Oh how the turns have tide...or rather How the tides have turned...

If anyone can correct that horrible misquote of a title I would be eternally grateful. If you can't quite get the reference here are two words to give you a little clue: Michael. Scott.

I found myself in another country last week, more to come on the wonders of being in a warm tropical place, when this little interchange happened between myself and one of the ladies at the market.

Me: How much for these pillow cases?

Lady at Market: 170 bhatt

Me: They are beautiful. You have so many colors. I just love your country.

Lady at Market: Ok then, for you a special price. 190 bhatt.

I leaned over to CL on my right and said slightly under my breath: Did you just hear that. She went up on the price. Wow, I'm so happy I'm not the only one.

Lady at Market, sheepishly realizing her mistake: I mean 150 bhatt.

Me: Don't worry. I actually make the same mistake all the time when I bargain in Mandarin.

Lady at Market at first doesn't reply but only smiles at me since her English is limited to prices, colors and the very useful phrase "come and take a look, you will like" clearly doesn't understand what I have just said but understands I am not upset and am somehow attempting to make her feel better then lowers the price to 120 bhatt.

Lesson of the day:

5 silk pillow cases from night market: 600 bhatt

Feeling good that other people make the same mistakes in your language that you make when you try out other languages: priceless

My achilles heel...

The year was 1990, or maybe 1992, and teenagers across the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex had yet to face the devastating loss of Y95. Our ears were accustomed to the faster dance sounds of Paula and MC as well as the soulful ballads of the legendary for a summer Wilson Phillips, when suddenly across the air waves we were assaulted with a song that originated in the pit and somehow made its way into the pop history that is the early 90's. You will find it on any monster ballads CD. You will find it wherever bad music is played. A song by a band named Extreme. The longest, whiniest most hideous sounding songs in the history of all songs...More then Words. (It could be debated that the Beatles' song The Long and Windy Road is a possible tie for first place, but we will leave that to another blog post.)

If you were fortunate enough to reach puberty in the early 90's then you were fortunate enough to probably learn the lyrics to Ice Ice Baby by heart. It is possibly that you embraced this song only because your ears were so numbed to all that is right and true in music by the hideousness of the song More then Words. I loath this song. If I ever become a double agent for a secret government branch and was held captive and tortured for information my captors should just put this song on repeat...I will tell them anything they want to know. I would rather listen to nails on a blackboard, or Beijing opera, all day long then listen to More then Words. It makes me skin crawl. I have been in department stores trying on clothes that I might actually like to buy when this song has started playing. I left the dressing room quickly and never looked back. I am not sure how else I can say how much I despise this song. If you ever think it is funny to sing it around me and see my reaction, you are not my friend. And I will not let you read my blog anymore...cough, SL, cough.

Unfortunately the other night The Captain decided to take a break from programming to watch some funny Utube clips. He typed the word sitar into the search. Not only did he find Sitar Hero, he also unfortunately found Mike Myers signing More then Words in The Love Guru. And thus he discovered my achilles heel. I know it is not healthy to hide things in relationships. But it is also important to reveal your achilles heel to those closest to you at just the right moment. In the case of my husband and I the right moment could have come when we were in our 90's and I could simply turn down my hearing aide while he decided to torture me with his own rendition of More then Words. Please friends pray for us, the cat is out of the bag and now The Captain can torture me at any moment. I fear for the consequences. But now I must go and find something worthwhile to listen to because this blog post has put the loathsome song back in my head.

I have a lot to say...but I don't always say it...

One of my favorite bloggers recently posted a blog entry about racial diversity. I found it interesting, commendable and also slightly naive. Actually I'm not sure if naive is the word I'm looking for, but there was something about it that made me stop and read the first 50 comments posted in response looking for someone expressing my sentiments. I took about 15 or 20 comments before I spotted it but there it was. Disagreement.

I knew it would be there and I knew it would come from either: A) A person who majored in early childhood education in college and took approximately 12 hours of classes on cultural diversity. B) One of my professors who taught those 12 hours of cultural diversity classes or C) someone not white. I'm betting it was probably the third type of person because I don't think Dr. V would waste her time reading the Pioneer Women blog. Her blog reading would be more intellectually stimulating. But I digress except for this shout out to Dr. V who I personally think was a wonderful professor and I am now saddened by the fact that I think I was to intimidated to ever tell her.

There are a lot of things I think about blogging about. Some are public service announcements. Things to the extent of "Just in case you were wondering if you should post your the birth video of your first child on facebook, don't." Others are feebly formed thoughts on issues like race. Others are just dumb bumblings of how I mess up in language all the time and can barely master English grammar let alone Chinese grammar. Almost daily I compose fantastic blog entries on all of the above topics, usually while washing dishes. But then I don't actually blog. I'm not so worried about the first three reasons I don't blog: 1) lack of time 2) lack of a computer with a proxy 3) stupid idea to start with. But the fourth reason I don't blog really is something to think about. I don't blog sometimes because I'm scared of what people will think.

I'm scared that someone who did post her birth video on facebook will read my blog entry and be offended. I'm scared if I talk about my bumblings everyone will know what level I am as a language student. (As if they didn't already know.) And I'm afraid that talking about things I think about frequently, like race and culture, are issues that friends will not understand or disagree with. So I don't talk about them.

I think that's ok. No one needs to be told through their friends blog not what to post and not post on their facebook page. A blog isn't really the type of medium that invites personal interaction and dialogue which can promote understanding. That would be a phone call. It's more of a public proclamation of thoughts. Or maybe just a public proclamation of cute baby pictures. Since we don't have a baby, all I'm left with is my thoughts. Which are not as cute.

So today I desire to stick my neck out and say one thing about race in response to reading another person's blog entry saying that discussing race should be avoided. Race is often, not always but often, connected to something that I find precious. It's connected to culture. I don't think race needs to be the first thing talked about when a person meets another person, but to ignore race in an effort to be "color blind" means that a person's cultural background is ignored. I think culture is precious because it is a part of each of us and to pretend we are all the same is really not true. We are all people, but we are unique in our personalities, our cultures, and skin colors. I like that and I like talking about it because I like people. I just wanted to say that, it's ok if you don't agree. Or if you have a suggestion to help me refine my perspective, that's good too.

On another interesting note because I happen to be white American and my husband happens to be Chinese American we get a lot of reactions in this Asian city where we live. People here ask about race pretty frequently and usually at the beginning of the conversation. In my husband's observations it's because of a desire to figure out what type of relationship they can have with you. In my observation I agree with him. I also think it's because they feel confused by us. Maybe I'll explore this topic more in the future. Maybe I won't. But I do just want to observe that difference between one Western perspective on race I've encountered recently vs. the perspective I encounter here pretty regularly.

Another interesting question. If you have time go and read this blog entry and then write me a note. I am really curious now to know if you would buy your children dolls that were not your own race.

Stand back ladies...

There are many reasons that I married The Captain. Some of them are quite spiritual like his leadership, his desire to see those who don't have to access truth have access to truth, his willingness to listen and work through things. But the truth is I married him so that I could have a front row seat to watch this action.

Please follow his blog instructions and listen to Miley Cyrus while reading his lyrics, you'll thank me for that tip later. I will also admit that this blog post might be particularly funny only to those who actually ride their bike in front of KFC daily and get a large dose of loud American pop music. And stand back ladies, there's only one seat in this front row....

I don't want to become my Mom, but she is pretty cool...

A few years ago at Christmas time my Dad commented "you girls all talk just like your Mom." The "you girls" was of course myself and my two sisters. And I, the receiver of the intended compliment, decided to spend the rest of Christmas trying to talk not like myself but whoever else I could think of that didn't resemble my Mom. This should be no offense to my Mom, I was just super crabby that year. Since then I've begun to face the facts, I will slowly over time start to be more and more like my Mom. Someday I might even have her name, Mom, as well as her puffy hand veins.

But this year since I am not crabby I think becoming more like my Mom is kind of cool since after all, my Mom was pretty cool in her own way. And one her cooler Momisms was her cookie tin. As long as I can remember my Mom has always had an island in her kitchen where she can chop stuff and get food ready. And as long as she has had an island there has always been a cookie tin on the island. Inside the cookie tin you can count on finding something sweet that you will want to eat. Sometimes it's something she made. Sometimes it's something she bought. Sometimes it's something someone gave her. But it will always be there.

People know about the cookie tin. My Dad comes home from work, he opens the cookie tin. I remember HT would come over after school and she would always open the cookie tin. Life is just a little nicer with a cookie tin. When you come home after eating Mexican food and the cookie tin is there to greet you and help reduce the onion taste in your mouth you know that life is good.

In our apartment here in Asia we do not have a cookie tin. The Captain does not know that he wants a cookie tin for Christmas, but this is what he wants. Do you know how I know? Because this is what he asks me "Hey, do we have any cookies?" "You know those snickerdoodles you made were really good, are there any left?" "Man, I really want to eat some cookies." "Wow, if this whole room were full of cookies right now I wouldn't be mad about the mess, I would just eat them." See, he wants a cookie tin.

And so, Mr. Captain, for Christmas this year I am getting you a cookie tin. It won't always be full of snickerdoodles and other homemade cookies, but I promise you I will try my best to keep it well stocked. There is just one thing I ask on your part. Please do not eat all the cookies in one day. I'm asking for two reasons: 1) You'll get sick 2) If you eat all the cookies in one day, not only will I be becoming my Mom, but you will be becoming my Dad.

It's 11 pm...

Tonight I fell asleep on the couch at 8:30. I woke up around 9:30 when the captain told me it was time to go to sleep. Around 10:30 I got up once again because I couldn't sleep. I probably should have just stayed on the couch. And although A) it's not the middle of the night B) I'm much more lucid then lately when I've blogged and C) I'm intimidated by blogging after discovering a friend's blog that is totally beautiful, I've decided to write a post.

I blame the weird sleeping patterns on two things: 1) stress and 2) language learning. One of my classmates today told me that as he falls asleep at night random lists of words will run through his mind. I could completely commiserate since approximately 58 minutes ago this was what was running through my mind as I tried to go back to sleep.

si ge yue, ni zhi dao, wo zhi dao, yi hou, ran hou, yi qian, yi bian, yi bian...

Which translates to...

four months, you know, I know, after, then, before, while, while...

Apparently sleep is really good for language learning because the words you learn get lodged into the wrinkles in your brain, probably creating new wrinkles as well, becoming a part of you and then eventually spewing from your mouth in either intelligible or unintelligible sentences meant to convey meaning to people around you. At least this is how I explained it to my classmate today as we commiserated together about the words running through our brains.

It's 3 AM...again...

I woke up almost an hour ago because I dreamed that I was being given something that wasn't mine. I tried to take it and give it back, but then it stuck to me and started burning. I woke up trying to peel it off my chest and put it on the floor next to me. Somewhere in my dream battle I turned on the lamp by my bed and blinded myself by looking directly at it. After an hour of tossing and turning finally my husband said "please stop moving around, please stop moving around, please stop moving around." Being the astute women that I am, and recognizing that if someone starts to speak in threes they must really mean it, I took the hint and got up to make a cup of tea.

Why can't I sleep well? It could be a number of things. Anxiety. Questions in my mind not answered. Lack of resolution that seems to drag on for months. Exhaustion. Too much language crammed in my brain. Shouldn't these things help you to sleep well?

In honor of my last 3 am visit to my blog here is a list of things I am thinking about:

1) My friend TW has been blogging her grateful list based on a challenge from this blog. It's pretty convicting and challenging to choose to list 1,000 ways you are grateful for the life you have been given. I really appreciate TW's vulnerability in doing so. I feel more grateful for my life each time I read her list. Not because her life is so horrible and it makes mine look great in comparison or anything like, things are going pretty well for both of us, but just because it reminds me to be grateful.

2) I kind of wish I had brought a copy of It's a Wonderful Life to watch this Christmas. Or maybe Elf. I love Christmas movies.

3) I have a teacher named M laoshi. No matter what she is doing she approaches it with the utmost urgency. If you ever saw her take attendance you would know what I mean. I'm not sure if this is her personality or because of her role at the school. She has the task of monitoring all the liuxuesheng's which has to be difficult since the Korean students recently broke a window at a local restaurant and ended up at the police station, the Pakistani students never come to class on time, h1N1 has not bypassed the foreign students building and this American student is a little teed off about the suggestion of class on Christmas day.

4) I love M laoshi. She recently asked me to be interviewed on TV in 普通话 about American holidays. Before I knew it I said yes. Partially because I love her, partially because she asked in 普通话 and I am not sure if I really understood what I was getting into. This was a really miserable experience. (Oops, so much for gratitude). I now have one standard answer for all requests involving recording equipment that is not my own...NO. This will also make my husband happy since he receives the brunt of my stress.

5) M laoshi is someone I am grateful for. M laoshi is someone who I hope knows Him one day because she can see the difference in her students who know Him too. I hope I am one of those students.

6) I don't like to step on anyone's toes who might feel different then I do, but since I feel strongly about this I will just go ahead and say it. I equate Sarah Palin with fingernails on a blackboard. And I am completely put off by Amazon listing her book at the top of the Kindle page. How am I suppose to browse the bookstore in peace if I have to see her book listed? I suppose that Barnes and Noble would do the same and I should overlook this slight. But since B&N offers delicious beverages at outrageous costs it helps me move on to bigger and better book browsing more quickly. I'm sure Amazon would also extend this hospitality to their customers, but since they are an online company it does make it tricky to offer anything hot.

8) It's easy to forgive Amazon very quickly...they give away a lot of free Kindle books. And for that I am especially grateful! I heart you Amazon, your Kindle and your free Kindle books. Please keep asking publishers to give away free books...the reading public needs them!

9) I love my husband. I know I sometimes pick on him in my blog, keep him awake at night, and complain to him too often. But don't judge my actions, judge my heart!! And it is full of love.

It is now 4 am and after an hour of blogging, chatting and browsing I am a little sleepy. I hope this is the last of my 3 am blogging. These posts come out a little to raw for my taste. I promise to move on to blogging about happier things, like something funny that happened at the market or something interesting I read lately. Or maybe I'll just continue to make lists.