I went to the doc’s last week to get an updates on the labs. You know, the testing they did on the SEVEN VIALS OF BLOOD they drew from me. I had a lot of trepidation the whole day, bracing myself for the worst, already planning for a life without chocolate, coffee, certain sugars… it was pretty bleak.

So the doc has a very slight hearing deficit. Every once in a while, in the middle of answering his questions, he’ll interrupt/shout: “HUH?!” It would be jarring if it weren’t so comical. “Do you have wood floors or rugs in your house?” “We have carpet, and it’s relatively new.” “HUH?!” “We have.. carpet. It’s pretty new.” It wasn’t like I had to shout, it just seemed like he randomly wanted me to repeat things.

Anyway, he handed me ten pages of results, ranging from avocados (gasp!), onions, cashews, and zucchini with dozens of other delicious foods. I almost wrote “edibles” but that means something different now, especially in the great state of Massachusetts. Anyway, the results! The highest sensitivity was a 2 (out of 6, being the highest.) For egg whites. There was a 1 for sesame seeds and a half for peanuts. In other words, nothing. Nothing that explains the all-over-body hives, scratchy throat, wheezing. Doc just shrugged and said, “If you get hives again, call me.” I was like, “That’s it?! What about the wheezing?” He says, “Oh. I forgot about the wheezing.” Pause. That pause turned into a longer pause. That longer pause turned into a realization that he meant the meeting was over.

So that’s it. A weird spazz of allergic reactions to some unknown substance, and I haven’t had it since. I have, however, noticed a little stomach queasiness that wasn’t there before after eating more than 2 eggs.

In other news. Education. Man. What a mess we’re in. I’m in the thick of charter school madness. I’m seeing some of the downsides, as well as why they’re so appealing. It’s maddening, but after being in public schools, it’s like choosing between fire and brimstone. Deciding to stay here another year and give my badly needed “expertise” or moving to a public school has been a wrenching decision. Ultimately, I’m deciding to stay in a place that I know I can make an appreciable difference in. Devil you know, you know? Betsy is making me nervous. But in all honesty, there hasn’t been a single education platform I stood with. I mean, since I knew how to stand for things in elections.

That’s all for now. I’m teacher tired which is a special kind of tired!



Long hiatus. Have had lots on my mind, lots on my plate, lots of changes, but that’s nothing different. Such has been my life for as long as I’ve made big choices for myself.

I read in the news this morning about South Korean women emancipating themselves from beauty standards. It’s actually kind of crazy. Korea is still a very much male-dominated patriarchal society, as top notch modern as it has become. Beauty standards are strict: slim, large eyes, pale skin, dainty makeup. Cosmetic surgery is the norm and unabashedly encouraged. Is it really much different anywhere else though? Korea is a tiny country, a drop in the bucket (literally!) relative to other countries. It’s a fraction of the size of one major state in America, and the problems are exacerbated by that reality. Regardless, beauty standards are unavoidable. Anywhere. Beautiful people get things that the have-nots do not, or so it seems. It’s high pressure to be attractive, and in places like Korea, it’s seen as something needed to gain power and status. Cosmetic surgery then, is commonplace and appropriate to be openly suggested as kindly advice. You need beauty to step up.

I’ve always been fascinated by people who seem to have this natural fire in their souls that enable them to rise above any stigma or standard and just be. They’re pariahs of the world usually, especially at first. They’re called flamboyant, crazy, weird, off-beat. They can walk down the street wearing what they like and call themselves wonderful, while the rest of the world hides behind newspapers and shrinks into themselves. Women in Korea with short hair are often looked at oddly. Unless, of course, you have stunning beauty to offset that kind of masculinity. I watched Bohemian Rhapsody and again was fascinated by Freddie Murcury. Where did that confidence come from? That fire of I’m fabulous, the pull of having a vision for your future that involves millions of people?

New in the news, on a different note, I have some awful food allergy and I don’t know what it is. Enough to give me wheezing and hives all over my body. Went to the doc and got 7 vials of blood taken for tests. Will find out shortly.

Tips and Tricks

More tips and tricks, not including “it’s totally ok to buy your wedding dress from China” because that’s for another post. As is, “it’s a ok to have a wedding hash tag even though it seems cheesy.” Because, spoiler alert, you think it’ll be easier to link on social media and find all the pics. Even if this thinking is wrong. Yes, even if hashes are silly and cheesy. Someone sat down and wanted it. And who are we to deny bride(zilla)s joy?

This one is for moving.

Moving sucks. Pro tip for moving out of state?

Don’t do it.

I mean, this is coming from someone who’s moved out of state (like faraway states, not some diddly within-50-miles move) at least 3 times. Don’t do it.

It’s also become significantly more expensive. Pods, moving trucks, movers, add-ons. I mean, sure, you can find cheaper, sweatier, more friend-abusive means. But still, it ain’t cheap.

So yeah, even if you are cheapo about the actual process, nowadays it’s either pay out of your butthole for a down payment and mortgage or land lords (geez, we still call people lords?) first month, security deposit, and last month rent. I mean, I never had to pay for last month before.

My mom used to say this. I had no idea it was a thing. But luckily, we’ve got hunnies. So I guess we’re ok, right?


Funny how we note time by rotations (not spinning but whatever). One year, two years…. I guess in a sense time is relative but it’s easier if we’re all going by the same markings.

Having passed two years of marriage, and I’ve got no good relationship advice except: marry a good guy. Makes life easier. Simple, no? Marry a guy who wants to make you happy. People say that you can’t help who you love, and I guess there’s some truth to that. It’s a matter of whether or not you’re strong enough to walk away.

I’m also almost 40. I’m not saying that like it’s a big deal, but it’s a big deal to me since I honestly never saw myself past 20. So in a sense, I’ve been winging it since my late teens! Not too bad, I guess.

Anyway, just finding my groove back into writing. Suffer me.



Updates to those who still read this. We’re still house-less, but not home-less. The house we want keeps getting pushed back for minor updates and such, but we’re on our way and hopefully can get the keys by this Thursday!

I’m scared. Scared for the summer to end. But excited to start a new job. Kinda. I’m not sure what I feel anymore. Sometimes stuff just get jumbled and you feel all sorts of strange all at once and who can sort out emotions anyway?

In any case, hubs and I have passed year 2 of marriage and we haven’t done our celebratory ice cream cake eating. We said we’d do this every year (and last year, we did 6 months too!) since we had ice cream cake on our honeymoon. But we’re not at our own house with our own freezer so we’ll have to hold off.

We miss having our own home but we’re grateful to be able to share a good house and spend time with my nieces and nephews and help “baby sit.”

Bring it, future! (But not too fast, ok?)

All right!

Alright, it’s time to start writing again.


I miss it. I miss what it does to my brain. I also need a new laptop, but this will do. Admittedly, I’ve been avoiding writing mainly because it’s such a pain in the neck to do it on my phone and it’s such a pain in the neck to open up my laptop and wait eons for it to boot up and eons for me to open the necessary applications.

We’ve moved. Back in the Northeast. It’s a little bittersweet. I’ve been spoiled by all the snow days in the South, just for 2 inches of snow. Oh well. We’re closer to family, so that’s a plus.

The downside is that somehow, somewhere, by some voodoo magic trick, my sister and her husband are ardent Trump supporters. They are both 1.5 generation Korean, we were raised in the same household, live in the same universe… I think. BIL even has a “Deplorables” sticker he put on a fridge they have in the garage. He thinks it’s funny. My sister interrupted a conversation her friends were having with me saying, “Don’t say that. I love our president.”

I don’t understand this. I really, honestly, truly, don’t understand how human beings can stand behind this man. My sister and BIL are not Christians. They haven’t been for some time. It is not religious right-eousness that is motivating them. I’m not sure what is.

But we survive. Love, I suppose, survives.


The Year

It’s been over a year since I walked down that aisle I’ve always claimed I’d be dragged down (kicking and screaming.) I did not kick or scream. Nor was I dragged. Actually, according to most witnesses, I might have been seen skipping. Nah. I’ll deny it.

They say the first year is the hardest. Well, some say that. Others say it’s the honeymoon year. I’ll side with the latter. It’s been good. But he’s a good guy. Who else would I lock it in with? I’m almost relieved I found someone that I don’t have that nagging feeling in my mind that I’ll end up supremely unhappy someday. I’ve always had that feeling. And I’ve always been right. So I’ve always had peace walking away. But with this dude? Still enjoy the hugs and cuddles and spending all day together.

We recalled some wedding memories and laughed about them. Many things did go wrong (like the best man leaving the groom behind at home due to miscommunications) and my last minute lipstick smear all the way down my white veil (everyone was freaking out except me, under the flurry of Bounce wipes, clorox pens, H2O2 and a hundred “Oh My Gosh”es by my wonderful makeup artist. (I love you, Sarah. You are amazing.) But in the end there was no wrong, the groom was on time, no one noticed my veil, my dad did NOT get his request to have the venue’s two great danes to walk down the aisle with us (although he did decide to get up and check out the fireworks when they called him to the dance floor for the father-daughter dance), and no one caught on fire during the sparklers exit. Oh, and there were no terrible cicadas flying in people’s faces. Don’t ask if you don’t remember.

I cherish these memories, but I cherish the future too. Having someone on my team is a good feeling. Not that I didn’t enjoy singlehood. I did. Every moment, although there were always doubters. I was not lonely for wedded companionship. I enjoyed being able to travel and having my heart not tied when I traipsed around the world. These are memories I’ll also cherish.

Here’s to a year and to many more.