Regretably, Christmas is Canceled

I regret to inform you that Christmas has been canceled. I'm afraid I simply cannot leave a place of sunshine for snow (even if it is two feet) if it involves air travel. Don't blame me. I checked it out. We could drive home easily--most of the roads are clear and visibility is excellent. But that big mean Grinch Paul said no and driving away by myself (well, with Piper for the companionship and all) probably wouldn't lead to good things there. Even if we were driving, I don't know what I'd bring our clothes in because I can't get the suitcases out. The noise they make...it's just like that awful rattling of the overhead storage bins at take-off. No, I've said it before, but I've never meant it so much. No flying. If that means it's the year without a Christmas, so be it.

What IS Up Doc?

Well, the semester has collapsed into finals (which are next week), so I finally have some time to think and sleep. Let's see. Paul successfully passed his 90-day review at work and was rewarded with a hefty raise. He's still very busy at work. There's a very funny story about why, but I'm not sure if I can post it. I don't want Paul to get fired too! We bought a new TV as a slightly early Christmas present to us. It's the 32" Sony LCD TV I mentioned before. We got it for a better price too, courtesy of Circuit City's bankruptcy. The old one wasn't doing so hot, so I figured it was replace it now during the fine sales season or replace it sometime during the next year when TVs may or may not be on sale. I really like it. It's a good thing it mostly covers Christmas because buying presents is hard for people with disposable income. Paul just buys himself what he wants, so there's nothing left for me to get him! (Yes, I am well-aware of how incredibly fortunate we are to be in such a position and yes, I feel the appropriate level of guilt, which is why I am having been answering yes every time I'm asked if I want to donate a dollar to [insert name of worthy charity here] at the checkout and tipping generously.) If you have any good Paul-present related insights, please share them because I don't!

There is No Me in Avant-Garde

There is no me in avant garde. Or we. Paul and I learned this last night as we yet again embarked on "an adventure." Oh foolish mortals, when will we learn that there is a reason we live a normal life? It's because we're NORMAL. By definition, if one are not normal, then one is abnormal. Who wants to be abnormal?

Our tale begins on Tuesday, when someone courteously left behind an alternative publication at the bus stop. I need to kill some time, so I started flipping through it. There was an ad for a film--Repo: The Genetic Opera--which Paul and I had periodically discussed. It had an intriguing premise (it's a horror opera--really, almost every line is sung) and cast (Paul Sorvino, Sarah Brightman, Anthony Head, even Paris Hilton). It was an 1-day engagement with one of those director-writer Q and A sessions after the film. So we said, what the heck? Let's be adventurous. So, I bought the tickets--little nervous about the part that said dressing in costume is encouraged--and on Thursday, despite the many better and more important things we had to do, drove off to a little dollar movie theater in Chandler. I became slightly more nervous given the amount of black and capes as we waited to verify our names and ages (you didn't actually get tickets, they put your name on a list at the door), but figured it was part of the adventure. We got in, found seats in a giant theater with with tables (like the Alamo Drafthouse!) and random pieces of furniture to make extra seats. (Ever watched a movie in a church pew? Me neither, but I know where to now.) Soon, the theater was overflowing with black, fishnets, piercings, and leather. Still, I held steady. Hadn't Chris Hicks once written that there was a certain amount of humor being there for one of those Rocky Horror Picture Show things? We sat through the opening banter and then the director, writer, and composer took the mike. The director opened by saying that Repo: The Genetic Opera had been called the worst film ever, the worst movie of the year. This is when genuine panic first set in. What were we in for? Well, something. A few parts were good, more were interesting, many I covered my eyes for. In brief, there's a man (the Repo Man) who repossessions organs. He's been coerced into the job (he's really a doctor, you see) because his daughter is ill. His boss is the villian. He is also the man's dead wife's ex-lover and possibly the daughter's biological father. Throw in the boss' three worthless children (in the role of the bawdy buffoon) who are squabbling over their dying father's estate, a drug-dealing grave robber/narrator, and a blind opera singer who is also owned by the villian and was the dead ex-lover's best friend. There's mostly revenge, some parents-must-let-go-at-some-point, a smattering of mixed social commentary (obsessions with plastic surgery, drug addiction, the evils of consumerism/genetic modification/etc.) as the plot's connective tissue. Paul and I had a secret signal worked out if we had to flee--three quick squeezes of the hand. Unfortunately, there was a miscommunication and I misinterpreted Paul's attempt to flee as him wrongly thinking I wanted to flee. Thus we wound up staying for the whole thing. And thing really is the word for it. It certainly gave us much to talk about on the drive home.

Paul's Official Opinion: Repo is a terrible movie--but stylish. It's uniquely terrible. The gore was over-the-top, yet lacked a payoff. C+ (B as average)
Jennifer's Official Opinion: Repo is a disappointing movie. It was often interesting, but lacked any real development of the plot or characters. The opera aspect was really underdeveloped. This is impressive when you consider than 95% of the movie was sung. (Paul agrees.) C+

Have Yourself a Merry Little Thanksgiving Now

Thanksgiving was a small affair for us this year. It was just us and I didn't have any pie pans, so it was a little less like Thanksgiving and a little more like a fancy Sunday dinner. We just had turkey, mashed potatoes, and rolls. And I still haven't made that pumpkin pie. I did buy a pie pan though. Apparently, Black Friday deals don't apply to pie pans or Walmart stores as it turns out. Those with particularly keen visual acuity will note that the very, very fine print notes that "local" prices and advertised online prices may differ and prices are not guaranteed. Thus a Sony Bravia 32" TV can be shown online as costing $498--and not available online for purchase--and $598 at the actual store. Not that I want to break kneecaps over it or anything.

In Kittenwatch '08, Piper has destroyed some carpeting and is proving scratching post-resistant. She also came dangerously close to eating my engagement ring (Paul had to snatch it from her tiny jaws), so now all of my jewelry has to be stored in its box at all times. I don't know what it is, but she really likes that ring. She tried to bite it off my finger today. I don't really enforce kitty discipline, but she's going to get spritzed in the face if this continues. Other than that, she does pretty much normal cat stuff. Which is cute and all to me, but Paul gets a huge kick out of it. It's like what people say about the wonder of the Christmas and children's eyes, only with the wonder of cats and Paul. Everything is new and exciting and entertaining. Sure, Piper will chase a laser light around for an hour, but Paul's the one laughing and operating said laser light for an hour. He's currently trying to teach her how to "talk" with some success. (Piper is an extremely quiet cat. She doesn't even really meow, just kind of murmurs.) Here's some pictures we took of her doing "cute" things. She's merely tolerating the camera in the second one and the third one is from Thanksgiving before dinner. I don't know about you, but nothing says vacation and comfort like a Quark's Bar shirt and "weekend pants" as Land's End euphemistically calls them. Oh, and that's Paul's behemoth of a birthday computer in the background of the first shot.

Creeping Towards Thanksgiving

I've heard complaints from little birdies that I'm not updating my blog enough. I agree, but for heaven's sake, it was the week before Thanksgiving, one of the most treacherous weeks of the semester. I made it out alive by the skin of my teeth! I kid, but it really is getting tight. It's that point in the semester where the professors realize what they have planned and what they have time for are no longer able to be reconciled. The good professors accept this and cut down their plans accordingly. The bad professors just keep on combining days and assignments and assume it will somehow magically work out. I have only one good professor. I'm burned out and tired of being sick, Paul's been pretty sick and exhausted as well. We really need a decent break.

Piper continues to show her personality. She's very inquisitive, exhaustively investigating every cranny, surface, noise, scent, person, etc. She's already climbed behind the washer, gotten inside the dresser, and tried to jump behind the oven. Thankfully, I caught her in mid-jump. I tried to take more pictures, but she was fascinated by the camera. All I got were blurry photos of various parts of her. We've also discovered that while she does like cat toys, what she really like is small balls of foil--preferably a couple of York wrappers or Klondike bars. She will chase those around for hours. She is also a skilled cricket catcher and likes sleeping on hard flat surfaces like tables or the top of the dresser. She still tries to eat moving appendages.

Hope this keeps the little birdies happy for a few days. :)

A Week Without Paul

Paul abandoned Piper and I this week under the guise of "training" and "Delaware," so we were forced to hold down the fort by ourselves. It took only three days before I think I officially became one of those crazy cat ladies. Strange, sad things happen when your only companion for 20 out of the 24 hours in a day is a cat. We actually muddled through quite nicely. After all, I had work to do and that can take up an infinite amount of time. Really, every day, wake up, do homework, go to school, come home, watch Bones, do homework, go to bed. It's a very monotoneous schedule even for me. You might note a lack of meals. That's because I discovered that--contrary to what I thought--Paul had been doing all of the cooking/food obtaining. Also, that I lack sufficient motivation to make something for myself that isn't macaroni and cheese or pasta salad from a box. (The epitome of laziness, I know.) Something should probably be done about that. Paul, I think, got the worse part. He was stuck in a hotel with nothing to do for five days. It sounded like cabin fever (hotel fever?) was beginning to set in. I'm really looking forward to his return. It'll be nice to have someone to talk to who answers back and isn't me. I'd also like someone who snuggles without trying to eat me. Piper's developed a crippling tastes for toes and, oddly, knees of late.

We Have a New Family Member!

It's something Paul and I have been talking about for a long time, but we finally decided to go for it. And now we're three! Please say hello to the newest (and only) addition to the Bussio-Muhlestein household: Piper! She's a year-old grey tabby with great big green eyes. She's not very big, but she is very sweet and snuggly. She'll curl up right on your lap. She's spent most of today hiding in various places, but we've been able to coax her out periodically. She had some trouble with the litter box at first, but she's used it successfully now once so our fingers are crossed that that will be the end of it. This is the picture from the Humane Society website; I'll put up some others when she's feeling more photogenic. She had been at the shelter since July, so they were very happy to see her go. We, of course, were delighted to see her come.

A Sign of the Coming (Zombie) Apocalypse?

Read the following sentence and tell me if it doesn't send you running to your bomb shelter: I liked Max Payne and beat Paul at House of the Dead 4--in every category. I know, I know. It's eerie. It weirds me out too. It's just not right! I don't know what happened. I was only going to Max Payne to humor Paul. I didn't expect it to be a stylin' B- film or spawn to a household in-joke. (Heck ya, I'd like to report something!, spoken to a 911 operator during the most outlandish shoot-out ever.) I should have seen the warning signs, but I foolishly plunged straight into virtual zombie combat. Now, I'm no slouch in the zombie-killing department. I know my way around a light gun. But I have never been more than an able sidekick--until last night. Though I picked up a light gun naught but one time in two years (also to play House of the Dead 4 briefly in Taiwan), I excelled, taking down hordes of zombies in a blaze of flashing lights. If it were House of the Dead 3, zombie limbs would have been have been everywhere. Amazing and Perfect shots were flying all around. I beat Paul repeatedly in total score and every category of shot. I was so surprised I forgot to go grocery shopping. That's darn surprised.

So, About That Boring Thing (Director's Cut)

So, I've been learning life lessons all over the place. Let me begin by saying the weather here is amazing. Sunny, light breeze, upper 70s. Just for the Utah folks out there. Enjoy that cold, gray ick! Anyway, yesterday I locked myself out, plunged into an unheated outdoor pool, and climbed through a window (not in that order). It was quite a thrilling afternoon. Though I don't recommend swimming in an unheated outdoor pool in mid-October. Not at all.

Sorry, what I was trying to get to in the post and forgot about half-way through and then remembered a day later, was that you can't complain about the ordinary and boring and then not take the road less traveled (Cliche of the day! Do a shot.) when you stumble across it. And that is how you wind up swimming in 60-something degree pools or breaking into your own house while swimsuitted or living in Taiwan for a year. If it's all about the journey, then shouldn't it be reasonably interesting and unique?

So, About That Boring Thing....

So, I've been learning life lessons all over the place. Let me begin by saying the weather here is amazing. Sunny, light breeze, upper 70s. Just for the Utah folks out there. Enjoy that cold, gray ick! Anyway, yesterday I locked myself out, plunged into an unheated outdoor pool, and climbed through a window (not in that order). It was quite a thrilling afternoon. Though I don't recommend swimming in an unheated outdoor pool in mid-October. Not at all.

-Jennifer

Just An Ordinary Day

I've been hearing--from little birdies and the wind and the street--that I don't update our blog enough. It's probably true. The problem is I have nothing to say. We live the most ordinary lives. Paul gets up at six, goes to work, and comes home between 5:30 and 6:00 pm. Today we had pizza for dinner, even though I had thawed the chicken out for once, because that's what Paul wanted. I got up at 8:45, did homework until eleven, then got ready and did a little housework, continually put off going to a Japanese meeting and went to school. After school, I came home and kicked it waiting for Paul to get home so we could go swimming. But he was a little later than I expected, so that never happened. See how boring that is?!! I can't even bring myself to finish describing the day. I've got to mix things up a bit by shaving Paul's head or getting a cat or I don't know. I'm a square. If I could think of something excited to do**, I'd be doing it. Sigh.

**Suggestions welcome.

I'm a Grandma

I'm a grandma. Or at least that's what Paul says. He asked me what I wanted to do tonight (Friday night) and I told him I wanted to go to bed early. (Because I'd been staying up until 12:30 doing homework for most of the week.) That's only one facet of my granny-ness though. Apparently, I also am drawn to dressing like one. On occasion, Paul has had to intervene to keep the granny at bay. He could run down the rest of the list, but it's 10:30 pm and I need to go to bed. Though if I was a real grandma, I would have been in bed by 9:30 pm!

Chrome-Plated Birthday

Paul celebrated his 27th birthday on Monday. He was showered in Chinese food, DVDs, attention, and chocolates befitting a birthday boy. Arriving about the same time was his massive new computer. I like to call it "The Beast." It's like two feet long and dramatically shaped for maximum awesomeness (or so I've heard). Apparently, everything about it is maximally awesome. I'll try to post a picture of it--along with the nicely finished and decorated room it's in--someday soon. I actually have lots of pictures to post; I just need to get around to uploading them.

In completely unrelated news, I've been using Chrome (Google's new browser) and it is fabulous. I love it to death. The only problem, well the only two problems, are that is so new that some sites don't support it (like Netflix's video player, which of course claims to only support Explorer anyway) and I can't get Paul to use it. So I can't entirely stop using Explorer (because streaming free video is, you know... free) and whenever Paul uses my laptop, I always have to close Explorer and open Chrome. It's a minor nuisance at worst, but I find his refusal slightly puzzling. I like to claim he's stuck in the past, just to tease him. That's what happens when you're 27, you know. You turn into a geezer and everything becomes automatically better back in the day.

I Go to A New-Age Feelgoodery!

It's true, it's true. I go to a new-age feelgoodery. I am constantly being bombarded with e-mails about sustainability and going green. Ironically, the university even published and distributed (free of charge, of course) a pamphlet on how to save the earth. Most of it was pretty standard (wash full loads, turn up or down the thermostat depending on the season), but they lost me after exhorting me to consider the environmental impact of my cosmetics and to always unplug appliances not in use. (This led Paul to quip, "Your blush is killing elephants in Africa every day. Every day!") I'm sorry, but I am quite sure that the environmental impact of my cosmetics is completely negliable in both the big and small picture. I also refuse to unplug anything. If turning it off or, in the case of the microwave, using a just tiny fraction of electricity isn't enough of a reduction, then there's no reasoning with you. Sometimes I want to point out that people will always consume a certain amount of energy; at some point you can no longer reduce usage without forgoing certain modern conveniences. Personally, I'm not going back to washboard and tub or an ice chest.

Joining the Ranks of the Gainfully Employed

Paul's job search finally paid off. He was formally hired today to do quality control for a local nutriceutical company. ("Nutriceutical" is a made up word that refers to vitamins and those wacky suppliments they sell at health food stores.) It's a bit of a drive (20 mins), but he can get there by bus.

I'm doing better settling into my routine and getting used to life here. It's a different place, but not necessarily a bad one. I've found a place with a worse newspaper than the Daily Universe. "66 Percent of Working during College" might be the best headline I've ever read. It's weird to see the letters to the editor about how the university president is a total sell-out and the joys of binge drinking and atheism instead of the usual outrageous complaints about allegedly offensive media and immodest backpacks.

Taking A Breather

Whew. The first week of school is over and Labor Day weekend is here. I survived the first week for school and am feeling better about life. Things are going well in Paul's job search and hopefully we'll have some good news to share next week. We've unpacked all of our stuff and repacked everything that needed to be repacked. The apartment is really coming together--we're not reaching for something and saying, Wait, we don't have a pot/a stapler/a desk.

Speaking about that, if you see a box of sweaters or lids to pots or my black purse, send it my way.

A Sampler Tray of Posts

I was trying to figure out what to do with these three postlets I had written when I was inspired by Iron Chef to follow Bobby Flay's example of using sampler trays to make my work look more impressive.

Postlet #1: Tempe is Funny Place
Tempe is a funny place. Sometimes, it's like I'm living in Bizarro World Provo. There's an alleged grid system, but it's all messed up and all the streets have names and there's three 12th Streets (really)and lots of streets aren't through streets and there are random curves and it's all just very confusing. But then I pay $3.59 for gas and there's free shuttle buses from my apartment to downtown Tempe and ASU and lots of regular buses and light rail (in December) that I can ride for free as an ASU student. There are no grocery stores close by, but there is a Trader Joe's with which I am horrifically in love. There's tons of pizza places, but even more coffee houses and even more liquor stores. I can totally hook you up with a keg of beer for $65--Bud or Coors. I've got a coupon. Yeah, I picked up a Devil's Deals coupon books on campus and between the usual pizza/tanning/car wash coupons were coupons for "custom glass pipes" and free pregnancy tests. Life in Tempe is funny.

Postlet #2: Glamorous Grad Student Life
I went up to ASU last week and meet with a couple of faculty members. I acquired a temporary advisor and a course plan for the first year. The visits were semi-stressful and comical. First, all parking downtown--including the university visitor parking--is paid (cash only), which is very annoying. Second, the first person I met didn't quite remember me, so there was some awkward explaining about how no, that wasn't what I wanted to study and no, I hadn't taken that class. In fact, there was a lot of no-ing going on. Anyway, he assigned me to an advisor. My advisor is a very laid-back individual who used the word "synergy" like three or four times. It was a different experience. At least he seemed aware of who I was and what I was interested in. I owe him thirty bucks because he gave me a copy of his book (at a forty percent discount, he pointed out). I am to read sample works of everyone in the department before picking a permanent advisor in a month.

I have to take Japanese 101. I knew it was coming, but ugh. Paul tried to cheer me up by pointing out that it isn't a tonal language, but his optimism was cancelled out by the scathing reviews my textbook got on Amazon. Oh, well. Three foreign language courses in a semester never killed anyone, right?

Postlet #3: I am Surrounded by Nice People
Unpacking all of my stuff, I was reminded how I have been surrounded by nice people my whole life. For example, hanging on the wall next to the door in the living room is the cardboard mask named the Sick Monster. My friend Mary made the Sick Monster for me when I was sick to scare away illness. It's pretty awesome. On the red DVD rack is a picture of the Dying Gaul. It's my favorite piece of Hellenistic sculpture. My friend Joey took the picture for me on a trip to Italy. In the background is a really angry tour guide. (Taking pictures isn't allowed in museums.) One box was full of the cards my Grandma Kraemer has sent me. My grandma is a card person; I don't know if you know one, but card people are great. She sends cards for every occasion: birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, congratulation for special occasions. Nothing perks you up like a fun St. Patrick's Day card from your grandma. Occasionally, I have ambitions to become a card person, but ultimately, I lack the follow-through. Which is pretty much all there is to it. I could go on; I'm sure I have something from everyone I know. Maybe that's why I, unlike a certain ex-roommate currently living in a cave in Costa Rica, don't feel weighed down by my possessions. How can physical reminders of happy times and good friends and family ever weigh you down?

Pics of the New Apartment

Here are some pictures of the new apartment. There's no exterior shots yet, nor are there any pictures of the second bedroom or balcony because it was too dark. I'll try to add those tomorrow.

Montana Slide Show

...And We're Back!

After days and days of tedium and silence, we finally have internet and cable! Hurray! I have a ton of stuff to post over the next few days: the long-awaited Montana slideshow, video of our apartment, my first impressions of Tempe (hated, bizzaro world, but maybe eventually okay), and so on. Stay tuned!

Is This Thing Still On?

Is this thing still on? I haven't a clue. I've decided, kind of by default, that until we move to Tempe in a week, posts will be kind of scarce. We see you (or you see someone we see) on a regular basis, so it seems reasonable that things will be in stasis for a week or two more. Naturally, this puts our out-of-area readers at a disadvantage, but it is only a week and there are only four-ish of you. Paul's job quest continues. He's applied for a couple of good positions and one company told him to call next week and set up a formal interview, which is exciting in a hurray-maybe-you-can-begin-a-career-and-pay-the-bills sort of way. We also have put a deposit down on an apartment, which seems like the right thing, but of course until I physically inspect it with a fine-tooth comb, I will worry about it. Mostly though, we're just trying to make the most of our time left in Provo before we leave everyone again.

General Update and Associated Shout-Outs

Dear All,
Sorry for the lag. I promise once Paul and I get settled in Arizona, things will get more regular. Anyways, Paul and I spent the weekend at my grandparents in Montana. There will be a post on that after I finish putting the slide show together. In the meantime, I thought I'd give a shout-out to the three people we know who've had babies in the past four weeks. Paul's cousin, Jordan, and his wife had a baby girl, Clara, back in mid-June. You might recognize him from his comments on our blog. Or his own blog, if you're a Muhlestein reader. Our good friends, Ben and Melanie Haslam, had a baby girl, Kathryn Hope, on Saturday. Ben and Melanie served in Russia with Paul and gave us our first apartment--for $395! Ah, good, cheap times. Finally, Paul's cousin, Dennis, and his wife will have a baby (girl?) this week. Technically, she's only due this week, but she's not a very big person, so I'm optimistic about my advance congratulations.

Wide-Eyed and Bushy-Tailed And ....

Dear All,
Well, Paul and I made it back home finally. I assumed you guessed that from the lack of obituaries and family phone calls. We've also gotten on a kind of sleeping schedule. (Guess who was able to sleep for more than 5 hours straight last night? Me!) Now we're just kicking back and working through our back mail and to-dos that can finally be done now that we're in the same country as they are. It's exciting.

As for the surprise, I dyed my hair purple--well, cranberry-colored. Except it didn't quite work. Apparently, when you take a red-violet tone and layer it over dark brown hair, you get that superheroine red-purple color like in X-men. Which was cool until I took a shower (tragically, days later due to travel) when the color lost its intensity, making it less superheroine-y and more boring red-y. Oh, well. I've always said I wanted to be a redhead. I guess I got my chance.

There's a picture of my hair right after it was done, which I will post as soon as I can remember where we packed the connection for the camera.

A Gold Star and an 'A' for effort

For any doubters out there, I can hereby testify that Jennifer Jean Bussio can in fact board a flight, ride it for 11 hours, and disembark without
A- Going Crazy
B- Weeping Constantly or
C- Getting Drunk
In all seriousness, howver, she was great and I was very proud.
Paul

LAX Sucks

LAX sucks. I dare you to find a worst airport. We had to wait to disembark the plane because no one had moved the walkway over. Then we had to wait to go to the terminal because the airport is so dang big that you have to ride a shuttle bus to get from the place the airplane drops you off and the terminal. Customs is a puzzle. We had to wait in a long line where three different people looked at our form and waved us through. Three people in the space of 50 feet. What, just in case the first two managed to miss the parrot you're smuggling, the third can (literally, given the distance) jump right in? Makes no sense. We also had to wait FOREVER for our luggage because the conveyor belt was broken. Well, it wasn't broken, you see, some luggage was just caught on it, but the people who work at the baggage carosel expressed profound ignorance of how to fix it or who to call to get it fixed. They work at the baggage carousel, for heaven's sakes! Isn't that their job? Anyway, one eventually climbed inside and unjammed it but it took like twenty minutes after that to collect all of our luggage. Then we sent off in search of terminal 8. Despite what the map says, there is only an entrance labeled terminal seven. To get to terminal 8, you have to go through terminal seven. Not that this is ever clear. Oh, and none of the terminals connect (except, oddily, 7 and 8), so you have to go outside and walk around forever until you find your terminal. to get into the terminal, you must complete the security walk of death, which actually wasn't too bad due to the poor man running the 1 metal detector who was constantly repeating "You need your boarding pass and nothing metal." At one point he did mix it up by announcing to the line that 1) there was but one line so keep it single-file and 2)cell phones DO have metal in them, so please do not clear one in your hand and try to pass through the metal detector. I kind of felt a little bad for him. What he was saying was not rocket science, but only half the people were listening so he had to keep repeating himself.

You may not know this, but terminal 8 has a newstand, a Starbucks, a hamburger place, and a bar. All of these places close at 10 pm. It's an airport!!! There are flights coming and going at all hours of the day and night. So we're starving, alone, and sleeping on those black airport chairs.

Oh, and internet access costs ten bucks. I hope you're getting ten dollars' worth of something out of this post.

And Ambien, 10 mg? You and I have a score to settle. I demand sleep from a sleeping pill!

Better Pack Your Bags and Run

Well, we're all packed up--or mostly, since select toiletries can't be packed until tomorrow and I have a small load of laundry to finish. Not vital, though. I'm cool with just throwing them in a bag at this point. I feel a little better about the flight, since I realized we're flying on Singapore Air instead of China Air. I have much more confidence in Singapore Air. Still going to knock myself out, though. No reason to slit my wrists there. Oh, and I have a fabulous surprise--well, I think it's a fabulous surprise. If you'll only be pleased by a smuggled antique or small child, you will be disappointed. Anyway, 10:24 am July 3, SLC Airport. Be there or be square.

Like Rats on a Sinking Ship...

Wow! I must note the excellent suggestions on how to deal with the utter collapse of civilization at Casa Americana. I'm please to report that some of the roommates had a change of heart (or reached their absolute limit) because the dishes have been done by people other than me, the trash had been taken out and washed out (now larva-free!), and most of the recycling taken care of. Hurray for basic cleanliness!

We also successfully pulled off a Spectacular, which is the equivalent of a primary program, but twice as long and on a Saturday. It had been consuming my waking hours for some time. Since our children never meet at the same times, we never had a complete rehearsal. In fact, the older children had no rehearsals at all. Everything had to be memorized, too. Here's a snippet of one of my thought trains from the second rehearsal (the day before the Spectacular):

1. The kids won't know what song to sing unless I tell them.
2. I should have my signs like the primary choristers do.
3. Do I have time to make signs tonight?
4. Doesn't matter, I can't draw.
5. Can I ask the other teachers to draw signs tonight?
6. No, that's too big of an imposition.
7. Maybe I could still make them.
8. How would they know to connect the pictures with the songs.
9. I would make a horrible primary president.

Surprisingly, it went off okay. The kids did their best, no one wanted pictures (except one of Paul's students, but we like him, so it's okay.), and everyone was apparently too distracted by the principal's see-through dress to bother me. Our kids were rewarded with ice cream, gatorball, and Pokemon toys, depending on age.

Now, we're just trying to riding it out without burning out, but it's hard. It's been a rough month of grammar review for everyone and the kids are melting down because they have important tests in Chinese school next week--but Chinese school also ends next Friday. I only have 2 4B students left, both of whom know they are dropping out of the program on the 30th, so they aren't exactly giving 100%--or even 50%. Meanwhile, an enterovirus has broken out in Taiwan (yes, there have been 204 cases THIS YEAR in a nation of 23 million. Clearly this is an epidemic, call the CDC.), causing mass panic at the school. One student has been forbidden to attend class in the afternoon (but not in the morning--what the???), the school was "sterilized," and McDonald's playground use has had the kibosh put on it, which is no good for us. How are we supposed to entertain small children in an unconfined environment for 30 mins? After they have been at school for 12 hours, mind you. (Yeah, Taiwan has a truly screwed-up education system.)

The BIG news though, is that there is 1 teacher coming. Yup, ILP couldn't recruit enough teachers for the Taiwan program. So the five of us will be replaced by 1 teacher. Keep wondering how that's going to turn out. ILP and our boss have been leaning on us to stay, which is ridiculous and impossible. Ellie is working illegally (which puts her US residency in jeopardy, BTW), the Roommate Who Must Not Be Named has already been here for 13 months and she just found out her mother has cancer, we'll be lucky if Katerina doesn't burn down the school as she leaves--plus she already has a ticket to and a job in Costa Rica, and Paul and I have to get back to our regularly scheduled lives. You know, permanent employment, moving to Arizona, grad school, etc. I do genuinely hope things somehow work out. Not so much for our boss (she'd land on her feet), but for the other employees and the kids. The little ones in particular are just so excited to go to Basic Reading. They were literally jumping up and down saying "I can go to Basic Reading!" How can we not teach them English? Sigh. The deal I cut with myself is that we'll stay an extra two weeks if that allows them to get the rest of the teachers over. If they can't, then we'll come home on the 2nd. As it stands, we'll be coming on the 2nd.

It's Like The Freakin' Lord of the Flies Here

Dang roommates. I hate them all. The house is completely falling apart. No one has gotten in water in weeks. They all (apparently) just keep their own supplies of water--some of them stolen from the communal pool. People would rather break their fingers than wash a dish or piece of silverware that was sullied by another. Of course, that's assuming that they do theirs. The garbage, recycling, and compost are never taken out. Katerina frequently leaves the kitchen windows open at night, which--since they don't have screens and well, the rotting food--is like putting up a flashing neon light saying "Bugs--Party Tonight Here." The Roommate Who Will Not Be Named (RWWNBN) NEVER sorts her freakin' trash, even after she was explicitly told that she was doing it wrong. No one except for me has ever purchased dish soap (that's in 12 months, folks). I have been doing the dishes once a week out of pure hate. Even Paul has given up on any sort of communal housework.

But Jennifer, why don't you do it all if it bothers you so much? Because I am too filled with anger over their irresponsibility. It's become one of those absurd and counter-productive points of principle. If that is the mess they will make, that is the mess they will live in until they do something about it. More rationally, it think it's more a reflection of how much everyone hates everyone else in the apartment. RWWNBN hates all of us, Paul's no fan of anyone in the apartment other than me (maybe the Belgian), I can barely hold my tongue with RWWNBN and Katerina increasingly, Katerina openly despises RWWNBN and barely tolerates me, and the Belgian may well hate us all or just RWWNBN (it's hard to tell, she's so nice even to people she admits to hating later). I can't tell if we're all heading toward a giant blow-up or just some choice words and gestures as we part to never see each other again. (Cross your fingers.)

Learning Life Lessions All Over the Place

This weekend, we made our trip down to the beach in Kending. It was a learning experience.

Lesson #1: I Hate Traveling.

No, really. It's extremely stressful and I get extremely sick. At one point as I was curled into a ball battling severe naseua and intestinal cramps, a truly bewildered Paul suggested I demand a rebate on my body, as he was aware of no circumstance under which it worked completely properly. (This is not quite true, obviously.) He also said he had no idea how my body was meant to move, since it was crippled by every mode of transportation. (This is actually not true: neither trains nor boats give me any trouble. Clearly, I was meant to travel only in the late 19th-early 20th century.) Apparently, I also travel in a state of "cat-like readiness," caused by the stress of unfamiliar and poor directions. Oh, and I lost my purse on the bus. And forgot the camera at home (although we bought a disposable one at 7-11). All of this reminded me why I never go anywhere.

Lesson #2: Lonely Planet's "Mid-range" Lodgings are Jennifer-rated "Minimum Acceptable."

We stayed at the Kending Youth Activity Center. I'm not really sure why it's called that, but it's a replica of a traditional Fujian-style village. Basically, it's like living in the old buildings in Lugang or an old temple. The room was small, but comfortable, air-conditioned, and clean. Also, they gave us bottled water, real towels, and adorable little bags with a washcloth, toothbrush and toothpaste, shower cap, shampoo, and soap inside. You are no doubt thinking, that sounds pretty good. Why does that merit a "minimum acceptable" rating? Because I'm a hotel snob. I believe in only staying in hotels that are at least as nice as one's home, ideally better. Anyway, the important thing was that it was a five minute walk to the beach.

Lesson #3: The Beach is the Most Awesome Place Ever.

I want to live on the beach--in a tent, eating only coconuts, mangoes, and papayas off random trees by the road if that's what it'll take--every day for the rest of my life. And I hate camping, mangoes, and papayas. (Coconuts are okay.) The first day, I stayed until the sun went down and the second day, Paul had to pry me away so we wouldn't miss check out. I don't know if he would had been successful if it wasn't kind of stormy. I picked up like a billion pieces of coral, but whittled them down to four pieces. I also didn't wear any sunscreen because I was seized by the "hey, I'm not Scandanavian, forget this!" whim. I don't think I can stress lesson #3 enough. I really, really, REALLY like the beach.

I probably learned some other things, some of which might show up here later or not. I don't know. Just the thought of the beach has caused all other memories to dim by comparison.

Suddenly I See

Night markets are lovely! Now that I've ceased to be terrified of them, shopping here is a lot of fun. I bought T-shirts! On the street! That fit! The crush of humanity, pirated goods, and funky smells is not longer distressing foreign, but an exhilirating exotic scene.

I'd put something about teaching and the kids here, but I don't want to jinx anything. Tomorrow is a two-hour rehearsal for the Spectacular with the youngest kids.

I've even made peace with the food here. I think it is largely due to the new school cook, Jane, who is FAR better than the previous cook. She makes me noodles and feeds me pineapple. She cooks everything in soy sauce, ginger, and garlic. She asked the kids how to say ginger in English because she only speaks Chinese and wanted to explain the dishes to us gringos. It's a shame it's happened so late in our stay.

I'll miss Taiwan.

Come Hell or High Water, Or Piglet Starts Bailing

Well, the torrential rains have come again. I've been soaked to the bone twice in the last three days. Paul, meanwhile, has yet to get wet. Such are the horrible whims of the rain gods. At least, they've been pumping the canal behind the apartment. They do it pretty regularly during the rainy season, but the water level seems to rise surprisingly quickly. Still, they left all of the equipment set up tonight, which does not suggest optimism for a sunny day tomorrow. It's a real shame too, because I've finally gotten around to planning a beach vacation--a proper one, at Kending, too. I hope the weather dries out a bit by next Sunday because I can think of nothing crueller than my hard-earned beach relaxation being marred by rain.

Mission: Save Jennifer, Paul if Possible

Your mission, should you choose to accept, is to think of a way to save Jennifer and Paul, if possible, from an lengthy overnight layover at LAX. Hop to it.

Happy Anniversary to Us

Happy anniversary to us. Can you believe it's already been four years? I can't. But then, I can't believe my husband is much closer to thirty than twenty. (Paul's a tender 27 in a mere four months.) We had a nice time. We went out to a fancy restaurant and I spent a small fortune on shoes. Paul gave me a lovely Buddhist triptych and an icon. He said I could put them up in my future office, which I thought was awfully sweet. He got Rainbow Six: Las Vegas 2 which, as I can personally attest to, has been thoroughly enjoyed.

Since we live our lives (profound, I know), we can't really think of a moment that encapsulates the essence of us. If you can--or have a favorite memory of us in general--it would be ever so nice if you would post it in the comments section. It's always fun to see yourself through other people's eyes. Oh, and just for Paul's dad, you can't post the singing in the car bit. You'll have to think of (or invent) a new memory.

55 Days, 1 Hour, 4 Minutes

Wow! Can you believe I've made a hundred posts? It's crazy. Also crazy: we arrive in Salt Lake in 55 days, 1 hour and 4 minutes. That's July 3 at 10:25 a.m. for those of you that prefer to simply be told. (How's that for a flagrant disregard of split infinitives?) Showers of roses, chocolate, etc. are welcome, but actual showers of warm water would be the most appreciated. Plan accordingly.

Everyone Else's Brother is in Jail

I've mentioned Audra's brother from time to time, but since the apartment has an ongoing best worst brother contest, I thought I'd fill you in on the other contenders. Audra's brother, of course, continues to avoid the long arm of the law. Last we heard he was in Yunnan, China or possible Thailand being a model. He was being seriously challenged by Katerina's brother for the best worst brother. Katerina's brother is currently sitting his local jail after having been arrested for drug running. Oops. Apparently, Jersey cops just won't look the other way if you have several kilos of cocaine in the backseat. The DA, on the other hand, is willing to cut you a deal for 6 months in jail, plus three years' probation. He seemed to feel any jail time was a grave injustice, but eventually every sane person convinced him that having a joint of marijuana and having several kilos of cocaine in your car were really not the same category of offense. Personally, I wonder what happened to the house his parents bought him, but on the bright side, they are getting plenty of quality time with their granddaughter!

The winner is Ellie's brother, who is unlikely to dethroned. At least, I hope not, because we're getting to a level of crime that is no longer humorous in any light. Ellie's brother is also currently sitting in his local jail, awaiting trail for sexual assault. Katerina was discussing her brother's woes when Ellie mentioned that her brother too was in jail, only for sexual assault instead of drug running. As I stood there rather stunned--really, what is the appropriate response that case--I said, "Well, maybe it's one of those things where they level the highest charge with the intent to strike a better plea bargain." "There are two girls." "Oh." We decided this was perhaps the reason Ellie's mother was sending her an unusual high amount of care packages full of jelly beans. She does love jelly beans, but five pounds a month? No one likes jelly beans that much.

Francophones of the World, Unite!

Once again, our courageous Belgian comrade Ellie flew across the Taiwan Strait to renew her visa in Hong Kong. This time, instead of hooking up with friendly South Africans, she acted as an interpreter for a Guinean and 13 Algerians (all men). Alas for poor Ellie, the consulate denied her visa without comment. They also denied visas to the 13 Algerians. They told them to try again another day. But Ellie was in no mood for this, what with having to teach the next day. She refused to leave the consulate until they at least told her why her visa was denied. Then she and the Algerians (who were now sticking together) sat down on floor. That's right, they dusted off that old gem, the sit-in. Then the security guards came. And still they sat. Then the cleaners came and started buffing the floors around them. Finally, the consulate caved and agreed to allow them to appeal the denials via interviews. Ellie was told why her visa was denied (why would any one need six months to explore Taiwan?) and wove a very plausible story explaining it. She went off on her interviewer about the level and type of documentation needed as well. (Ellie's exceeded the requirements and when the interviewer said it was more than necessary, Ellie bluntly stated that must mean she met the required level.) In the end, Ellie got her 60-day visa (which she will overstay by 5 days), but her "boys"--as she referred to them--only got 14-day visas. All of this took place after the consulate closed, so by the end of things, Ellie and the Algerians had 90 minutes to make it to the airport and board the plane. They did make it though.

You'd think that would be enough, but no, Ellie missed her bus to the HSR train station by 10 minutes. It was the last one. Now, Ellie is not familiar at all with Taipei and speaks virtually no Chinese. Nevertheless, she is resourceful and opted to go out to the taxi area and just yell out the name of our city until she found a taker. It only cost her US$27, which is an amazing deal for 3 hr. cab ride. She snuck into the apartment so quietly that I was still awake at 5:00 am thinking she hadn't made it home. Little did I know how close it had come to that.

Shannon's Engagement Party

Here's the pictures of Shannon's engagement party. I want the pictures to mainly speak for themselves, but a little background might be useful. The party was held at Shannon's father's factory on the outskirts of Lugang under the truly multi-purpose rainbow tarps. (Weddings, funerals, religious ceremonies, block parties: it does them all.) She was excited for us to experience this custom because it's limited to only the middle/rural areas of Taiwan. As the pictures partially show, you need a LARGE space to hold one. In the first picture, the girl on the left is Emily, the other secretary. The whole shebang lasted almost three hours and featured a 10 course meal. And when I say courses, I mean course. It was a seafood-lover's paradise. I'm not one, but I did my best. Two kinds of fish, several kinds of shrimp, crabs, sea cucumbers(grosser than you are capable of imagining, I promise), three soups, fruit, dessert, rice balls, the list just goes on. Paul shares that his main complaint about the food was not so much about the taste, but the general wobbliness. It went way past uncomfortable levels. Each of the tables with stocked with complimentary gifts of scotch (Johnny Walker Black Label, aged 12 yrs) and cigarettes, in addition to all of the regular food and the very free-flowing Heineken. Paul commented he felt like we were about to bribe some prison guards.

On the stage introduing the couple in the black vest is the Democratic Party Head for the county. I think he was there because Shannon's father is a party captian. This picture was taken after he had let loose a karaoke love ballad. He was a very gregarious fellow, probably good politician.

The boy band was a relative's and it was their first gig. They were amazingly bad. The guitar player and the drummer couldn't stay in the same rhythm and the guitar singer also couldn't sing and play and stay on his rhythm. It was painful. The other "entertainers" have pictures that speak for themselves. Oh, and the woman in the hot pink and black was the emcee. She robbed me of at least half of my hearing, temporarily anyway.

Oh, and yes, there is a picture of Shannon with me, but it is so hideous that I cannot post it even for humor-related purposes.

Sweet Betsy Ross' Ghost! It's Sweet Betsy Ross!

So, Sweet Betsy Ross was finally ransomed from the clutches of Taiwanese Customs for the low, low price of NT$800 (US$27). I did like Cassia's suggestion that they wanted to make sure the laptop wasn't being imported against its will and that's why they asked for power of attorney. Alas, it does not have the ability to travel through time, but it does have a built-in webcam--in case you thought someone had killed us and was photoshopping pictures to make it look like we were still living. Or you're my mom and want to confirm that I do indeed mainly call and write at 3 am in my PJs.

Right now, I'm trying to decide how to decorate Sweet Betsy Ross so she looks more like herself and less like Sarah Plain and Tall (as she does at the moment). Paul offered the extra Guitar Hero stickers, so she might wind up with a flaming skull and crossbones or something. That seems appropriate for a founding myth figure, right?

I'll try to take a picture (ideally using its own webcam and an elaborate arrangement of mirrors) so you can all appreciate its majesty appropriately. It's like a laptop aircraft carrier; it's huge! I'm worried it won't fit in my bag.

A Paul Post

Here's some pictures of our kids along with a picture of the billboard and the David statue.

(P.S. by Jennifer: I wanted this to be called Shotgun Shine for obvious reasons, but Paul said no.)

Today's My Birthday and I Get One Every Year

So today is my birthday and yeah, I do get one every year. I'll admit it doesn't feel so birthday-y without the Bussio Birthday Gaunlet. Apparently, siblings are a vital component of birthday mirth. Nevertheless, we boldly pressed on with festivities and somehow managed to enjoy ourselves.

My big gift this year was the new laptop to replace the greatly ailing Zombie Shakespeare. It's fetchin' sweet, I won't deny it, but I'm having a hard time coming up with a name for it. So far, it's a toss-up between Big Bertha and Sweet Besty Ross. Big Bertha suggests its heft, but Sweet Betsy Ross better captures its awesomeness. Of course, this may all change after it gets here and I actually see it. It was briefly detained in Customs awaiting "power of attorney." I don't know how a laptop could have a power of attorney (or what Customs wanted with mine, presumably), but the situtation seems to have resolved itself without my intervention as it has cleared Customs. On the other hand, its delivery date is scheduled for Jan. 1, 1900 at 12:00 am, so there may still be some problems.

Paul also gave me the first season of Star Trek: Voyager, burned from iTunes onto DVDs, the new Flogging Molly CD (buy it!), a fancy aluminum cooling pad for the new laptop, some Sims stuff, and a new computer game.

Useless Poll #2

Dear gentle readers,
The time has come for another useless poll. I call it useless because it is regarding something that Paul and I have only been kicking around.

Poll:
Should Paul and I go to China instead of Russia?

Advantages:
China is closer=less chance of a nervous breakdown on a plane.
Everything will be relatively cleaned up and tourist-friendly for the Olympics.
Exciting cultural benefits for me!

Disadvantages:
Less chance of a nervous breakdown still equals a chance of a nervous breakdown.
Proximity to Olympics means fares jumped US$150 each way.
Paul isn't fluent in Mandarin.
I'm not fluent in Mandarin.
We don't know anyone in China. (Actually, I do have an open invitation--or did two years ago--to crash on a couch in Beijing, but I can't remember their names. And I guess there is Audra's brother, but I'm not sure I want to be associated with a fugitive. He also may or may not be in the country. Informal border crossings are his friend.)

So, what do you think?

Money, Grad School and the Married Girl

Well, I finally received ASU's funding offer and it pretty much blew Boulder out of the water, being better in every way. Better job, better benefits (covered health insurance), bigger block grant/fellowship, renewable for up to 3 years upon "satistifactory discharge of duties."

I also learned that the only good reason to go to Boulder (after not getting funded at ASU) is no longer in the game, so it looks like I'm destined to spend another year in a hot, snowless, daylight-savings ignoring place.

A Beginning: I Did Not Kill Anyone Today

I did not kill anyone today. I find that's a good place to start. I did not kill the person who stole my cabinet--which had finally been perfectly arranged both functionally and aesthetically--and gave me a monstrosity of a shelving thing which cannot be accurately described because it does not exist in America. I did not kill an certain anonymous roommate, even though she has consistantly screwed all of us over this past week and is being mean to an undeserving kid--whose father has now called a parent meeting about unrelated issues for which I will now be forced to give up my lunch half-an-hour. I killed no children, not even the superwhiny ones who chose to spend ten minutes complaining about the gym activity rather than actually do it. I especially did not kill the people at ASU, even though I have still yet to see their funding offer. (In fairness, they did mail it Tuesday afternoon.)

[Breath] However, in a bout of extreme productivity, I did file our taxes for last year even though it was a colossal hassle because we didn't reside in the US for more than six months and earned income overseas. And I chatted with my friend Mary, who had just decided this very morn to backpack through Western Europe and was in line to buy airplane tickets. She might also spend some time in Croatia studying. Maybe I'll visit. I hear there are some killer beaches and prices that can't be beat. Beaches sound nice about now. Now if I could just do something about that aneurysm-inducing fear of flying....

P.S. If all of my complaining left you lacking, you can always high-tail it over to my cousin's blog, Love Comes First. I believe its very title reflects the sunshine and kittens it emits.

Lugang Longshan Temple Slides #1

I Really, REALLY like Lugang

So I conned my roommates into going to Lugang with me again by telling them we were going to visit a tinsmith...which may be the strangest true thing ever written. Apparently, Ellie's parents collect tin sculpture (who knew?), so she wanted to get them something. Anyway, the tinsmith was a big bust. He's old and only works via Internet commissions these days. He also spoke no English, but was very nice. He makes super expensive coffee containers, among other less-touristy items. But, across from the tinsmith was the Lugang Longshan Temple, which was truly stunning. How stunning you ask? Well, someone (not the one with a photography minor) took over twenty pictures of the detail work on the front gate alone. I'm just sayin'. It was hands-down the coolest historical temple I've seen. The interior was the best part-- very minimal, very Japanese--but it was definitely a no-photos zones. So, kill the lights and break out the projector--it's slides time!

BREAKING NEWS--OFFICIALLY IN AT ASU!!!

Breaking news--I'm officially in at ASU!!! According to my ASU interactive website, I could start registering for classes last Friday. Or could have, if I submitted documentation of my measles immunizations with my application (not that they asked for it). Luckily, I have indeed been immunized against the measles. Hurray for not needlessly dying from a preventable disease! Now, all I need to know about is the big bucks, which is why I am officially authorizing you, in-law reading this, to open that official letter from ASU! Let's keep our fingers crossed for a little money.

So....(Twiddles Thumbs)

So...not much going on in my neck of the woods. Yours? Yeah, that's what you say, but I know the truth: riotous living and outrageous feats every day of the week. The big news here is that 7-11, that bastion of all that is good and American, is now carrying Hershey's kisses (with almonds!) and Ruffles potato chips (in strange flavors alleging to be salt and pepper and Texas BBQ). Things at school are pretty quiet. 3B learned about direct and indirect objects, something I had never learned about and had to have Paul explain to me. As it turns out, there is no reason to know about them unless someone walks up to you and asks what a direct or indirect object is. Umm, what else? Paul got a haircut. It was done by the mother of one of our most troubled students. She did a really good job. Also, her daughter did all the translating, giving warm English fuzzies all around.

Which is why I am spicing it up with excerpts from their last writing assignment. I have a set of three siblings in my class and, since the assignment was to write about their grandparents, I got three views of the same grandparents. They all agreed on two points. Their grandparents quarrel and Grandpa likes fruit. I don't know why, but I find it really, really funny that each of them think Grandpa's defining characteristic is liking fruit. Two mentioned Grandpa can only speak Taiwanese, not Mandarin. I'm not sure they (the kids) can speak Taiwanese. I suspect they can understand it, but I'm not sure if they can speak it. (Some elderly Taiwanese people only speak Taiwanese and Japanese because they were raised during the occupation and never learned to speak Mandarin after the Nationalists arrived. There was some newspaper article on how that generation is now isolated because kids these days don't speak Taiwanese.) Anyway, if you put together all of their essays, this is what you get.

Grandma:
Locks her bedroom door behind them when her grandchildren visit her in her room
Locks the door on her bathroom so Grandpa can't use it
Is kind to everyone but Grandpa
Quarrels with Grandpa

Grandpa:
Can't speak Chinese
Likes fruit
Buys said fruit at the market
Cuts it up and feeds it to his grandchildren

If you romantically fill in the blanks on Grandpa, you get an elderly man who shows his love for his grandchildren (with whom he can't easily communicate) by feeding them fruit. Grandma, on the other hand, is viewed by her grandchildren as a bit of a nut. They don't understand but accept her quarrels, but they are genuinely confused by her door locking. Grandpa is not the most mobile these days (he broke his leg in a fall) and has his own bathroom, so why would he want to use Grandma's? It would be great to hear Grandma's version of the story. Maybe Grandpa is always stealing her good soap.

BREAKING NEWS--UNOFFICIALLY IN AT ASU!!!

Hot off the virtual presses! I'm unofficially in at ASU! I just received a highly complimentary e-mail from the Graduate Director for the Chinese program. He said that my application had been forwarded to the College for approval of admission and that it was "almost certain" that I'll receive a funding offer. Hooray!

Running Up That Hill

Done: 2 monthly lessons plans
1 awkward phone call
1 awkward e-mail
1 box of stuff packed

To Do: Mail 1 iPod
Write 14 student progress reports
Watch 1 movie as mostly solemnly vowed to Paul on our very marriage
Grade 17 exercise books
Teach 4 classes

Let's see. It's 4:17 am Thurday. Yeah, I think I can make it by 7:30 pm Friday.

Story of My Life

Wow. Apparently, you all were only reading my blog for family trivia. Who knew? Sheesh. I should have been dishing this stuff out months ago. Obviously, we've used up most of the good stuff, but maybe we can dig some more goodies out of the vaults later. In the meantime, I thought I'd pass along the following story. It is a well-established fact (in life, if not here) that I can only remember Paul's birthday by adding one to Scott Calder's birthday (Sept. 21). This has always rankled the usually-unranklable Paul and I always felt a little bad about it, although if he'd gone to school with me since kindergarten, I'd remember his birthday still too. Seriously, I don't know about any of you, but the classrooms used to have all of the months of year posted and a list of all the birthdays that month. I think I could probably name the birthday of any of the kids I went through elementary with. Anyway though, today we were discussing what I want for my birthday (a new laptop) and how much (a lot--kind of, it's complicated)and Paul totally could not remember my birthday! (It's April 20, for those of you still needing to organize firework displays, parades, lavish spectacles, etc.) "There are too many birthdays with 2s in them," he said. I am not sure I will ever stop being amused. I know I'll never feel bad about having to add one to Scott Calder's birthday any more. Hee hee hee.

Know Thy Other Enemy

As promised, here is the random family facts about Paul's family. I can't vouch for their accuracy, but Paul says it's true.

Paul's brother, Nick, has no middle name.

His dad originally told family members that Spencer's name was David. (Spencer is Paul's youngest brother)

Paul had hernia surgery when he was 10 days old.

His mom received a promotion after one week as a teller.

Their family had a long-running "Guess Dad's Youthful Misadventure" contest.

Paul has a set of twins and a set of triplets among his cousins.

His dad was named after Danny Kaye, the singer/actor.

Their family had goldfish named Nephi and Sam.

Nick won a scariest pumpkin carving contest in high school.

His mom once wrote for the Daily Herald.

Spencer loved biting noses as a baby.

Paul's dad has a notoriously bad memory and is frequently accused of making memories up by other family members.

Nick hit his head and forgot it was Christmas one year.

His mom once prank-called her sister and pretended to be the Bay City Rollers.

Know Thy Enemy

Dear All,
I'm sufficiently bored, so I've decided to share random facts about my family.

My sister's nicknames are "small one" and "mouse."

My mother's driver's license lists her height as an inch shorter than she really is.

My dad used to call me "Thunderlizard" because I was so noisy--especially in kitchen getting breakfast on Saturday mornings.

My brother has a scar from when he hit his head on the very well-rounded corner of the TV stand and split it (his head) open.

I have a cousin exactly fifteen days older than I am.

We've had a virtual menegarie of pets over the years: 2 dogs, 6 cats (not including kittens), 2 rabbits, 3 hamsters, 8 gerbils, 1 rat (on loan), and loads of fish.

Speaking of fish, my dad once accidentally killed our pet fish the night before we were leaving on vacation.

I have two scars on the back of one of my knees from somehow kneeling on scissors in the second grade.

My dog is named after an emperor of the Holy Roman Empire.

All of the children in my family celebrate their birthdays within an eleven-day period (April 13-24).

My brother's last rabbit was called Frisky Kevin Eubanks (not originally by him, of course).

Tune it later for Random Family Facts, Round 2: The Muhlestein Family Edition

I've Tried, But There's These Fears I Can't Quell

So, I'm all stressing out about ASU. Why won't they respond to my polite e-mail about other offers and deadlines and how I need to know if I will have an answer before the 21st? At night, all I do is fret. Every morning, I wake up and I think who needs them? I don't even care anymore. Then night rolls around and I'm back to worrying. Why don't they want me, which is what I think even though I know that is not what this means. Oh sure, I've been accepted to Boulder, but what if I get there and they don't want go me? What if I only looked good on paper? What if in person I am horrifically unqualified? As you can see, I wasn't kidding about the obsession part. I wish I would get some news so I could sleep again.

Professionalism, Obedience, and Diligence Can Only Hurt You: A Cautionary Tale

Today's post comes courtesy of Paul, who theorized that our professionalism, obedience, and diligence at work were hurting both ourselves and the ILP program here.

Example #1: When we arrived, newsletters only consisted of the spelling words and the title of the grammar chapter. Now, the newsletters contain the spelling words, the page number of the book the word is used on, GEPT words, definitions, parts of speech, an example sentence using each word, grammar terminology, and any new vocabulary used in the grammar book.

Example #2: When we arrived, tests were almost exclusively spelling and if they failed, it was not good, but they just got yelled at to study. Now, there are separate grammar and spelling tests, two midterms, and a final. Failed tests result in no breaks, extra homework, and a re-take (up to 2 times).

Example #3: When we arrived, homework was checked by the teacher (and possibly corrected by them). Now, homework is checked by the teacher (daily), the head teacher (as time permits), and one of the secretaries (once a semester). Sentences with any mistakes must be corrected by the student and rewritten 2x. Excessive mistakes results in the whole assignment being rewritten. Homework is now graded on 100 point scale based on handwriting, completeness, complexity, grammar, and whether it fulfills the assignment or not. A score of less than 90 results in extra homework and a complete rewriting of the assignment.

Example #4: When we arrived, the teachers here were totally flakes who never followed through on anything and did pretty much whatever they wanted. Now, the teachers (us) are not flakes and actually implement our boss' commands.

End results? No subject lessons, not a lot of talking time, a significant decrease in the fun for the kids, and a program that resembles ILP in no way. Now our boss is complaining that the kids don't like learning English as much.

The greatest irony is what I told Paul just last night before the scoring of homework was announced and all that it entails: "I don't know why we even bother with spelling words and tests. My kids never study for the tests or try to learn the words. They don't even lie to me and say they studied." I had just found out that they have to memorize 25 words a week for their English classes in their Chinese schools. No 10 yr old is going to memorize 50 new words in a foreign language every week, so it's no wonder that they study the other words over ours. Those words have real grades and ranks and consequences attached to them. At worse, I can make them kind of miserable for 2 hours twice a week.

Jennifer and the Horrible, Awful, No Good, Very Bad Day

With respect, I haven't read Alexander and the Horrible, Awful, No Good, Very Bad Day in a very long time, having failed to pursuade my students to choose it yesterday. So this post might be not faithful in any way to the book. (Though it is definitely kin to Grover's Awful Day, which is being read this month in kindergarten. In short, it is rainy, his boot gets stuck in some gum, he's late to school, he can't get his picture to look the way he wants, he left his lunch at home, his replacement lunch is a sandwich he hates, etc. It ends with him crying and his teacher and friend making him feel better somehow.) Yesterday wasn't a very bad, awful day because of any big thing, rather it was one of the those horrible series of events where little things are continually going wrong just like Grover (and possibly Alexander, like I said I can't remember). I was late to work, I was ambushed by my boss and given a new and immediate work task when I really needed just 5 freakin' minutes to print and copy my worksheets for class, I got sniped at by a fellow teacher for not having the daily kindergarten plans written up for the next day (she sniped at me again today, this time for not having given them to her at the time that was most convenient for her. She is a "witch" about kindergarten, which she is always complaining about having to teach even though she only teaches 3 hors a week. Paul called her a word that rhymes with witch about this and when Paul says that, well you really are!) I was late to opening (for SPEs/kindergarten), the kids would either not talk or yell over each other at once, I realized at the beginning of my 3A class that I had failed to copy the awesome worksheets I made a full week in advance and had to run downstairs to do that (feeling judged by the secretaries the whole time), one of my kids was a constant heckler who I wound up having a lengthy chat in the hall with and who gave zero explanation for his behavior, my 4A are always lousy but extra so because two of the girls just flat out refused to speak and one had not done her homework all week. By this point, I was really grumpy because I had no patience left and we had too much to do for sulky temper tantrums. I did triumph in the end, though. Work was done and words were said. Anyway, on way home, Paul said some things and I took it to be a criticism of my teaching, and well that went the way it might be imagined. Eventually, things seemed sorted out and I went to bed.

Normally, this is where the horrible, awful, no good, very bad day would end. But this was a bonus, extended version day. At 8:30 in the blessed am (after having gone to bed at 3:00ish), I was woken up by the apparent sounds of bombs falling on our city. This was both frightening (it was incredibily loud) and terribly confusing as I live in a very unstrategic city. Who would waste their bombs on us? I got up and ran to the glass doors to see what was going on and there was a MASSIVE religious ceremony going on in the courtyard. The "bombs" were the tons of firecrackers they were setting off directly in front of our apartment ahead of a palaquin carrying a religious statue. It was a very surreal and lenghty (by my reckoning) ceremony, I feel a little bad feeling so put off by it since all religions have rites that seem whacktastic to outsiders. I'll write about it later. Anyway, I waited for it to end and went back to bed and the next thing I know, Paul is waking me up saying it's 1:00 pm. I'm supposed to be at work at 1:00 pm. I was supposed to be in even earlier today to take care of that immediate task my boss gave me. This did not a cheery Jennifer make and poor Paul took the full force of it. I can't find my glasses, I don't have anything to eat (nor the time) or take with me to eat, I grab my backpack only to discover a package of Sweet and Sour sauce has exploded all over it and the floor at some point in the night (probably after being stepped on), I hadn't e-mailed myself the daily SPE plans when I finished them because I was supposed to wake up at 11:30, and so on.

Eventually, I, like Grover, started to cry and poor Paul, still reeling from some very mean words (the meanest words ever, he would go on to describe them as), gingerly stepped up to the plate, hoping that perhaps this time, a hug would be a good response. And just like Grover, it was. Don't ever say you didn't learn anything from Sesame Street. We came up with a plan where I didn't need my backpack, had something to eat and time to eat it, made it to work before class actually started, and could still complete the task that needed to be done right away. And for the first time in 1 and 1/2 days, everything worked just the way it should have.

So my fur is back down and life is worth living for yet another day. Virtual ear rubs are still being accepted, though.

I Kind of Forgive My Roommates, Or I Hate My Roommates: Part 2

Well, I kind of forgave my roommates after a very embarassed and extremely hungover Ellie apologized for the previous night's events (which she could only vaguely remember) and vowed that Chris aka the strange man would never be associated with again, much less brought home. Apparently, they didn't mean to bring him home, but they couldn't ditch him and too wasted to form a decent plan to do so. She seemed sincere (and certainly miserable, what with the vomiting and hangover) and it turned out to be far from the most humiliating thing she had done that night. That would be yelling a very harsh Chinese vulgarity at a number of college students in a 7-11. Forgiving seemed like the kind thing to do. After all, not being able to go to the 7-11 is a pretty cruel punishment. Oh, and the best part of the whole mess is that they were drinking absinthe--which they had never tried and wound up hating. All that for stuff you didn't even like in the end.

I Hate My Stupid Roommates

I hate my stupid roommates. Normally, things are okay, but at 3:37 am this morning they came home with a strange man in tow. I suspect this is "Chris," some guy they met last week who also teaches English in Changhua. Yet, I kind of hope it is not, because they described him as "intense" and "weird." I'd feel better about their (not really sure which one he goes with, though we're suspecting the Belgian) judgment if, you know, they weren't completely drunk. (Ellie loudly wondered out loud if she had locked the door--literally seconds after doing so.)He swore like a sailor too, which was not endearing. Hold on, they're coming down the stairs. Ugh, is he going to sleep on the sofa?!! No, wait, she's apologizing and telling him good night and out he goes. Thank goodness. Maybe Li laid down the law. It wouldn't surprise me, she would not take that sort of thing well. At least I can finally take my shower--at 4:15 am! Stupid, stupid roommates. Maybe I'll listen to "Stupid Girls" before I take my shower. Morons.

Springing It Up

I've decided the blog here was suffering from a serious case of the February bleaks, so I've punched up the color. It's still not as colorful as I had hoped (I could not find a suitably sunshiney yellow), but it's an improvement. You all can register your approval or disapproval in the usual manner with the usual lack of bindingness. Not much is going on here, we attended the local Lantern Festival which was rather sedate. I should have some pictures up at the end of the week or so. Ellie leaves for Hong Kong tomorrow to apply for another visitor visa so she can stay for another two months (and work illegally). She's nervous because the last teachers who did that were held in Hong Kong for five days before being approved. Apparently being stuck in Hong Kong just doesn't appeal to her. I keep reminding her of the bright side, being deported still means going home (well, to Belgium at least). Don't worry too much about her, her grandfather has made "arrangements" with his "Italian" business acquaintances in case of trouble. (That's really how she said it too, though "Sicilian" is more accurate, if we're going to be pointing fingers.) Besides, those are the best "arrangements" to have--they work!

BREAKING NEWS--I'M IN--WITH MONEY!!!

This just in--Boulder says yes!!! They want me to come to their graduate program. So much, they're offering financial support. Multiple forms of financial support. I don't know how good it is, but I think they might like me. I'm just so relieved it wasn't a rejection. That I could have dealt with, except this was in an e-mail and from a person named Stormy. Rejection is a fact of life, but being told you're not good enough to make the cut by a person named Stormy? That's just too cruel.

The Rise and Fall of a Great Beard

Paul finally broke down and purchased himself a razor (the first such purchase in 8 months--and no, disposable razors do not last that long, even four of them) after much forgetfulness on the part of his wife and what happens? He decides to renounce shaving completely and embrace his inner woodsman. It's been exactly two weeks now and I must say, the beard is coming along nicely. I don't know how long it actually takes to grow a fabulously full beard, but it seems on-track. We're well out of the out of pokey hedgehog stage, so that's nice. I really like it right now, but I guess we'll see how everything looks when it's done. I don't want any crumbs getting caught. I'll try to take a picture, but you know how elusive the Paul can be. I might have to ambush him while sleeping. It's mean, but you should all be able to gaze upon the growth (in wonder, no doubt) yourselves.

Addendum:
Sadly, there will be no pictures or full beard, for it met an all-too-soon demise today. Our boss didn't feel the love, despite ILP's previous assurance that they were down with beards. The fates continue to conspire against facial hair, as Paul has been beardless by force (of grooming standards) for the last seven years between the mission, BYU, and now Taiwan. Is there no rest for those weary of shaving?

Someone ate my Pickles and Messed with my Ginger Ale

Someone ate my pickles and messed with my ginger ale. I'm not pointing any fingers, but only one other person in this house has a jar of pickles--a jar that has remained suspiciously full--and my ginger ale is woefully lacking in sugar. (Never thought I would complain about that.) J'accuse you, Swcheppes Australia Ltd.!

Complete Tainan Slide Show (May Cause Severe Boredom)

Slide Show of Selected Tainan Pictures

Alas!! They Were So Sacrificial!

Paul and I boldly sallied forth today to visit Tainan, a city an hour-and-a-half away by train. It was mainly Paul's doing since I was sick and grumpy after three-ish hours of sleep (yeah, not good, but not my fault. I went to bed at a near-to-reasonable hour. If my body refuses to sleep, that's its problem).

Our first stop was the Confucian Temple complex, which was very nice. It was well-preserved and run by adorably friendly people (they gave us an extra map). It was the only Confucian temple where I've ever since people worship. There was a little musuem in the outlying buildings with artifacts, pictures, and English explanations. Paul was really put off by the animal sacrifices. Apparently, Tainan celebrates Confucius' birthday with a big ceremony that includes the sacrifice of a cow, goat, and pig. Paul wishes to mention that the pond in the complex had swimming turtles in it, not turtles just chilling on logs or whatever, but actually swimming around. They were cute.

After that, I was a little cheerier and Paul talked me into stopping at Lily Fruit Shop, where we got a bowl of shaved ice topped with passionfruit syrup. Here's a rare picture of a smiling Paul at the shop. (It's rare to see a picture of the elusive Paul, not that it's rare for him to smile.) We continued on to the South Gate, which was fun and had a random collection of steles. My favorite was one commissioned by the town's salt merchants to thank the magistrate for releasing emergency salt after some ships sunk in a storm in 1784. Here, we met an elderly woman (80s) who was amused to see us foreigners reading signs about monuments we couldn't read. (I know this, because she said it to us in Chinese.) She was sweet, but what was distinctive about her was her feet. The first thing Paul said when we were out of earshot was, "Did she have bound feet?" I agree there was something unusual about her feet in both small size and uncommon shape, but I'm fairly certain anyone who ever had bound feet in Taiwan is long dead. It was at any rate an unexpected sight and while admittedly fascinated, I didn't dare to look for too long, lest we be caught staring.

We bravely walked on to the Temple of the Five Consorts, which was Paul's favorite temple of the day. It's dedicated to the five wives of the last king of Taiwan, who committed suicide after learning that he had committed suicide in anticipation of losing his throne. The temple was small, but had a lot of open ground (green space is very rare here and usually found as part of a temple's grounds) and a beautiful little flower garden. The second memorial (the first is in the South Gate's collection) to the women praised their virtue in such exaggerated moralistic tones, it was unbelievably over-the-top in English. The title of this post is a direct quote from the memorial. The last line was "The effects of their good virtue will eternally spread." The whole site had the appearance of someone's pet project. (A smaller related shrine was getting all of its interior decoration replaced and had a pad for kneeling--very unusual for such a small public shrine.)

We got a little lost after that, but my mediocre Chinese and Paul's navigational skills pulled us through and we were eventually able to find our destination of Koxinga's Shrine. Paul argued that since it was built in 1967, it really couldn't be considered a historical site. He's right, but I'm glad we went because the decoration on it was lovely and they were getting ready for a big festival to be held there next week, so everything was being repaired and painted. It also had nice grounds, though no flowers.

Across the street was the Lady Linshui's temple, which was the second-best temple we've seen in Taiwan. (Longshan in Taibei is still the best.) It was packed with families (Lady Linshui and her helpers are dedicated to helping women and children) and dozens of small shrines and three big ones. This was the first temple where a religious ceremony was taking place while we wandered by. It was very cool.

By now we were starting to flag, but we squeezed in two more temples, both of which were minor disappointments. If you bill yourself as having horrific murals of hell, you better have horrific pictures of hell, not a single etched metal sheet showing general demon poking of humans.

Completely flagging, we dragged ourselves to a restaurant recommended in the guidebook, where I couldn't read any of the dishes to save my life. Eventually, the one employee with some English was sent our way. She set us up with what we requested (dry--which means cooked and not in a soup--noodles) and a shop speciality. It was all very cheap, so we said yes. I really liked the noodles, Paul was indifferent. (I wound up finishing his bowl.) The speciality was gross on all accounts, but oh well. 1 for 2 isn't bad.

Somewhat restored, we walked down a block to the Chikan towers. The towers themselves aren't that impressive--just two big, kind of old towers, but the ground were pretty and packed to the gills with families. It was a happening place, where you can borrow costumes to dress up in for a picture and there are billions of GIANT goldfish eager to be fed (which is surprisingly fun). The towers weren't overly exciting, but it was fun to be where people were. There was live "folk" music which was pleasant. This was also where I learned the harsh lesson that they do make squatter portapotties.

We managed to pack in two more temples--one had very cool detail work--but were out of time and I was so exhausted, I thought poor Paul might have to carry me back to the train station. We successfully boarded our train home and I slept in between stops. It is now 9:30 pm and if I can stay awake until 11 pm, it will be a) a miracle and b) hopefully a solid step in fixing my sleeping schedule.

P.S. I can't get the images button to work, so there are no pictures, but I will try to fix it and get some up soon.

Stop Raining Continuously On My Parade!

Stop raining continuously on my parade, Taiwan! First it literally rains, then it's bitter cold (okay, mid-fifties) and damp and gale-force winds--which are both very cold and hard to bike against--and my movie's sold out of the first time in like the history of the country and I'm miserably sick and we tried again today to go to the movie and it was sold out again and dubbed into Chinese so we couldn't even go to the next showing. We tried to go buy sandwiches at Casa Minierva, but it was closed. Then we tried the new restaurant next to it and it looked great--except everything was at least 500 dollars (NT), which would have been acceptable if we had more than a couple hundred on us total. We then contemplated out food options since a) food street is still closed for the freakin' New Year (which was Thursday) , b) sandwiches were out, c) we couldn't make much at home; also, we have no bread which has been sold out since New Year's, and d) the only things open were McDonalds and KFC, neither of which appealed, but we had to eat somewhere, so McDonalds won out on the basis of its heat and menu diversity.

Before we could eat, we had to go to the train station to pick up our tickets for Tainan, which had been successfully ordered online the night before. The first clerk, apparently freaked out by our foreignness (and presumed no Chinese abilities) kicked us right quick over to information, which was okay because I wasn't sure if you picked up the tickets at a special window or something. The information lady passed us onto the Deputy Station Manager, who said we could pick up our tickets at any window. So we got back in line and picked a new teller, who was baffled by our request, despite having Paul's ARC card (the tickets are reserved under your ARC or passport number, not by name) and my repeated statements in Chinese that we had already ordered our tickets online and we were trying to pick them up. (Note: Paul was not impressed with this teller, considering him to be possibly new and grumpy.) He passed us over to teller #4, who was being surpervised by our friend the Deputy Station Manager. He at least did not seem baffled by request, although it took him a minute to figure things out on the computer. (He seemed very pleased when he realized we had two sets of tickets because they were round-trip tickets.) Once that was clear, everything moved along quickly, although we had to pay by debit card, which we had not planned on, because the tickets were NT$1100. (They don't tell you the price when you reserve the tickets.)

Anyways, that's enough of the grumbles from me. I feel better now. I am excited to go to Tainan on Monday and both Paul and I are enjoying our New Year's "gifts" (Devil May Cry 4 and the Sims 2 Seasons!), so life really is worth living (in case you were worried).

In Conclusion, Taiwan is a Land of Many Contrasts

Paul and I kicked off the exciting New Year by sleeping until 3:30 pm and then it was only the lure of delicious American food that could get us out of our warm bed and into the cold, damp world. We took our friendly 102 to Taichung where we dined at a fine bastion of American culinary culture, TGI Fridays. It was especially fine because this TGI Fridays had finally got the memo about the chain's trademark Jack Daniels sauce. I lapped it up in both sesame chicken and hamburger form. Paul, meanwhile, indulged buffalo wings and a bacon cheeseburger. (Naturally, we could only finish half of each dish, but taking some home just spreads the goodness out over two days.)

Next we hightailed it over to Jason's where I spent with wild abandon--truffles, butterscotch chips, Miracle whip, fancy jam, gravy, ginger ale, even the holiest of grails spiral Mac and Cheese. But no sour cream, no salami, no provolone, and no Dr. Pepper!!! Lucky that I hoard that stuff like it will never be here again. The somewhat bizarre selection at Jason's was struck home when I discovered that they carry all flavors of those delicious Boulder Canyon natuarl potato chips and live King crabs (which are HUGE; I felt very sorry for one who kept trying to use the other crabs as a step ladder out of the tank, but the tank was too small for him to stretch out his legs far enough to quite reach the edges. If I had a couple thousand dollars lying around and knew where a king crab could be released into the wild, I would have liberated him.). I don't understand why you would have to take hostages to get sour cream (and would still probably be unsuccessful), yet have no problem finding jalepeno flavored natural potato chips. Despite what Heloise may tell you, Taiwanese yogurt is a poor substitute for sour cream.

Well, that was the exciting second day of our Chinese New Year vacation. Tomorrow if we wake up before noon, we're going to finally make it to Tainan and maybe even the beach in Kending if the awful weather clears up. Tonight was the first time I was cold while wearing my cardigan, a long-sleeve tee, and a windbreaker and moving. It also rained off and on today.

As a tantalizing preview of my next post, I'll just say this: Ellie and Katrina (the new teachers) celebrated the New Year by getting into a drinking contest with an elderly Taiwanese man.

Brief Angry Rant (Please Continue on to Post Below)

Dear ILP,
My freakin' name is Jennifer! It's not that hard to get! I call myself Jennifer, others refer to me as Jennifer, my e-mail lists the sender as Jennifer, I sign my e-mails Jennifer, I feel my name is very clear. So stop sending all correspondence addressed to "Jenni"! I don't know who this Jenni with an "i" person is, but she's clearly some terminally perky girl in a side ponytail and I assure you, that's not me. The next time you send something to "Jenni," I'm going to send it back as addressee unknown. Sheesh, the only more offensive mutilation of my name possible is "J.J."