The Perils of having a Multiple Relationship

I've had an off & on relationship with a few men in the last four years I've been in Salt Lake City. No matter how hard I try to get them out of my life, they seem to return time & time again. Each time they leave, I always walk them out my front door, and with a big sigh, I utter these words: "I hope I don't see you again. I pray this will be the last." And each time, they leave with a knowing grin on their faces because sooner or later, they know they'll hear from me again. And of course, inevitably, I end up calling them... again & again.

Making the matter worse is how I wait for them like a puppy waiting for its owner to come home, counting the hours, or rather the minutes. I think they get a kick out of having me wait desperately. They show up an hour or two late each time, and just when I can't take it any longer & am about to dial the phone mad as hell, I can hear their car pull up the driveway. And of course when they knock on that door, my anger turns to a whimper of sort & I open the door slowly, totally defeated, yet glad to see the familiar face.

As they rotate & take their turns, it always takes a few minutes to get reacquainted with each of them. We always start by shooting the breeze about what happened the last time they were here. It's never a pleasant conversation as it's a memory I'd like to forget. Not only is the experience always painful emotionally, but the angst I feel before & after they leave drains me for days. That's when I want to leave this house & everything in it, and start somewhere new. Each time, what runs through my mind while they are here for those few hours is why is it that I still can't find a reliable man or have a real man in my life so I don't have to call them up.

I cringe at the thought of them talking to one another. (Yes, they know each other.) I wonder what they say. It's probably something along the lines of, "That poor chick...what is she doing still living in that big old house by herself. So pathetic...when do you think she'll get tired of calling us & leave Utah?" I wonder if they talk about what their visits cost me & the fortune I've spent on them over the last few years.

Larry, who was here just yesterday said, "Don't worry. I'm only charging you for two hours." "Thanks," I said with a trace of sarcasm in my voice, but he didn't seem to notice. $400 bucks! (I really need to switch my line of work.) Steve had only charged me $150 when he was here last, but then he was only here for half an hour. He's good & works fast, I suppose. I guess I should be thankful it wasn't John. Last time he was here it was $1,500, and the time before that, $5,000! F***!

I really hate Utah. Why didn't anyone tell me the cold winter will mess me up? (I guess my ex did, but all he talked about was the weight I was gonna gain from hiding out in the house all winter long.) How the hell was I supposed to know to take the damn hose off the faucet?! I didn't last year & nothing happened! Why now?! Why me, god?! How is a valley girl from Los Angeles to know that that's a potential disaster? Seriously, how many times will I have to pull up the carpet in that damn basement of mine before I leave this house & move back to California?!? How many times do I need to call Roto-Rooter & have Larry, Steve, and John rotate through my house with a smirk on their faces?! How many?!

All that money & not an ounce of pleasure! What's the point of a relationship with men when the groans that leave my mouth aren't from ecstasy but the pain that comes from my miserly salary going down the drain, literally!

Matt, thanks for keeping me company this time. It eased the pain & for a second made me forget he was in the house.

Another Passion?

Every time I run into Mr. Wright, he comments on how stale my blog has become since I wrote about the miseducation of the American children. He is right. I've been neglecting my blog. Not only have I been busy since last August getting back into the real world of working 5 days a week, but the end of the year brought holiday cheers & no time for indulging myself in front of my computer spewing my thoughts online. Plus my mom spent a month with me here in SLC, spoiling me to no end, and I just became a lazy bum doing absolutely nothing but the one thing that led to my new passion.

So what's this new passion I speak of? Sewing! (I know, I know,my passion's forever changing on a whim, but hey, this is how I can live alone & never be bored.) A few months ago, I scored some free passes to go see a movie called Bright Star. It's a story about my new favorite poet, John Keats (Sorry Rilke, the English have such sexier accent than the Germans.) & his love, Fanny Brawne. Fanny's outfits were so amazing, the picture so beautifully shot, I ended up watching a ton of period movies while my mom was in town. I've always adored period films & once upon a time even contemplated going to a fashion school to learn costume design. Well, I just had to make one of those dresses.

I seriously was born in the wrong century & the wrong race. I simply adore the early 1800's & would have loved the life of Emma & others in Jane Austen's books. Lauren & I were lamenting how wonderful life would've been for us had we been born then...none of this having to work for a living, mortgage, worrying about global warming, but rather enjoying a quiet life in the country during the summer months reading books and having tea parties; and then spending the rest of the year in the city going to balls dancing with those dashing, eligible, educated gentlemen.

Well, I bought myself a serger & a new sewing machine, and have signed up for a sewing class online. It's not just any old sewing class, but a class that teaches you all about Regency Wardrobe making. I've already made a lovely 50's style apron for practice before I dive into more challenging ball gown I intend to wear to Mr. Wright's wedding party in May. As Mrs. Wright happens to be a super-seamstress as rumor has it, I hope to recruit other ladies & start a sewing group in my basement & serve tea. I hope to upload pictures here as I begin my journey & keep up this blog as well. Wish me luck.


Bright star, would I were steadfast
by John Keats

BRIGHT star! would I were steadfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature’s patient sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task	5
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,	10
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

1819

Why Schools Don't Educate

It's been a week since school started. Been thinking a lot about what I want to do differently as I always do at the start of a new school year. Traveling around the world & coming up with an original opera with the kids have kept things interesting, but I wanted to bring more of my current interests into the classroom. So I decided to start a vege garden with my six-year-olds & together learn everything we can about how things grow. With our own class garden, I figured I could bring in nutrition, sustainability, environment, and community (cooperatives) into the curriculum... That is until I went to a meeting that made me want to quit teaching all together.

What was the meeting about? Test scores & No Child Left Behind. Don't even really want to get into what was discussed in the meeting, but I left with a bad taste in my mouth. No matter how creative I try to be in my classroom & no matter how supportive my Principal is with the things I do with the kids, it always comes down to the damn test scores. Believe me, my kids' scores are phenomenal with the exception of a few who are constantly pulled out to get "extra" help to drill phonics & number sense.

So why am I pissed? Because half the stuff I have to do is bullshit. If I could have it my way, I would do away with stupid tests which only measure the kids' ability to regurgitate what's been fed to them, and let the children spend the entire day exploring & hanging out. Instead of me dictating what they have to learn, I want them to ask questions, inquire, and learn on their own. (I try to do this the best I can, but it's almost impossible in a public school setting.)

Just finished reading a fantastic article about education (a must read) from my all time favorite magazine, the Sun. Want to quit teaching public schools, move out of Utah, and go to Oregon or Northern California to learn the Steiner method of teaching at the Waldorf school. Perhaps then I can meet fellow educators who understand what it really means to be a teacher.

The Future of Food

As you know, I write quite often about food... foods I grow, foods I make, foods I entertain with, and just my adoration for food in general. Well, I went to see Food Inc. last night. You must go see it, but I thought you might want to watch this for free here, first. It really makes you think about your food choices & what that choice means to the world we live in.
(Click on the image tab, and then click on the play button in the middle of the screen. I know you can't see it, but just move your mouse over. Might have to wait a bit.)

Fruits of My Labor

Swiss chard, cherry tomatoes, cucumber, and zucchinis.
Peppers, eggplants, green onion, and my Camino bonnet.

My garden salad.

Stone baked pizza w/ homemade rye dough.

Garden style scrambled w/ homemade wheat bread & fresh squeezed grapefruit juice.

My lovely yard...Thanks, Christy!

All that hard work in the spring has paid off, and I've started to enjoy the fruits of my labor. Okay, I had some help, but it still is my garden so it's only fair that I get all the credit. Not just me though, but the lucky SLC peeps who get invited over for my lovely dinner parties. (Can't get that word out of my vocabulary having spent all summer around the Irish.)

I've been busy entertaining since the beginning of the week, and it's only Wednesday. (3 more to go & I'll be done for the week...perhaps for this year.) Breakfast for my aunt on Monday was brilliant! (It's the Irish again...) Followed by afternoon drinks with Jeanette, and then Chris, Christy, Jack, and Hasen came over for some pizzas I baked on my never-used pizza stone. It really was quite lovely! (Wish had a brick oven though...anyone wanna build me one in my backyard?) Yesterday was spent entertaining a Swiss who made me feel like I was back on the Camino, and we even got in a lovely hike up to Lake Mary up Big Cottonwood Canyon. (Felt kind of weird walking without a heavy pack, though.) And tonight, I'm throwing a party for Jen's graduation & getting another use out of that fantastic pizza stone & my ice cream maker I got for Christmas which is still new in its box.

Wish my new Camino buddies were close by so they could partake in my end of summer soirees even though Super Hans may beg me to marry him again like he did the night I made dinner for a bunch of us in Arca do Pino. The only downside of all this entertaining is that my waistline is slowly increasing again. Perhaps I should just put a sack of rice inside my pack & start hiking everyday so I can eat whatever I want... like ice cream & chocolate on a daily basis.

Off to the backyard-farm to pick my veggies for my lunch guest before I start throwing some dough around for another round of pizzas tonight. I wonder if there's a Camino like walk in Italy...that really would be BRILLIANT!

Yet Another Planting Season

It's that time of the year again...weeding & planting time, that is. Once again, had to bring in help from California. This time, even had one from South Korea. Lucky for her, she was visiting my parents in LA, so when my mom & brother decided to visit me over the long weekend (Dad's out of the country at the moment) she got to experience the farm life in my back yard. I thought since she did come from my motherland, she'd be familiar with this farming stuff, but unfortunately, she grew up in the metropolitan city of Seoul all her life & never did step foot on a farm before coming to Sugarhouse...1934 S. View Street to be exact.

Since I had already done all my spring planting, all they had to do was weed. Remember that white flaky stuff that fell all over my yard last year... the ones I thought were so pretty, which eventually turned into little sprouting trees? Well, they returned with a force. They are everywhere. The Californians & the Korean tried their best to get it all off my beautifully landscaped yard, but it didn't work. They did however manage to pull the rest of the weeds which the kind Witch I hired from school didn't get to, (I have a helper in my class this year who's a genuine Witch & a master gardener!)

While I was overseeing the work that was being done in my front & back yard, I also thought of a brilliant idea for next spring. (This was my attempt at stopping the farm workers from crossing 2 state lines to come work in Utah from California.) I'm gonna get one of those huge nets they use in golf courses (or is it the driving range?) so the balls don't fly out of the area & hit people and cars nearby. Then I'm going to get Shane & Chris to put it over my house & let it slope on either side towards my neighbors' yards. (It's their junk trees that are spewing these seeds all over my yard & making me sneeze all spring until my nose is raw.) That will guarantee no drop-age on my yard, and crazy sprouting trees all over theirs. Hopefully that will get them to cut down those nasty suckers & plant some nice trees I'm not allergic to.

Anyway, I know I said that I learned from my experience last year that I was no farmer, and I probably should've stayed away from my little patch of farm this year; but I couldn't help it. I got caught up in the spirit of Spring. I caught the Spring Fever! I don't know what it's gonna look like in two months when I return from walking the Camino, but I'm hoping with the help of my generous friends who love me much, my yard will look as beautiful as it does today, if not more. I'll be thinking of all the lovely tomatoes while I trek through Spain.

Many thanks to my friends & family who helped me with this endeavor once again this spring. Many kisses!

The Junk Shop

I remember the first time I went to a thrift shop in San Francisco. I was visiting a friend of mine from college who had transferred to Berkley from San Diego. It was not too long after I had graduated, and I was still under the influence of my sorority existence. My friend, however, had long shed that skin and had transformed herself into a hippie.

She lived in this fabulously old, turn of the century house with bunch of pot smoking artists near Fillmore, and introduced me to the "dingy" second-hand stores of the upper Haight where all the tourists go to find hippies that no longer exist. (This was before Haight street became all posh with the dot.com boom.)

Anyway, I remember walking into these stores, and wanting to gag because it smelled like the homeless (or at least it seemed to me back then.) I couldn't believe my friend was trying on stuff someone else had worn before (a complete stranger, to boot). I didn't want to come off as a sorority snob, so I tried on a few items myself while cringing inside & holding my breath as best I could. But that was as far as I went. There was no way in hell I was gonna buy anything, and I'm sure I was dying to shower, even though I can't really remember what I did next.

The reason I'm writing about this is because my mom just called me telling me she went to the Goodwill store. (That's the California version of DI for those of you in Utah.) I had discovered the store somewhat near my parents' place while visiting them two weeks ago. I ended up purchasing an awesome butcher block for $25, which I'm going to go get over my spring break. I told my mom all about finding goodies at thrift shops, and told her she should go check it out. Didn't think she would, but she apparently ventured into the store because she happened to be driving by.

"I don't know what I was expecting, but I can't believe you found that butcher block there. It was full of junk!" She said.
"You have to look carefully, Mom. You really didn't see anything?" I asked.
"No." A pause, then she said, "I drove home & washed my hands with anti-bacterial soap."

I laughed. I knew exactly how she felt, but she would die to know that she's drank out of second hand glasses at my house. Heehee!

It took me over a decade, but I love thrift shops now. Not only because you can find such cheap, cool finds, but think of all the reusing we're doing as consumers. Instead of constantly buying brand new things which not only depletes the natural resources but are usually made in China by slave waged workers, we can buy used items that would've ended up in the landfill if it weren't for thrift shops. It's an environmental miracle.

Anyway, I can't believe I used to think it was gross buying stuff others had owned before. Don't ask me why... you're speaking to someone who would give clothes away if someone borrowed it. You don't have to return it, just keep it. Or, sure you can have a sip of my drink. Actually, why don't you just have the whole thing. I was definitely a germophobic.

But after living in San Francisco & New York, and having really smelled homeless people (which you really can't in LA or SD because you're always in your car), I realize now that scent I smelled back then in that thrift store was probably all in my head. I don't smell anything in thrift shops anymore, and I simply adore second hand shopping.

Finding My Roots

It's been two months of pure bliss (in misery). Only in misery because the weather's been so cold. But a bliss because I've been able to do what I love the most. Eat, eat, eat, and read, read, read. I've been hibernating for the last two months, and loving every minute of it. It's the Cancer in me, I think. I love to retreat & hide from the world for a bit because I need to recoup for the warm weather when the crazy Monkey side in me comes out to play. (I was born in the year of the monkey.)

I've also reconnected with my family & my Korean roots, and am falling in love with all these hot Korean actors. My Korean is getting really good with all the Korean shows I'm watching, and even the content of my fridge is slowly changing to resemble my parents'. I've even started corresponding more with friends and family back in Seoul, and visiting LA frequently to see Mom & Dad.

I don't know what it all means, but I think I'm finally wanting to balance the two cultures for the first time in my life, it seems. The Korean & American cultures are so different in so many ways, (it's no wonder I've always been in constant battle with my folks) yet I want to figure out a way to mesh the two somehow.

I've always gone in far extremes, such as moving back to Korea in my early twenties to become "Korean", only to realize I couldn't live in that society after growing up in the States. There were too many rules: who to associate with (social class), who to speak & not speak to in a honorary form, what I could & not do having been born a female...seriously, too many archaic things to list all here. Plus I got tired of people asking where I was from.

Then of course there were periods in my life where I was called a banana because I was so "white", whatever that means. Just because I hung out with white folks, I was excluded by the Koreans. It's like no matter where I went, people still asked me where I was from. So I ended up just surrounding myself with people whom I could relate to the most, and through circumstances, I've become virtually the only non-white person in a group of white friends.

Not that color matters, but there's definitely something to be said about having come from such a strong culture. I think that's why so many people do stay in their own groups. Not just race, but even religion, like the Mormons here. It's like you understand each other without having to explain. Anyway, I hear there are many Koreans in SLC. Perhaps I should start hanging out at the Korean market to bring some Koreans into my life. It might be fun to mix up the race a little in my group of friends, you know, balance it out a bit so it's not all white (and me).

My friends all love Asian food (especially Chris)...don't know why we don't have more Asian friends in our group so we can eat some more homemade Asian food like we did Friday night. (I know, my stories always do come back to food.) The Thai food we had at Jessica's birthday party was to die for. Following a recipe is never the same as the real stuff made by someone from that culture.

(What do you say, Chris...we should go hang out on the West side & meet some Southeast Asians.)

Christmas has to be my favorite time of the year. It's my most adored holiday, and I love finding that perfect gift for the people I cherish the most. Intellectually, I know it's not about presents, but I can't help but get excited about finding gifts. Plus, I give money to needy children every month (not just during the holidays), so I tend to not have the guilt about spending some money on family & friends once a year.

I also love decorating the tree, and thank god each year that I was raised in a Christian household. (Sadly, that's the only time I'm thankful about being a Catholic...oh well.) My friends always make fun of the tree I select each year as they all agree it looks like Charlie Brown's Christmas tree, but I don't care. That's the kind of tree I adore.

One of the reasons why I can't get myself to leave SLC is that it snows here every Christmas. The snow here is fluffy, just like the ones you see in the movies or read about in books. It's gorgeous here when it snows, and trekking snow into the Cathedral of Madeline for the midnight mass is an enchanting experience. The children's choir sings like angels, and to experience that with my family is a tradition I hope will continue, always.