Last night, Phil and I went to a restaurant that one of his co-workers suggested we should try out. It was a Greek/Italian place called Santorini Grill, and since we didn’t have anything else better to do on a Friday night(yeah, we lead boring lives, I know), we decided to go and have a taste.

We had to drive a bit because it was all the way over on Hardscrabble Road. Isn’t that just a weird road name? I didn’t even know it was a real word until just a second ago, but apparently it is. This is what Dictionary.com tells me . . .

hardscrabble \HARD-skrab-uhl\, adjective:
1. Yielding a bare or meager living with great labor or difficulty.
2. Marked by poverty.

You learn something every day, I guess.

Well, completely off topic, sorta, I saw a pretty amusing road name out in Eastover when I was looking for that stupid DSS building that Google maps or any other map couldn’t direct me to. That one was named Chain Gang Road. I had a good laugh at that one. I kept expecting to see a row of inmates picking up trash or something with all of their legs attached by a long rusty chain, but I didn’t. I didn’t see anyone on that road. I was out in the middle of BFE.

Ok, back on topic, sorta.

We found the place without too much trouble, which was surprising because Phil only drew a map of the roads, but not which way to turn or which side of the street the restaurant was on. Men. 🙂 When we walked in I knew immediately that it was a fancier, more expensive restaurant than I would have chosen because I am such a penny pincher. The restaurant had a nice atmosphere. We were seated at once at a big booth and the waitress quickly brought us some Italian bread and ordered our drinks.

Phil ended up getting the special, which was an alfredo pasta with scallops, shrimps and an array of vegetables. I got another alfredo pasta dish with chicken and vegetables. We both ordered the 5 onion soup, which was excellent. I wish I knew how to make it. I could eat that everyday for a year.

After the bread and our soup, I started getting full. I have a very small stomach. I keep saying it is the size of one double cheeseburger from McDonald’s and a small drink. I was hoping that their servings would be small, but then I remembered that we were in America, and that that would not be the case. Sure enough, the waitress plopped down our food, and I knew instantly that I would not be able to eat it all. It tasted good, what I got to eat of it before my stomach exploded. We decided to get the rest to go. The waitress took our food and said that she would put it in a box for us. I thought that was a bit strange because usually we are brought the boxes and we have to transfer the food ourselves. “Maybe this is what they do in fancier restaurants,” I thought to myself.

We sat awhile and chatted and then we sat and chatted some more. About the time I started thinking that it was taking a long ass time to put our food in a box, this man came over and stood at our table. He looked like the manager.

“There has been an accident with your food,” he said.

“What kind of accident?” Phil and I asked at the same time.

“Well, your waitress sat it down for a second, turned her head, and when she turned back, it was gone. A bus boy was trying to help out and threw it away.”

“Threw it away?”

“Yes, and because we are so sorry that it happened, we want to give you a $10 gift card to make up for it.”

That was a nice gesture and all but the bill was $40 something and they threw out 3/4 of our food. I think we lost out somewhere. The waitress come over and apologized, and then quickly disappeared.

I’ve eaten at a lot of restaurants in my life, but I don’t think I have ever had the food I wanted to take home thrown away. Phil and I laughed it off, but it did sorta suck. That could have been our dinner tonight. That is how much was left over. Oh, well, I guess. At least we have enough money on that gift card to get some more of that 5 onion soup.

p.s. Phil wanted me to say that he has awesome internet.

About this time last year, I wrote a similar post about my blog visits exploding for no apparent reason. I usually average maybe 20 visits a day, sometimes more, sometimes less. This morning though, when I checked to see how many people had been coming to my blog recently, I was shocked to see my graph. I mean, look at it.

Usually, it is my page views that go crazy(as you can see), and that usually has to do with Phil tinkering with my blog. Phil didn’t tell me that he was tinkering, so I have no freaking idea why, on the 19th of March, my visits went from a normal 25 to a staggering 88. ShinyStat, because it is free, doesn’t give me a lot of information, so I really don’t know who exactly came to my blog and why. I don’t even know if they people that came stayed for point five seconds or if they stayed to see what my blog had to hold. If any one knows of a good, free, and accurate counter out there – I would appreciate it if you pointed me in the right direction.

Key word searches are always high for Fairly Odd Parents. Apparently, I have one of the only pictures of Mr. Crocker, and when any one looks for anything to do with the Fairly Odd Parents, it comes up in the images section. If I started writing about Fairly Odd Parents all the time, I imagine my blog would short circuit due to the amount of traffic I would receive.

Recently though, people have been having a field day looking up information on squatting toilets. It made me laugh when I read one of the key word searches – “what part of china have squat toilets”. I thought it would have been more appropriate if they had asked which part of China didn’t have squat toilets. Heh. 🙂

And I know that people look up weird stuff on the internet, but when I saw this key word search- “pictures of women mowing lawns” – I could only imagine what the person wanted to find. I don’t think the picture I have was what that person had in mind. At least, I don’t think it was.

One day, while I was walking home from Yong Xing Middle School in Fuyang, China, a student(not mine, I don’t think) stroke up a broken English conversation with me. She asked me a few questions about America, how I liked China and if I spoke any Chinese. I had been practicing my Chinese for a while and was pretty sure that I could at least say that I was a teacher in Chinese.

I cleared my throat and said, “Wo shi laoshi.” (I think that is how you spell everything.)

Well, as soon as I had finished, the girl crinkled her nose, looked at me, and said, “You are a mouse?” I busted out laughing. I apparently hadn’t been practicing hard enough. 🙂

“No,” I said, “a teacher.”

“Oh,” she said, “laoshi.” She said laoshi very clear and slow, as though emphasizing the correct way to pronounce it.

Before long, we reached the Hangzhou bus station, and we said our goodbyes. I was surprised to find out that she lived in Hangzhou, and that she took the bus to school everyday. Hangzhou is about an hour away from Fuyang. I guess Yong Xing Middle School is just a really good school. I can’t think of any other logical reason a middle school student would travel that far.

A Friday or so ago, Phil and I decided not to go to Red Lobster(even though we had a free $25 gift card) and went to Captain D’s instead. I’m sure the service and food would have been better at Red Lobster, but I probably wouldn’t have gotten the laugh that I did. While standing in the rather long line, I read the following sentence on the daily special board and started laughing. You’ll probably only find it funny if you are a pervert like me. I really don’t try to be one – it just happens.

Happy Ending Fried Brownie or Fried Cheese Cake with Strawberry Topping $1.95

If you aren’t laughing, there is no need for me to go into detail about why that particular sentence made me chuckle. I don’t want to be the one to corrupt your mind. I’ll leave that to cable television, rated R movies, and the other perverts of the world. If you are laughing – I’m shaking my finger at you. : )

In China, I was sick more or less every other week. Sometimes every week. It was just a part of being in China, I think, and getting used to Chinese germs. I never really got used to it, but I did become less and less surprised each time I came down with something.

I’ve been back in the States for five months now, and (knock on wood here) I haven’t had any sort of sickness that has lasted more than say, a full day – if even that. I no longer have the sort of bathroom issues that plagued me in China either. That was probably the worst thing about China(besides Richard Guo) – me nearly shitting myself to death every other week. I wish I could say that I was exaggerating . . . okay, to a point I am, it wasn’t that bad(death and what have you) all the time, but it did happen a lot and it was never, ever fun. Also, since I’ve been home, I haven’t really even had a sore throat or a cold. Now there have been times since I’ve gotten back that I could feel the beginning of such sicknesses, but nothing has ever stayed with me or progressed to the point where I needed a doctor or lots of over the counter drugs. I’ve been healthier in these last 5 months than I ever was in the last year and a half.

I have a theory.

My American immune system has been overthrown, and has been replaced by a whole battalion of Chinese martial arts fighters. They are my new front line. If they see a cold coming they chop it to bits and leave the carcass to rot in the sun. They laugh in the face of the American germs. “Ha, ha,” they say,”is that all you have?! Bring it on, I dare you!”

Just yesterday, my little Chinese fighting immune system took down a virus that totally conquered my mother and very nearly my brother, as well as most of my immediate family. I woke up with a slight tickle in my throat and my head felt heavy. I was sure that I was going to get sick. I radioed my guys and told them to hop to, and they did. Throughout the day, there were times when I was starting to feel up to par and then that tickle would start to come back. It never stayed long, though. I think they may still be fighting as I write this now, but the battle seems to be almost over. And who has won? Well, my Chinese battalion, of course.

I hope they stick around for a while. I like the fact that because my immune system fought so much evil crap in China that it now is less likely to be overcome by the bacteria running rampant in Columbia. Of course, that is just my theory, and I may be way wrong. And yes, I know, my imagination has a way of running away with itself sometimes.

And finally, like that crazy, cracked out Amy Winehouse says in her song about not going to rehab, my immune systems says the same about any germs trying to infiltrate my body – “No, no, no!”

I’m tired, so I will make this quick and easy.

I talk to a lot of people about my year and three day experience in China.  And as you can expect, people usually have a ton of questions to ask.   Sometimes, these questions fall under the category of  “neverbeen” questions.  And if you want to have a better understanding of what I mean by that, click on the link.  Ryan will tell you everything you need to know.

I’ve been asked a lot of questions since I have been back, but I think the one that tops the list is the one you’ll read below.  I mean, it is like the candles on the cake.  Lit candles at that.

“What language do they speak in China?”

I looked at her with a blank stare for a second, thinking that she must be joshing me, but she was serious.  Then a light bulb went off.

“Oh.  Chinese I guess, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Chinese.”

In an email, a fellow blogger, Reg (AKA Dogbait), mentioned a place that I haven’t thought of in a good long while. This place was the Outer Banks. I went there the summer before I started my freshman year at the University of South Carolina – if my memory servers me correctly. It seemed like a good place to go camping, so me and few of my friends packed up the essentials and off we went. Below is the account of that camping trip. It is one, if not the first, paper I wrote in college. So, if you hate it, blame it on my lack of experience or something. Reading back through it, I noticed I left out that I got pink eye in the end and that while standing on a really big sand dune that eats cities, we got chased by a wall of water. It was a rapidly moving thunderstorm. Apparently, it was moving faster than we were because we all got drenched.

Well, I better get to bed. I start work tomorrow, and I want to be bright eyed and bushy tailed. I’ll fill you in on the happenings of my first day soon.

The Camping Trip From Hell

Waking up at 5:00 A.M. is not easy, especially when the back up alarm is a schizoid cat, who is eager to eat. At the time it seemed that those problems were going to be the worst part of the trip, but in truth, it was only the beginning and trivial compared to what I would endure. So, promptly after my alarm clock went off, and my cat pounced on my face, I rolled out of bed and stumbled down the hallway. My bags had already been packed the night before, so all I had to do was throw on some comfortable clothes and wait for my ride. Right on time, a red Lumina pulled up into my driveway and I attempted to cram myself where Jonathan, Mandy, and Yanni already hogged the space of the crowded car. Seconds later, my camping trip to Nags Head, North Carolina began.

Over the eight-hour course of our journey we all took a turn at the wheel and only stopped occasionally for gas, a quick snack and a bathroom break. Although the drive was long, it seemed to pass somewhat quickly, and before I knew it we had arrived in a town I had only heard of. It was beautiful outside. Classic white puffy clouds were spread over the bright blue sky. It was almost picture perfect day until the wind started. This was no casual breeze. Instead, it was quick, harsh, and almost seemed to find pleasure in blowing our tents down the beach. Frantically, we all tried to catch our tents and find a way to keep the tied to the ground, but the loose sand prevented any progress. It took all our bags of clothes, boxes of food and lots of sand to keep them weighted down, but still the wind taunted us.

The rest of our first day was spent driving around town, walking the beach, and attempting to find a restaurant we could all agree on. We concluded our day learning about the stars at Jockey’s Ridge. Although dark clouds had begun to move in and the wind had increased the park ranger nevertheless continued his lecture on the stars above.

“Now if you place you hand up against the sky you can tell the distance between certain stars,” the park ranger said through the roar of the wind. As Jonathan, Mandy, Yanni and I lifted our hands toward the sky, we were able to observe the lightening in the distance. This prompted us to abandon the amateur astrology class immediately and run to our car. We quickly sped back to our campsite as the gloomy clouds crept closer. As we approached our tents, the headlights of the car allowed us a quick view of the destruction. It was obviously fate – the wind had won. Thankfully, the tents were still there, but just blown over.

We fought the wind for sometime until each tent stood proud. The race to beat the rain was victorious. Every item was strategically placed to avoid moisture and to support the frame of each tent. Exhausted, it was time for some much needed sleep. As our heads hit our pillows, the wind instantly began to lessen and the threatening thunder clouds crept back out to sea. All work put forth into preparing for a horrible storm was almost pointless. As we drifted off to sleep, the sky opened up with millions of stars and the cool summer night was at a rare desirable temperature.

The next morning we all woke up to a beautiful day and decided to drive down to Hatteras. It is rumored that the best waves are there and that people from all over the world travel to Hatteras just to get a thrill of a lifetime. So, after a speedy cold shower, the four of us piled back into the Lumina for another afternoon drive. About an hour later, we reached our destination and by the looks of it, so had everyone elses. It was a short stretch of beach crammed with families and several experienced surfers. Once we found a place to lay our stuff, we joined the numerous people in the untamed waters of the Atlantic.

The surf was rough, and I was constantly fighting to hold my own against the current. Jonathan and Yanni had gone out further to catch larger waves while Mandy was sun bathing on the beach. It seemed to me that the harder I tried to swim back to the shore, the stronger the force became, pulling me closer to the pillars of a rundown dock. At first, I was not worried. I believed that I could fight my way back to a point where my feed could touch ground, but even when they did, I was still being dragged out to sea.

“Jonathan! Yanni! I need your help!” I yelled as I gulped sea water. “Jonathan!” I began to panic as I was pulled even closer to the dock. My legs were getting tired and my stomach churned with fear.

“Swim parallel,” Jonathan said. Moments before I collided with the jagged dock, Jonathan put his arms around my waist and attempted to haul me in. “If you kick, the current will take us both out. Get a hold of yourself.” Just as Jonathan and I reached land, I could see the lifeguards walking our way.

“We were about to come get you, but we saw the you were okay,” one of the lifeguards said. I simply nodded my head, and went to sleep on my towel. When I woke about and hour later, Mandy pointed out a nearby storm that looked like it was not going to pass. Just as we got in the car and started back to our campsite, the rain began to fall, gently at first, and then in angry bursts. By the time we made it back to our tents, a river had formed under them. We sent Yanni to inspect and he returned with a solemn face.

“Everything is water logged,” he said. In an attempt to wait out the storm, we drove toward downtown Nags Head only to find the whole island was in a blackout. All of tehe businesses were closed and traffic was backed up for miles. Listening to a radio broadcast we found out that flash floods were either imminent or occurring and that anyone is low lying areas should evacuate. The first thing to pop into our minds was that our tents were bound to wash away and that the river had probably grown into a lake by now. Once again we rushed back to our tents and this time we found ourselves in the middle of an evacuation. We were told by the park ranger that it would not be safe to stay there for the night.

In the middle of the pouring rain, we tried to collect all of our belongings and throw them into the car. Still, an obstacle stood in our way. Out of no where came a swarm of enormous hungry mosquitoes. They attacked us from head to toe and in our mad search for long pants and sweaters they had us for supper. Screaming and throwing our clothes on we appeared to have escaped the mosquitoes by getting in the car. There was dead silence for a moment until Jonathan turned on the over head light. Inside the car were at least forty mosquitoes.

In unison, we all screamed, “AHHHHHH!” The four of us swatted at them, but more seemed to appear. Jonathan in a rush accelerated the car and rolle down the windows to get the mosquitoes out, but instead more just flew in. As we drove back into town looking for a place to stay, we could still see a few flying about the car.

Our budget was small and trying to find a motel for four looked impossible, until we came to an old motel named London Inn. There we were able to get a warm place to sleep and enjoy a much needed shower. All of our clothes were drenched. Even the ones we wore were soaked. As I packed my bag before I went to bed, I separated my wet clothes from my mildly dry ones.

On the morning of our last day in Nags Head, the weather did not change much. The rain continued to fall and just as we ordered lunch from Taco Bell, the power went out again. The power surge erased all of the stored orders on the computer and forced everyone to reorder their meals. After acquiring our food, we spend the rest of the day waiting our the storm, but it never did go anywhere. So, as night fell, we decided that our trip was over and that is was time to go home. Just as we left so did the rain.

Driving until 5:00 A.M. is not easy, especially when your contacts have stiffened over your eyes and your feel disoriented. Jonathan dropped off Yanni and Mandy first, and then me. As I walked into my house that morning, I found that the clothes I was wearing were still damp and that my hair was no even brushed. The thoughts of what I been through echoed through my mind. Somehow, I had survived and learned how to better prepare more for any future camping trips. Walking down the hall I could hear my mother’s voice.

“Honey, is that you?” I opened her door and peered in. “How was it?” She had been forewarned by Jonathan’s mother that were returning in the wee hours for some curious reason.

With a half smile on my face, I replied, “Jonathan is an Eagle Scout, and he said it was the worst camping trip he had ever been on. Jonathan says it was the camping trip from hell.”

On our latest trip to Walmart, Phil and I found ourselves standing in the light bulb section. Phil looked at me and asked, “Do you see a cheap three way?”

I started laughing.  It took Phil a few seconds to figure out why what he said was so funny. He looked at me and said, “You are such a pervert.”

We looked around for a bit, but couldn’t find one of those newer bulbs that can last several years with a three way function. I hate it when I can’t find things, so I went in search of a Walmart employee. In my mind, I could imagine me bringing an employee back, him/her looking for one, finding it, but it not having a price. This would of course lead the employee to asking someone this question.

“Could you please do a price check on a three way for me?”

Phil’s right. I am a pervert, but I know you laughed, too.  So, does that make you a pervert,too?  🙂

If you know me just a little bit, you should know how I feel about man’s best friend and why. I never really wrote about it on this blog, and I sorta wish that I had. It would have made this blog a bit more interesting, I think. For those of you who have no idea how I feel about dogs and why – here is a one sentence explanation why.

I worked at Bermex for 8 months as a meter reader, and every day a dog tried to eat/kill me.

When I tell people I willingly ate dog in China, people tend to think I am crazy, sick, or both, but it never stops them from asking how dogs tastes. When dog was placed on my dinner plate in China, all I could think was, “Revenge! It is mine!!”

I’m not exaggerating. And if for some reason you think I am, stop what you are doing, find out who handles gas and/or electric meter reading in your area, apply, get hired, and if you last one month – I’ll applaud you. What? Did you think I was going to give you a prize or something.

Anyway, I digress. This post is supposed to be about China and a dog. This story is short, but sweet.

One night, in Shenyang, Phil and I were walking back to our apartment from a restaurant where we had just had dinner. It was still very cold at this time. A lot of the snow and ice from the worst winter storm in 50 years was still piled in places. It made walking a bit hazardous. On several occasions, I nearly busted my white American ass.

While we were walking, we noticed a little dog was following not to far behind us. This is not a to uncommon occurrence in China. Dogs walk around like they are people all the time – even looking both ways before they cross the street. Sounds strange, but I’ve seen them do it. It wasn’t any special kind of breed. It looked like a mutt to me.

The little dog followed us several blocks down the street until we got to the entrance to our apartment. Of all the places we lived in China, this place had the fanciest entrance – a revolving door. Such luxury, huh? Hehe. When we got to this door, I looked back at the little dog, and told him goodbye. I often talk to animals, even though they can’t understand me. Phil thinks I am nuts. He stopped behind us and watched as we stepped in and pushed the door.

I kid you not, as soon as the next available space got back to him, he stepped in and followed us into the lobby. I looked down at him and said, “Your not supposed to be in here. Get back outside.”

Our fancy revolving door looked a little like this, except that it wasn’t all swirly like that.

The dog looked at me, barked once or twice, and sat down. I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I felt partially responsible that he was sitting in the lobby. I did speak to him, after all. The “security guard” didn’t seem to mind that a dog was chilling in his lobby. Thinking about it now, he may have been taking a nap.

I tried coaxing the dog outside, but he wasn’t budging. If the market right next to the apartment hadn’t been closed, I would have tempted him with something tasty. Nothing I did worked. The dog just continued to look up at me. If possible, I would say he had a confused look on his face.

A few minutes later, a man pushed his way through the revolving door. The man looked over at us and said something in Chinese, probably, “Come along little doggy.” The immediately perked and started following through the lobby. The guy opened the door to the security office and the dog followed in right after him.

I guess the dog knew where he was going after all. He was just waiting for his owner to show up.

Phil and I laughed all the way up to our unlucky 14th floor. You really had to be there to see it.

I finally finished my cross-stitching project,

and I found the perfect kitty to model it for you.

My evil kitty, Morgan is sporting the cross-stitched

Cookie Monster that I made for my new Nephew, Seth.

You have absolutely no idea how hard it was to get this one picture of her. She was hissing and growling at me the entire time. After I got this one half decent picture, she laid down and would not get back up. She sprouted horns and a pitch fork and told me to go to hell. Don’t let that innocent looking face fool you. She’s the freaking devil.

But I love my little furry devil, anyway. And she still loves me even though I made her wear Cookie Monster around her neck so that I could write something for my blog. I know because she told me so.

I speak fluent Cat, if you didn’t know. 🙂