Dear Folks,

Hallelujah!   My wife just finished the final assignment of the fourth course in her eleven course master's degree in ESL.  She will have a one month rest before the next trimester begins.  That means I will have some relief.  I do the majority of the childcare around these parts, what little we do, trying to hit just the necessary spots.  Children clamour for everything under the sun, and we generally now respond only to the most dire sounding warning calls, to which we've become pretty good at recognizing. 

The weather was uncommonly warm today.  When I got home from an outing with My Flagship and My Clever Lad (which included a decadent stop by the local Krispy Kreme Doughnut Factory), I helped my wife clean the house for awhile before she remembered to tell me that some jugglers had stopped by and were juggling just outside waiting for me.  I teach juggling here, club passing, to a fair number of professional clowns and actors.  I enjoyed passing clubs with two of them this afternoon for awhile. Then I came inside with them and we drank some coffee, they the real stuff, me, just decaf, like some cockamamie wimp. 

Now, My Flagship is beside me doing some writing.  I have to study with him because he does not respond to his mother.  He just "goes catatonic" when she fusses at him.   She uses the traditional South Korean sledge hammer style of motivating the children to study, and My Flagship does not perform his best under such duress. 

Well, I have nothing witty to say.  Mornings are better for me, to bring out the best of my thoughts, more clearly.  In the afternoon, I just teach and get through to bedtime as best I can.  I am kind of tired most afternoons. 

I did get a nice photo album in the mail to my mother for Christmas.  I paid 30,000 won to get it sent by a faster method, maximum of 5 days, to ensure it got to her by Christmas.  That felt good.  She should enjoy it immensely. 

Love, Padooker

P.S. I ate one glazed doughnut.  My Flagship had a blueberry filled, and My Clever Lad had a Chocolate glazed.

Dear Folks,

On the Run

Rest:

Today I have no pressing external responsibilities.  I can devote all my time to whatever I want, which means my family and my students, in the way I see fitting.  I can perhaps even catch up a bit on the WSJ.

Everyone needs a rest day.  I find that I need more rest time, to be more productive.  I was wearing myself out "teaching" at that elementary school, sitting there, speaking fewer than five minutes out of 40, and it wearing on my conscience.  I don't mind hard work, the sort I have at my home where I teach privately, where I am speaking between 90 and 95 percent of the time.  That is normal for me.  My voice wears out, but my conscience is intact, for I know that my abilities are being well utilized towards the good. 

Unruly Schools:

I will not try to help the public school system here again.  Some things are just irredeemably evil, beyond repair.  I have learned my lesson at school this year.  Eugen Rosenstock-Huessy noted that war is where one side refuses to listen to the other.  I recognize war at the place I used to work, in that some of the teachers with whom I shared a classroom have become utterly closed off to all suggestions.  They do not speak English, but that is no excuse because I can say anything I need in Korean well enough for them to fully understand it.  They began politely and became increasingly jealous where I proved more popular with the children, and better at getting them interested in learning.  So, walk away from war. 

I got two of my three kids to school by 9:00 a.m.  They ask you to come by 8:30, but classes do not start until 9:00.  This represents one early manifestation of a central problem in public schools here.  They do not respect the students' time.  Students need more autonomy in determining how to use their mornings, particularly when they are not technically in class.  Oh, they sit there, but no class is in session.  School leaders here much fear a loss of order, while the whole place is in perpetual chaos if you measure just how noisy students are, vis-a-vis American students.

And this is not my judgment since I haven't viewed American classrooms in a long time, and not widely, but merely the judgment of Korean educator friends of mine who remark in amazement just how orderly U.S. classrooms were, with quiet children who never cut up like the South Koreans do, on an uninterrupted basis.  My children's teachers at our old school, where I taught, remarked that our children were the only ones who actually obeyed and were quiet.  The South Koreans ran everywhere, hitting one another and taking each others' things. 

Photo Book:

I must make a photo book for my wife and mother, with photos of our kids.  My wife loves them, but does not get to see them much, particularly when they are outside, or at school plays, special functions where they shine.  She dislikes me spending money on her for presents.  Too, she revealed her ignorance of the normal path of financial development we can expect for our family, when she said we would earn less money in America.  Any Christian worth his salt in faith will add more value to society as he ages, up until he begins to become physically and mentally feeble.  However, he should never consider retiring, merely always working to manifest God's kingdom on earth.  And as he adds value, unless he does something to stop the pooling of economic value, such as a vow of poverty, he can expect to gain more equity throughout his life. 

Financial Growth:

And he had darned well better direct it well to those who need it, family, and those under his charge.  We earn about half of our money passively now, and my wife (I don't know how she does it.) is blithely unaware of that.  Some comes from our apartment rentals (about 850) a month, while other income comes from the appreciation of our home and the apartments.  I appreciate that. She does not.  And she does not calculate that into our earnings.  Too, if we sell our home here and move to the U.S., we would have about 320 thousand dollars to put in a bank.  She imagines we would use that up in snip-snap fashion, within two years, and be broke.  Little does she take into account the fact that in the first year, we would live predominantly on interest income from the cash in the bank, particularly considering that we would have the cushion of income from our two offictels. 

In my bidnizz training I was taught to assess the most likely scenario, the best case and the worst case scenarios.  Then, we had to assign a weight to each, considering the likelihood of each occurrence.  For example, the expected delivery date of a baby is the middle of a two-week window, but that one date has only a 4 percent likelihood of being THE date of delivery, when nature takes its course.

Wifey looks solely at the worst case scenario, and weighs it with a 100 percent likelihood of realization, screams if you discuss anything else.   Or used to scream years ago.  I gave up trying to discuss financial things with her, actually forbid it until she learns to sit down and be civil.  She hasn't and shows no inkling of changing.  Hence she is one who will most likely continue to live a life of pleasant surprises.  

She staunchly opposed me buying two officetels, as well as this apartment, in the most expensive neighborhood in town, and then as staunchly opposed our move within this apartment complex to one of the largest sized apartments they have, 6 years ago, when it was evident that our family was growing well.  In each case, she must have been pleasantly surprised, when the values rose, our earnings rose, and our children had more room to play.

She refuses to consider that I would most likely begin earning a bit of labor income in the U.S. by preaching (at some small, countryside church for maybe 50 bucks or so per sermon) well before I finished my full three-year seminary basic degree. 

Nor does she consider that I am a human being, a father with a conscience, who will naturally become increasingly uneasy to the degree we eat much into the principal of our cash during the 3-year study period, and probably begin delivering pizzas on the weekends and/or teaching math as an assistant teacher (or even take a couple summer courses to get myself certified (if not certifiable), and change from a full-time seminary student/part time teacher to a full time teacher/part time seminary student.  

Nor does she consider that Obama is here to help us out ... well, not so much he, as the Democrat congress unleashed, particularly if they hit that magic 60 barrier, to where they have a super majority.  We should stand to get thousands a year "back" in taxes as a rebate, and have no tax liability to boot. For her a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, and she cannot consider a move to the U.S. until she sees the law come into effect.  That, and the same thing for the free (or very cheap) national health care (and child care for our youngest ones) that would kick in soon, if Obama adheres to his campaign promises.  To her, his word is no better than mine.  She has to see it to believe it.  To that, it would serve her right to have married one of her own breed, another Doubting Thomas. 

Another thing she refuses to assign any value to is my board game and my books that I have written.  They came out well, and merely need some marketing, to which I'll have more time to give now that I am not in that elementary school anymore.  If you give them merely a conservative 5% chance of becoming profitable, multiply it by any reasonably small percentage of the target market, and then multiply again by another factor to represent the potential profit, it is nothing to sniff at. 

Housing.  We will probably live in the houses on campus; it's so cheap) and buy a home to rent out to others until I finish seminary.  If it is profitable, I will buy several homes, gradually over time, and rent them as well.  The interest should be deductable.  She does not consider that passive income, either, though it is not really all that passive according to my brother and best friend, both who rent out properties, considering all the nitpicky things you have to do.  And, you have taxes and repairs to pay for.  Still, it's another way to make money.  My wife does not consider just how many ways there are to make money, when you have saved up a little capital.  Too, in the coming years, cash is going to be more highly regarded in the U.S. economy, for I suspect we will have deflation, like Japan had for about a decade.  That is not good.  But sitting on a pile of cash in those times makes your cash relatively more valuable.  She does not recognize that factor at all.   Nor does she recognize that it may be that we could snap up a few houses at a greatly reduced price, vis-a-vis historical pricing trends on houses in that area. 

Elementary School near Seminary:

The elementary school there is better than the school where we will buy a home, across the county line, where land taxes are lower. Hence, we will live on campus, and pay a meager 670 dollars per month for a 1700 square foot, 4-bedroom home.  She wants the 1000 foot, 3-bedroom, 510 dollar per month job.   I say pay 160 dollars more per month and get 70% more space, for our burgeoning brood.  They provide washer/dryer, fridge, but no sofa or beds.  Fine. We can get them for free used, very used.  I've done that a lot in the U.S. and in South Korea.  Nobody, and I mean nobody, pees on mattresses as much as we do.  If anyone throws out a mattress, you can bet your sweet bootie that it has less urine than any mattress we throw out.  You can't get near them.  Frankly, I don't wear a mask when I take them out, on our babyjogger cart, but I think any reasonable person would.

Confessions:

I was born with an small-than-normal bladder and occasionally wet the bed up until I was 6 or 7.  My children must have inherited a diminuitive bladder from me.  I try to stop them from eating around 8:30, and then get them to bed by 9:00 or 9:30, read the Bible until 10, and then sleep, waking them up some time between 12:30 and 2:30, to urinate in the commode.  It tires me out to get up and then not be able to sleep again so easily, but it is better than me having to clean a mattress and a bunch of blankets the next morning, or during the night, as I am wont to do.   

Right Wife: 

One thing my wife is right about is that I have spent too much money on nick-knacks for our children, little snacks here and there as we walk about town, as well as cheap toys and DVD's and videos out the proverbial wazoo baloo.  I must become ever more thrifty, and have steadily over the past few years.  Yes, I spent nearly 500 dollars on Christmas this year, nearly all on DVD's, but they will contribute to our children's English acquisition, just as those in the past have, which I bought from Amazon (to a tune of nearly 4000 smackers now).  Too, unarguably, American DVD's have proven an unparalleled babysitter for when I am teaching in the evenings, keeping them quiet enough that I could maintain demand and make some moolah, keep our brood in feed and raiment. 

To me, that is a small investment to keep me free from having to talk to my rug rats when I don't feel like it, and still have them pick up some English while they are stuck here in South Korea, Land of the Morning Calm. 

However, the basic equation for Christian financial growth is one my wife utterly ignores, adhering to a bleak, vastly different economic outlook, one that is based in fear and a lack of faith.  If a Christian trusts God, he will become increasingly thrifty as he matures in Christ, and increasingly satisfied with less, while taking his pleasure in serving others.  Service of others is what brings income in the traditional sense.  He will rarely go out to eat, preferring tastier, more nutritious home-cooked meals, as we do, and the more comfortable home surroundings.  He will steadily learn to get more utility out of his possessions, using hand-me-downs, and fixing things, passing things around in his Christian community of friends. 

Once you get past 10,000 hours of focused service in any one skill or area, you are a master of that, and can expect to receive masterly compensation.  (A Gift or Hard Graft by Malcom Gladwell)  That happened with me here in teaching privately in my home.  I now have perhaps a bit over 30,000 hours and am just about ready to move on to something else.  I feel like I can give better service by working less (actual labor hours) and contributing in softer ways more, spending more time with my family, listening to the children speak (something I haven't been able to do well, always having my mind full of too many duties, many external to the family), and studying theology more.

My wife allocates zero value to the investment we have been making in her earning potential.  I have supported her fully while she did her master's degree in English literature here at the local branch of the national university, then for two years while she read intensively, mostly from my subscription to the New York Review of Books, in her pursuit of a nearly perfect first-time-taker TOEFL test score (657 out of 677 possible points), and now while she plows her way through a master's in ESL at an American university, which incidentally is surprisingly good. 

I read some of her texts and am amazed at how much ESL theory is catching up with the best practitioners, who learned most of their expertise by trial and error and much love, daily winging it in the trenches of 65 hour teaching weeks.   She expresses serious doubts as to whether anyone will hire her after she finished her master's degree.  I tell her, jokingly, to the contrary, that I shall have to suddenly become much nicer to her, given that all our property here in South Korea is in her name, and then when she suddenly becomes the primary bread-winner, bringing home the bacon, as it were, while I study and preach for a very meager income (Baptist preachers very gradually grow their income, if they even do ... too many forsake the calling) as it would be an ideal time for her to divorce me and leave me out in the cold, twisting in the wind, high and dry.  That's just a joke though, make sure you understand that.  We believe God hates divorce, and we also believe that if two Baptists follow God, there will never be any reason for divorce.   

More Mister Nice Guy:

Actually, I am VErrrry nice to her, always have been, and all the ladies in Noori Apartments gossip all the time about how lucky my wife is.  Their husbands do virtually no housework and spend very little time with the kids.  They talk about how they never see my wife.  Most of them do not know what she looks like, as she almost never goes out with us.  I take the kids shopping with me all the time, and ferry them to the doctor. 

Too, I neglect not to tend our garden, thinking it is good for her to water the grass about twice a week.  I think that is important, and take time to do so despite my flagging interest and her protests of fatigue.  And truly, though she sleeps many more hours than I, perhaps double my take, she is the one who is tired most of the time.  So, I take the kids out in the evenings when I do not teach, and on weekend afternoons, to let them skate and play in parks, giving my wife the house to herself for several hours at a stretch, several times per week. 

She could have done worse in picking a husband. I catch her off her guard to come hug her for a spell when she is asleep, on her back in the living room, beside the little baby, My Little General.  (Right now, My Clever Lad, the 4-year-old, is playing on the floor with power ranger dolls beside me, as I type.)

Bleak:

I do not believe Wifey gives full credit to the financial blow our 5th child had on us. Too, the kid takes a lot of time and energy that you just don't consciously credit.  This summer, in actual payout, we were knocked down a bit more than 2000 dollars, if only because we paid 950 dollars for this special DNA protection thing, stem cell thing, where they have a bank to keep your babies blood from the umbilical cord, and can use it for up to three of our family members, also guaranteeing a match from their whole population bank in the event your needy family member is not a good match with the blood from that baby.  This could save much in medical costs in the future.  That, too, has economic value, which she does not count.  It should be added to our accumulating investments, but is not.  All she sees is costs and consumption upon consumption, ad infinitum.  This is  bleak view to be sure. 

Hogwash:

She does not consider that every month we slog forwards living on the edge, trying to consume less, feeling like we can't squeeze out another dime, she is making progress, moving close to the day she could expect to be hired in the U.S., then Wham!  Suddenly, our ability to earn labor income doubles.  Bam!  Just like that!  And then Daddy has just that much more time to give to our children and his studies.  There is great value in that.  Her education is a very real investment, and should be calculated into our naturally growing assets, but is not included in her book.  She sees us as becoming ever more impoverished, with, as she said last night, our income steadily declining ... presumably unto the grave.  Hogwash is all I can think.  She does not know that word, but I am sure if I had said it, with proper intonation, she would have divined the basic meaning. 

She is right to assume that there will be higher costs in raising teens, but she is a hawk to absorbe every potential cost on the horizon, and includes very liberally, so starkly different from her standard in estimating income. 

Well, that's a little steam for me to blow off.  Good.  I enjoyed that immensely and feel better for it.  I'll have to do this again sometime. 

Love, Padooker

Christmas Spending:

                DVDs:   

For My Flagship:  "The Cosby Show"   Season Eight    $27.00

                             "I Dream of Jeannie” Season Five  $32.53

For My Dandelion:   ”The Scooby-Doo Dynomutt Hour - Complete Series"  Henry Corden $22.99

            "The Partridge Family - The Complete First Season"  Danny Bonaduce; DVD; $23.99

For My Clever Lad:  "Darkwing Duck, Volume 1"  Hamilton Camp; DVD; $24.99

For Wifey:  "Cheers - The Complete Eighth Season" Ted Danson; DVD; $20.99

            Weeds:  Seasons one, two, and three:     about $54.00

Dear Folks,

I don't know what time it is, but it is in the afternoon.  My Clever Lad is seated in my lap, playing with a car.  He  makes it a bit more difficult to type, but his presence is worth it.  We watched the movie Speed Racer together earlier today.  After that movie, we began watching Car, by Walt Disney Company.  Having bought the movie here in South Korea, we do not have any way of knowing whether the English name is Car or Cars, singular or plural.

Now, My Clever Lad is driving his car on my right forearm.  Too bad I don't have one of those beefy forearms, with rippling muscles to make ridges for two or more lanes for his cars.  I've been doing more pull-ups and push-ups lately, for the past few weeks. 

Arm Wrestling

This young whipper snapper science and PE teacher at my elementary school told my son, "I am stronger than your father."  He's not actually.  But he won't let me prove it decisively, refusing all wrist wrestling invitations.  I never got that in America.  If a man bragged, at least according to my memory, he had the cojones, or just a sense of male duty, to allow his counterpart a chance to disprove him.  Not so here. 

But, his puerile attitude, while perhaps not the best for his digestion and path of maturity, was great for me.  Having arthritis, I have made an agreement with my wife to never go more than ten seconds in any wrist wrestling contest.  I love to wrist wrestle and don't mind losing.  If another man can beat me (or woman), the so much the better for him or her.  Arm wrestling is a great sport.  There's nothing quite like it.  And it is just so darmed democratic because you can be old, fat, and out of shape from drinking much beer, and still wrist wrestle fairly well, particularly if you're big or accustomed to sport from your youth.  Too, nobody who loves wrist wrestling ever feels badly about losing a fairly fought contest.  It's great just to participate.  And too, there's lots of skill involved, or more than meets the eye, little things you pick up from experience, how to shift your weight, draw his wrist into your shoulder, where pretty much you've got him beat. 

I'm a little peeved, but not really.  I had to give up coffee a few weeks back.  Giving up coffee, in one sense was easy, but is no fun, no sense of accomplishment even, just something that had to be done in order to continue upping the ante on fatherhood duties.  My wife keeps spitting them out, which adds to her debility, while I keep assuming a greater portion of the childcare and cleaning duties. 

Easy Street

Good news, though.  She will be finished with her fourth course of her ESL master's degree program, from an American university that is accreditited in our area, North Carolina/Virginia, such that once she finishes her degree, she must take one test, the Praxis, offered by the state, and then has her license.  Once she does that, I'll be preaching on easy street, or relatively so. 

The Democratic take over of congress in the U.S. has made it much more likely that we could emigrate to the U.S. of A. here pretty soon.  Plane tickets are low in the 4th and 5th months, as well as in the 10th month.  That's when South Koreans do not take vacations much, and demand for air travel is low. 

With five kids, it is no small thing to fork out the dough to get my brood moved to the U.S.  Yes, the kids can probably get in for 80 percent of an adult ticket, and The Little General (nearly 4 months) will probably squeeze by for free. 

Carry-on Wiggler

If not, I can always dose him with an infant sized sleeping pill or two for good measure, and promptly sneak him in in a carry-on bag, out in front of God and everybody, the best way to do anything questionable.  But, I think they know that and that's probably why they make it free anyway, to mititgate the likelihood of cheap sneaks like me trying to pass a baby off for a carry-on tote. 

Wine

Another thing that ticks me off slightly is that I have cut back on my red wine habit.  Previously I tried to drink 200 millimeters a day, at least 4 days a week.  I was nonplussed about taking a second drink, at 100 millimeters, or even 200, for a total of as much as 400 in a day.  That was my way of life.  I never got drunk.  That's a totally different kind of drinking.  But the point is, though I do it for my health, I also have been able to glean a distinct sense of relaxation, as the warmth spreads throughout my limbs and down my back.  Know Whut Ah Mean, Billie Jean? 

But I have decided that I must drink only 100 millimters per day maximum now.  That sucks in a very mild way, and only when I think about it.  But what it represents is obedience, that I have trained over the years of my life.  It is a sure thing as soon as I decide it that I will follow through with it and do it, and that is precisely what sucks, the full realization that I have relinquished just one more little freedom. 

Discipline as Mild Curse or Irritant

From all my running training, though I never made more than a pittance of money here and there in small town road races, I did garner one thing, and that is a steely resolve of discipline.  But once you have that as an embedded trait, it is nothing to you.  It's not impressive. It's just there, and you can surely resent it, or not exactly fully resent (It's usefull when you think of the alternative.), but just wish longingly for a wider range of freedom. 

I honestly acknowledged that it was better for my sleep patterns to have but 100 millimeters a day.  As much as 200 prevents me from sleeping consistently.  I have to wake up one or two times during the night to carry my four big children into the bathroom to urinate, to avoid having to clean up a wet blanket, bedding and mattress.   I was gifted with a small bladder, wetting my bed until age 6, and I am sure they get that from my side of the family.  But it helps to limit their last meal to 8:00, with our bedtime being 9:00.  Seven o'clock would be ideal, but we can't manage that.  That's just out of the question. 

Too much is happening around here all the time.  I teach late at night on some nights, and the children do not obey their mother.  If she could speak English better, I think they would pay attention to her and respect her more.  But she is a South Korean and I've never met one who had mastered English, or nothing anything like the typical well-educated German or Russian. 

Anyway, I will be able to go back to 200 millimeters of red wine in a day once I move to NC or Virginia and have time to exercise.  Exercise makes me sleep better.  I did so much exercise when I was young I don't feel like I need so much now.  I have a bunch stored up in me, whatever it is that's worth something.  But I do need to sleep well, and coffee had to go.  I also noted that I might be able to drink a little coffee, one a day, no more than two or three a week, when my children become more independent and I work a lighter load, or just don't have to wake up so early in the morning to cook for my kids and get them dressed and packed for school. 

Hallelujah! 

I love finishing things.  I can imagine the visceral pleasure I'll harbor when I pack up to leave South Korea, drink me one of those tiny bottles of free red wine on the way, what with my whole burgeoning brood in tow, and everything I own stowed in the cargo below.  Yes, I do just love finishing things ... perhaps even regardless of how well or poorly I fulfilled all of my goals.  Yesterday was my last day of teaching

According to my seminary's primary theology text, "Some think they cannot minister if they do not receive a paycheck.  But we minister because we are gifted, not because we are paid.  Thus all Christians should minister, volunteering to do what their gifts qualify them to do." Page 395, A Theology for the Church, Daniel Akin.

I felt like I was not using any of my gifts in "teaching" at the elementary school where I have served since March of this year, so we mutually agreed to cut the contract a month earlier than it normally would have finished.  I have never had a better employer, and imagine we will remain friends indefinitely.  He, too, is Baptist.  He has two children and a wife.  He beats the tar out of me in padook, and has never studied formally.  He just played a lot as a college student and earlier. 

I feel very good about spending less time working now in pay jobs.  When I first came to South Korea, I began working 60 plus hour weeks of teaching.  I did that for years, then about five years ago began tapering off.  Three and a half years or so ago, my wife stopped answering the phone, in order to help the demand for my private teaching to peter off. 

Busted Knee:

Since I busted up my knee playing volleyball with my elementary school faculty, who pushed me to join them after I refused politely several times, wanting to take my daughter home because she was unhappy there, I have not been able to exercise much, and have grown the consequent gut.  It seems to have found a happy medium, not to big not to small, but nonetheless ever there, an offending presence.  Saint Paul was always dissatisfied with the thorn in his side.  Me? I'd rather be limber from doing yoga, light as a feather with lungs of fresh breath from a daily habit of running, and a gut that cuts paper.  Now none of that is mine.  I am more of a blobbish form, with a slight imprint in the blog of what I used to be.  But the blob is not growing, there's that.  It's just there.  And I can't get rid of it.  I biked two days in a row this week, sort of hurt my knee in the process, and merely ate more food in the evenings.  So there you have it.  The gut is here to stay, unless I decide it is actually bad for my health.  And just how big is bad?  It's ugly alright, but what percentage of body fat do you need to where you need to invoke discipline and watch your weight, limit your food intake?  I would think 10 percent is perhaps the cut-off, but that's just off the cuff.  I've heard that abdominal fat is more pernicious to one's heart.  That, and I have a heart. 

Uncommonly Kind:

The other day, my wife noted that I would be 69 or 70 when our Little General graduates from college.  That sounds like a lot, while 47 (now) sounds like nothing to me.  I don't even think 50'll faze me.  Forty didn't.  I feel like I could easily kick my own ass if I were to somehow fantastically able to go back in time and get into a fight with me from twenty years ago.  I was way too kind back then, even though vastly superior in cardio-vascular fitness.  I would get out of breath within 60 seconds of wrestling, but it would be over by then.  Yeah, forty was nothing.  Fifty will be the same.  And I'll probably be saying that when I kick the bucket. 

I'm getting serious about getting rid of things here in South Korea.  I found a taker for my huge steel frame with file cabinets, that supports my 180 centimeter aquarium.  A good friend of mine who runs his own import/export company expressed interest in it.  I told him that raising fish in your work place is correlated with lowered blood pressure.  We both have a mild problem with that.  That's another reason it would behoove me to work less and have more time to exercise. 

Once I go to the U.S., I will study full time.  That will be possible with the sell of this house.  Oh, one more thing, my friends.  Buy gold, little by little, just a tiny bar a month at the bank.  Don't depend so much on the U.S. dollar in the future. 

Love, Padooker

Dear Folks,

<== Earlier Days <== Mister Fleet A Foot, My Flagship

Philosophical Mish Mash

Without further ado, let me just say, "Ohhh the anus!"  Cheese is not good for my anus.  Actually, it is probably not so much the cheese as a host of contributing factors that syngertically coalesced in some climax of constipation that hath graced me with three days of hard turds and, today, low and behold, a bleeding nether portal, as I cast my lot on the throne this morning. 

First let me say that's what I get for being forty-seven.  Younger readers take note.  This is perhaps best understood as the diametric opposite of what Cat Stevens crooned in one delightfully lazy lyric lilt for "Harold and Maude,"  "You're still young, and that's your fault."   So if you are young, you had darned well better stay that way.  

This obviously begs the question, "Well, then how do I stay young?"  something only a young person would be stupid enough to even consider asking himself.  Well, oddly there is a valid answer to that.  Focus on the moment.  Don't let it get away.  Anything worth doing is worth doing well.  Don't allow yourself to be a part of any program that is not for you, and only you can determine whether something has "you" written on it.   

That degree of integrity snakes back your virginity for you, redeems your lost innocence.  You'll age and never knew you did, then poof, you're gone ... but boy were you here.   And your effects linger, beyond all that people could know.

LOL In Spades

My Clever Lad got hurt, hit by the boomerang.   My Shining Knight is growing into a regular Bruiser of a lad.

Well, enough philosophical mish mash.  I didn't get on the yah-yah to write this.  Rather, I am having a good morning.  Tuesdays I do nothing.  That said, I take care of children all day.  My youngest, the Little General, got picked up for his daily day care stint at noon, and will return peachy two hours later, deposited at our door.  You know, more people live in my apartment complex than lived in my county when I was a child.  That says a lot about the availability of things, and lo, the convenience.  Need a pizza, or any other rare service during the middle of the night?  Call the appropriate place and they'll drop it in your lap with a napkin and a smile.

I remember reading about some beer delivery service in the US before I made my expatriate move twelve years back.  I thought it a grand idea, and even considered opening up a vice shop, to deliver every manner of pastry, expensive ice cream, alcohol, etc., but couldn't quite accept it, even though I had prospered with delivering pizza through graduate school in Boone, NC.   I just don't feel like giving people ice cream.  I would rather teach young people to play padook or coach a bunch of young people in some sport in my spare time ... like I have spare time.  LOL in spades.

The New Man at the Helm:

I have a new wallpaper for my computer, this photo above of our new president elect, Barak Obama.  They look good together.  I had not realized that he had children.  I don't get much exposure to politics here in South Korea.  But I felt sure Obama would win.  He had people believing he was the low tax alternative between the two remaining candidates, after the others were weeded out.  Americans are predictable, they always go for the one they perceive will charge them the lowest tax, and then (as in the case of Bush senior), they kick them out of office when they break a campaign promise raise them ... very picky.  Picky, picky picky, that populace, at least when it comes to taxes. 

The Low Tax Alternative:

My finance professor in grad school pointed out a study which revealed that we have had about 18.5 percent of GDP for government tax receipts, back over many decades, despite many changes to the tax code.  What that means is that Americans are very resistant to paying more than a certain amount.  You tax them higher in any category, and they just quit business investment altogether (stop the income), and park that capital in tax free municipal bonds.  Such intractability is very effective at keeping government in line.   

It turns out that going into the final election, Americans perceived Obama as being the low tax guy, between the two.  Obama campaigned on low taxes, and was much more successful than McCain in building the perception (31 percent of voters) that he was the lower tax candidate, versus only 11 percent who perceived McCain as the lower tax candidate.  Hence, the WSJ article "Reaganism is not Dead"  (http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122628429302812557.html?mod=googlenews_wsj).  

This new US political administration looks like it is going to rob Peter (most of my childhood friends) to pay Paul (moi).  I have five kids, and our US income, once we migrate, likely next year, will mean we fit the bill just about to a T.   Currently, we pay 150 dollars a month, about, actually 140,000 won per month.  The exchange rate keeps jiggling.  And we pay nothing for child care, two hours a day here, thanks to government subsidies for a 3rd child, or more, in the family.  In the U.S., we would have to pay 900 or 1000 dollars per month for health care, and 600 to 800 per month in child care, probably more like 800.  

If Obama Keeps His Promises:

If Obama keeps his promises, those figures should drop.  We might pay nothing.  That would make it easier for us to move.  Here, I pay only 15.3 percent for U.S. self-employment social security tax.   If we moved to the U.S. next year, or the year after, I would be getting a "tax refund," even though I would pay no taxes.  I have asked many of my old friends (and siblings) if I should cut them a check each month.  

  * * * * * * * * * *

The Following is an excerpt from Peggy Noonan's Wall Street Journal Column, Declarations: "America Throws Long," 14 November 2008: 

[Peggy is one of my mother's favorite writers.  And the WSJ was my father's favorite paper.  I like about anything to read, and read very widely, though I feel like I get the most out of my theological readings.]

"I've been traveling in New York and Texas, and it's all Obamarama all the time. People mention Sarah Palin (there was appreciative laughter the other day in Houston when a speaker said wistfully that the Alaska governor may soon discover the power of silence), and now and then President Bush (not often—people move on with a finality that is brutal), but the topic is Barack Obama. There is continuing national curiosity at and discussion of the mystery of the man—what does he think, what will he do?—coupled with a great sense of expectation, and a high sense of anxiety.

 

The reasons behind the preoccupation are obvious—new president, new directions—but one new aspect sharpens it. A week and a half after the election, the idea has settled in that America just threw long. People hadn't heard of Mr. Obama two years ago, they know they don't really know him now, and they just gave him the presidency. America threw long, and America is praying for a dazzling reception. People want him to catch the ball."

Dear Folks,

   I am at school now, on a break, so I'll write this in patches.  I have ten-minute breaks, and enjoy them immensely.  I have a good relationship with the vice principal of my elementary school. Right now, he is in front of me practicing his golf swing, inside the staff room.  The weather outside is splendid.  I could not imagine better weather. 

Of course, I love autumn.  The skies are crisp and blue, with wisps of white clouds.  This morning, as well as yesterday was quite nippy.  When I was young, I favored summer.  Now, the fall is best for me.  I don't know why.  I do know, though, that I am less active, and savor my time indoors, with a friend and a cup of jo or tea ... even though I have recently decided I need to cut down on my caffeine intake. 

It wasn't like I was imbibing that much anyway.  I would guess that I ingested about 1.5 cups per day of coffee on the average.  Still, that was too much for me, what with my busy schedule and need for rest on demand.  It's not like I imagine for my retirement, where I could just sleep a bit later or take a nap about any time I please to make up for a lack of sleep one night.  With that in mind, I drink no more coffee for now, and nurture the hope that I might enjoy the stuff again in my retirement. 

My mother does.  She is now 79, having just had a birthday.  However, my father remained quite sensitive to caffeine all his life.  I may be just like he was, and have to find some other pleasure.  And that would not be so hard.  I enjoyed blackstrap molasses mixed with brewer's yeast, and then hot water, to make a nice rich tea, when I was in Boone, North Carolina.  I loved the rich, thick taste. 

Love, Padooker

Edit:  Yep, we don't eat so much anymore.  Food prices have skyrocketed here in South Korea, going out the proverbial roof.  In response, we just buy less food.  Buying less food, at least in our family, precipitates less food consumption.  Consumption be done about it?  Well, I dunno.

Still, we get by.  Naturally, I cut out the fancy food first.  We stopped eating the little 200 millimeter individual chocolate milk cartons.  They bind them together in groups of three and used to charge 1150 won last year for our favorite kind, where this year, they flat out charge 1800, and don't even throw in any of the little digits in an attempt to eke out a little more from the consumer.  To that, I suppose they just lost all reserve and are now absorbed by their own inflation, and unvarnished for it.

I pay 4000 won for 1.8 liters of plain white milk, not entirely blue john, as that is paradoxically more expensive, but the low fat version, which seems to be an acceptable trade-off between health and price.  The fat milk is still the cheapest, but I am not pouring that down my throat.  We're not that bad off just yet. 

But I have noticed that I stopped buying black rice to spice up the color in our rice cooking keg.  Stopped that about a year or so ago.  And if that don't beat all, lately here I have gone to mixing my natural brown rice with a kind of brown rice which has been partially polished, on account a how come why for it is about 40 percent cheaper, if not more.  If you need a more exact measure, let me know, and I'll see what I can round up for you.

And we're not just cracking down on food consumption; we're cracking down on cavities.  After an embarrassing visit to the doctor last week, where each child had at least one small cavity, that is, except duteous My Shining Knight (who does everything the right way like some goodie goodie from up North, a carpetbagger, if you will).  So, now if any of my children want to beg and get past door number one (Moi) to eat some of the students snacks, which include chocolate at times, they must agree with their mother to brush each tooth a certain number of times with considerable force for each block of chocolate they eat, and it just gets to be so much that I heard my daughter say this very afternoon, "No, it's not worth it."   Heh, heh, heh.  That'll learn'em.

Dear Folks,

I got My Shining Knight lined up to attend a school in our neighborhood, just across the street.  Up to now, he was attending a school on the edge of town, where I teach two to three days per weeker.  It looks like he will be happier here, and have a chance to make a friend.  Several years ago, when my oldest child attended here, he was bullied fairly much. 

However, we have reason to believe things have changed there.  South Korea is continually evolving, trying desperately to catch up with the West.  Social sciences and education have been relegated to a back seat position these first few decades of this rather young democracy (beginning 1987, lastest constitution, overthrow, whole new government).  Only now have a majority of citizens become just about fed up with the dehumanizing educational methods of the onerous monopolistic public school system. 

All along my students' parents have decried the public education system, with the wealthy sending their children to the US for what they deem a decent education, as soon as they acquired the wherewithal.   But recently, it seems that the erstwhile hefty, and politically significant, lower classes have divulged a considerable portion of their numbers up the economic ladder, as free market societies do so inimitably well. Now, these are finding their voices. No longer is a basic command economy styled education system to their liking.  Rather, they want something more humanistic and tailor made.  Too, they smell blood.  They went through the dehumanizing system (because their parents felt they had to, no other choice), but they want better for their progeny, and they now sense they can demand it and get it.  Of course public education leaders are running scared, which too, is their inimitable yellow wont. 

My Dandelion began at this friendly neighborhood school just last week and has had a blast.  When she walked in, it was like some gushing homecoming, as students of every stripe poured out the two doors into the hallway, heedless of their teacher's words, lost in the moment.  They all knew her name and called it over and over, boys and girls alike.  I've seen nothing quite like it, and was evermore pleased that it was done out of love for my daughter.  She is well known in this neighborhood, and I only then discovered just how well known she is.   They have about ten classrooms of about 35 students for each grade level. 

We will keep my kindergarten boy, My Clever Lad, and My Flagship out at the countryside school for now. 

I done a bad thang.  Two or three days ago, late at night, I was surfing Amazon, and I what clicked on the ole "Complete Yore Order, Dude" button, which is my wont, and on that order there was this one item, a ninety-two dollar item, the complete works of a music group, Led Zepplin, which I am now listening to.  They was on sale, you see?  They was marked down, don't you know, from a hunnert and somethin' all they way down to my piddlin' ninety smackers.  So it was all on account a that how come why fo I saved pert near a hunnert dollah in one fell swoop punch a that there button. 

I might add, wifey don't see it that way.  I don't know just what I'm a gonna tell her.  Any suggestions?   I have thought about the "not to be missed cultural experience" aspect of American culture.  You see my kids are all A-merry-cans, and they gots this thing where they speak a bit of the Korean while they ain't never set nary foot down on any soil other than South Korean Heuk(soil).  

So, I figure it would be a bad thing for me to up and die (no plans there) and they risk being left here, unable to get into America, and unable to know a few inimitable cultural icons, symbols, and features.  After all, every educated American does share some specific cultural content, and everybody who is anybody in the US of A knows about The rock band which defined all rock before and after it.  The band of all bands, like it or not.  Too, my wife would never know what to buy, being wholly unfamiliar with American culture, particularly from the times before she wuz up and born.

Love, Padooker

Nice Shoes Ye Got Thar, Dude!

Dear Folks,

Humor Note for my ESL Students:   This is primarily humor.  Don't believe, or memorize, everything you read.  You may find a few spelling mistakes, some colloquial expressions, and some irregularities that are not colloquial at all, just a mess, intended to represent a very slightly deranged, uneducated mind, replete with the typical prejudices of such a mind.  The reason it might be funny to an American is because we actually know people somewhat like this.

  It's good to be back on the Xanga Diary.  I have been berry berry busy.  I am working on a paper, checking the English, as it were. 

  My children are in the den with Mamma.  She just got back from a bike ride.  She exercises daily to cut down her weight after this latest baby we got off of her.  He's doing well, too.  He ain't never been sick a day in his life.

   It is now My Dandelion's turn to put in a DVD on the TV screen.  She had the good sense to choose The Flintstones.  My Flagship had dominated the TV with two epidsodes in a row of some BBC animal in nature thing. 

   I don't know what I must have been thinking when I bought some of the nature things we have in our's DVD collection, as it were, you know, and all.  But it seems like we get too much of that nature stuff.  I guess I went a little overboard buying BBC things, British documentaries, on account a how they talk fancy, figured it would be good to get my kids to talk like that. 

   I suppose I don't mind all that much my kids watching a little of it.  But it seems like they've gotten too hitched on it here lately.  I'll have to intervene on that one, set'em straight, as it were.  The Flintstones, though, is alright.  They learn a lot of morality stuff with that.  And it's always good to keep up to speed on your morality. 

   I'll just tell you like I tole this ole boy up in Sparta ... That's what I like about the old sitcoms, plus a couple modern ones, like the Simpsons; you can really learn your morality on those old shows.  We watch Andy Griffith.  Why, my oldest son has plowed his way through all the seasons of TAGS (The Andy Griffith Show) several times over.  The oldest three have seen ever episode of Gilligan's Island many times, as well.  Yeah, kids can't get enough of the golden oldie sitcoms, the way it is today. 

   My kids don't cuss, don't know how to, ain't learnt it in school, on account a how come why for they goes to a South Korean school.  I reckon they cusses in Korean at those schools, but my kids don't really speak the Korean.  That's good, too.  I speak it but I gots to, to know what people is a sayin'.   But my wife and I thinks it good that our kids is on a good schedule for they moral development.  

   You know, we watched the Archie Bunker last night, All in the Family.  You know, that thing is not originally American.  It was based on a British show, like a lots of our good stuff in the America.  We thinks we are so original, but we don't know what we're talking about.  Do you know that 8 percent of Americans gets themselves a Visa ever year, and only half of thems ever uses it, goes out the country?   Ain't that a shame?  That's a cryin' shame. 

   Now if you was to ask me, I'd say, "It ain't fittin', it ain't fittin', it just ain't fittin!" nohow.  People in America oughts to get out more.  You know, several decades ago, we used to see more foreign films and read more books by authors from other countries.  Not anymore.  We have become so darned insular that we don't know what's good for us anymore.  They's these here films who what wins the Bear, Berlin, Pusan, Cannes, and other foreign film festivals, (fluffy things, they) and the winners don't even get any show time in not a nary US cinema. 

   Now I know I used to like the Italian movie, Cinema Paradiso.  That's back when I was a cockamamie jive turkey.  I'm sure I wouldn't like it now, but anyways, at least I did get out and see some foreigny things.  That was back in Athens, GA, when I lived there in 1990.  That was a good time.  I liked the Bluebird Cafe, and the lawn on campus with the big oaks and brick buildings.  I'd like to go back there. 

   I'll tell you, I changed a bunch over the past years.   I was sitting here thinking just this afternoon how I did one of the stupidest things a man could ever do.  I and two friends did jumped from one big tall rock column to another at Castle Rocks on the East Face of Grandfather Mountain. One guy was the best jumper, and the biggest dare devil.  We'll call him "Steve."  He went first.  He wasn't married and he had nothing to lose.  We wat'n high.

   What he did was, he got hisself a running start from the flat top, which was prolly seven or eight yard across. He up and leapt easily to the neighboring column, landing several feet beyond the near edge.  I followed suit, after a good size up stare from the precipice.  That was probably the stupidest thing I ever done in my life.  I can't believe I did that.  I sure wouldn't a done it if I had known I would a made so many fine babies.  

   Anyway,  I started to think about whether I'd done a good job in rearing my boys, so as to make them more sensible about things like that.  Which bringeth us back to the moral issue at hand, as it were.  Just yesterday, we went to church and had a Sunday school with a wonderful old lady, a native speaker of the English from the America.  I b'lieve she lived out West, in the California.  Now she don't, though, on account a how she is with us.  Her husband is the preacher of the English service and she handles the children's bible study after the worship service.  We used to go eat muffins in the church coffee shop downstairs, just kick back an relax, as it were, me and my buddy Kook-shin.  However, as it is, we got onto this here Bible study and it's a darned good thing.  I tell you.  We got into that. 

   We went the first time last Sunday.  And you know, they had it all along, but we sort of never really thought about it, thinking, I guess, like it sort of didn't apply to us, being just for the South Koreans.  But it ain't.  It ain't at all.  It's for anybody who what wants to study the Bible in the English.  She told a good story to kick it off and my littlest one (not counting the baby ... babies don't count here until they make it past a hunnert days, anyhow noways) sat there entranced all over.  I figured he would up and be ready to get out of there, the library where they do it, within a few minutes, and we'd mess around outside while the bigger kids did they're thing.  But no, he sat there the whole time.  That, and my buddy, Kook Shin, said afterwards to the lady that he got more out of that, could understand more of the English than the sermon!  

  That does it, I said to him, if we is up against a dilemma to where we have to choose just A or B, we would choose B, meaning B, the library setting Children's English Bible Study come after A, the English sermon.  Plus, they go at it with 50 minutes of shrill modern day Christian songs, and have any of you ever noticed how the newer Christians' songs, for the most part, just suck?  I mean do any of youeunes goes to church anymore? 

Now just a second, I'm sorry I said "suck."  I don't usually say bad words, and you can read back in my here weber blog and see that for yourself, but I do love church and this is one thing that just Tee's me off no end, how fancy pansie young people have got into the church and distorted the whole musical end of it to their liking.  Is that what we are going to raise them up and die for?  I think not!  My Dandelion can already sing off a good rendition of "Just a Closer Walk with Thee," and "Swing Low Sweet Chariot."  We sings that together whenever we walks outside on a good day.  Well, we sing it other times, too.  She's got a good voice, and that's what counts, you know.  My voice?  It's all shot. I teaches too much.  People here feels like they just gots to learn the English, for what it's worth.  I tells them that it ain't really got me nowheres, but they just repeat after me, not really knowing what they is saying.   And on account a how I dress real nice, they pays me a lot.  They thinks that because I am whitey and old, balding to back it up, that I must be some good English speaker.  Yeee-aaah ... Right! 

  My Clever Lad just sasheed into my new office (I changed things around.)  and plopped down an orange ball of pumpkin food, maybe mostly cooked pumpkin pulp mixed with the flour.  I dunno.  But anyways, it is one of they traditional snacks here.  (They just learning how to eat chocolate bars and potato chips with salt.)  They eats a lots of different snacks, which just come to think of it, might just make a good motif for my next weber logger entry.  Yep, I better go fetch my camera, even though it's on its last legs, and currently lost.  But I can always round up lost things of mine within a few minutes if I give it a good enough go around here, no account a how come this here is one small house, yessirree.  They don't have much money here in the South Korea, or didn't when they made my neighborhood, no sirreebuddy!

Well, I'll have to just do that later; looks like I can't lay hands on it just now.  It ourt to be around heres somewheres.  I'll take a better look later.  I'm the Mamma around this house, as it were, meaning I am the one who always knows where everything is at.  That, and I know every child's habits, what he likes to up and off with, and where he likes to take things.  I remember My Shining Knight had the camera last, a couple of days ago.  "I del you I will find it."  That's the way they say "tell" in one part of India.  You pick up all kinds of things around here, good stuff. 

But yeah, they're all in the den, getting a good moral education.  And they need that.  I don't mean to say that watching documenteries about animals is a bad thing in and of itself, as it were.  No, not at all.  Rather, I jus think it meet to points out that everything  you see (and this is what I tell my kids when they seem to be getting too enamored of this wonders of nature things), everything you see in the animal world will be dust in the future.  Nothing is gonna make it outside the time we got left under this here Sun.  It's gonna blow up and that's that.  We're gone sooner if God has that as his plan.  But if we is up to snuff on our Bible stuff, the way I del dem, then we gots our ticket.  We will be here forever, in some form or other, and we know it'll be a better form that what we got now.  So I say, eat now and enjoy the chocolate because you got a better bod a comin'. 

But no, the animal and nature stuff is good in it's own limited way.  And it's good for the kids to learn how to care for something.  After all, they have to learn how to be stewards of the earth and manage all these animals.  Add to that, if they can learn something about animals that is useful to humans, then all so much the better.  That ties the animals into the eternity of our lives, if only inasmuch as they are of some value to us.  And you know, like The Last Emperor had to learn, it is a pure blessing to be of service to others. 

I had to break it to my children yesterday in one big blurt that Maggie didn't have no soul.  That was our dog.  She up and died on us a couple of years ago from some disease that makes you bleed out the anus, that after everybody got to like her and all.  Well, all the kids.  I never liked her.  My wife never liked her.  (The only dogs my wife likes are the ones on her plate.  Welcome to Korea, where by doggies,  Dog-on-a-plate is Good Doggie!)  The kids took care of Maggie.  It was they dog. 

But that's the thing I likes about cultures.  They ain't one culture no better'n any other.  What you see in one culture, like here how they hang the dogs up by they back legs on a clothesline, slice and strip the skin off and beat them to get the hormones out in the flesh before they up and die on you, gotta be quick, you know -- why that ain't one nary bit worse'n cuttin' up a pumpkin for yore jack-o-lantern, is it?  Not if you're a modern day scholar who what says real sanctimonious and smug like (funny seeing as how they don't never study no theology, just a bunch of anthropology to stretch that out to moral stuff) and all, how "All cultures is equal."  and each one gots its own values which is good enough for it. 

Well, I gots to get to bed, my kids is asking, each one getting in a good word early, asking if I will sleep next to him.  My Dandelion just hit me up after My Shining Knight just went out a here.  Wifey waltzed through, thinking she was holding the baby in the Den all this time while I was getting work done on this English checking, uhuh.  Not this time.  I did me some Dairy Writing on the internet.  Yessirree Buddy!

Love, Padooker

I'll probably add a little to this here later, kind of prune it up a bit, throw in some pictures of the new arrangement in my teaching rooms and maybe a few shots of South Korean traditional snacks. I eat'em all, even the stuff on a stick that is made of chicken butts (little rings a muscle, one after another, juicy, too), things other foreigners won't touch with a ten foot pole, can't get past they cultural upbringing.  Them's the ones who what can't stay here in The South Korea very long, too stuck in they ways from the cushy America. 

Dear Folks,

Above I have photos of my parents when they came to visit us here in South Korea.

Ooo.  This'll be a short entry today.  I have work to do, and the deadline is closing in on me, nine days hence.  I am checking the English on a paper for some academics here. 

Here we have My Flagship and My Dandelion, left to right, leaning against My Arm. 

Still, I'd like to procrastinate here a bit, as it seems to help me get going, ready to tackle that thing that is no fun.  I disagree with the content.  It is a city planning paper on the construction of science parks (little imitations of Boston Route 128 or Research Triangle Park, and they talk about "government contributed" this and "government contributed" that, as if there were no such thing as a research group which ever got off the ground without wholesale bucket loads of government money. 

Of course, that's fine and peachy if you are a socialist country and don't mind funneling your tax dollars to create jobs high paying fun secure jobs for the highly educated.  But that rubs me the wrong way. 

You know, when Bill Gates got his start, it wasn't from a government grant.  He had no such job security.  And deep down inside, I feel like they are wasting their money; it seems that there is something very important about the starving artist situation which works as a cauldron to bring out the best in a creative effort.  In a globalized world, only the best will do, no?

As I cleaned a decaf coffee cup for me this morning, I glanced down into the unforgiving sink, looking at the dirty dishes, wishing I had the time to do a "mercy wash" for my beloved brood.  They are alloted one bowl, one plate, one cup, one spoon and one fork a piece, which they must be responsible for cleaning.  We know which item belongs to which child so no one may use another person's things.  The point is to encourage them to either clean their stuff or be hungry, ostensibly a strong motivator. 

The thing is, the drink water without a cup, with their extended lips stretched out to catch the falling water from the Cheong Soo Gee (water cooler purifier), spilling the excess on the floor, getting Mom upset.  And we catch them eating with their fingers from the common bowls in the fridge, sometimes hiding.  That, though is leveling off, abating.  They are learing to follow the rules. 

Still, I feel motivated to sometimes whisk through the kitchen and clean everything up during the middle of the week.  It is Tuesday now.  You see, Mom cleans everything once each week on Sunday morning while we are away at Church.  That is grace.  I just would like to have time to give them a little extra, a mercy wash, so to speak.

My Clever Lad and I at School

Well, we have one more thing we cannot throw away now.  My Clever Lad, only four years old, apparently remembers his grandfather, who died in a small plane crash last year.  He had a small tractor in his hand, a wind-up thing, which has a track to go with it, one which is approaching the tatters state now, but which he still loves.  My wife and I had talked about tossing it several times.  After this morning, it becomes clear we cannot.  My Clever Lad said he wanted the track.  I said "OK, we'll try to find it."  He countered, "That's the track Grandpa gave me."  Oh. 

He still remembers his grandfather.  I doubted he would remember him, since he was 2, nearly 3, when he died.  But as his other grandfather used to say when he was 1 nearly 2, "He understands everything."  Even though he could not speak, he knew all that was going on and understood much of what was said.  It was uncanny.  And his maternal grandfather kept smilling, laughing, and pointing that out.  The Clever One.  We will keep the track.  It folds up into a book, made all of cardboard. 

Love, Padooker

P.S.  Just before logging in here to Xanga Galore, I watched a trailer for "Revolutionary Road," with Leonardo DiCaprio.  I had thought it might be good, on account a how come I liked the big ship movie so much, but the trailer made me feel like the characters were just spoiled young people, unwilling to accept the basic responsibilities of being adults.  So much for adventure.   

Dear Folks,

Reasons for Breeding 101:

Well, Smell ... after much caulking, caulk-removal, re-caulking, filling, emptying, filling (read "wet floors" and "breached bedtimes") the large classroom show aquarium is finally fixed, to the distinct displeasure of my faithful abiding wife. 

I reckon if Sweetie had her druthers, all animals would exit the house forthwith, and be told in no kid gloved terms to be careful lest the door hit them on the way out. 

My Flagship (oldest son) is now setting up the new arrangement inside the aquarium.  I always knew there was a good reason that I had bred.  Now he does much of the work I used to do.  I never was on great terms with spiders, unlike the way he is. 

He catches them and feeds them to his praying mantis.  I draw the line at allowing him to let spiders crawl about on his palm the way one of his buddies does.  Still, when Mom or My Dandelion shrieks "Spider!", I do not rise from my chair, but rather send My Flagship to the rescue. 

Revlife Baiting:

I often read Revelife when I log in to Xanga and from time to time i respond to their questions.  However, I can't help but sense that many of the questions are not genuine at all, but rather are a form of baiting, and perhaps even contrived for pedagogical purposes. 

That makes me all the more warm-hearted towards and appreciative of my True Blue Xangan friends who never bait, and seem to have no agenda other than the sharing of the love in their lives.  To that I say to myself a hearty soft and warm fuzzy, "Hallelujah!" and "Amen!"

And you know, it may not be true at all, meaning many of the "baiting questions," as I see them, may be merely written from young people who genuinely are that messed up, clueless, and honestly, at least in part, desire to know some way out of that mess.  But somehow, I doubt it ... lived too long, can't no more swallow big chunks of meat hook line and sinker.  

Dear Folks,

ESL Students Humor Warning:   This post contains some humor, which you should search out and prepare to take with a grain of salt, as it were.

Above,  you might see evidence of a play my children put on for me a few weeks back.

Today we go to a special church service.  Each 4th Sunday, we have the opportunity to hear a Brit speak at a local Presbyterian church.  We are Baptists, but enjoy hearing this chirpy, chipper fellow.  Too, it is not so often that he speaks "out-of-turn," or says things that are antithetical to Baptist understanding of Scripture.  So, we don't get too bent out of shape all that often.  Rather, we sit back and enjoy the experience.  That, and they have a nice meal in the basement after the service, which my children enjoy.  Add to that the soccer field across the road, and we have a splendid day at church.

This morning, my wee little slew of children watched the tail end of the movie my wife and I so rudely interrupted last night at their bedtime, some Disney-esque thing about robots.  With one neighbor tossed in the mix, they polished off three huge peaches which I had peeled for them. 

I'm back now, after suiting up My Clever Lad for the outdoors.  Lately we have had our first cool front, after the heat of August and September just lingered around, seemingly unable to find the door, as it were.  My Clever Lad needed long pants and a long-sleeved shirt, plus shoes this time around.  He was loathe to leave his slippers and sandals here, having become quite used to them.  This little cool weather snap should pass, with warmer weather this week.  But by Halloween, the cooler weather should be here to stay.  

I am looking forwards to Thanksgiving.  We have only once celebrated it this year, when an American friend came over with a large apple pie from COSTCO two years ago.  Since then, I began attending the COSTCO and my family likes it.  Why, we might even see the need to deign the place with our obnoxious presence just this afternoon.  More likely, we will run out of time, get home from Church at about 3:00 and then with me having to teach at 5:00, be flat out of time. 

I hate to feel rode hard and put up wet, which is what happens if I go full steam taking care of the kids and teaching, cleaning all day 24/7 without a break.  To that end, I bought a thirty-dollah DVD package yesterday replete with a so-trumpeted "360 minutes of recordings!" to edify me about "the Rome," a BBC broadcast as it were. 

That smaller child is not a girl, really.  They just dressed him up that way.  He is none other than "My Clever Lad."

I realize you may now be wondering, on the edge of your seat just what all did lead to this, an abject principled betrayal to my frugal savings pattern to extract us from this here South Korea.  So, OK, Out with it.  I'll just tell you like I tole this ole boy up in Sparta, "What it was was ... the HBO DVD series entitled 'Rome' got me all worked up about learning about the Rome, sir."  So there, that's it, nothing more to it.  That's the bona fide Alpha and Omega as to how come why for I up and decided on the proverbial spur of the moment to plop down said thirty-dollah for that there DVD pedagogical entertainment set, as it were, dude. 

Right now, what with having already run up against my one-cup-a-day real coffee limit, and that before Ten Aye Emm, I have beside me a cooling cup a hot cocoa.  I makes my hot cocoa with the honey and the straight up cocoa powder, no added sugar, as it were.  Liberal honey supplements compensate for any lack of flavor, lost due to the sugar shortage, and all is healthy in my little world, no?  That's one of my cooking secrets I don't mind sharing.  In the future, I would like to have my own little talk show, but that'll never happen, due to chilling magnitude of what we call "pre-fizzling demand" in the ole entertainment business. 

If I were less a pansy, I would have already begun sipping from the hot cocoa to my left, but my lips are somewhat like a virgin to hot drinks yet ... sorry to say.   As much as I like the idea of enjoying coffee and whatnot, I must admit that I am not so good a drinking hot drinks.  Too, I admire heavy coffee drinkers; it is as if they are immune to the ravages of the world, throwing down their huge quaffer-loads of coffee, straight down the back of their undaunted gullets. 

For my part, any ole cup of coffee is a big deal, makes me feel so indelibly like some believable facsimile of an authentic, bootstrapping, lunch-box & briefcase toting modernistic cubicle adult that I cannot but squirm in my eternally excited seat.  But to get down to brass tacks, as it were, woe be it unto me that I seem to have inherited the blues genes wherein I cannot handle caffeine, alas, my dear reader.    

Aside:  I feel it encumbent upon me to admit a lingering suspicion of mine.  It seems that my chair here has been lowered, perhaps by some conspiracy among my family and students.  Who knows?  One thing is for sure is that the staid chair in and of itselt candidly betrays no evidence of tampering, or as it were, self-destructive, even of the gradual wear and tear sort, amenable to routine maintenance, as it were. 

Nope, "what we have here is a [n abject] failure to communicate," an object lesson in Family and Workplace Communication Missteps 101 (FWCM), or so it seems, as I could swear by a stack of saluting little gung-ho soldiers, eager to up they smug bragging body counts, that  nothing overtly has changed about this here captain's chair, other than the apparent height, as it were. 

And to be fair, I must admit that when I sits down, I detect utterly no height difference.  For that matter, when I stretch my back and sit up straight, which admittedly is not my wont, why I feel as high above the keyboard as ever, if not higher. 

But I warrant you, the dead give-away, the tell-tale sign, which elicits unending suspicion on my part is the way the chair appears as I approach it from any other sector of the room.  So what gives?  Only time will tell.  But I have unending patience, which is how I seem to wear down my opponents, allowing the Good Lord to stoop down and perfunctorily pick them off one by one, so to speak.   

Well, I'll have to let this alleged stunted chair conspiracy rest for the time being and get my children bathed and off to church.  My good buddy, Kook-shin, is on his way over here to help me schlepp the burgeoning brood to church and back. 

If only they weren't so boisterous and just full of themselves, happy to be there with slippy neat-eating-grins, when they walk in, they evoke images of the "Mongrel Horde" of yore, being royal half-breeds replete with the so-called "hot blood" of two groups of primitive fighting peoples:  A) the Mongols and B) the Saxons. 

I need to get them bathed now, though, as Wifey comes down hard with her mandate to wash all heads of hear every Sunday morning, whether needed or not.  Good habits dig deep roots, she says, or would if she knew the English well enough. 

Love, Padooker

P.S. Perhaps later I will do justice to this post and add a photo of my compromised chair, at which I currently sit. The salient point, as I see it, is that conspiracy or no, I am on to them.  They won't get away with this.