irrel!"

Good Man had his fingerprinting appointment today, down in Alexandria, at 10 am. Good Man wanted to leave at 8:30. According to GoogleMaps, it takes a half an hour to get there, 40 in traffic, and all the roads were marked green in that direction. We left at 8:50 and got there at 9:30, and that was after I missed the turn for the ASC (Application Support Center).

I've gotta hand it to USCIS—we were in the office at 9:30 and back in our car at 9:44. They did did full hand prints and then individual fingerprints, and they took his photo for the EAD (Employment Authorization Document).

In the 13 or so minutes I was in the office, I saw three women show up with ID that didn't match their application. Come on, ladies. If you get married and change your name, get some ID! If you've already started some sort of immigration application and get married later, wait until you're done to change you name! Don't give USCIS any reason to throw you in a "too tricky to deal with today, let's wait until tomorrow" file. "This is my married name" isn't going to fly.

Also, the notice clearly says no cell phones are allowed inside. So why were people showing up with cell phones? At least seven people were sent back to their cars to put their phones away. And then there was the poor woman who said, "But I came on a bus, I can't put it in my car." Well... (She did eventually go outside. I don't know what she did with her phone.)

Now, to be fair, the notices only come in English. But there's a ton of info out there in multiple languages about what the notices say and you're allowed to bring an interpreter to help you fill out forms (and maybe to help you speak?). Heck, we can find the citizenship test questions in Hungulized English.

질: 후 워즈 더 펄스트 프레지던트 오브 더 유나이티드 스테이츠 오브 어메리카?
답: 조지 와싱턴.

Now, apparently the Department of Homeland Security threat code (or whatever that dumb thing that's never been on green or blue is called) is yellow. According to a sign that was up that meant that they were only taking scheduled appointments for that day. But I've read multiple times on the internet about people getting in days or even weeks early, as long as they have their notice. If it's never been below yellow, that shouldn't be possible. The sign also said no cell phones. OK, check. And the sign said no bags or briefcases, but they let me in with my (small) purse, and they let Good Man in with his laptop bag (no laptop in it). They didn't even check our bags.

If governmental agencies don't even take threat levels seriously, why should the general public?

Passing a kiss and ride lot at a school, Good Man wonders, "Why is is always 'kiss and ride?' Why is it never 'hug and ride?'"

Passing a Metro station, Good Man asks, "What is 'park and ride?'"

"Remember how we parked the car at the Metro station and then took the train to the Arlington courthouse to get married? It's like that. You park. And ride."

"So...why not call it 'parking lot?'"

In a parking lot with tons of empty spaces I see a woman park directly in front of the store, blocking access to the door and say, "Does she realize that's not a parking space?"

Good Man responds, "Oh, America! Parking lot land!"

We got a new woman in class today. For all of my complaining about where the women have been, you'd think this would be good, right?

I actually didn't work with her at all. I got to class and my stomach was in knots and really hurting. I told Special Forces and asked him if I could work in the second room (a smaller room which usually isn't in use). I told him I'd warm up and work on poomse. He agreed.

I ran through the first four forms and damn, I do not deserve my belt. Messing up on the first four forms? Having to turn to the book of forms I keep in my bag? Ugh.

Special Forces came to check on me after about 40 mins. He ran through some forms with me, told me everyone forgets sometimes. I know that, but il jang? Forgetting that?

I did end up running through all of my forms at least twice. Once I got to yuk jang, I didn't really have any memory problems. No, then I started to run into "and how do we do that here?"

Even though I was working mostly alone, it was a great workout, physically and mentally. Physically, I was taking my time, sticking the landings, really working on it. I wasn't just slopping through them. Mentally, it was exhausting because good kimchi! I should remember il jang! But it was also mentally demanding because I was suddenly noticing things I hadn't noticed before. In il jang almost every turn is toward the side where you've already punched (right punch? Next move will be a turn to the right).

And then...class ended.

Apparently we have a new student. I'll call her Brown Belt Wannabe, because dammit, that's what she is.

In the course of five minutes she complained that she had earned a brown belt at her other school, so why couldn't she come in as a brown belt here? Never you mind that she couldn't tell you what system her old school worked under. Never mind that she didn't know the names of her forms in English or Korean, but they did them to music. All the time. She had been in the national championships! (Whose national championships? Well, why should she be expected to know that?) She had medals at home. And why didn't we just test her so she could prove her level? But don't actually let her be a brown belt, because then we're going to expect decent work from her! She had worked hard for her brown belt and she wanted to wear it, because after one class everything was too easy and in two or three more classes she was going to be very bored because it was too easy.

Shit.

And I thought I had a hard time adjusting to a new studio. At least I did my complaining here and at home.

Poor Special Forces. Kwanjangnim is in Korea and he said, "Well, OK, when the school owner comes back, we can talk to him and—"

"Does anyone else come in at their old belt?"

Special Forces gestured toward me, "She did, but she got her black belt in So—"

"Then why can't I?"

I left because I wanted to scream, It's not about the belt, lady!

"[Good Man]! Come, quick, bring my camera!"

"Why?"

"Babies!"

Baby Worm and Worm Egg on Some Sort of Matter (Pear Stem, Maybe?)

I wanted the Chinese double happiness symbol on the wedding certificate. Or the invitation. Or the announcement. Good Man refused. I wanted to use Hanja for the date on the wedding certificate. Or the invitation. Or the announcement. Good Man refused.

But when it came to the programs, Good Man had no opinion on what should be done.

I wasn't going to do programs because we have no attendants, no music, etc. But I decided that everyone needed an explanation about the no-officiant-stand-and-speak part. And Koreans never know what a Claddagh is, but like it when I explain it. And the non-Koreans might like to know why Mother's throwing food at us. So we made a program. Since everything else was English first, I made this one Korean first. It turned out nicely and cost $17 to make 27 of them.

Good Man and I have a balcony, but we rarely sit out there. Today I decided to clean off the table that came with our rent so we could have dinner outside. It was warm but not too warm and bright but not too bright—I always complain about how dark our kitchen is.

Pasta in a Cheese Sauce, Salad, Dressings, Green Apple, and Sunflower Seeds

Hmmm...

I had made what I thought was a decent meal, as well as some watermelon-kiwi drinks for dessert. But Good Man complained. The vinaigrette smelled like...vinegar. The salad had celery in it. He doesn't like plain watermelon.

Watermelon-Kiwi Drink with a Sprig of Fresh Mint

I grew tired of it. "Wow. You really make me feel good when I prepare dinner for you five or more night a week and you complain about everything. If it were up to you we'd eat ramyeon or spaghetti every night. You can start cooking, go ahead."

"You are like my mother," he replied.

"Why? Because I prepare good, healthy food for you and you bitch about it?"

He laughed and nodded, "Yes, exactly." He grew quiet. "미안해, 미안해."

A few minutes later he tried the drink. "Oh! This is better than plain watermelon. This is actually good. You are sneaky like that."

Laughing

"I know you don't like exercising, but it's good for us," I said.

"I know. I married you because you won't be in a wheelchair at 60," Good Man said.

I looked up at him from the floor. I was doing push-ups. Good Man was calling me "US Marine!" because I was doing them full. I let my elbows drop. "What?"

"Yeah, you won't have that bone problem that women get, because you are strong. And you make me exercise and you make me eat fruit and you will make me live a long time."

"You married me because I'll make you live longer?"

Good Man nodded, "Yeah... What's wrong with that?"