A fisherman in Nebraska caught a double-mouthed rainbow trout (yum!), and it's going off to Harvard ...
"Two-mouthed trout heads to Harvard"
Note (added 2/16/06):
Hmm, appears original article is no longer available. I found another page online with the same story and replaced the link above.
Monday, December 26, 2005
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Apostrophes gone wild
On Christmas Eve, I saw a sign on Ocean Avenue that read "Christmas Tree's" were for sale.
This year I've also seen many family holiday photo cards that read, for example, "Happy Holidays, The Doe's."
Since when does pluralization require an apostrophe?
Apostrophes indicate possessiveness or omitted letters, such as in the case of contractions. (Relative pronouns don't get apostrophes, of course: his, hers, ours, yours, theirs, etc.) Although, "it's" and "its" seem to cause people many problems. To clarify, "it's" is a contraction for "it is" or "it has," while "its" is the possessive form of "it" with no apostrophe.
When in doubt, add an apostrophe? NO! A while ago I saw someone had written "its' " as the possessive form for "it." I have to admit, that is the first time I had seen that and made a mental note to write a blog post about its incorrectness. It's never correct to write "its'."
Other apostrophe pet peeves include words such as "CD's" and "DVD's." I can see how pluralizing these words may be confusing, but they don't need the apostrophe. Single letters require an apostrophe to avoid confusion: His report card was full of A's and B's. (You wouldn't want to say he got As.) But multiple letter combinations do not need an apostrophe: He learned his ABCs.
So the lesson of today's blog post? An apostrophe is not to be used indiscriminately ...
Trees
CDs
DVDs
A's
ABCs
it's
its
The possessive form of words ending in "S" and other more complicated apostrophe rules will have to wait for another lesson when the Hyphenator is less stuffed with Christmas ham and holiday treats.
BTW, after a thorough check of the greeting cards I received this year, I was happy to see that my relatives avoided using an apostrophe with their family names, either by pluralizing correctly (The Hyphenators) or avoiding the issue altogether (The Hyphenator Family).
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanza, Happy Holidays, and Season's Greetings from the Hyphenator!
This year I've also seen many family holiday photo cards that read, for example, "Happy Holidays, The Doe's."
Since when does pluralization require an apostrophe?
Apostrophes indicate possessiveness or omitted letters, such as in the case of contractions. (Relative pronouns don't get apostrophes, of course: his, hers, ours, yours, theirs, etc.) Although, "it's" and "its" seem to cause people many problems. To clarify, "it's" is a contraction for "it is" or "it has," while "its" is the possessive form of "it" with no apostrophe.
When in doubt, add an apostrophe? NO! A while ago I saw someone had written "its' " as the possessive form for "it." I have to admit, that is the first time I had seen that and made a mental note to write a blog post about its incorrectness. It's never correct to write "its'."
Other apostrophe pet peeves include words such as "CD's" and "DVD's." I can see how pluralizing these words may be confusing, but they don't need the apostrophe. Single letters require an apostrophe to avoid confusion: His report card was full of A's and B's. (You wouldn't want to say he got As.) But multiple letter combinations do not need an apostrophe: He learned his ABCs.
So the lesson of today's blog post? An apostrophe is not to be used indiscriminately ...
Trees
CDs
DVDs
A's
ABCs
it's
its
The possessive form of words ending in "S" and other more complicated apostrophe rules will have to wait for another lesson when the Hyphenator is less stuffed with Christmas ham and holiday treats.
BTW, after a thorough check of the greeting cards I received this year, I was happy to see that my relatives avoided using an apostrophe with their family names, either by pluralizing correctly (The Hyphenators) or avoiding the issue altogether (The Hyphenator Family).
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanza, Happy Holidays, and Season's Greetings from the Hyphenator!
Thursday, December 22, 2005
To hyphenate or not to hyphenate
Sorry, this is not a punctuation lesson. The Hyphenator is in a sort of hyphenation quandary.
I've yet to make a final decision on what to change my name to after I say "I do" -- if I decide to change it at all. Should I truly become the Hyphenator and use a hyphenated married last name?
Not only do I have to decide what my last name will be, but I now have the opportunity to change my middle name as well. (I don't really have a middle name as my parents thought I could choose one myself when I was older, thinking perhaps I might want to use part of my Korean name.)
My last name options:
The combinations go on and on when it comes to using my Korean name as part of my middle name:
Then there's the question of whether or not to hyphenate my Korean first name (the two characters or syllables), or combine them into one name. According to AP style, Korean family names always come first followed by the first name. But South Korean first names are hyphenated, as in Yoon-jin Kim, while North Korean first names are not, as in Kim Jong Il. I know other Koreans who have joined both characters/syllables/names of the first name together: Yoonjin.
To add to the confusion is the spelling of my Korean name. I've always known (and spelled) my Korean name based on McCune-Reischauer romanization. But the revised system would make Kim Jong Il, for example, into Gim Jeong Il. I'm not too fond of the revised romanization as I'm set in my ways. To me it's kalbi -- no, I don't mean galbi. I suppose kimchi or kimchee would be gimchi.
In the Midwest, Swedish names are fairly common: Johnson, Anderson, Swanson, etc. Asians with Swedish names are not so common. Personally, I like the fact that my name does not reflect that I am Asian. Not because I don't want to be associated with being Asian or because I am trying to be white. I like the surprise factor in meeting someone who only knows me by my name -- for example, in job interviews. Looking at my résumé, potential employers would have no clue that I am Asian. So upon meeting me, they can be caught a bit off guard -- advantage the Hyphenator!
After I am married, I suppose people might see my wedding band and assume my Swedish name is my married name, not my maiden name. That's where a hyphenated last name would make things interesting -- "Wait, is that her maiden name and her married name or what?!"
I actually like my name. I never had a problem with my name in school. Kids had a hard time trying to come up with rhyming names to tease me with.
And I'm fond of my last name. I'd like to keep it as it reminds me of my paternal grandfather -- to this day, whenever I think about him, I get teary-eyed. He never treated me any differently from his other grandkids -- I was never his "adopted granddaughter." If anything, I was his "favorite granddaughter."
At the same time, I feel like now is the perfect chance to include my Korean name to reflect who I am. Ever since I learned what my Korean name is, I've identified with that on a certain level as if it had never been taken away from me. In Korea when I met my family, it felt so natural to respond to them when they called me by my Korean name.
Perhaps in the end I will not change my name at all as procrastination is one trait I've perfected over the past 30-plus years (BTW, I started this post in July). The legal papers will probably be in front of me ready to be signed as the beat of "My name is ..." repeats through my head, still undecided.
One thing's for certain, although tempting, I won't be changing my name to Princess Consuela Banana Hammock. (I swear, there's a "Friends" reference for everything, even adoption.)
I've yet to make a final decision on what to change my name to after I say "I do" -- if I decide to change it at all. Should I truly become the Hyphenator and use a hyphenated married last name?
Not only do I have to decide what my last name will be, but I now have the opportunity to change my middle name as well. (I don't really have a middle name as my parents thought I could choose one myself when I was older, thinking perhaps I might want to use part of my Korean name.)
My last name options:
- Do I leave my name as is: Mrs. Hyphenator? (Women in Korea keep their family name when they marry. For more information about Korean names, check out Wikipedia.)
- Do I take my future hubby's last name: Mrs. Grammarman? (This is least favorite option.)
- Do I hyphenate: Mrs. Hyphenator-Grammarman?
- Do I make my last name my middle name and tack on hubby's last name: Mrs. Hyphenator Grammarman? (Unless I hyphenate my name and my future children's names, this may be helpful in identifying me as their mother.)
The combinations go on and on when it comes to using my Korean name as part of my middle name:
- Use Korean family name?
- Use Korean first name?
- Use whole Korean name?
- Use Korean family name, then first name?
- Use Korean first name, then family name?
Then there's the question of whether or not to hyphenate my Korean first name (the two characters or syllables), or combine them into one name. According to AP style, Korean family names always come first followed by the first name. But South Korean first names are hyphenated, as in Yoon-jin Kim, while North Korean first names are not, as in Kim Jong Il. I know other Koreans who have joined both characters/syllables/names of the first name together: Yoonjin.
To add to the confusion is the spelling of my Korean name. I've always known (and spelled) my Korean name based on McCune-Reischauer romanization. But the revised system would make Kim Jong Il, for example, into Gim Jeong Il. I'm not too fond of the revised romanization as I'm set in my ways. To me it's kalbi -- no, I don't mean galbi. I suppose kimchi or kimchee would be gimchi.
In the Midwest, Swedish names are fairly common: Johnson, Anderson, Swanson, etc. Asians with Swedish names are not so common. Personally, I like the fact that my name does not reflect that I am Asian. Not because I don't want to be associated with being Asian or because I am trying to be white. I like the surprise factor in meeting someone who only knows me by my name -- for example, in job interviews. Looking at my résumé, potential employers would have no clue that I am Asian. So upon meeting me, they can be caught a bit off guard -- advantage the Hyphenator!
After I am married, I suppose people might see my wedding band and assume my Swedish name is my married name, not my maiden name. That's where a hyphenated last name would make things interesting -- "Wait, is that her maiden name and her married name or what?!"
I actually like my name. I never had a problem with my name in school. Kids had a hard time trying to come up with rhyming names to tease me with.
And I'm fond of my last name. I'd like to keep it as it reminds me of my paternal grandfather -- to this day, whenever I think about him, I get teary-eyed. He never treated me any differently from his other grandkids -- I was never his "adopted granddaughter." If anything, I was his "favorite granddaughter."
At the same time, I feel like now is the perfect chance to include my Korean name to reflect who I am. Ever since I learned what my Korean name is, I've identified with that on a certain level as if it had never been taken away from me. In Korea when I met my family, it felt so natural to respond to them when they called me by my Korean name.
Perhaps in the end I will not change my name at all as procrastination is one trait I've perfected over the past 30-plus years (BTW, I started this post in July). The legal papers will probably be in front of me ready to be signed as the beat of "My name is ..." repeats through my head, still undecided.
One thing's for certain, although tempting, I won't be changing my name to Princess Consuela Banana Hammock. (I swear, there's a "Friends" reference for everything, even adoption.)
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Spell check, please!
According to an SF Gate article, "World Wide Web creator" Tim Berners-Lee has started up his own blog.
For his first blog post, he describes the beginning of the Web and how it "was soon full of lots of interesting stuff, but not a space for communal design, for discource through communal authorship."
Perhaps you shouldn't use such a big word as "discourse" if you don't know how to spell it correctly, or else use a spell check program.
For his first blog post, he describes the beginning of the Web and how it "was soon full of lots of interesting stuff, but not a space for communal design, for discource through communal authorship."
Perhaps you shouldn't use such a big word as "discourse" if you don't know how to spell it correctly, or else use a spell check program.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Why fly when you can fly?
"Stranded loon gets a lift from Northwest Airlines"
"A male loon that lingered on Mayhew Lake when other loons migrated this fall has finally flown south -- with the help of Northwest Airlines."
Maybe it didn't want to fly south. Maybe it didn't want to just be one of the flock anymore. Maybe it enjoys the beauty of Minnesota winters, with the 10 inches of snow falling and snow emergency parking bans (even? odd?) in effect.
Sometimes I wonder why I moved to San Francisco. The thought of shoveling out my car from almost a foot of snow helps remind me.
"A male loon that lingered on Mayhew Lake when other loons migrated this fall has finally flown south -- with the help of Northwest Airlines."
Maybe it didn't want to fly south. Maybe it didn't want to just be one of the flock anymore. Maybe it enjoys the beauty of Minnesota winters, with the 10 inches of snow falling and snow emergency parking bans (even? odd?) in effect.
Sometimes I wonder why I moved to San Francisco. The thought of shoveling out my car from almost a foot of snow helps remind me.
Free Willy!
"Daring rescue of whale off Farallones: Humpback nuzzled her saviors in thanks after they untangled her from crab lines, diver says"
A humpback whale freed by divers from a tangle of crab trap lines near the Farallon Islands nudged its rescuers and flapped around in what marine experts said was a rare and remarkable encounter.
"It felt to me like it was thanking us, knowing that it was free and that we had helped it," James Moskito, one of the rescue divers, said Tuesday. "It stopped about a foot away from me, pushed me around a little bit and had some fun."
When the whale realized it was free, it began swimming around in circles, according to the rescuers. Moskito said it swam to each diver, nuzzled him and then swam to the next one.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Weird human story
"Pregnant Skydiver Survives Plunge"
Shayna Richardson was making her first solo skydiving jump when she had trouble with her parachutes and, while falling at about 50 mph, hit face first in a parking lot.
Although badly hurt, she survived — and doctors treating her injuries discovered she was pregnant. Four surgeries and two months later, Richardson said she and the fetus are doing fine.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Why am I here?
Finally, an answer to my burning question of "What is the purpose of my existence?"
Answer: To provide customer support help.
A customer/user/client had e-mailed in search of assistance, I replied and received the following message in turn:
"Thanks for being there. Glad you're on the planet."
Question answered. All is now right in the world of the Hyphenator.
Answer: To provide customer support help.
A customer/user/client had e-mailed in search of assistance, I replied and received the following message in turn:
"Thanks for being there. Glad you're on the planet."
Question answered. All is now right in the world of the Hyphenator.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Ready, set, TiVo!
Tune in to PBS's Independent Lens series on Tuesday, December 13, at 11 p.m. Pacific time (with encore presentations throughout the week) for "Seoul Train," a documentary on the "Underground Railroad" of North Korean refugees.
From the Wall Street Journal article, "Desperate Journey," by Nancy DeWolfe Smith on Friday, December 9 ...
"Getting out of North Korea, which this documentary accurately describes as the 'world's largest prison camp,' may be the easy part. Once they make it over the border into China, the refugees are hunted like rabbits by zealous Chinese cops and soldiers. Forcibly repatriated to North Korea, the refugees face torture and imprisonment for the treasonous act of leaving the country. It's a crime punishable by death. Some of the North Koreans interviewed for this film probably are dead already."
"It's estimated that up to three million souls have perished from hunger in recent years."
From the Wall Street Journal article, "Desperate Journey," by Nancy DeWolfe Smith on Friday, December 9 ...
"Getting out of North Korea, which this documentary accurately describes as the 'world's largest prison camp,' may be the easy part. Once they make it over the border into China, the refugees are hunted like rabbits by zealous Chinese cops and soldiers. Forcibly repatriated to North Korea, the refugees face torture and imprisonment for the treasonous act of leaving the country. It's a crime punishable by death. Some of the North Koreans interviewed for this film probably are dead already."
"It's estimated that up to three million souls have perished from hunger in recent years."
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Why?!
Why do bad things always happen to good people?
Damn, damn, damn.
I found out today that a friend of mine was killed in a car accident this past weekend. She was killed instantly. In a situation like that, is it OK to be thankful that it was quick?
This week has been crazy busy with work, already putting in three 12-hour days and it's only Tuesday. So here I sit at my computer, bawling every few minutes. It's hard to be productive when you can't see cleary because the tears keep flowing. With the work stress alone, I was ready for a nervous breakdown.
She was looking forward to coming to my wedding in Hawaii, and I was looking forward to catching up with her and what was going on in her life and with her family. Living in separate states, I hadn't seen her in a good year and a half -- since I moved to San Francisco.
She had the kindest soul. The string of e-mails that have brought the news just shows how many people's lives she touched.
Even though she died in a freak accident, some may say it was her time to go. Well, I say, Screw that! I'm too damn selfish and feel selfish for her family who need her and will miss her terribly.
I miss her already.
My heart goes out to her family.
Damn, damn, damn.
I found out today that a friend of mine was killed in a car accident this past weekend. She was killed instantly. In a situation like that, is it OK to be thankful that it was quick?
This week has been crazy busy with work, already putting in three 12-hour days and it's only Tuesday. So here I sit at my computer, bawling every few minutes. It's hard to be productive when you can't see cleary because the tears keep flowing. With the work stress alone, I was ready for a nervous breakdown.
She was looking forward to coming to my wedding in Hawaii, and I was looking forward to catching up with her and what was going on in her life and with her family. Living in separate states, I hadn't seen her in a good year and a half -- since I moved to San Francisco.
She had the kindest soul. The string of e-mails that have brought the news just shows how many people's lives she touched.
Even though she died in a freak accident, some may say it was her time to go. Well, I say, Screw that! I'm too damn selfish and feel selfish for her family who need her and will miss her terribly.
I miss her already.
My heart goes out to her family.
Friday, November 25, 2005
Feeding time
My friend Ji-In sent me a link to this video to add to my collection of weird animal stories ...
"Octopus Eats Shark" (viewable in Internet Explorer browser)
Keepers at the Seattle Aquarium kept finding shark carcasses at the bottom of the tank. For weeks the 3- to 4-foot sharks kept vanishing. Turns out the culprit was an octopus they had moved into the large tank.
Heartbreaking
The following is an AP story about two 3-month-old cheetah cubs in an Ethiopian village ...
"U.S. Troops Find Abused Cheetah Cubs"
He knows "what animals need." I'd like to see the owner dragged around by a rope around his neck.
"Octopus Eats Shark" (viewable in Internet Explorer browser)
Keepers at the Seattle Aquarium kept finding shark carcasses at the bottom of the tank. For weeks the 3- to 4-foot sharks kept vanishing. Turns out the culprit was an octopus they had moved into the large tank.
Heartbreaking
The following is an AP story about two 3-month-old cheetah cubs in an Ethiopian village ...
"U.S. Troops Find Abused Cheetah Cubs"
"I don't see why I should hand them over," Hudle told The Associated Press on Wednesday. 'When I was younger I looked after goats and camels, so I know what animals need.
His sons, 4 and 2, pulled the cubs' tails and dragged them around by ropes tied tightly to their necks. Other children followed, poking and teasing the frightened animals.
He knows "what animals need." I'd like to see the owner dragged around by a rope around his neck.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
What's cookin'?
In San Francisco? Not much, I'm afraid.
I've come to the conclusion that many residents of San Francisco do not cook. This is based on some of my experiences since I've moved to the city.
For example, this evening I was shopping in the bakery aisle of my local grocery store, looking for baking cups -- you know, for muffins and cupcakes.
Thanksgiving is coming up, and corn bread muffins have been in my head for weeks now. Since I won't be traveling home to the Midwest and my mom's Thanksgiving dinner this year (to save some money for the wedding), I thought I'd make some because Thanksgiving to me is just not Thanksgiving without corn bread muffins. Now, I realize I do not need baking cups for muffins, but my mom always makes them with the paper cups and they just look so darn cute with the pastel wrappers.
So there I am in the grocery aisle, picking out baking cups. At first I was a bit disappointed when I thought only white ones were available, but to my relief the pastel ones were just hidden below.
As I turn to put the cups in my cart, a young woman in the aisle sees me with my cups and approaches me. She's about mid-20s, I'd say, professionally dressed. She asks if I'm making cupcakes. A bit surprised, I blurt out that I'm making muffins.
She then asks me if there are special mixes for making cupcakes. A second passed as her question repeated in my head and I thought to myself, "Are you kidding me??"
Noticing that she has a disposable cupcake tin in her hands, I take pity on her and explain that she just needs a cake mix to make cupcakes.
Curious to see what the woman would pick out for her cupcakes, I pretend to browse the section of cake mixes myself -- ready to offer any other valuable cooking advice if needed.
I see her eying the higher shelves of brownies and think to myself, "No, no, no! Cake mixes! Cake mixes!" After a little while, she finally selects a moist chocolate cake mix, and I sigh.
Talk about a case for "Food 911" or "How to Boil Water." Tyler Florence, you're needed in San Francisco!
I've come to the conclusion that many residents of San Francisco do not cook. This is based on some of my experiences since I've moved to the city.
For example, this evening I was shopping in the bakery aisle of my local grocery store, looking for baking cups -- you know, for muffins and cupcakes.
Thanksgiving is coming up, and corn bread muffins have been in my head for weeks now. Since I won't be traveling home to the Midwest and my mom's Thanksgiving dinner this year (to save some money for the wedding), I thought I'd make some because Thanksgiving to me is just not Thanksgiving without corn bread muffins. Now, I realize I do not need baking cups for muffins, but my mom always makes them with the paper cups and they just look so darn cute with the pastel wrappers.
So there I am in the grocery aisle, picking out baking cups. At first I was a bit disappointed when I thought only white ones were available, but to my relief the pastel ones were just hidden below.
As I turn to put the cups in my cart, a young woman in the aisle sees me with my cups and approaches me. She's about mid-20s, I'd say, professionally dressed. She asks if I'm making cupcakes. A bit surprised, I blurt out that I'm making muffins.
She then asks me if there are special mixes for making cupcakes. A second passed as her question repeated in my head and I thought to myself, "Are you kidding me??"
Noticing that she has a disposable cupcake tin in her hands, I take pity on her and explain that she just needs a cake mix to make cupcakes.
Curious to see what the woman would pick out for her cupcakes, I pretend to browse the section of cake mixes myself -- ready to offer any other valuable cooking advice if needed.
I see her eying the higher shelves of brownies and think to myself, "No, no, no! Cake mixes! Cake mixes!" After a little while, she finally selects a moist chocolate cake mix, and I sigh.
Talk about a case for "Food 911" or "How to Boil Water." Tyler Florence, you're needed in San Francisco!
Friday, November 04, 2005
Are you talkin' to me?!
My god, this could have been addressed to me ...
"Why Do You Have So Much Junk?"
Maybe there's hope for me yet. I have almost four months to clean out my hoard of clutter before my new married life begins. Besides, gotta make room for all my, err I mean our, lovely wedding gifts.
Let's see, where can I fit this gravy boat ... hmmm.
"Why Do You Have So Much Junk?"
Maybe there's hope for me yet. I have almost four months to clean out my hoard of clutter before my new married life begins. Besides, gotta make room for all my, err I mean our, lovely wedding gifts.
Let's see, where can I fit this gravy boat ... hmmm.
Royal mistake
The other day on a news Web site, I saw a link for a story from a local TV station:
"Prince, Dutchess visit Washington"
Come on, people! I guess with TV reporting it doesn't matter if it's "duchess" or "dutchess."
Note for all you royal watchers ...
Prince Charles and Camilla, the Duchess of Cornwall, will be in my 'hood on Monday evening for a dinner hosted by San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom and the British consul general at the newly opened M. H. de Young Memorial Museum in Golden Gate Park.
Oh, and in other nonroyalty, but celebrity news ...
Yesterday, Warren Beatty left me -- yes, ME -- a message on my answering machine. Granted, it was a recorded message, and it was about voting "no" on upcoming California propositions in the election, but it surprised the heck out of me. I have yet to delete it. My mom would probably get a kick out of hearing it.
Now, where is Governor "It's NOT a toooma" Ahhhhnold?
"Prince, Dutchess visit Washington"
Come on, people! I guess with TV reporting it doesn't matter if it's "duchess" or "dutchess."
Note for all you royal watchers ...
Prince Charles and Camilla, the Duchess of Cornwall, will be in my 'hood on Monday evening for a dinner hosted by San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom and the British consul general at the newly opened M. H. de Young Memorial Museum in Golden Gate Park.
Oh, and in other nonroyalty, but celebrity news ...
Yesterday, Warren Beatty left me -- yes, ME -- a message on my answering machine. Granted, it was a recorded message, and it was about voting "no" on upcoming California propositions in the election, but it surprised the heck out of me. I have yet to delete it. My mom would probably get a kick out of hearing it.
Now, where is Governor "It's NOT a toooma" Ahhhhnold?
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Where does the time go?
112 days to go.
I haven't had much time lately to post to this blog. An interesting, weird, kimchi-related or just plain stupid news story will remind me to post, but I do it more for my own reference library, I guess. "Where is that bizarre animal story again?"
This time of year marks the beginning of the insanely busy period at work, so between copyediting useless information to the average person and wedding planning, I've been slacking off on the blogging. (Actually, I've been procrastinating on the wedding planning, but I've given myself a kick in the rear.)
OK, to be honest, the new TV season has sucked me back into my couch potato ways. Just when I think I'll have more free time since some of my favorite shows have ended, I stupidly watch the pilots of new shows, thinking I may miss the next big hit show (advertisers must love viewers like me).
This year's returning shows that still have me tuning in religiously every week are "Lost" (even if the writing goes to pot, I'll still watch for the Korean couple), "Medium," "Desperate Housewives" and "Joey" (out of "Friends" loyalty, I'm hoping it gets better this season). I also try to catch "Monk," "CSI," "Cold Case" and "Law & Order: SVU" when I can.
New shows that have consumed more of my time include HBO's "Rome," "Commander in Chief" (it's about damn time we had a female president, even if it's only on television -- 2008, ladies? oh, and just saw Russell Wong on tonight's episode), "Grey's Anatomy" (which is more interesting these days than the desperate housewives, and I'll tune in for Sandra Oh anytime), "How I Met Your Mother," "Surface," "Invasion" and -- now don't judge me -- "America's Next Top Model." Sigh, yes, it's true.
I really need a TiVo, preferably the 300-hour one at the low, low price of $550. Can I register for that?
I haven't had much time lately to post to this blog. An interesting, weird, kimchi-related or just plain stupid news story will remind me to post, but I do it more for my own reference library, I guess. "Where is that bizarre animal story again?"
This time of year marks the beginning of the insanely busy period at work, so between copyediting useless information to the average person and wedding planning, I've been slacking off on the blogging. (Actually, I've been procrastinating on the wedding planning, but I've given myself a kick in the rear.)
OK, to be honest, the new TV season has sucked me back into my couch potato ways. Just when I think I'll have more free time since some of my favorite shows have ended, I stupidly watch the pilots of new shows, thinking I may miss the next big hit show (advertisers must love viewers like me).
This year's returning shows that still have me tuning in religiously every week are "Lost" (even if the writing goes to pot, I'll still watch for the Korean couple), "Medium," "Desperate Housewives" and "Joey" (out of "Friends" loyalty, I'm hoping it gets better this season). I also try to catch "Monk," "CSI," "Cold Case" and "Law & Order: SVU" when I can.
New shows that have consumed more of my time include HBO's "Rome," "Commander in Chief" (it's about damn time we had a female president, even if it's only on television -- 2008, ladies? oh, and just saw Russell Wong on tonight's episode), "Grey's Anatomy" (which is more interesting these days than the desperate housewives, and I'll tune in for Sandra Oh anytime), "How I Met Your Mother," "Surface," "Invasion" and -- now don't judge me -- "America's Next Top Model." Sigh, yes, it's true.
I really need a TiVo, preferably the 300-hour one at the low, low price of $550. Can I register for that?
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Koreans taking over the world ... one nose at a time
"Korea's Makeover From Dull to Hip Changes Face of Asia"
"Across Asia, South Korea is cool. From fashion to music to film, the country of 48 million people is redefining style. And as notions of Korean beauty become popularized by the country's exploding cultural exports, women from around the region -- and some men, too -- are flocking to Seoul to have their faces remodeled."
South Korea's new tourism campaign: Visit Korea -- You, too, can look like a Korean soap star.
Scary.
Note (10/26/06): Sorry, just noticed the link now requires a WSJ login. Can probably find the article online doing a search on title.
"Across Asia, South Korea is cool. From fashion to music to film, the country of 48 million people is redefining style. And as notions of Korean beauty become popularized by the country's exploding cultural exports, women from around the region -- and some men, too -- are flocking to Seoul to have their faces remodeled."
South Korea's new tourism campaign: Visit Korea -- You, too, can look like a Korean soap star.
Scary.
Note (10/26/06): Sorry, just noticed the link now requires a WSJ login. Can probably find the article online doing a search on title.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
'Honey, you make me sick!'
"Japanese women suffering from retired husband syndrome:
Some wives become sick under the stress of demanding spouses"
The treatment? Therapy and spending "as much time as possible away from your husband."
Some wives become sick under the stress of demanding spouses"
The treatment? Therapy and spending "as much time as possible away from your husband."
Thursday, October 13, 2005
4,000-year-old noodles found in China
"Ancient noodles discovered in China"
"The Chinese say the Italians got it from them, via Marco Polo; Arabs claim its creation as an easily stored foodstuff suitable for long treks on the desert. The Japanese, Koreans, French and even the Germans also have claimed the noodle as their own.
Chinese researchers may have finally settled the contentious question by unearthing a 4,000-year-old container of noodles in northwestern China."
"The Chinese say the Italians got it from them, via Marco Polo; Arabs claim its creation as an easily stored foodstuff suitable for long treks on the desert. The Japanese, Koreans, French and even the Germans also have claimed the noodle as their own.
Chinese researchers may have finally settled the contentious question by unearthing a 4,000-year-old container of noodles in northwestern China."
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
More weird animal stories
"Python Explodes After Eating Alligator""
(Be sure to check out the photo with the article.)
"Alligators have clashed with nonnative pythons before in Everglades National Park. But when a 6-foot gator tangled with a 13-foot python recently, the result wasn't pretty.
The snake apparently tried to swallow the gator whole — and then exploded."
More python news, this time with a kitty! :(
"This Time, Python Eats Siamese Cat"
(Be sure to check out the photo with the article.)
"Alligators have clashed with nonnative pythons before in Everglades National Park. But when a 6-foot gator tangled with a 13-foot python recently, the result wasn't pretty.
The snake apparently tried to swallow the gator whole — and then exploded."
More python news, this time with a kitty! :(
"This Time, Python Eats Siamese Cat"
Monday, October 03, 2005
Friday, September 30, 2005
Throw 'im in!
I don't usually believe in an "eye for an eye," but in this case I think the man should be thrown in with the lions instead of getting life in prison ...
"Life for S Africa lion murderer"
"White farmer Mark Scott-Crossley and an employee beat up black former worker Nelson Chisale, and threw him to lions.
"Scott-Crossley had earlier sacked Mr. Chisale, who was murdered when he went back to the farm to get his belongings."
"Life for S Africa lion murderer"
"White farmer Mark Scott-Crossley and an employee beat up black former worker Nelson Chisale, and threw him to lions.
"Scott-Crossley had earlier sacked Mr. Chisale, who was murdered when he went back to the farm to get his belongings."
50 years
James Dean died 50 years ago today at the age of 24 ...
"The Dean of Immortality"
When I was a teen and into my early college years, I had a thing for James Dean. The walls of my room were covered with his image from posters, pictures and a calendar.
I never knew exactly where he died. I just remember seeing a photo of his smashed-up Porsche. There is a memorial at the junction of Highways 41 and 46 in Cholame in San Luis Obispo County. Was just in that area last year. If I had known I was so close, I would have stopped there. Will have to make another drive down that way soon.
"A Lasting Tribute"
"The Dean of Immortality"
When I was a teen and into my early college years, I had a thing for James Dean. The walls of my room were covered with his image from posters, pictures and a calendar.
I never knew exactly where he died. I just remember seeing a photo of his smashed-up Porsche. There is a memorial at the junction of Highways 41 and 46 in Cholame in San Luis Obispo County. Was just in that area last year. If I had known I was so close, I would have stopped there. Will have to make another drive down that way soon.
"A Lasting Tribute"
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Kimchi in the news, again*
OK, headline is a bit misleading, but ...
"S. Korea questions safety of national dish kimchi"
The article states that "a study by the Seoul Research Institute of Public Health and Environment had indicated that Chinese imports contained three to five times more lead than domestic kimchi."
Hmm, wonder where San Francisco kimchi comes from. Will have to check my kimchi jar.
*On April 29, 2005, the Wall Street Journal also had an article ("Scientist Believes South Korea's National Dish Can Fight Bird-Flu Virus" -- accessible if you have an account) about kimchi.
"S. Korea questions safety of national dish kimchi"
The article states that "a study by the Seoul Research Institute of Public Health and Environment had indicated that Chinese imports contained three to five times more lead than domestic kimchi."
Hmm, wonder where San Francisco kimchi comes from. Will have to check my kimchi jar.
*On April 29, 2005, the Wall Street Journal also had an article ("Scientist Believes South Korea's National Dish Can Fight Bird-Flu Virus" -- accessible if you have an account) about kimchi.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Disgusting
I was horrified when I read about this incident last week ...
"Man Charged After Urinating On Woman"
"Students may face charges for racially motivated felony"
"The Ann Arbor Police Department has issued warrants for two University students for allegedly yelling obscenities and urinating on two students in a racially motivated act."
"AAPD Lt. Michael Logghe classified the crime as ethnic intimidation, or verbal or physical attack against a person of another race or gender. Logghe said ethnic intimidation is a felony and carries a maximum penalty of four years in jail. The suspects could also be charged with assault, and one of the suspects could face a charge of indecent exposure, which would require him to register as a sex offender."
I hope the students not only get expelled, but also convicted of the felony and all other charges.
Seems some U of M students need a refresher course in potty training ...
"University of Michigan Football Player Arrested For Urinating on Barroom Floor"
"Man Charged After Urinating On Woman"
"Students may face charges for racially motivated felony"
"The Ann Arbor Police Department has issued warrants for two University students for allegedly yelling obscenities and urinating on two students in a racially motivated act."
"AAPD Lt. Michael Logghe classified the crime as ethnic intimidation, or verbal or physical attack against a person of another race or gender. Logghe said ethnic intimidation is a felony and carries a maximum penalty of four years in jail. The suspects could also be charged with assault, and one of the suspects could face a charge of indecent exposure, which would require him to register as a sex offender."
I hope the students not only get expelled, but also convicted of the felony and all other charges.
Seems some U of M students need a refresher course in potty training ...
"University of Michigan Football Player Arrested For Urinating on Barroom Floor"
Flipper: Armed and dangerous?!
"Armed and dangerous - Flipper the firing dolphin let loose by Katrina"
"Armed dolphins, trained by the US military to shoot terrorists and pinpoint spies underwater, may be missing in the Gulf of Mexico."
OK, well maybe not ...
"Dolphin assassins menace Gulf of Mexico"
"Armed dolphins, trained by the US military to shoot terrorists and pinpoint spies underwater, may be missing in the Gulf of Mexico."
OK, well maybe not ...
"Dolphin assassins menace Gulf of Mexico"
Friday, September 23, 2005
'Knowing what I know now'
On NPR this morning ...
StoryCorps: Recording America
"A Birth-Mother and a Son Revisit the Past"
Listen to the audio clip. An excerpt below:
Son: "You now know having lived through it what the consequences of choosing to give me up are. So knowing what you know now, would you do it again?"
Birth mother: "Well, of course, knowing what I know now, I wouldn't do it again.... Now I wouldn't even think about it because the separation and the loss is just way too hard."
StoryCorps: Recording America
"A Birth-Mother and a Son Revisit the Past"
Listen to the audio clip. An excerpt below:
Son: "You now know having lived through it what the consequences of choosing to give me up are. So knowing what you know now, would you do it again?"
Birth mother: "Well, of course, knowing what I know now, I wouldn't do it again.... Now I wouldn't even think about it because the separation and the loss is just way too hard."
Monday, September 19, 2005
Promises
"North Korea to Scrap Nuclear Program"
The list of the "Highlights of Accord" includes "U.S. has no intention to attack N. Korea."
Uh, yeah, we have wars going on in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the government can't even respond to a natural disaster in its own backyard. Then again, who knows what goes on in the mind of Shrub -- maybe there'd be a good photo op for him in North Korea, err, I mean in an "Axis of Evil."
The list of the "Highlights of Accord" includes "U.S. has no intention to attack N. Korea."
Uh, yeah, we have wars going on in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the government can't even respond to a natural disaster in its own backyard. Then again, who knows what goes on in the mind of Shrub -- maybe there'd be a good photo op for him in North Korea, err, I mean in an "Axis of Evil."
Sunday, September 11, 2005
9:12 a.m.
I was born at 오전 9시 12분. I weighed 3.0 kilograms, or 6 pounds and 3 ounces. I received the polio, smallpox, measles, and diphtheria, pertussis and tetanus (DPT) vaccinations when I was a baby.
This information may not seem very important to many people. But it is for me.
Unlike many others I know, I don't have to wonder if my birthday is my real date of birth. I even know the exact time I was born and where.
Amazingly, I have my birth tag and immunization records. My 이모, maternal aunt, gave them to me while I was in Korea.
I also know that I was loved dearly -- and wanted. Like my birth date, this much I know is true, without a doubt.
This information may not seem very important to many people. But it is for me.
Unlike many others I know, I don't have to wonder if my birthday is my real date of birth. I even know the exact time I was born and where.
Amazingly, I have my birth tag and immunization records. My 이모, maternal aunt, gave them to me while I was in Korea.
I also know that I was loved dearly -- and wanted. Like my birth date, this much I know is true, without a doubt.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Ouch!
"South Africa anti-rape condom aims to stop attacks"
"A South African inventor unveiled a new anti-rape female condom on Wednesday that hooks onto an attacker's penis.... The device, made of latex and held firm by shafts of sharp barbs, can only be removed from the man by surgery, which will alert hospital staff, and ultimately, the police."
"A South African inventor unveiled a new anti-rape female condom on Wednesday that hooks onto an attacker's penis.... The device, made of latex and held firm by shafts of sharp barbs, can only be removed from the man by surgery, which will alert hospital staff, and ultimately, the police."
Welcome to the doghouse
Can you teach an "old dog" new tricks?
Based on years of experience and study, the answer is "NO"!
The "old dog" is now in the doghouse ... indefinitely.
Grrrrrr.
Based on years of experience and study, the answer is "NO"!
The "old dog" is now in the doghouse ... indefinitely.
Grrrrrr.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
The rules
Just down the block from my home is this little hole-in-the-wall sushi restaurant. It's only open Monday through Friday, and only takes cash. I haven't eaten there yet, but I always see people outside the place, waiting for it to open at 7:00 p.m., or the place is filled (fits maybe 10 people max).
The other day I walked by the restaurant and noticed a new sign in the window that listed the "House Rules":
Lately, I've been on a quest to visit all the Korean restaurants in the area, but I may just have to try this little gem the next time I get a sushi craving.
Addition (August 25, 9:51 p.m.):
Walked by again to get the complete list of rules. Missing one. Hmm.
The other day I walked by the restaurant and noticed a new sign in the window that listed the "House Rules":
- Everything is good and everything is fresh.
- No forks, no soda.
- No teriyaki, no tempura.
- No rush orders.
- No to go.
- Cash only.
- No weekends.
- No complaining.
- Come back after 9:00.
Lately, I've been on a quest to visit all the Korean restaurants in the area, but I may just have to try this little gem the next time I get a sushi craving.
Addition (August 25, 9:51 p.m.):
Walked by again to get the complete list of rules. Missing one. Hmm.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Wanted: Duck killer
I'd like to see this bastard get run over by a car a few times ...
"Sadistic driver intentionally plows into hapless fowl"
"Reward in duck massacre grows to $14K"
"The birds were killed early on the morning of Aug. 5 by a man in a red Acura sedan who was caught by a security camera deliberately driving back and forth over the creatures, most of them babies from a newly hatched batch of 17 ducklings. At one point in the disturbing attack, the killer got out of his car to manhandle the ducklings with his bare hands."
Probably got annoyed they were in his way or something.
A follow-up article states that felony animal abuse can bring up to three years in prison. I hope he's found and gets the maximum sentence. Unfortunately, he'll probably only be charged with animal cruelty and have to pay a fine.
"Sadistic driver intentionally plows into hapless fowl"
"Reward in duck massacre grows to $14K"
"The birds were killed early on the morning of Aug. 5 by a man in a red Acura sedan who was caught by a security camera deliberately driving back and forth over the creatures, most of them babies from a newly hatched batch of 17 ducklings. At one point in the disturbing attack, the killer got out of his car to manhandle the ducklings with his bare hands."
Probably got annoyed they were in his way or something.
A follow-up article states that felony animal abuse can bring up to three years in prison. I hope he's found and gets the maximum sentence. Unfortunately, he'll probably only be charged with animal cruelty and have to pay a fine.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
The DMZ as a nature park?
Hmm, Ted Turner?!
"A nature park for Koreas' DMZ?"
Perhaps after they clear the area of landmines ...
"There are tens of thousands of landmines and pieces of unexploded ordinance in the DMZ because of the heavy fighting during the war. There are also periodic explosions when animals such as a deer stumble into mine fields."
"A nature park for Koreas' DMZ?"
Perhaps after they clear the area of landmines ...
"There are tens of thousands of landmines and pieces of unexploded ordinance in the DMZ because of the heavy fighting during the war. There are also periodic explosions when animals such as a deer stumble into mine fields."
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Stampede!
For used iBooks ...
"Panic ensues in rush for cheap laptops"
"One woman ... was so desperate to retain her place in line that she urinated on herself."
"Panic ensues in rush for cheap laptops"
"One woman ... was so desperate to retain her place in line that she urinated on herself."
Monday, August 15, 2005
The patter of little fingers
Tonight I was clearing off my desk and noticed that my keyboard could use a good cleaning. Then I remembered the hangul keyboard stickers I had ordered a year ago, still sitting on my desk. So after a good wipe down with Fantastic (the miracle cleaner), my keyboard has a new appearance.
Now, instead of hunting and pecking while looking at a reference sheet, I can hunt and peck while looking down at the keys. And now I can type away in hangul characters, even though I may not know what they say -- sort of like how I can read hangul and not have a clue as to what I just read.
You'll have to excuse me as I have to practice my typing.
잘 주무세요.
Now, instead of hunting and pecking while looking at a reference sheet, I can hunt and peck while looking down at the keys. And now I can type away in hangul characters, even though I may not know what they say -- sort of like how I can read hangul and not have a clue as to what I just read.
You'll have to excuse me as I have to practice my typing.
잘 주무세요.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Proctor & Gamble needs a copy editor
I bought a bottle of Crest's new Pro·Health rinse the other day. So a few nights ago, as I'm swishing away plaque and preventing tartar buildup and gingivitis, I happened to read the label more closely.
The following two lines were above the product name:
Provides dentist
recommended benefits
I had to reread that statement. I thought to myself, "What dentist?"
The lack of hyphen, along with the line break, confused me for a second. The statement should have a hyphen: "Provides dentist-recommended benefits."
I suppose the folks at Proctor & Gamble thought it might be odd to have a hyphen dangling after "dentist" and didn't include it. (Maybe they used all their cleverness in deciding to add the bullet in the product name.)
Well, it probably won't matter for most consumers -- only those anal about both punctuation and oral hygiene.
Addition: Oops, I really need a blog editor, too. Oh well, I already have a disclaimer (see footer).
Addition (August 15, 11:39 a.m.): On further inspection of the product label the other night, I found another case for The Hyphenator! Underneath the product name, the label read "Alcohol Free." I wish alcohol were free.
The following two lines were above the product name:
Provides dentist
recommended benefits
I had to reread that statement. I thought to myself, "What dentist?"
The lack of hyphen, along with the line break, confused me for a second. The statement should have a hyphen: "Provides dentist-recommended benefits."
I suppose the folks at Proctor & Gamble thought it might be odd to have a hyphen dangling after "dentist" and didn't include it. (Maybe they used all their cleverness in deciding to add the bullet in the product name.)
Well, it probably won't matter for most consumers -- only those anal about both punctuation and oral hygiene.
Addition: Oops, I really need a blog editor, too. Oh well, I already have a disclaimer (see footer).
Addition (August 15, 11:39 a.m.): On further inspection of the product label the other night, I found another case for The Hyphenator! Underneath the product name, the label read "Alcohol Free." I wish alcohol were free.
Monday, August 08, 2005
The Hoarder!
The Hyphenator! is afraid one day she will become The Hoarder!
After reading a column by Mark Morford on SFGate.com about crazy cat ladies and hoarders, I find myself horrified and yet enthralled by these stories of women who have houses full of cats and piles and piles of crap. Every once in a while, I'll come across these stories in the news, and for a period of time I was addicted to Animal Planet shows such as "Animal Cops" because they showed cases of abused animals being rescued from their terrible owners.
I think the crazy cat ladies began with the best of intentions -- taking in stray cats or adopting homeless ones -- and may have just become overwhelmed when the cats started having litters of kittens. And then the litters of kittens grew up to have their own litters of kittens. Next thing you know, dead cat corpses are filling trash bag after trash bag.
It gets so bad that the stench of urine, feces, and diseased and dead cats drives neighbors to complain to authorities, when it's way too late to help these animals. The cats are diseased and feral, and cannot be saved or adopted.
When I read about hoarders who have mounds of newspapers, magazines, and junk in their homes to the point that they become uninhabitable, I sometimes think of my grandfather and also worry I'll become one myself.
My grandfather's hoarding can be easily explained. Mine on the other hand is questionable. Not to say that either one of us lived or lives in a home that ought to be condemned, although my mom might disagree with that statement.
My grandfather lived through the Depression, and like many other Depression-era kids, he lived his life influenced by his early experiences. In his cupboards and basement, he stockpiled cans of food with "Best when used by" dates that had long since passed. I remember visiting him and every time I opened his refrigerator or freezer, I'd see it jam-packed with food (he lived alone, mind you). I never wanted to know what was hidden in the back of the refrigerator. He had a deep freezer chest that my parents cleaned out after he passed away. They found neatly labeled and packaged pheasants that someone had given him 20 years ago after a hunting trip.
Piles of brown paper and plastic bags lined his breezeway. He never owned a microwave, but he loved his toaster oven. In fact, he kept two of his old ones on a table in the breezeway, next to the stacked plastic containers and lids. On his kitchen countertops (what you could see of them), used tinfoil, plastic wrap, and Ziploc bags sat out, waiting to be reused ... again.
Up in the attic, trunks were filled with brand-new blankets, still in their original packaging. My mom donated garbage bags full of old clothes to Goodwill. Seems he never gave anything away, not even pants from his days as a svelte younger man.
Me? I have no excuse. I admit I have a hard time throwing stuff out. I keep junk for reference or for nostalgia. I haven't thrown out a movie ticket stub in ages. I used to write on the back of tickets the names of the people I watched the movies with, along with date and time (this was before the nice, computerized tickets you get now that have detailed information on them). I often mix up which movie I saw with whom ("Didn't I see that movie with you?" "No, dear, that was someone else.")
I've got old clothes from my school days: fluorescent Umbro shorts, Hard Rock T-shirts from all my traveling, and every single semiformal dress I ever wore to a dance, homecoming and prom (I figure my daughter will one day love playing dress-up with them). Suprisingly, I threw away a whole shopping bag of old shoes a few weeks ago. My fiancé was shocked. They were so old and falling apart that I decided that even though they reminded me of happy times dancing the night away, I had to get rid of them. Besides, have to make room for the new shoes!
Boxes in various sizes and packaging material (bubble wrap, packing peanuts, etc.) clutter my home office. You never know when you have to mail a gift or package to someone. Old magazines and catalogs are stacked underneath our coffee table, and receipts for groceries, restaurants, gas, clothes and wedding supplies are piled high on my desk.
My garage space is filled with empty, good boxes (the ones that have handle openings) for my next move, so that I can't actually park my car in the spot. I pay extra for a parking spot (necessary in San Fran), but instead use it for storage.
In one box in my garage, I have magazines that I couldn't bear to part with, even when I packed up and moved 2,000 miles away. Old celebrity hearthrobs grace the covers of some of the teen magazines, while models I found to be beautiful when I was younger (and even today) are on others.
To make things worse, my parents gave me all my childhood toys and books before I moved. I love having them, but aren't parents suppose to keep that kind of stuff? Then one day you discover them when you're cleaning out your deceased parents' home?
You'd think I would have seized on the excuse of moving across the country to throw out a lot of junk I'd collected over the years. You'd think so.
I did throw out some stuff and gave away other possessions: some plants (hopefully, they found a new owner who would remember to water them), a stereo system in which the CD player didn't work anymore but I kept anyway because I bought a portable CD boombox to listen to CDs, and an ancient JCPenney color television that my fiancé insisted I get rid of (hey, it had a remote and still worked). Luckily, one of my good friends saw the value in them that I did and took them.
Sometimes I wish I hadn't thrown away certain things, like my journals. (I know, I keep old teen magazines, but throw out my personal journals. Sigh.) Ever since middle school, I had kept a journal, detailing my crushes, heartbreaks, anger, disappointments and dreams. They filled two boxes, which I convinced myself to throw out since moving to California was suppose to be a new beginning. I regret that decision now. My friend jokes that some bum is reading my life story while sitting in a landfill.
I also miss my old bed terribly. When I moved into my first apartment, my parents bought me the bed, but I don't miss it for nostalgic reason. It was so comfy that I could sleep the night and day away in that bed. But alas it was only full size. My fiancé had a queen bed (a rock hard one) already, so I gave my bed to my parents for their spare bedroom (at least I get to reunite with my bed when I go home to visit). I wonder if my more frequent talking in my sleep is due to my fiancé's uncomfortable bed.
More and more I'm starting to believe that I shouldn't throw stuff away, unless of course it truly is garbage or a health hazard. Little things, even receipts, can trigger a memory. They help me remember when certain events happened or when I traveled where. Besides, without journal writing now, I need them more than ever.
You'd think my fiancé and I would be drowning in all my junk, but we're not. I'm very good about organizing, storing and hiding things in our apartment: in closets, in cupboards, under the bed, etc. We even have room for a pet.
Unfortunately, pets aren't allowed in our current place. I do not want to move again for a while, but when we do finally pick up and move, I'm making sure we can have a cat ... or two. I'd love to have a male and a female cat so that we can have a litter of kittens. One day, maybe you'll hear about me on the news -- the crazy, hoarding cat lady!
After reading a column by Mark Morford on SFGate.com about crazy cat ladies and hoarders, I find myself horrified and yet enthralled by these stories of women who have houses full of cats and piles and piles of crap. Every once in a while, I'll come across these stories in the news, and for a period of time I was addicted to Animal Planet shows such as "Animal Cops" because they showed cases of abused animals being rescued from their terrible owners.
I think the crazy cat ladies began with the best of intentions -- taking in stray cats or adopting homeless ones -- and may have just become overwhelmed when the cats started having litters of kittens. And then the litters of kittens grew up to have their own litters of kittens. Next thing you know, dead cat corpses are filling trash bag after trash bag.
It gets so bad that the stench of urine, feces, and diseased and dead cats drives neighbors to complain to authorities, when it's way too late to help these animals. The cats are diseased and feral, and cannot be saved or adopted.
When I read about hoarders who have mounds of newspapers, magazines, and junk in their homes to the point that they become uninhabitable, I sometimes think of my grandfather and also worry I'll become one myself.
My grandfather's hoarding can be easily explained. Mine on the other hand is questionable. Not to say that either one of us lived or lives in a home that ought to be condemned, although my mom might disagree with that statement.
My grandfather lived through the Depression, and like many other Depression-era kids, he lived his life influenced by his early experiences. In his cupboards and basement, he stockpiled cans of food with "Best when used by" dates that had long since passed. I remember visiting him and every time I opened his refrigerator or freezer, I'd see it jam-packed with food (he lived alone, mind you). I never wanted to know what was hidden in the back of the refrigerator. He had a deep freezer chest that my parents cleaned out after he passed away. They found neatly labeled and packaged pheasants that someone had given him 20 years ago after a hunting trip.
Piles of brown paper and plastic bags lined his breezeway. He never owned a microwave, but he loved his toaster oven. In fact, he kept two of his old ones on a table in the breezeway, next to the stacked plastic containers and lids. On his kitchen countertops (what you could see of them), used tinfoil, plastic wrap, and Ziploc bags sat out, waiting to be reused ... again.
Up in the attic, trunks were filled with brand-new blankets, still in their original packaging. My mom donated garbage bags full of old clothes to Goodwill. Seems he never gave anything away, not even pants from his days as a svelte younger man.
Me? I have no excuse. I admit I have a hard time throwing stuff out. I keep junk for reference or for nostalgia. I haven't thrown out a movie ticket stub in ages. I used to write on the back of tickets the names of the people I watched the movies with, along with date and time (this was before the nice, computerized tickets you get now that have detailed information on them). I often mix up which movie I saw with whom ("Didn't I see that movie with you?" "No, dear, that was someone else.")
I've got old clothes from my school days: fluorescent Umbro shorts, Hard Rock T-shirts from all my traveling, and every single semiformal dress I ever wore to a dance, homecoming and prom (I figure my daughter will one day love playing dress-up with them). Suprisingly, I threw away a whole shopping bag of old shoes a few weeks ago. My fiancé was shocked. They were so old and falling apart that I decided that even though they reminded me of happy times dancing the night away, I had to get rid of them. Besides, have to make room for the new shoes!
Boxes in various sizes and packaging material (bubble wrap, packing peanuts, etc.) clutter my home office. You never know when you have to mail a gift or package to someone. Old magazines and catalogs are stacked underneath our coffee table, and receipts for groceries, restaurants, gas, clothes and wedding supplies are piled high on my desk.
My garage space is filled with empty, good boxes (the ones that have handle openings) for my next move, so that I can't actually park my car in the spot. I pay extra for a parking spot (necessary in San Fran), but instead use it for storage.
In one box in my garage, I have magazines that I couldn't bear to part with, even when I packed up and moved 2,000 miles away. Old celebrity hearthrobs grace the covers of some of the teen magazines, while models I found to be beautiful when I was younger (and even today) are on others.
To make things worse, my parents gave me all my childhood toys and books before I moved. I love having them, but aren't parents suppose to keep that kind of stuff? Then one day you discover them when you're cleaning out your deceased parents' home?
You'd think I would have seized on the excuse of moving across the country to throw out a lot of junk I'd collected over the years. You'd think so.
I did throw out some stuff and gave away other possessions: some plants (hopefully, they found a new owner who would remember to water them), a stereo system in which the CD player didn't work anymore but I kept anyway because I bought a portable CD boombox to listen to CDs, and an ancient JCPenney color television that my fiancé insisted I get rid of (hey, it had a remote and still worked). Luckily, one of my good friends saw the value in them that I did and took them.
Sometimes I wish I hadn't thrown away certain things, like my journals. (I know, I keep old teen magazines, but throw out my personal journals. Sigh.) Ever since middle school, I had kept a journal, detailing my crushes, heartbreaks, anger, disappointments and dreams. They filled two boxes, which I convinced myself to throw out since moving to California was suppose to be a new beginning. I regret that decision now. My friend jokes that some bum is reading my life story while sitting in a landfill.
I also miss my old bed terribly. When I moved into my first apartment, my parents bought me the bed, but I don't miss it for nostalgic reason. It was so comfy that I could sleep the night and day away in that bed. But alas it was only full size. My fiancé had a queen bed (a rock hard one) already, so I gave my bed to my parents for their spare bedroom (at least I get to reunite with my bed when I go home to visit). I wonder if my more frequent talking in my sleep is due to my fiancé's uncomfortable bed.
More and more I'm starting to believe that I shouldn't throw stuff away, unless of course it truly is garbage or a health hazard. Little things, even receipts, can trigger a memory. They help me remember when certain events happened or when I traveled where. Besides, without journal writing now, I need them more than ever.
You'd think my fiancé and I would be drowning in all my junk, but we're not. I'm very good about organizing, storing and hiding things in our apartment: in closets, in cupboards, under the bed, etc. We even have room for a pet.
Unfortunately, pets aren't allowed in our current place. I do not want to move again for a while, but when we do finally pick up and move, I'm making sure we can have a cat ... or two. I'd love to have a male and a female cat so that we can have a litter of kittens. One day, maybe you'll hear about me on the news -- the crazy, hoarding cat lady!
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Hunting and gathering
I loathe the grocery stores in San Francisco. They are small, crowded, and overpriced. I often have to go to different stores to find a single item I need for a particular dish.
They all have their own discount card programs, so my wallet is full with their damn cards. I love how they always display the regular price along with the special discount price so you see exactly how much you can save. Just eliminate the &#$@*! discount program, and give customers the low price every day. The items are usually on "sale" most of the time anyway.
Today, however, I was in grocery store heaven. After a 20-minute drive, I found myself in a nice, big Korean grocery store, looking around in wonder.
Not that I hadn't ever seen a large Korean store before. A few years ago, my 언니 had taken me to a huge Korean grocery store in Virginia, which was absolutely amazing because it also had an unbelievable selection of housewares, CDs, DVDs and videos, magazines, books, and beauty products.
But in San Francisco, up to this point I had only found small stores in my neighborhood (which I love by the way because I can stop for 김밥 [kimbap] whenever I get a craving for it, and they often give me free stuff, too).
A Korean friend told me about the store I found today a few months ago, but I hadn't gone in search of it until now. I'm so glad I did.
I instantly fell in love with the store when one of the first items my eyes zeroed in on was 비빔밥 (bibimbap) ingredients already prepared in the deli section. Just add rice -- and I got rice, baby!
The store's meat counter was just lovely with perfectly cut beef for 불고기 (bulgogi) and 갈비 (galbi). No more asking butchers for special cuts.
There was an actual produce section, not a produce cooler, and multiple checkout stands. In the frozen foods section, I got almost dizzy from the array of 만두 (mandu).
If I'm shopping there one day and start to feel faint from hunger, not to worry. The store has a deli counter and dining area.
On my next visit to the store, I'm determined to spend more time exploring all the wonderful aisles and products.
But today, I left the store with bags of basic groceries (김치, 김, 만두, 떡, and meat for 불고기 and 갈비) ... and a grin on my face.
They all have their own discount card programs, so my wallet is full with their damn cards. I love how they always display the regular price along with the special discount price so you see exactly how much you can save. Just eliminate the &#$@*! discount program, and give customers the low price every day. The items are usually on "sale" most of the time anyway.
Today, however, I was in grocery store heaven. After a 20-minute drive, I found myself in a nice, big Korean grocery store, looking around in wonder.
Not that I hadn't ever seen a large Korean store before. A few years ago, my 언니 had taken me to a huge Korean grocery store in Virginia, which was absolutely amazing because it also had an unbelievable selection of housewares, CDs, DVDs and videos, magazines, books, and beauty products.
But in San Francisco, up to this point I had only found small stores in my neighborhood (which I love by the way because I can stop for 김밥 [kimbap] whenever I get a craving for it, and they often give me free stuff, too).
A Korean friend told me about the store I found today a few months ago, but I hadn't gone in search of it until now. I'm so glad I did.
I instantly fell in love with the store when one of the first items my eyes zeroed in on was 비빔밥 (bibimbap) ingredients already prepared in the deli section. Just add rice -- and I got rice, baby!
The store's meat counter was just lovely with perfectly cut beef for 불고기 (bulgogi) and 갈비 (galbi). No more asking butchers for special cuts.
There was an actual produce section, not a produce cooler, and multiple checkout stands. In the frozen foods section, I got almost dizzy from the array of 만두 (mandu).
If I'm shopping there one day and start to feel faint from hunger, not to worry. The store has a deli counter and dining area.
On my next visit to the store, I'm determined to spend more time exploring all the wonderful aisles and products.
But today, I left the store with bags of basic groceries (김치, 김, 만두, 떡, and meat for 불고기 and 갈비) ... and a grin on my face.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Pillow talk
Since I've moved in with my fiancé, I find myself talking in my sleep more frequently.
In the past, I would sometimes talk in my sleep when I slept in unfamiliar surroundings, such as in a hotel or at a friend's place, but never on a regular basis.
Before I moved out to San Francisco, my fiancé would come visit me. One night while he was at my place, I woke both of us by yelling, "Go home!" At first he was hurt because he thought I was subconsciously wanting him to go away. I told him I had no idea where that came from or why I said that in my sleep.
Since I've moved, my poor fiancé is often woken up in the middle of the night by my nocturnal babbling. Just the other night, I woke up saying, "Don't you know how to wash the car?!?"
The weird thing is that I half wake myself up and I know I'm talking in my sleep, but I keep on talking and then go back to a sound sleep.
My mom told me that when my brother and I were little we would sleep talk together. Our bedrooms were right next to each other, and I'd say something in my sleep, yelling at him for something or other most of the time. He would reply, and we'd chat back and forth. My mom said it was the funniest thing.
In the past, I would sometimes talk in my sleep when I slept in unfamiliar surroundings, such as in a hotel or at a friend's place, but never on a regular basis.
Before I moved out to San Francisco, my fiancé would come visit me. One night while he was at my place, I woke both of us by yelling, "Go home!" At first he was hurt because he thought I was subconsciously wanting him to go away. I told him I had no idea where that came from or why I said that in my sleep.
Since I've moved, my poor fiancé is often woken up in the middle of the night by my nocturnal babbling. Just the other night, I woke up saying, "Don't you know how to wash the car?!?"
The weird thing is that I half wake myself up and I know I'm talking in my sleep, but I keep on talking and then go back to a sound sleep.
My mom told me that when my brother and I were little we would sleep talk together. Our bedrooms were right next to each other, and I'd say something in my sleep, yelling at him for something or other most of the time. He would reply, and we'd chat back and forth. My mom said it was the funniest thing.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
A glitch in the Matrix
Earlier this evening, I IMed my friend Ji-in that I had another one of my déjà vu moments while in Chicago over the weekend. (And no, I'm not referring to the strip club.)
She replied with "glitch in the Matrix."
Makes you wonder. Perhaps there's someone or something controlling my life as if I were a character in the Sims game.
I haven't had a déjà vu moment in a while, but I used to have them frequently. Experiencing one always freaks me out. Did I dream it before it happened? Sometimes I think I dreamt the moment a year before.
Dreams also weird me out sometimes. For example, last month I dreamt that my great uncle in northern California had died. Later that day I called my mom to make sure everything was OK. I couldn't reach her at home or on her cell, but I left a message just saying to please call me back. My mom calls back later crying because she had found out that her uncle, who has prostate cancer, had a turn for the worse. I told her about my dream, and she wasn't surprised. She's had dreams like that, too. Even though were not biologically related, she thinks we have a connection on a different level. "Like mother, like daughter," or "You are your mother's daughter," she likes to say.
Another experience in college has always puzzled me. My friend, I'll just refer to her as my unni (언니), and I were planning to go to a new local attraction on my birthday. We decided to use the outing, but not my birthday, as an excuse to invite this Korean guy I had a crush on to join us. We had hung out casually on campus, but nothing more than that. I was thrilled when he accepted our invitation, but neither I nor my unni told him that it would be my birthday.
The big day finally arrived, we picked him up and laughed when we saw him. He was wearing a pink polo shirt. We were all wearing pink. What a nice start to my birthday. (I think men look hot wearing pink.) Unfortunately, since we all looked a bit silly in pink, he changed his shirt.
Anyway, later as we were walking along, he told us how he had this dream the night before, which was unusual since he never dreams or remembers them. He continued to describe the dream for us: He was out with some friends, and turns out that it is one of his friend's birthday but he didn't know it.
My unni and I just looked at each other with our eyes huge. He saw us and asked my unni if it was her birthday. She shook her head no. He then looked at me and asked me. All I could do was nod my head, embarrassed and yet confused. Did we have some sort of connection? Did my obsessive thinking of him somehow get transmitted to him? Perhaps even the pink shirts were a sign of our connection.
Fortunately, that experience ended positively, resulting in one of the best birthdays ever. After learning it was my birthday, my crush took us out later that evening to celebrate my birthday.
She replied with "glitch in the Matrix."
Makes you wonder. Perhaps there's someone or something controlling my life as if I were a character in the Sims game.
I haven't had a déjà vu moment in a while, but I used to have them frequently. Experiencing one always freaks me out. Did I dream it before it happened? Sometimes I think I dreamt the moment a year before.
Dreams also weird me out sometimes. For example, last month I dreamt that my great uncle in northern California had died. Later that day I called my mom to make sure everything was OK. I couldn't reach her at home or on her cell, but I left a message just saying to please call me back. My mom calls back later crying because she had found out that her uncle, who has prostate cancer, had a turn for the worse. I told her about my dream, and she wasn't surprised. She's had dreams like that, too. Even though were not biologically related, she thinks we have a connection on a different level. "Like mother, like daughter," or "You are your mother's daughter," she likes to say.
Another experience in college has always puzzled me. My friend, I'll just refer to her as my unni (언니), and I were planning to go to a new local attraction on my birthday. We decided to use the outing, but not my birthday, as an excuse to invite this Korean guy I had a crush on to join us. We had hung out casually on campus, but nothing more than that. I was thrilled when he accepted our invitation, but neither I nor my unni told him that it would be my birthday.
The big day finally arrived, we picked him up and laughed when we saw him. He was wearing a pink polo shirt. We were all wearing pink. What a nice start to my birthday. (I think men look hot wearing pink.) Unfortunately, since we all looked a bit silly in pink, he changed his shirt.
Anyway, later as we were walking along, he told us how he had this dream the night before, which was unusual since he never dreams or remembers them. He continued to describe the dream for us: He was out with some friends, and turns out that it is one of his friend's birthday but he didn't know it.
My unni and I just looked at each other with our eyes huge. He saw us and asked my unni if it was her birthday. She shook her head no. He then looked at me and asked me. All I could do was nod my head, embarrassed and yet confused. Did we have some sort of connection? Did my obsessive thinking of him somehow get transmitted to him? Perhaps even the pink shirts were a sign of our connection.
Fortunately, that experience ended positively, resulting in one of the best birthdays ever. After learning it was my birthday, my crush took us out later that evening to celebrate my birthday.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Home, sweet home!
After a weekend trip to Chicago, man, am I ever glad to be home.
I wonder if some force is trying to make me return to the Midwest and stay there. Why, you ask? Well, read on ...
My fiancé and I traveled to Chicago this past weekend to attend a wedding. We were flying to Chicago on Friday, and had a layover in the city where I used to live. The flight from San Francisco was uneventful (even though we had to wake up at an ungodly hour to make the flight). We flew in over my old neighborhood, and I have to admit I got a bit teary-eyed as I saw some familiar landmarks. I even took some digital pictures from my window seat. After an hour or so for the layover, we were up in the air again for the 50-minute continuing flight to Chicago.
We were about 15 or 20 minutes into the short flight when the pilot came over the intercom to tell us we had to turn around and return to the airport because of a problem with the landing gear! Thankfully, the problem wasn't with the gear coming down in the landing position, but with the gear staying up.
We landed back safely at the airport, but we wondered if the problem wasn't with the landing gear in the down position, why couldn't we continue on for another 30 minutes or so to O'Hare? The pilot said it was better to be safe than sorry.
After missing our first rebooked flight due to horrible customer service and poor communication by the airline agents, we finally made it to Chicago after traveling for more than 12 hours. (I could have flown to Asia in the same period of time. Geesh!)
On our way home, we hit terrible traffic trying to get to O'Hare airport, ran into a slow-ass Hertz trainee (he actually asked for our discount coupon, something the employees never usually do) when trying to return our rental car and equally slow shuttle buses to the terminal, missed checking into our flight home by three minutes (and we weren't the only ones, mind you), had to fly standby for the connecting flights home (anxiously waiting for our names to be called by the agents for boarding passes, while at the same time wishing evil on the other unfortunate passengers on the standby list), and finally made it on the last San Francisco flight for the day.
Luckily, all of us in the group that had missed our original flight home were able to get on the last flight, even though it had been oversold by five seats. As we all lined up on the jetway waiting to board, we grinned happily at each other. While the whole flying standby process seemed cutthroat, we were all relieved to see everyone would make it home that night. Whew!
I wonder if some force is trying to make me return to the Midwest and stay there. Why, you ask? Well, read on ...
My fiancé and I traveled to Chicago this past weekend to attend a wedding. We were flying to Chicago on Friday, and had a layover in the city where I used to live. The flight from San Francisco was uneventful (even though we had to wake up at an ungodly hour to make the flight). We flew in over my old neighborhood, and I have to admit I got a bit teary-eyed as I saw some familiar landmarks. I even took some digital pictures from my window seat. After an hour or so for the layover, we were up in the air again for the 50-minute continuing flight to Chicago.
We were about 15 or 20 minutes into the short flight when the pilot came over the intercom to tell us we had to turn around and return to the airport because of a problem with the landing gear! Thankfully, the problem wasn't with the gear coming down in the landing position, but with the gear staying up.
We landed back safely at the airport, but we wondered if the problem wasn't with the landing gear in the down position, why couldn't we continue on for another 30 minutes or so to O'Hare? The pilot said it was better to be safe than sorry.
After missing our first rebooked flight due to horrible customer service and poor communication by the airline agents, we finally made it to Chicago after traveling for more than 12 hours. (I could have flown to Asia in the same period of time. Geesh!)
On our way home, we hit terrible traffic trying to get to O'Hare airport, ran into a slow-ass Hertz trainee (he actually asked for our discount coupon, something the employees never usually do) when trying to return our rental car and equally slow shuttle buses to the terminal, missed checking into our flight home by three minutes (and we weren't the only ones, mind you), had to fly standby for the connecting flights home (anxiously waiting for our names to be called by the agents for boarding passes, while at the same time wishing evil on the other unfortunate passengers on the standby list), and finally made it on the last San Francisco flight for the day.
Luckily, all of us in the group that had missed our original flight home were able to get on the last flight, even though it had been oversold by five seats. As we all lined up on the jetway waiting to board, we grinned happily at each other. While the whole flying standby process seemed cutthroat, we were all relieved to see everyone would make it home that night. Whew!
What happened to 'Always be prepared'?
Check out these recent articles on the Boy Scouts:
"300 scouts collapse in the heat waiting for President"
"Calif. Lightning Strike Kills Scout Leader"
Not to make light of the tragedies, but what ever happened to the Boy Scout motto of always being prepared? You would think that scouting a safe location for a tent, whether it be a pup tent or a dining tent, would be on the top of the Boy Scout "To Do" list.
And did the jamboree organizers not read the weather forecasts? I'm sorry, but anyone with some common sense knows not to be in the sun in humid, 100° heat, especially in full dress uniform. No way would I be out in those conditions (or any other conditions for that matter) waiting for Shrub.
Then again, I was a former Girl Scout.
Addition (August 3, 3:12 p.m.):
Whoa! God, or Mother Nature, must seriously have something against the Boy Scouts these days ...
"Lightning Kills Boy Scout at Utah Camp"
OK, so this tragedy probably did not have anything to due with a lack of preparation or training, but ...
"Camp Steiner is the highest Boy Scout camp in the country at 10,400 feet elevation in the Uinta Mountains, a magnet for thunderstorms on summer afternoons about 60 miles east of Salt Lake City."
Another issue with scouting a safe location for a camp?
Addition (August 11, 2:35 p.m.):
More scout carnage ...
"Girl, 8, Killed by Tree at Boy Scout Camp"
This time it was a Girl Scout, but maybe she was mistaken for a Boy Scout ... she was at a Boy Scout camp.
"300 scouts collapse in the heat waiting for President"
"Calif. Lightning Strike Kills Scout Leader"
Not to make light of the tragedies, but what ever happened to the Boy Scout motto of always being prepared? You would think that scouting a safe location for a tent, whether it be a pup tent or a dining tent, would be on the top of the Boy Scout "To Do" list.
And did the jamboree organizers not read the weather forecasts? I'm sorry, but anyone with some common sense knows not to be in the sun in humid, 100° heat, especially in full dress uniform. No way would I be out in those conditions (or any other conditions for that matter) waiting for Shrub.
Then again, I was a former Girl Scout.
Addition (August 3, 3:12 p.m.):
Whoa! God, or Mother Nature, must seriously have something against the Boy Scouts these days ...
"Lightning Kills Boy Scout at Utah Camp"
OK, so this tragedy probably did not have anything to due with a lack of preparation or training, but ...
"Camp Steiner is the highest Boy Scout camp in the country at 10,400 feet elevation in the Uinta Mountains, a magnet for thunderstorms on summer afternoons about 60 miles east of Salt Lake City."
Another issue with scouting a safe location for a camp?
Addition (August 11, 2:35 p.m.):
More scout carnage ...
"Girl, 8, Killed by Tree at Boy Scout Camp"
This time it was a Girl Scout, but maybe she was mistaken for a Boy Scout ... she was at a Boy Scout camp.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Here comes the dress
I did it. I finally picked out my wedding dress and placed the order, with a hefty, 50 percent payment.
I would post a picture of it, but I can't seem to find a photo of it online anywhere, and I couldn't take pictures at the bridal shop.
BTW, if you live within driving distance of San Jose, I highly recommend Elegant Lace Bridal. They have a lovely selection of dresses, and the service was excellent. My first visit there I spent almost two hours trying on different dresses. The saleswoman kept bringing me beautiful dresses she thought I'd like based on the styles I told her.
The dress I finally picked is a strapless Angelina Bridal Couture dress, style #7007, in a natural, off-white silk (love it!) with buttons down the back. Sigh. Simple, elegant and it makes me look like I have hips.
Four months and it's mine, all mine!!!!!
I would post a picture of it, but I can't seem to find a photo of it online anywhere, and I couldn't take pictures at the bridal shop.
BTW, if you live within driving distance of San Jose, I highly recommend Elegant Lace Bridal. They have a lovely selection of dresses, and the service was excellent. My first visit there I spent almost two hours trying on different dresses. The saleswoman kept bringing me beautiful dresses she thought I'd like based on the styles I told her.
The dress I finally picked is a strapless Angelina Bridal Couture dress, style #7007, in a natural, off-white silk (love it!) with buttons down the back. Sigh. Simple, elegant and it makes me look like I have hips.
Four months and it's mine, all mine!!!!!
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Monday, July 25, 2005
A sporting weekend
Well, it was quite the sporting weekend.
Lance Armstrong won his seventh Tour de France, and the win also marked his retirement after 14 years of professional cycling.
The U.S. men's soccer team won the Gold Cup championship, beating Panama in an exciting penalty shootout 3-1 (I'm not even a huge soccer fan).
The funny thing? Both sports are immensely popular around the world, except in the United States where American football, baseball and basketball reign supreme.
Lance Armstrong won his seventh Tour de France, and the win also marked his retirement after 14 years of professional cycling.
The U.S. men's soccer team won the Gold Cup championship, beating Panama in an exciting penalty shootout 3-1 (I'm not even a huge soccer fan).
The funny thing? Both sports are immensely popular around the world, except in the United States where American football, baseball and basketball reign supreme.
San Francisco: A love/hate relationship
Love: "Where are you from?" means "What city/state did you move here from?" and not "What race/ethnicity are you?"
Hate: Non-Asian guys with Asian fetishes (Not that this is anything new, but the guys here sort of freak me out sometimes. They can tell I'm Korean and say hello in Korean.)
Love: Walking in the city and not being the only Asian amidst a sea of white people
Hate: The vast number of skinny, "pocket-size" (as my friend Ji-in likes to say) Asian women
Love: Walking down my block to eat Thai, Chinese, Vietnamese and Korean food ... and sushi ... and dim sum ... and ...
Hate: Walking down the street and having dust and dirt blown onto my contacts (Ouch!)
Love: Warm, sunny days at Ocean Beach
Hate: Warm, sunny days turning cold and damp as the fog rolls in over the city
Love: Victorian houses with bay windows
Hate: Rental and real estate prices
Love: Finding a new, trustworthy car repair shop run by Asians who aren't going to rip me off
Hate: Having to find a new doctor, dentist and optometrist
Love: Lying in the sun on green grass during January
Hate: The lack of green lawns and huge backyards
Love: Not having to deal with -30° windchill
Hate: Missing the vibrant fall leaves of the Midwest
Love: Funky little neighborhood boutiques and gift shops
Hate: Lack of shopping malls (Gimme a break! I grew up in the Midwest, home of the first enclosed shopping mall. Malls here also have parking lots that are horribly laid out.)
Love: Working somewhere where I can IM and am not the only minority
Hate: Driving 20 minutes to travel 3 miles to work (I know! I should stop using a gas-guzzling, polluting automobile, but I love to drive and can't stand the hour commute by bus.)
Love: Yelling at stupid, inconsiderate drivers who run over bicyclists
Hate: Drivers who don't signal and don't stop at stop signs, as well as impatient drivers (Buddy, if I could move, I would!)
Love: Meeting new people
Hate: Meeting new people
Love: My new (well, not so new now) co-worker who loves watching television, shopping and celebrity gossip as much as I do
Hate: Missing my best friend who loves watching television, shopping and celebrity gossip as much as I do
Love: Being 2,036.5 miles away from my family
Hate: Being 2,000 miles away from my friends back home
Other hates: Public transportation and the lack of parking
Other loves: Watching a major league baseball game in an open-air stadium, the dahlia and rose gardens in Golden Gate Park, Escape From New York pizza, Brothers wood charcoal Korean barbecue restaurant, bougainvillea, palm trees on city blocks
Hate: Non-Asian guys with Asian fetishes (Not that this is anything new, but the guys here sort of freak me out sometimes. They can tell I'm Korean and say hello in Korean.)
Love: Walking in the city and not being the only Asian amidst a sea of white people
Hate: The vast number of skinny, "pocket-size" (as my friend Ji-in likes to say) Asian women
Love: Walking down my block to eat Thai, Chinese, Vietnamese and Korean food ... and sushi ... and dim sum ... and ...
Hate: Walking down the street and having dust and dirt blown onto my contacts (Ouch!)
Love: Warm, sunny days at Ocean Beach
Hate: Warm, sunny days turning cold and damp as the fog rolls in over the city
Love: Victorian houses with bay windows
Hate: Rental and real estate prices
Love: Finding a new, trustworthy car repair shop run by Asians who aren't going to rip me off
Hate: Having to find a new doctor, dentist and optometrist
Love: Lying in the sun on green grass during January
Hate: The lack of green lawns and huge backyards
Love: Not having to deal with -30° windchill
Hate: Missing the vibrant fall leaves of the Midwest
Love: Funky little neighborhood boutiques and gift shops
Hate: Lack of shopping malls (Gimme a break! I grew up in the Midwest, home of the first enclosed shopping mall. Malls here also have parking lots that are horribly laid out.)
Love: Working somewhere where I can IM and am not the only minority
Hate: Driving 20 minutes to travel 3 miles to work (I know! I should stop using a gas-guzzling, polluting automobile, but I love to drive and can't stand the hour commute by bus.)
Love: Yelling at stupid, inconsiderate drivers who run over bicyclists
Hate: Drivers who don't signal and don't stop at stop signs, as well as impatient drivers (Buddy, if I could move, I would!)
Love: Meeting new people
Hate: Meeting new people
Love: My new (well, not so new now) co-worker who loves watching television, shopping and celebrity gossip as much as I do
Hate: Missing my best friend who loves watching television, shopping and celebrity gossip as much as I do
Love: Being 2,036.5 miles away from my family
Hate: Being 2,000 miles away from my friends back home
Other hates: Public transportation and the lack of parking
Other loves: Watching a major league baseball game in an open-air stadium, the dahlia and rose gardens in Golden Gate Park, Escape From New York pizza, Brothers wood charcoal Korean barbecue restaurant, bougainvillea, palm trees on city blocks
Sunday, July 24, 2005
And I thought Midwest drivers were bad ...
They aren't half as bad as drivers in San Francisco.
Living in San Francisco for the past year and a half, I've honked my horn here more times than I ever did while living in the Midwest.
Drivers here don't know what a stop sign or a four-way stop is. They roll right through the intersection without evening turning their heads. They drive as if they're the only ones on the road. These days, I can't assume that a driver will stop or see me stopped at an intersection. This has saved me from numerous fender benders.
Drivers here don't know that a red light means stop before turning right. They roll right around the corner barely slowing down at all, which amazes me as the cross traffic has a green light. I've had a few cars pull out right in front of me in an intersection. One driver luckily had a bus lane to pull into to avoid hitting my car. Another whipped out, not caring at all that he almost hit me. A third car was driven by this woman who had kids in her car!
San Francisco drivers don't understand that a solid line means do not cross. The city has multiple turn lanes that are designated with solid white lines to avoid any confusion, but some people don't seem to understand the simple concept of staying within the same lane while turning the corner.
Drivers here also don't signal their turns or their lane changes. The worst incident occurred the other week when my fiancé was riding his bike home from work. He was riding along when a Porsche made a right turn without signaling, cutting him off. To avoid crashing into the car, he tried to turn and stop but instead found himself thrown over his handlebars, taking a tumble on the pavement. The driver stopped to make sure he was OK (we've heard stories in which drivers have hit people and continued driving on their merry way), and luckily he escaped with only a few cuts and bruises.
Lately, I've realized that I've become my mom when driving. I used to laugh at her when she'd drive and yell at other drivers on the road, even though the other drivers couldn't hear her. I've found myself cursing up a storm at the drivers here. I've also learned to give as good as I get. Impatient drivers will honk and yell at you, especially when the traffic ahead of you is not moving and you don't pull into the intersection because you know the light will change and you'll just end up blocking traffic. I just shake my fist at them and yell back. I once had a yelling match across driving lanes with a balding white guy in a red convertible. Jackass. Can't intimidate this little Asian girl.
Needless to say, my blood pressure goes sky high when I'm driving here. I know, I just have to chill. One day I may run into a driver with a gun and a nasty case of road rage.
San Francisco has these narrow driving lanes that used to freak me out. Now, sometimes I'd like to just reach over and slap some drivers silly.
Living in San Francisco for the past year and a half, I've honked my horn here more times than I ever did while living in the Midwest.
Drivers here don't know what a stop sign or a four-way stop is. They roll right through the intersection without evening turning their heads. They drive as if they're the only ones on the road. These days, I can't assume that a driver will stop or see me stopped at an intersection. This has saved me from numerous fender benders.
Drivers here don't know that a red light means stop before turning right. They roll right around the corner barely slowing down at all, which amazes me as the cross traffic has a green light. I've had a few cars pull out right in front of me in an intersection. One driver luckily had a bus lane to pull into to avoid hitting my car. Another whipped out, not caring at all that he almost hit me. A third car was driven by this woman who had kids in her car!
San Francisco drivers don't understand that a solid line means do not cross. The city has multiple turn lanes that are designated with solid white lines to avoid any confusion, but some people don't seem to understand the simple concept of staying within the same lane while turning the corner.
Drivers here also don't signal their turns or their lane changes. The worst incident occurred the other week when my fiancé was riding his bike home from work. He was riding along when a Porsche made a right turn without signaling, cutting him off. To avoid crashing into the car, he tried to turn and stop but instead found himself thrown over his handlebars, taking a tumble on the pavement. The driver stopped to make sure he was OK (we've heard stories in which drivers have hit people and continued driving on their merry way), and luckily he escaped with only a few cuts and bruises.
Lately, I've realized that I've become my mom when driving. I used to laugh at her when she'd drive and yell at other drivers on the road, even though the other drivers couldn't hear her. I've found myself cursing up a storm at the drivers here. I've also learned to give as good as I get. Impatient drivers will honk and yell at you, especially when the traffic ahead of you is not moving and you don't pull into the intersection because you know the light will change and you'll just end up blocking traffic. I just shake my fist at them and yell back. I once had a yelling match across driving lanes with a balding white guy in a red convertible. Jackass. Can't intimidate this little Asian girl.
Needless to say, my blood pressure goes sky high when I'm driving here. I know, I just have to chill. One day I may run into a driver with a gun and a nasty case of road rage.
San Francisco has these narrow driving lanes that used to freak me out. Now, sometimes I'd like to just reach over and slap some drivers silly.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Chocolate is the miracle food!
More good news about chocolate ...
"Dark Chocolate May Sweeten the Way to Health"
Now, you'll have to 'scuse me as I gotta go get me some dark chocolate.
"Dark Chocolate May Sweeten the Way to Health"
Now, you'll have to 'scuse me as I gotta go get me some dark chocolate.
The White House flip-flop scandal -- The horror!
To wear or not to wear flip-flops to the White House to meet Shrub ...
"'YOU WORE FLIP-FLOPS TO THE WHITE HOUSE?!'"
Personally, I know that I would have mortified my mother if I wore flip-flops to the White House. I was raised to dress up for church, weddings and special occasions -- oh say, for example, meeting the president of the United States.
However, it is unfortunate that the team's accomplishments are being overlooked with the focus on their footwear and that this story made front page headlines when there are other more important events and issues to cover.
"'YOU WORE FLIP-FLOPS TO THE WHITE HOUSE?!'"
Personally, I know that I would have mortified my mother if I wore flip-flops to the White House. I was raised to dress up for church, weddings and special occasions -- oh say, for example, meeting the president of the United States.
However, it is unfortunate that the team's accomplishments are being overlooked with the focus on their footwear and that this story made front page headlines when there are other more important events and issues to cover.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Rowling's rolling in the pounds
According to AP, J.K. Rowling's newest book, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, sold about 9 million copies in the United Kingdom and the United States ... the first day it was on sale!
"Half-Blood Prince" -- hmm, does that mean the character in the book is hapa?
"Half-Blood Prince" -- hmm, does that mean the character in the book is hapa?
Come here, my little pretty!
Heard something interesting on NPR last weekend. A woman was conducting research in China and learned that many people there believe that the Chinese children adopted to the United States are used for organ harvesting.
This actually didn't surpise me. Back in college, our university paper used to do gag editions during finals. One "article" told the story of a student who had woken up in his bathtub to find his abdomen slashed on both sides and his kidneys removed. A friend from Hong Kong got totally freaked by the article until I explained the special edition of the paper. She explained that stories of organ removal for harvesting on the black market are common in China and Hong Kong.
But, getting back to the Chinese adoption/organ harvesting topic ... If the Chinese believe Americans are harvesting Chinese adoptees' organs, doesn't that make the Chinese human suppliers for organ harvesting if they continue to put their children up for U.S. adoption?
This actually didn't surpise me. Back in college, our university paper used to do gag editions during finals. One "article" told the story of a student who had woken up in his bathtub to find his abdomen slashed on both sides and his kidneys removed. A friend from Hong Kong got totally freaked by the article until I explained the special edition of the paper. She explained that stories of organ removal for harvesting on the black market are common in China and Hong Kong.
But, getting back to the Chinese adoption/organ harvesting topic ... If the Chinese believe Americans are harvesting Chinese adoptees' organs, doesn't that make the Chinese human suppliers for organ harvesting if they continue to put their children up for U.S. adoption?
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Chocolate time?
It's 11:07 a.m. Is it too early to eat chocolate-covered peanuts?
It's 11:29 a.m., and now there's an empty bag of chocolate-covered peanuts sitting on my desk.
Nope, guess not.
It's 11:29 a.m., and now there's an empty bag of chocolate-covered peanuts sitting on my desk.
Nope, guess not.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Welcome to Korea!
I traveled to Korea in June 2002. That was the summer the World Cup was in Korea and Japan. But that's not why I was there.
Upon arriving at Incheon International Airport (ICN), I saw the following advertisement on a baggage cart -- one of my first memories after arriving in Korea.
That ad brought a smile to my face at time when all I wanted to do was break down and cry. But I didn't, not in front of a group of strangers. After traveling more than 6,700 miles, I was physically and mentally exhausted -- but excited as well. I had finally come home.
Upon arriving at Incheon International Airport (ICN), I saw the following advertisement on a baggage cart -- one of my first memories after arriving in Korea.
That ad brought a smile to my face at time when all I wanted to do was break down and cry. But I didn't, not in front of a group of strangers. After traveling more than 6,700 miles, I was physically and mentally exhausted -- but excited as well. I had finally come home.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
What the f***?!
The following is a job posting for a "Proofreader/Associate Editor" at The Doctors Company, a physician-owned medical malpractice insurance company in Napa Valley:
"Provides answers to routine inquiries and other information as appropriate; processes check requests; maintains office supplies for department, including ordering, stocking and processing invoices for payment; answers department phones; processes incoming and outgoing mail on a daily basis; organizes and maintains filing systems; types routine correspondence; schedules appointments, maintains calendar, makes travel arrangements; enters, modifies and extracts database information; compiles reports as assigned; responsible for planning, implementation, monitoring and report assembly and distribution for special projects as assigned; within authority granted, develops project tracking mechanisms, identifies affected departments and components and works with cross-departmental staff to ensure they are correctly implemented; performs other duties as assigned."
The list of minimum qualification requirements was twice as long as the above description, and the only references to proofreading and editing read "excellent written, oral and telephone communication skills; good editing and proofreading skills with attention to detail."
What an insult to proofreaders and editors! What the company needs is an office grunt, and I told them so.
"Provides answers to routine inquiries and other information as appropriate; processes check requests; maintains office supplies for department, including ordering, stocking and processing invoices for payment; answers department phones; processes incoming and outgoing mail on a daily basis; organizes and maintains filing systems; types routine correspondence; schedules appointments, maintains calendar, makes travel arrangements; enters, modifies and extracts database information; compiles reports as assigned; responsible for planning, implementation, monitoring and report assembly and distribution for special projects as assigned; within authority granted, develops project tracking mechanisms, identifies affected departments and components and works with cross-departmental staff to ensure they are correctly implemented; performs other duties as assigned."
The list of minimum qualification requirements was twice as long as the above description, and the only references to proofreading and editing read "excellent written, oral and telephone communication skills; good editing and proofreading skills with attention to detail."
What an insult to proofreaders and editors! What the company needs is an office grunt, and I told them so.
Friday, July 08, 2005
Hypnosis anyone?
Have you ever been hypnotized while being counseled or in a therapy session? If you have, please write me and tell me about your experience.
Thanks!
Thanks!
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Soul food
No, I'm not talking about grits and corn bread. I'm talking kim chee, radish kim chee (깍두기), galbi (갈비), soon dubu chigae (순두부 찌개), and other Korean food.
It's said that taste is one of the strongest senses tied to memory. I wish this were true.
I don't have many memories before I was 4 or 5 years old. I don't remember eating Korean food at all, although as a toddler I must have eaten it every day until I was 3½ years old. Perhaps my umma (엄마) fed me watered-down kim chee as a baby. I don't remember.
I do remember falling in love with Korean food all over again when I was older, though.
My parents had taken me to a Korean restaurant before, but I just recall eating the barbecued beef. It wasn't until freshman year in college when I met some international Korean graduate students that I was properly introduced to a full Korean meal. We had 불고기 with lettuce leaves and 쌈장, not to mention kim chee and other 반찬. It was love (again) at first taste. The attraction, I think, was mutual.
After I figured out where I could buy Korean groceries (which may not seem difficult today, but there were only like two Korean grocery stores in the area at the time), I'd buy kim chee to eat at home. I could have lived off of kim chee, particularly the radish kind (it has that crunch factor), and rice during college.
Unfortunately, for two years I lived at home with my parents and commuted to the university. One night I brought home a jar of kim chee. I untied the plastic bag and unscrewed the lid. I was in the process of scooping out some kim chee when my mom came tearing into the kitchen, panicked. "What is that smell?!" she asked. She thought the smell of kim chee was some sort of gas fume.
After that and an incident in which my mom threw out my "stinky" kim chee just when it was reaching the perfect stage of fermentation for 김치 찌개, I left my kim chee eating to restaurants or friends' homes.
These days, I'm always up for eating Korean food. Unfortunately, unless I want to eat alone, I only eat it at most once every two weeks it seems.
My fiancé: "What should we eat?"
Me: "Korean?"
My fiancé: "Mexican?"
Me: "Korean?"
My fiancé: "Nah, I don't feel like Korean," or "We just had Korean."
How can you not want to eat Korean food??
I recently discovered that a Korean restaurant down the street from where we live just changed management, and I am so excited! We had eaten at the restaurant before, but had been disappointed with the 반찬 and hadn't gone back. Under new management, however, I'm happy to say they have a wonderful array of 반찬, including my favorite 미역채 (you'll have to excuse the spelling if it's incorrect -- I don't normally spell it, I just eat it), which I hadn't found in San Francisco since I moved.
My goal is to visit every Korean restaurant in San Francisco. On City Search, I counted 25 Korean restaurants in the city. I think I'm at seven so far.
Since moving to the Bay Area, I've been able to enjoy all sorts of different cuisine, from Indian and Pakistani to Eritrean. My favorites are still Korean and sushi, though. (And fortunately, I live just down the street from an excellent Korean restaurant and a great sushi place.)
One day I was eating at a restaurant and picked up a pickled cucumber from a side dish. (Wouldn't that be a pickle, you ask? Well, it wasn't quite a pickle.) After biting into that cucumber, I almost cried. The taste and texture were so familiar that they triggered an emotional reaction. I don't recall ever eating it before, but something told me perhaps I had eaten it as a young child.
The same thing happened in college when I ate some of those plump, juicy Asian grapes. I swore I had eaten them as a child in Korea.
I wish more Korean food could help me recall my lost early memories. I'd eat it every day.
It's said that taste is one of the strongest senses tied to memory. I wish this were true.
I don't have many memories before I was 4 or 5 years old. I don't remember eating Korean food at all, although as a toddler I must have eaten it every day until I was 3½ years old. Perhaps my umma (엄마) fed me watered-down kim chee as a baby. I don't remember.
I do remember falling in love with Korean food all over again when I was older, though.
My parents had taken me to a Korean restaurant before, but I just recall eating the barbecued beef. It wasn't until freshman year in college when I met some international Korean graduate students that I was properly introduced to a full Korean meal. We had 불고기 with lettuce leaves and 쌈장, not to mention kim chee and other 반찬. It was love (again) at first taste. The attraction, I think, was mutual.
After I figured out where I could buy Korean groceries (which may not seem difficult today, but there were only like two Korean grocery stores in the area at the time), I'd buy kim chee to eat at home. I could have lived off of kim chee, particularly the radish kind (it has that crunch factor), and rice during college.
Unfortunately, for two years I lived at home with my parents and commuted to the university. One night I brought home a jar of kim chee. I untied the plastic bag and unscrewed the lid. I was in the process of scooping out some kim chee when my mom came tearing into the kitchen, panicked. "What is that smell?!" she asked. She thought the smell of kim chee was some sort of gas fume.
After that and an incident in which my mom threw out my "stinky" kim chee just when it was reaching the perfect stage of fermentation for 김치 찌개, I left my kim chee eating to restaurants or friends' homes.
These days, I'm always up for eating Korean food. Unfortunately, unless I want to eat alone, I only eat it at most once every two weeks it seems.
My fiancé: "What should we eat?"
Me: "Korean?"
My fiancé: "Mexican?"
Me: "Korean?"
My fiancé: "Nah, I don't feel like Korean," or "We just had Korean."
How can you not want to eat Korean food??
I recently discovered that a Korean restaurant down the street from where we live just changed management, and I am so excited! We had eaten at the restaurant before, but had been disappointed with the 반찬 and hadn't gone back. Under new management, however, I'm happy to say they have a wonderful array of 반찬, including my favorite 미역채 (you'll have to excuse the spelling if it's incorrect -- I don't normally spell it, I just eat it), which I hadn't found in San Francisco since I moved.
My goal is to visit every Korean restaurant in San Francisco. On City Search, I counted 25 Korean restaurants in the city. I think I'm at seven so far.
Since moving to the Bay Area, I've been able to enjoy all sorts of different cuisine, from Indian and Pakistani to Eritrean. My favorites are still Korean and sushi, though. (And fortunately, I live just down the street from an excellent Korean restaurant and a great sushi place.)
One day I was eating at a restaurant and picked up a pickled cucumber from a side dish. (Wouldn't that be a pickle, you ask? Well, it wasn't quite a pickle.) After biting into that cucumber, I almost cried. The taste and texture were so familiar that they triggered an emotional reaction. I don't recall ever eating it before, but something told me perhaps I had eaten it as a young child.
The same thing happened in college when I ate some of those plump, juicy Asian grapes. I swore I had eaten them as a child in Korea.
I wish more Korean food could help me recall my lost early memories. I'd eat it every day.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Hello, snubfin!
These days, it's more common to hear about an animal becoming extinct, but a new species of dolphin, the Australian Snubfin, has been discovered near the Great Barrier Reef ...
"New dolphin found at Barrier Reef"
"New dolphin found at Barrier Reef"
Friday, July 01, 2005
American women rock!
How funny is it that two Americans will be in the Wimbledon women's singles final match over the Fourth of July holiday weekend? And, it's not Williams vs. Williams.
Twenty-nine-year-old Lindsay Davenport, who currently holds the No. 1 ranking in the world for women's tennis and is the top-seeded women's singles player at Wimbledon, will play 25-year-old, No. 14-seeded Venus Williams on Saturday at the All England Club.
Davenport won the women's singles Wimbledon title in 1999, and Williams is a two-time Wimbledon women's singles champion (2000 and 2001).
Let the fireworks begin!
You go, girls!!
Twenty-nine-year-old Lindsay Davenport, who currently holds the No. 1 ranking in the world for women's tennis and is the top-seeded women's singles player at Wimbledon, will play 25-year-old, No. 14-seeded Venus Williams on Saturday at the All England Club.
Davenport won the women's singles Wimbledon title in 1999, and Williams is a two-time Wimbledon women's singles champion (2000 and 2001).
Let the fireworks begin!
You go, girls!!
Two tickets, please!
I just read about a new documentary, "March of the Penguins," that I'm going to have to see. Check out these babies!
I've heard that penguins mate for life, but some researchers say that's not always the case. Check out this article: "The Coldest Profession: Antarctica's Red-Light District."
Here's another interesting article on the mating habits of penguin: "They're in love. They're gay. They're penguins ... And they're not alone."
Addition (August 12, 1:50 p.m.):
I finally saw this documentary last week, and I give it two thumbs up and highly recommend it. Currently, I have the "March of the Penguins" wallpaper screensaver on my computer. You, too, can download images from the documentary at the Warner Independent Pictures Web site.
I've heard that penguins mate for life, but some researchers say that's not always the case. Check out this article: "The Coldest Profession: Antarctica's Red-Light District."
Here's another interesting article on the mating habits of penguin: "They're in love. They're gay. They're penguins ... And they're not alone."
Addition (August 12, 1:50 p.m.):
I finally saw this documentary last week, and I give it two thumbs up and highly recommend it. Currently, I have the "March of the Penguins" wallpaper screensaver on my computer. You, too, can download images from the documentary at the Warner Independent Pictures Web site.
I need a copy editor
Geesh, just reread my last post. I need a copy editor for my blog. Feel free to e-mail me corrections.*
I found this post on compound-modifier hyphens by Bill Walsh:
And here's another post by Walsh on using multiple hyphens.
I'm such an amateur copy editor. I'm not worthy.
Gotta love Reuters ...
On the 29th, Reuters ran an article titled, "Study shows radiation causes cancer but rarely," which stated the following:
The next day Reuters ran a correction, or should I say a corretion?
First of all, it's bad enough to confuse 10 chest X-rays with 1,000 X-rays, but to post your correction with "CORRETION" is just too much.
*I may or may not make your suggested corrections. Gimme a break! I didn't say I was a good copy editor. I'm only human, and usually sleep-deprived. I do not guarantee that this blog is free of punctuation, spelling, grammar and usage errors. Check out my links for other blogs and reference sites.
I found this post on compound-modifier hyphens by Bill Walsh:
My point is that compound-modifier hyphens, or the lack thereof, affect the way phrases are pronounced as well as the way they're read by those of us who can do so without moving our lips.
And here's another post by Walsh on using multiple hyphens.
I'm such an amateur copy editor. I'm not worthy.
Gotta love Reuters ...
On the 29th, Reuters ran an article titled, "Study shows radiation causes cancer but rarely," which stated the following:
A low dose of about 100 millisieverts of radiation -- the equivalent of 10 chest x-rays -- can be expected to cause cancer in one out of every 100 people, the report finds.
The next day Reuters ran a correction, or should I say a corretion?
CORRETION: Study shows radiation may cause cancer
Last Updated: 2005-06-30 15:15:23 -0400 (Reuters Health)
[In June 29 WASHINGTON story headlined "Study shows radiation causes cancer but rarely" please read in fourth paragraph "... the equivalent of 1,000 chest X-rays ..." instead of "... the equivalent of 10 chest X-rays ..." A corrected story follows]
First of all, it's bad enough to confuse 10 chest X-rays with 1,000 X-rays, but to post your correction with "CORRETION" is just too much.
*I may or may not make your suggested corrections. Gimme a break! I didn't say I was a good copy editor. I'm only human, and usually sleep-deprived. I do not guarantee that this blog is free of punctuation, spelling, grammar and usage errors. Check out my links for other blogs and reference sites.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Summer's here ... Time to bundle up
"The coldest winter I ever saw was the summer I spent in San Francisco."
This quote is often attributed to Mark Twain (although it seems it has yet to be verified). At any rate, it's an apt assessment of the summers in San Francisco.
The last few mornings and evenings have been blanketed by a thick, eerie fog. It's so thick that you can see it creeping its way ever so gradually east from the ocean across the city.
Having spent most of my summers in the hot, humid, mosquito-thriving climate of the Midwest, I nearly froze my ass off last summer after having moved to San Francisco in the winter. It's not that the temperature totally drops. The air gets so damp with the fog that it seeps in and chills you to the bone. It's so damp that when you walk under a tree it feels like rain because the moisture falls in droplets from the leaves.
The fog-filled mornings and evenings require dressing in layers -- a sweater or long-sleeved shirt with a jacket over a T-shirt. If it's windy as well, a neck scarf can be a good idea. In the afternoons, especially downtown, you have to strip off the layers so you don't get overheated and sweat profusely as you walk from place to place, or run to catch your bus or train.
Sometimes in the evenings I dig out my leather gloves, which my fiancé makes fun of and says, "You don't need those. It's not that cold!" Screw that, I'm keeping my hands warm.
When I was a kid, I used to stay outside playing in the snow all winter long. I could while away hours building snow forts and snow houses out of the drifts in my yard. Fresh, untouched snow of course required plopping down to make a snow angel. Or, I'd walk to the local outdoor skating rink that was just a block away, and pretend I was an Olympic figure skater or speed skater. When I finally came inside, I'd have these round, rough pink patches on my cheeks from the cold, and my fingers and toes would drive me insane from the itchiness as they thawed from their nearly frostbitten state.
Nowadays, I'm such a wimp. I turn on my electric heating blanket before I go to bed at night, even in the summer, especially in the summer. Otherwise, I wake up freezing in the middle of the night at 2:00 a.m.
I miss the change of seasons in the Midwest. After the hot, humid summers, you appreciate the colder temperatures of the fall and winter. (Although, I don't miss the -20° windchill.) Then toward the end of winter's deep freeze, you look forward to the spring thaw and the heat of the summer.
A friend once mentioned how recalling when certain events happened can be difficult while living in San Francisco because you often can't relate them to a particular season. It's true. You can't relate that one outing to the hottest day of the summer, or that day spent with family and friends when the snowstorm hit. (The best days of winter in the Midwest are the snow days, when a snowstorm or severe weather shuts down schools and businesses. There's no greater joy, I tell you, than discovering you don't have to go to school or work.)
I do, however, remember one afternoon last summer. My fiancé and I had gone to Ocean Beach on an unusually warm day to lay out and get some sun. The day at the ocean was amazing to me, having grown up with only lakes nearby in the Midwest. But around 3:00 p.m., the fog suddenly rolled in. We, along with the other beach goers, quickly pack up our gear and donned some warmer clothes.
Ahh, summer in San Francisco!
This quote is often attributed to Mark Twain (although it seems it has yet to be verified). At any rate, it's an apt assessment of the summers in San Francisco.
The last few mornings and evenings have been blanketed by a thick, eerie fog. It's so thick that you can see it creeping its way ever so gradually east from the ocean across the city.
Having spent most of my summers in the hot, humid, mosquito-thriving climate of the Midwest, I nearly froze my ass off last summer after having moved to San Francisco in the winter. It's not that the temperature totally drops. The air gets so damp with the fog that it seeps in and chills you to the bone. It's so damp that when you walk under a tree it feels like rain because the moisture falls in droplets from the leaves.
The fog-filled mornings and evenings require dressing in layers -- a sweater or long-sleeved shirt with a jacket over a T-shirt. If it's windy as well, a neck scarf can be a good idea. In the afternoons, especially downtown, you have to strip off the layers so you don't get overheated and sweat profusely as you walk from place to place, or run to catch your bus or train.
Sometimes in the evenings I dig out my leather gloves, which my fiancé makes fun of and says, "You don't need those. It's not that cold!" Screw that, I'm keeping my hands warm.
When I was a kid, I used to stay outside playing in the snow all winter long. I could while away hours building snow forts and snow houses out of the drifts in my yard. Fresh, untouched snow of course required plopping down to make a snow angel. Or, I'd walk to the local outdoor skating rink that was just a block away, and pretend I was an Olympic figure skater or speed skater. When I finally came inside, I'd have these round, rough pink patches on my cheeks from the cold, and my fingers and toes would drive me insane from the itchiness as they thawed from their nearly frostbitten state.
Nowadays, I'm such a wimp. I turn on my electric heating blanket before I go to bed at night, even in the summer, especially in the summer. Otherwise, I wake up freezing in the middle of the night at 2:00 a.m.
I miss the change of seasons in the Midwest. After the hot, humid summers, you appreciate the colder temperatures of the fall and winter. (Although, I don't miss the -20° windchill.) Then toward the end of winter's deep freeze, you look forward to the spring thaw and the heat of the summer.
A friend once mentioned how recalling when certain events happened can be difficult while living in San Francisco because you often can't relate them to a particular season. It's true. You can't relate that one outing to the hottest day of the summer, or that day spent with family and friends when the snowstorm hit. (The best days of winter in the Midwest are the snow days, when a snowstorm or severe weather shuts down schools and businesses. There's no greater joy, I tell you, than discovering you don't have to go to school or work.)
I do, however, remember one afternoon last summer. My fiancé and I had gone to Ocean Beach on an unusually warm day to lay out and get some sun. The day at the ocean was amazing to me, having grown up with only lakes nearby in the Midwest. But around 3:00 p.m., the fog suddenly rolled in. We, along with the other beach goers, quickly pack up our gear and donned some warmer clothes.
Ahh, summer in San Francisco!
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Anatomy 101
For the longest time I've wondered about this one question from my college anatomy class. How much urine can the bladder hold?
Why, you ask? I remember that question being on a college exam, along with four possible answers that I can't recall now. Since I never really studied for that course, I didn't know the answer so I guessed. To this day, I don't know if I answered it correctly or what was the correct answer.
I just did some searching online, and a common volume found on various Web sites for a healthy bladder is 2 cups, which is approximately 473 mL. Seems like it could hold more than that so I continued my research.
Other references list the volume of a human bladder to be 500—1,000 mL.
All in all, there doesn't seem to be one correct answer. So now I'm wondering what the possible answers were on that damn test.
I believe I got a "B" in that class, pretty good considering I guessed on all of the exams -- "Oh, that sounds about right," "That seems to make sense," or "Answer B." (Always choose answer B when guessing.)
After high school, I really couldn't have cared less about my college classes, which is sort of suprising considering I was such a nerd in high school. I'd cram for tests even when I knew the material backward and forward. Hell, I even tutored others students on some subjects. Honor society, academic bowl, math team, yearbook ... I did all the geeky activities.
Everything seemed to come so easy, too. In college, I'd procrastinate when it came to writing papers. After pulling an all-nighter to crank out a 10-page paper full of B.S., I'd get the paper back with an "A" on it. (Guess being able to write half-decent sentences makes crap sound brilliant.)
I think I stressed myself out too much in high school. Toward the end of my senior year, I had a sort of quarter-life crisis -- so burnt out that I considered not going on to college. And it's not as if my parents were pressuring me. They actually told me I didn't have to go to college. I know they meant well, but sometimes I wonder where I would be today if they had pushed me.
Of course I continued on to higher learning. In fact, one of the best choices I ever made was to attend a large city university that had a fairly diverse student population.
But my college years centered more on learning who I was than how much I could memorize for an exam. I focused on experiencing life and not just studying for it. College was more about meeting new people outside of that core group of kids you've known since kindergarten. It was about trying to figure out what I wanted to do in life. I'm still unsure of the answer to that one, but I know it's not a multiple-choice answer. You could say I'm still taking Life 101.
Why, you ask? I remember that question being on a college exam, along with four possible answers that I can't recall now. Since I never really studied for that course, I didn't know the answer so I guessed. To this day, I don't know if I answered it correctly or what was the correct answer.
I just did some searching online, and a common volume found on various Web sites for a healthy bladder is 2 cups, which is approximately 473 mL. Seems like it could hold more than that so I continued my research.
Other references list the volume of a human bladder to be 500—1,000 mL.
All in all, there doesn't seem to be one correct answer. So now I'm wondering what the possible answers were on that damn test.
I believe I got a "B" in that class, pretty good considering I guessed on all of the exams -- "Oh, that sounds about right," "That seems to make sense," or "Answer B." (Always choose answer B when guessing.)
After high school, I really couldn't have cared less about my college classes, which is sort of suprising considering I was such a nerd in high school. I'd cram for tests even when I knew the material backward and forward. Hell, I even tutored others students on some subjects. Honor society, academic bowl, math team, yearbook ... I did all the geeky activities.
Everything seemed to come so easy, too. In college, I'd procrastinate when it came to writing papers. After pulling an all-nighter to crank out a 10-page paper full of B.S., I'd get the paper back with an "A" on it. (Guess being able to write half-decent sentences makes crap sound brilliant.)
I think I stressed myself out too much in high school. Toward the end of my senior year, I had a sort of quarter-life crisis -- so burnt out that I considered not going on to college. And it's not as if my parents were pressuring me. They actually told me I didn't have to go to college. I know they meant well, but sometimes I wonder where I would be today if they had pushed me.
Of course I continued on to higher learning. In fact, one of the best choices I ever made was to attend a large city university that had a fairly diverse student population.
But my college years centered more on learning who I was than how much I could memorize for an exam. I focused on experiencing life and not just studying for it. College was more about meeting new people outside of that core group of kids you've known since kindergarten. It was about trying to figure out what I wanted to do in life. I'm still unsure of the answer to that one, but I know it's not a multiple-choice answer. You could say I'm still taking Life 101.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
I wish I had a fairy godmother
She could wave her little magic wand and find me the perfect wedding dress. You know, a little flourish and ta dah! I'd be dressed in the loveliest gown. Well, without the midnight deadline.
Alas, no Cinderella transformation for me.
For the past few months, I've been searching for a wedding dress. (Yes, even though I am The Hyphenator! and busy saving copy, I am getting married soon. Sorry, all you male punctuation enforcers. Yes, The Hyphenator is getting hitched in Hawaii. Hmm, I should change my name to The Amazing Alliterator!)
I'm getting married on the beach, so I'm looking for a dress that doesn't weigh a half ton. You know, one that doesn't have intricate lace, beading and sequins, tons of layers and crinoline, a big poufy skirt and a long train. But I'm not going to be frolicking in the surf (although I will be wearing flip flops), so I figure I can have a traditional wedding dress -- just one that's more simple in design.
I thought I had the dress narrowed down to two choices, but after trying them on a second time and having digital pictures taken of me in them, I decided I looked more like a dressed-up troll and not a princess or soon-to-be blushing bride.
One was a gorgeous, Nicole Miller strapless silk gown with buttons running down the back that almost had me crying while I tried it on, and it wasn't from the price ($1,400). I've always had a sort of vision in my mind of how I wanted my wedding dress to be: silk, clean lines, elegant, no lace, and no beading. The Nicole Miller dress came pretty close to the picture in my head.
I first saw the dress in the store and tried on a sample that was surprisingly close to my size. Later I found online photos of it on the designer's Web site. The dress looked like a silk sack on the model, but I figured the model was your typical stick figure. I thought that I had filled it out nicely.
After a week or two of dreamily thinking of the dress and debating on whether I really wanted to spend that much on a wedding dress, I decided I better try it on again and this time take digital pictures to show my mom and my "Best Woman," both of whom live in the Midwest. Show them that, despite the price tag, it was gorgeous. Good thing I did.
The dress was still stunning on second viewing, but unfortunately the style just wasn't stunning on me. Well, at least one good thing is that I won't be dropping $1,260 for it. (My Best Woman referred me to the Rush's Bridal Web site. They offer free price quotes on wedding and bridesmaid dresses. I could have ordered the dress for $140 less and no sales tax.)
The second dress was also lovely -- and more moderately priced at $650. This one was an empire-waisted chiffon dress with elegant beading in a floral/vine pattern on the v-neck bodice and the hem of the skirt. It came with a matching beaded, detachable train. I found this one at a bridal shop while in search of a different dress, but the sample dress was a couple of sizes too large so I couldn't quite get a good sense of how it would look on me. I found pictures of it online as well, and eventually found a store that had a sample of the dress in my size.
Same story: I tried it on again, making sure to take some pictures this time. Same thought: "I look like a troll." I never really fell in love with this one. I thought it was lovely, but that was all. I didn't have that "Oooh, this is the one!" kind of moment.
So I've started searching all over again.
I've concluded that the above scenarios with the two dresses could have been easily avoided, along with some needless anxiety, if I had done the following:
1. Brought my camera on the first visit.
2. Brought someone with me shopping.
3. Tried to find a store with a sample close to my size.
4. Not listened to sales ladies, who probably get a big, fat commission.
What annoys me is that I find all these lovely dresses online on wedding and designers' Web sites, but I have a hard time finding bridal stores that carry samples of the particular styles I want. One of my next moves is to drive to a shop an hour away in hopes of finding some of the dresses I've seen online.
My wedding is about eight months away. Where is my fairy godmother when I need her?!
Alas, no Cinderella transformation for me.
For the past few months, I've been searching for a wedding dress. (Yes, even though I am The Hyphenator! and busy saving copy, I am getting married soon. Sorry, all you male punctuation enforcers. Yes, The Hyphenator is getting hitched in Hawaii. Hmm, I should change my name to The Amazing Alliterator!)
I'm getting married on the beach, so I'm looking for a dress that doesn't weigh a half ton. You know, one that doesn't have intricate lace, beading and sequins, tons of layers and crinoline, a big poufy skirt and a long train. But I'm not going to be frolicking in the surf (although I will be wearing flip flops), so I figure I can have a traditional wedding dress -- just one that's more simple in design.
I thought I had the dress narrowed down to two choices, but after trying them on a second time and having digital pictures taken of me in them, I decided I looked more like a dressed-up troll and not a princess or soon-to-be blushing bride.
One was a gorgeous, Nicole Miller strapless silk gown with buttons running down the back that almost had me crying while I tried it on, and it wasn't from the price ($1,400). I've always had a sort of vision in my mind of how I wanted my wedding dress to be: silk, clean lines, elegant, no lace, and no beading. The Nicole Miller dress came pretty close to the picture in my head.
I first saw the dress in the store and tried on a sample that was surprisingly close to my size. Later I found online photos of it on the designer's Web site. The dress looked like a silk sack on the model, but I figured the model was your typical stick figure. I thought that I had filled it out nicely.
After a week or two of dreamily thinking of the dress and debating on whether I really wanted to spend that much on a wedding dress, I decided I better try it on again and this time take digital pictures to show my mom and my "Best Woman," both of whom live in the Midwest. Show them that, despite the price tag, it was gorgeous. Good thing I did.
The dress was still stunning on second viewing, but unfortunately the style just wasn't stunning on me. Well, at least one good thing is that I won't be dropping $1,260 for it. (My Best Woman referred me to the Rush's Bridal Web site. They offer free price quotes on wedding and bridesmaid dresses. I could have ordered the dress for $140 less and no sales tax.)
The second dress was also lovely -- and more moderately priced at $650. This one was an empire-waisted chiffon dress with elegant beading in a floral/vine pattern on the v-neck bodice and the hem of the skirt. It came with a matching beaded, detachable train. I found this one at a bridal shop while in search of a different dress, but the sample dress was a couple of sizes too large so I couldn't quite get a good sense of how it would look on me. I found pictures of it online as well, and eventually found a store that had a sample of the dress in my size.
Same story: I tried it on again, making sure to take some pictures this time. Same thought: "I look like a troll." I never really fell in love with this one. I thought it was lovely, but that was all. I didn't have that "Oooh, this is the one!" kind of moment.
So I've started searching all over again.
I've concluded that the above scenarios with the two dresses could have been easily avoided, along with some needless anxiety, if I had done the following:
1. Brought my camera on the first visit.
2. Brought someone with me shopping.
3. Tried to find a store with a sample close to my size.
4. Not listened to sales ladies, who probably get a big, fat commission.
What annoys me is that I find all these lovely dresses online on wedding and designers' Web sites, but I have a hard time finding bridal stores that carry samples of the particular styles I want. One of my next moves is to drive to a shop an hour away in hopes of finding some of the dresses I've seen online.
My wedding is about eight months away. Where is my fairy godmother when I need her?!
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Girls' school burned down in Afghanistan
An article on sfgate.com today ...
"Armed Men Set Afghan Girls' School on Fire"
"'Why did they only burn the girls' school? Why not the boys' school next door?' asked a 12-year-old student who only gave her first name, Farida."
How do you even begin to explain to young girls that there are some people who believe girls and women shouldn't be educated and why they think this way?
And an Associated Press article from Tuesday ...
"Lions reportedly chase off abductors, guard girl til police find her"
"A 12-year-old girl who was abducted and beaten by men trying to force her into a marriage was found being guarded by three lions who apparently had chased off her captors, a policeman said Tuesday."
Animals continue to amaze me -- they appear to have more sense than grown men.
"Armed Men Set Afghan Girls' School on Fire"
"'Why did they only burn the girls' school? Why not the boys' school next door?' asked a 12-year-old student who only gave her first name, Farida."
How do you even begin to explain to young girls that there are some people who believe girls and women shouldn't be educated and why they think this way?
And an Associated Press article from Tuesday ...
"Lions reportedly chase off abductors, guard girl til police find her"
"A 12-year-old girl who was abducted and beaten by men trying to force her into a marriage was found being guarded by three lions who apparently had chased off her captors, a policeman said Tuesday."
Animals continue to amaze me -- they appear to have more sense than grown men.
Blog, H, blog!
A brand-spankin' new blog!
I swore that if I solved the Ripley's IQ Game I would start a blog to prove that I did it. My co-worker had sent me a link to the puzzle, and I had forwarded it to my friend Ji-in. Being the ultimate nerd (I'm not worthy!), she solved it and I was determined to solve the damn thing, too. And I did it!
And after some peer pressure, I am now writing my own blog -- a spin-off blog, you could say. Like "Mary Tyler Moore" and "Rhoda," "Cheers" and "Frasier," "Friends" and "Joey," and ... oh, you get the point. Let's just hope this blog survives longer than "Joey."
Stay tuned, folks!
(And J, stop mentally editing my post. Although, yes, I am The Hyphenator, the enforcer of punctuation, it is 12:30 a.m. and I'm not working!)
I swore that if I solved the Ripley's IQ Game I would start a blog to prove that I did it. My co-worker had sent me a link to the puzzle, and I had forwarded it to my friend Ji-in. Being the ultimate nerd (I'm not worthy!), she solved it and I was determined to solve the damn thing, too. And I did it!
And after some peer pressure, I am now writing my own blog -- a spin-off blog, you could say. Like "Mary Tyler Moore" and "Rhoda," "Cheers" and "Frasier," "Friends" and "Joey," and ... oh, you get the point. Let's just hope this blog survives longer than "Joey."
Stay tuned, folks!
(And J, stop mentally editing my post. Although, yes, I am The Hyphenator, the enforcer of punctuation, it is 12:30 a.m. and I'm not working!)
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