Amanda Takes Off...

I stay in contact with one person from elementary, junior- and high school: Mark. I stay in contact with one person from grad school: Caro.

And then there's the one college friend I stay in contact with.

I met A my first week on campus at Agnes Scott. She was a year ahead of me.

I didn't like her. She was way too perky and jumpy and just...damn.

Well, A and I were both philosophy majors and we got to know each other and became good friends. Final semester, our senior year (I finished early), we spent at least one day a week eating lunch together—on her lunch plan, because I was an off-campus student.

After graduation, A moved to the DC area for grad school. We stayed in touch via email, but lost contact in Korea. We got back in touch and met (with the husbands) last month. A and her husband were married one week after we were, for much the same reason: he's military and they needed to get married before having a wedding. When we met, we fell into our old friendship right away.

Tonight we met (with Good Man; her husband was busy) in Old Town for dinner and a visit to the waterfront.

At the end of the night, A and I hugged. She turned to Good Man. Good Man stared at her and started laughing nervously. "Heh. Heh. Ha. Heh."

She grinned, "Are you going to hug me?"

"We hug more in America, [Good Man]," I said. I remember when my mom wanted to give Master a hug. I didn't know the word and demonstrated on her. Master nodded and hugged her, but he was uncomfortable. I didn't even learn the Korean word for "to hug" until Good Man taught me the 뽀뽀뽀 song (안다).

Good Man looked for all the world like he wished he were anywhere else. But he nodded and leaned in for a hug.

I need to teach him the American Goodbye Hug. He doesn't know what to do with his arms.

Amanda

Good Man

Father and Son

Me A and She A
If you read those phrases fast, they almost sound like Korean name. 미에, 시에?

Waterfront

Waterfront Trash

Yummy Taffy at $9.50/lb

Shadow Play I

Shadow Play II

Irony

From an AP wire:

"Now that the South Korean puppets were so ridiculous as to join in the said racket and dare declare a war against compatriots," North Korea is "compelled to take a decisive measure," the Committee for the Peaceful Reunification of Korea said in a statement carried by state media.

Leading

Sunday night Good Man and I went to an Orthodox Jewish wedding of two atheists.

Like the last two weddings I attended (excluding ours), I didn't understand a word of what was going on.

During the reception I dragged Good Man on the floor to dance. ("Drag" is actually a strong word. Encouraged by pouting and "여보" in that girlish Korean whining voice is more like it.)

We were slow dancing and I said, "Who's leading here? Me or you?"

"You, just the way I like it!"

Good Man can't dance. At all. I mean, I can't dance (the last time Mark and I danced—right before I left for Korea—he asked me who was leading, in fact). But Good Man really can't dance.

Of course, it makes sense. Koreans don't dance at weddings. Like me, Good Man doesn't really like clubbing. And what about school dances, prom? To quote Margaret Cho: We didn't have prom in Korea......only war....

We weren't planning on dancing at our wedding, and now I know we won't dance, because he would be so uncomfortable. But he was such a good sport, and by the end of the night he was getting better.

This wedding, like every other American wedding I've been to, featured the bride dancing all night and the groom standing around, chatting with friends.

(Side: I wore the Convertible Dress from Vicky's and it was great! I had to readjust after several hours, but considering I hadn't even tied it into place? I also have to wear a tank or cami under it because my bust is too large. But it was very comfortable and I don't think most people realized I was wearing a tank under it. Sizing runs large. According to the size charts I needed XL, but L fit better.)

"You are flawed," Good Man said.

I looked at him, hurt.

Good Man didn't notice the look on my face. "You are wrong because..." He ticked off reasons my argument was flawed.

When I was in Korea—where I was not a native speaker—I almost always remembered that Good Man is not a native English speaker. Here—where I am a native speaker—I sometimes forget that.

Now, which flaw number would that be?

Vague: Korean

Last night I was studying my new Korean lesson. I'm learning 모모했더니, which is related to 그렇다.

그렇다 is an evil word. It makes about 20 linking words in various forms. Think of it as the Korean version of "for" or "to."

I frowned. "How come you use the same with a slightly different ending for so many words?"

"Well, you have many words in English, too."

"Yeah, but they're different. And, so, but, thus, therefore, then... They're not all variations on the same root word."

Good Man spread his arms apart and smiled. "The beauty of Korean is vagueness."

Good: Our Marriage, So Says the Fortuneteller

Good Man and I chatted with Mother and she told she went and got 사주 (fortunetelling done with the four pillars) done on us. We've been expecting this for a while. I had assumed she was just not going to do it, since she's Catholic.

Koreans traditionally use saju to help decide if the couple will get married. If the saju is bad, good luck getting the parents to approve.

Apparently the fortuneteller said our marriage will be good. I said, "사주 사람 저는 미국 사람 아셨어요?" Did the saju person know I was a foreigner? (Note: a very incorrect sentence.)

She laughed, "Yes, yes, and your marriage will be good."

Good Man once told me if his mother had saju done and it was bad, he would pay for a more expensive, and hence "better," fortuneteller to give us a good reading. So I asked if the fortuneteller was expensive. Apparently he wasn't.

"Mother, you are a Catholic church person, and you did saju?"

She laughed, "I have to confess to the priest now."

Births: Good Man's

When Good Man was born, it was standard for babies to get an 애기수첩 (baby note) book (that may still be the case). There are notes about what to feed children (with pictures of squid and seaweed), what they should weigh as various ages, how much sleep they should get (Korean parents, you are robbing your 12+ year olds of 10 hours of sleep a night). The book is used to keep track of immunizations, length/height and weight, etc.

On the front of the book is the baby's name. In Good Man's case it's "애기." Baby.

I asked Mother about it. Apparently Good Man was simply "baby" for a month before he was given a name.

Since we were talking about births and today is my mother's birthday (Happy birthday, Mom!), I asked when Mother's birthday is. She told us and Good Man took notes. He also noted their wedding date—in January of 1981.

I looked at the date. I considered Good Man's birthday. I laughed. "신혼여행할때 임신했어요?" Did you get pregnant on your honeymoon?"

She laughed and nodded, "어, 어. 아이고..." Yes, yes, oh my...

Good Man's the ideal first child: he's a male honeymoon baby. Go 애기 Good Man!

Thin: Clothing, A Rant

"I buy one or two pieces of clothes every season. It takes me three minutes to choose. That's my style," Good Man said.

And so we found ourselves looking at clothes.

Why are clothes so damn thin now? Good Man and I went to Target because he wanted a new polo shirt. We found him two polo shirts—both of which are fairly thin. I found a men's V-neck t-shirt which I got for me (sometimes the V-necks for women are too deep—especially lately).

We went to the women's section because I wanted a skirt and I wanted to check out the women's shirts.

First off, dresses and skirts. The dresses were all sleeveless with spaghetti straps. Every single last one. What. The. Hell?

Second, the dresses and shirts were see-through skin-thin. Even thinner than the men's stuff. I would like to wear a dress without showing off exactly what sort of bra and panties I'm wearing. I must be insane, I know.

Third, the skirts—ugly. Tons of ruffles, "maxi skirts" that should be cute but...too thin. Or really short skirts apparently made for easy access.

And the thin cloth thing isn't just at Target and other cheap stores. It's hitting the labels, too. Annoying!

I am tempted to buy some nice slips and knit myself a gored skirt. I knit a gored skirt in olive green and black several years ago. Every single time I wear it I get compliments. People complain that knit skits "cup out" at the butt, but that's only if you make them too tight. They have to fit well in the hips, meaning they have to be loose.

Perfect: Black Cocoa Cookies

Today I had a craving for cookies, so I made some Black Cocoa Cookies. I got this recipe years ago, from a newspaper I think.

½ C butter, room temperature
2 C sugar
2 eggs, room temperature
1 T vanilla extract
2 C all-purpose flour
1 C unsweetened cocoa power
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
1 ½ C chopped walnuts, pecans, or hazelnuts (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 F and lightly grease cookie sheets.

Mix butter and sugar in a bowl until smooth. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and add the eggs and vanilla. Mix until just combined; do not overbeat. Scrape down the sides of the bowl again and add everything else. Mix until well combined.

Place teaspoonfuls of dough onto sheet. Bake for 10 to 13 mins or until edges begin to firm up. For crisper cookies, cool on cookie sheet. For softer cookies, cool for 2 mins on sheet and then remove and cool completely. For these cookies it is especially important to cool the cookie sheet between batches!

I ended up using parchment paper for the first time ever and holy mother of cookies, what a dream come true. No greasing, they don't spread out super thin (which is usually what happens to these cookies) and they crisped up wonderfully without overcooking. Clean up was super easy, too (which Good Man appreciated). I can't believe this is my first time using parchment paper. I'm a convert.

Tuesday night I came home from school around 4:30. I had a bunch of bulky things to carry from the car (worm bin, bridal shower gifts) and called Good Man to ask for help.

No answer.

He was sleeping.

He was still sleeping at 7:50 when I finally needed to wake him up to ask where Kwanjangnim's power cord was.

"What time is it?" he asked in a groggy voice.

"Eight."

"No!" he protested. "It can't be true!"

Since school has ended, Good Man is finally getting a decent amount of sleep. I have no idea when he comes to bed. I have no idea when he wakes up. I know he's asleep when I leave in the morning. He's asleep when I come home in the afternoon. He eats lunch at some point in between. And the bags that have been under his eyes all year are finally gone.

***

Amanda
I'm walking out of the frame, which is a composition no-no that makes this photo work.

Falls Church

Yesterday Good Man and I went for a 4+ miles walk. At one point we passed the Catholic school where a group of young teenagers were hanging out, trying to look cool.

One of the kids, a boy, made some totally nonsensical sexual comment. "I would [X] a girl if she [X]ed me."

We were passing when he said it and I said, not even trying to hide my voice, "That guy's an idiot. Which body part would she [do X] to?"

Good Man laughed and said, "Oh...! America." He paused and shook his head. "America, where 67% of drivers commute alone. Oh, look, gas prices are going up again. That is good."

Oh...! Good Man! The only man I've met who switches topics of conversation as quickly as I do.

Shadow

***

So we have a worm bin up and running in the house. I think I overfed them this week, though. I keep peeking at the worms, poking around, checking out their food... Good Man calls them my "gadget."

I also keep calling Good Man over to check out the worms. Calling him over only results in him backing away.

"As long as you're happy, I am happy. But I don't need to see."

A Mess

A Worm