Basic Questions

what kind of controlling person doesn't allow the (52-year-old) guests in their home take a nap with the door to their bedroom closed?    Sigh.  This is going to be a long week.

Also, I feel concerned because I am99 % certain that he just muttered 'F-ing freeloader' under his breath.  Why did he even invite me here?  I wish I could go home now. :( :( :(

From the Cobwebs: Why Evvie Understood

 May 2007

I've been "reading" a book on CD at work. During one little portion of it, a minor character dies. The death is a natural one and even the circumstances surrounding it are ones which you'd expect. The elderly man, Ralph, is surrounded by people. Evvie, his elderly girlfriend, is by his side. Her neighbors are there with her, by her side as she experiences this very hard situation. Just before Ralph dies, Evvie says words to him which are similar to the ones I said to my own mother (it's okay, Mother; you can go. We love you, but you don't need to stay) as she lie in a hospital bed dying 4 ½ years ago. Ralph responds to her with words of love and affection, spoken in Italian, just moments before he passes through the veil. Immediately Evvie, who is a Christian, and, as might be expected of someone who understands the eternal nature of our beings, gives thanks to God. For what? It didn't really say in the story, but we who understand can probably guess. Thanks for the time she had with him. Thanks for a peaceful and painless death he experienced. Whatever the reason, Evvie thanked God. It is just a few moments later than one of the two main characters, Rese—short for Theresa—considers this fact in her mind. She doesn't understand why Evvie would thank God after Ralph's death. Why would someone thank the person who had caused her such pain? Why would someone thank the person who took away the person she loved? It just didn't make sense to Rese.

As I listened to her words on the CD, I understood why she thought those things. In this modern day, very few people in our world are taught to understand the simple rules of God. Why would she not think it insane to thank God in that particular situation? Perhaps the simplicity of God and the unique nature of His church had never been explained to her. Her disbelief in their gratitude was justifiable, to her, because she'd been taught that there is NO God. You're born. You die. You're dirt. That's it. The end. No one taught her to see God in the skies or the breeze or the sun or a tall leafy beech tree. No one had told her that the intricate design of our eyes, a perfect camera, proved His existence long before the first shutter ever clicked or whirred. He is here. He is alive, even if your heart is shut and you can't see Him.

It seems it can only be those of us who understand God's ultimate purpose who will truly give thanks for all the parts of our lives, even the hard parts, like when a loved one leaves us. God has a purpose which transcends this finite, earthly life; and while we can feel some sorrow for ourselves when our godly loved one dies, there would never be a need to feel sorrow for them because they are in a better place. I think it's kinda nice to know that this one you love, who is now gone, is someplace where they can never feel sorrow; never feel pain, and never need cry again. All that they experience from the moment they take their last breath onward is wonderful, beautiful, unburdened and perfect. That is something to which we can look forward, yeah?

From the Cobwebs: Getting rid of Dolor(es) Del Indeseado

 written 04MAY07

Current mood: the least important

I lock her up in some back room in my mind. I'd like her to stay there, but I think she must be friends with Neville because every once in a while her "ALOHAMORA!!!" works, and then out she runs to play with me. She must not understand that I'm SUPPOSED to be a grown-up now. I don't want to play those games anymore.

I ask her as nicely as I can if she will just go away. You know, run away...back to 1169H East Amelia Earhart Avenue. She won't though. Instead, she just gets angry. She screams loudly at me, "I AM IMPORTANT!!!" I try to hush her, but she won't have any of that noise.

I ponder over how to get rid of her. Adoption, perhaps? A foster home? Well, no--that won't do. It would be mean to the people who get her. Am I just going to have to accept that she is here to stay? ~sigh~

From the Cobwebs: Harbinger

I wrote this poem sometimes in the 'digits' (2000-2010).  My brother, Douglas Paul, introduced the word 'harbinger' to me and a very handsome, intelligent, likeable fellow inspired me to the content of this 'prose poem' by his complete and utter awesomeness!  Thanks, TBP!!  By the way, none of this happened with HIM, but he was so awesome and respectful of me that I--at the time--kinda hoped it would! :)  LOL

~He sees me, and he is my friend.

I love the boy--the wild child--in him. His mischievous grin melts my heart. I feel it's pitter patter begin when I see his outstretched hand inviting the wild child inside of me to "come out and play."
~He sees me, and he respects me.
He knows I have a brain and he appreciates the fact that I can think for myself. He is no Monsieur Gaston, smiling into a mirror whilst he throws my books into the rubbish bin and then pats me on my pretty little head.
~He sees me, and he talks to me.
He speaks his heart out loud. He knows it is important to me and that I will listen. He listens to my heart because what I say is important to him. He is my friend.
~He sees me, and he adores me.
I can see it in his face. Though he doesn't speak the words explicitly, his smiling gazesays "Do you see that woman over there? Isn't she fabulous? She is mine!!"
~He sees me, and he protects me.
I belong to him and he knows it. He cherishes me with his hand on my back as we walk through the tumultous crowd.
~He sees me, and he leads me.
He knows I am his responsibility, so he provides me with security, guidance, and an easy path to walk which he has already safely trod.
~He sees me, and he wants me.
There is nothing else in this world except him when his hands are on my hips or his fingers are threaded through my hair as he kisses me.
~He sees me, and he is my friend...still.
He takes my hand in his hand and smiles affectionately at me, just before leaning over to kiss me on my cheek. On our front porch, we rock together, my husband and I, in our wooden rocking chairs, watching our grandkids play in the deepening darkness of an autumn evening.

From the Cobwebs: Virgin Man

Beforehand, beforehand note:  This was written in 2007-- I believe on the trip I took to SE Texas for Doug and Alison's wedding! Beforehand note: I wish this was just some flight of my really big imagination, but alas!!! the following "story" truly happened to me...in real life...about a month ago. I can laugh about it now!! You can laugh, too, ifn' you wanna. :)

I was a little apprehensive when I arrived at the greyhound station. Would I get a good window seat? or would I have to sit in an aisle seat next to someone creepy? It turns out I got both!!

I was so excited to find a window seat (and it's accompanying aisle seat) empty near the back of the bus. I settled myself in and took out a crossword puzzle book. Turns out I was twice lucky cuz I had bought a ticket on an Express Bus!! YAY!! (An aside for those of you who aren't "in the know" about Greyhound, may I suggest that you ALWAYS choose an Express Bus? They make very few stops, thereby making your journey much shorter.)

So, I'm working on my crossword puzzle, and listening to the other passengers board. I noticed one tall man, black and about 49 or 50 years old board the bus. He passed me and went 3 seats past me to ask if he could join a family in the very back. He was denied. Thankfully, although he stopped at my seat momentarily, he went on and sat with the gentleman directly in front of me. I said "thankfully" at the time because the idea of not having someone next to me for an entire three hour bus trip was appealing. In retrospect, I say "thankfully" for many other reasons.

After a few minutes, conversation began between the three of us and at one point, the man I described above (whom I'll call Virgin Man for reasons you'll discover by the end of this true tale.) looked back at me and saw me eating a snack. He looked at my Kashi bar with an undisguised avaricious gleam in his eye and then commented to me "OH, is that peanut butter? Hey, can I come back there with you and get some lovin'?" I'm sure I was giving him looks that indicated that I thought he was a crazy person, but I calmly and kindly replied "Well, No, I won't give you any lovin', but you can have a peanut butter snack."

Thankfully (once again) he seemed satisfied with the idea of food and didn't come back to sit with me. Looking back, I probably should have realized what an absolute freak he was and ceased any and all conversation with him at that exact moment, but you know what they say: Hindsight REALLY IS 20/20, yeah?

Our conversation lulled often...mostly caused by the fact that he was getting up to go to the bathroom about every 30 minutes. ( I must admit some fault here, I suppose. This guy was a freak and I let the Mom in me get all worried and override my "crazy person" antennae which must have been going around in circles at warp speed at that point. To be honest, I'm surprised that one of the balls attached to the end of the antennae didn't sling off and hit me in the face!!) But Ol' Mom popped up and as he walked past my seat back to his own after one of these numerous visits to the stinky bathroom, I asked him "Do you have Diabetes, by any chance?" When he answered in the negative, I encouraged him to make an appointment with his family practice doctor because he was having plenty of the symptoms of that nefarious disease.

The trip continued. He tried to help me with my crossword puzzle (Prolly another ploy to get some sweet lovin'!!!) He quizzed me about my life and told me a bit about himself. Turns out he has several children, one of whom is a recent graduate from Southwest Texas State University. So, I'm guessing his eldest boy (the graduate) is approximately 23 or 24-ish. Now, if you know me at all, you know that I don't look, act, or feel my age, yeah? My heart is about the age of his son (AT MOST) So, imagine my surprise when he informed me of his intentions to visit Austin the next week! I knew where he was going with this statement, so I said "Oh, that's nice. Austin is a really neat city to visit." This time, sadly, he didn't catch my hint. He barged onward bravely. "So, can I have your phone number?" he asked with a confidence that I found to be highly misplaced. In my mind, I was freakin' out! How in the world could I politely turn down this man who is way too old for me in some ways (chronologically) and way too young for me in others (ummmm....mentally???)

"Well" I began, "Thank you for asking, but I don't know you. I don't give my phone number to strangers." He smiled, undaunted, and proceeded to ask "Well, can I have your address then?" I hoped a look of abject fear wasn't crossing over my features just then whilst visions ran through my mind of Virgin Man appearing on my doorstep, knife in hand and a Jack Nicholson-esque leer on his face.

"Um..." I stuttered out as my mind scrambled for something to say that would avert the headlines that would read NICE GIRL KILLED BY PSYCHO SHE MEETS ON BUS. "Um..." I repeated again "You can have my email address" I answered with a question in my voice, all the while hoping he wasn't a computer genius who could track me with only that small piece of information. He seemed satisfied. He then proceeded to give me his phone numbers in Houston replete with precise instructions as to when to call and how to give a message to the person who answered the phone.

Finally, it seemed that he might leave me alone. I took Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban out of my bag and began reading where I had left off. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him repeatedly looking back at me over his shoulder. I guess he was hoping to catch my eye and grab a chance to start another conversation with me. He must have gotten tired of waiting for my notice, though, because he just started making random comments to me over his left shoulder.

"I'm really attracted to bookworms." he stated with a leer he must have thought was charming. I ignored him politely, pretending I hadn't heard him.

"When I come visit you, we can go to the doctor to see if I have diabetes" he said next with this boyish look which seemed to combine an excitement and a slyness that made me uncomfortable.

I quickly informed him of his mistake. "Oh, no, sir...You misunderstand. You have to make an appointment with your own doctor at home." He looked shocked and said to me earnestly, "But when we're married, you'll need to know all about my medical stuff."

This time, I hoped fervently that my incredulity WOULD show on my face. "Well," I said with as much politeness as I could muster, "I highly doubt we'll ever be married, Virgin Man." In my mind, I ticked off several reasons why "NO" was entirely logical.

a) He was near 50 years old.

b) He had grown children

c) He was creepy. Um...did I say creepy? well, I meant to tell you that he was creepy.

oh, and then there was d) TOTAL beer breath. YUCK!!

He must not have agreed with my negative answer because his face scrunched up in confusion and he eyed me quizzically. "We're not getting married?" he asked sincerely. "No, I really don't think so, Virgin Man." As I answered, I heard a quiet guffaw from a few seats away. I would have liked to have laughed at the situation but it was just too weird for me to be able to do so. My response to him seemed to have quieted him, so I settled back into my book.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him move in a rather large way. I looked up to find that he was turned around in his seat, crooking his finger at me. I leaned forward to hear what he had to say. Shock flowed through me when I heard him ask, "Are you a Virgin?" I reacted without thinking, really. Though I didn't mean to do so, I raised my voice as I asked him sternly "Why are you asking me such a thing? That is a very rude question!!"

He acted chastised. He turned around in his seat, holding his palms open in a placatingly apologetic manner. I still felt a bit ruffled, but since he seemed repentant, I just turned back to my book, fully intending to ignore him completely and continue reading about Harry James Potter and those mean and nasty old Dementors.

It was instinct, however, that had my head popping up when I heard the quiet "Psssttt" coming from in front of me. Virgin Man locked eyes with me over his shoulder and whispered as if we'd been holding a conversation this whole time..."Well, are you?" This time, my raised volume was not inadvertent. My voice filled with a scorn worthy of Hermione during the worst part of the Ron/Lavender debacle. "Are you STILL asking me that question?" I asked him in a chilly manner. Perhaps my mother was right when she said we are descended from one of Charlemagne's empresses because my regal bearing was evident when I issued the royal fiat to Virgin Man. "Please DO NOT ask me again" I ordered commandingly. Strangely enough, even my queenly and majestic tones did not shame him. He, once again, quieted, but only momentarily.

In a very small way, what happened next actually caused me to admire him. He had some pure nerve and audacity!! "So" he said conversationally, "Call me tonight when you get into Orange, o.k.?" I'm actually surprised my jaw didn't drop, but it couldn't have because I heard myself say "Well, there is a bachlorette party tonight when I get there." He went on intrepidly, "Oh well, tomorrow morning will be fine then." I shook my head at him and answered, "This will be a very busy wedding weekend. I doubt I'll have time." I was amazed. Nothing shamed him! Not my loud voice! Not my rebuke! Not my regal bearing! Nothing. Looking back, perhaps I should have just told him in the beginning that I doubted that we'd have much in common and that he was offensive to me, but my momma always taught me to be nice to people...and it's a hard habit to break. Thankfully (yes! that word again) it was just moments later when he got off the bus fussing at the driver about dropping him off at the wrong depot. I breathed sigh of relief as the big grey passenger bus lumbered its way up the road and away from Virgin Man. It couldn't have been too soon for me. Have a nice life, Virgin Man. I hope I never see you again!!! And before you email and ask me...Yes, it really happened JUST THIS WAY. You can't make this stuff up.

The Road to Taiwan: My name choice

Have I told y'all about the man I met back in the early 'Digits' at a bus stop here in Austin?  It was sometime between 2004 and 2007. I was taking the bus to the VA clinic for an appointment and was waiting at a bus stop at Lamar and Oltorf. An elderly man got off of his bus and sat down on the bench with me. I started talking to him (y'all know me!) and he told me (in Spanish) that he couldn't speak English. So, I--with my meager Spanish language skills--began having a discussion with him. During the course of our conversation, I discovered that he had been living in Austin for TWENTY-FIVE years and he didn't understand or speak English yet. I decided, then and there, that--if ever I moved to another country--I would, as soon as possible, learn enough of their language to ask directions, go grocery shopping, and have basic conversations which all humans could understand, no matter what language they spoke. I decided that I would assimilate. I feel like a person can (and should) assimilate into their new country's culture, while still remaining as much themselves as they can. Part of that includes learning the language. I'm hoping that by the end of my second year in Taiwan, I can, at least, be proficient in Mandarin.

Anyway, to that end, I decided that I would choose a Mandarin name for myself to use in professional settings.  As a preface, I'd like to say that I think my name (ahem: Loralee Fabulous) is a pretty easy one to say; however, I have been using it for 52 years. I've often found it interesting that even some English-speaking Americans find my name a challenge which is part of the reason why I've taken to giving my surname when restaurants ask me for a name. My thought process on this is that little Taiwanese children will likely have a challenging time pronouncing 'Loralee.' So, I decided to choose a Mandarin one.

My new surname was an easy choice which I fixed upon during early days. Just for information's sake: The Ford surname is generally believed to have originated as a name bestowed on someone who lived near a ford or river crossing, from the Old English ford, meaning "pass or crossing."  I found a rarely used surname, 'Jin' (津) which means 'ferry.'

For my first name, I wanted to choose something with meaning and beauty. We don't get to choose what our parents give us for a name (although I absolutely LOVE the one my parents chose for me. Not only do I think it is beautiful (and rare) but also, the tradition of it makes it even more awesome, in my mind. Even so, I was looking forward to the process of choosing a name whichs means something to me (as I did with my blog name.)  

As most of you know, I just turned 52 two days ago. I feel I can safely assert that I am in the (very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very) beginning of the Autumn of my life.  I definitely wanted 'Autumn' to be part of my name because not only is it my favorite season, but also because of its significance to my time in life. I'm very excited and happy about my choice in life goals. I think choosing to live an adventurous life, teaching children not only English, but also how to grown into kind, helpful, decent, amazing adults is a beautiful goal and I'm VERY thankful that I was led to make this choice. So, I was trying to find Chinese word name that meant 'Beautiful Autumn.' There are plenty of them, but some of them didn't sound beautlful (sorry mandarin!) I finally landed on the names Mei (beautlful) Qu (Autumn). I even liked how they all sounded together "Mei Qu Jin" (or May Chew Jin" in American English.) I felt like I had struck name gold!

However, after a few conversations with my Taiwanese Ex-Pat Facebook Group friends and my tutor, Diane, I realized that I would have to choose a different name. Turns out that--in the secondary, and oft-used, language in Taiwan (Hokkien??)--the name I chose sounds like I'm saying something naughty.  So, I was back to the drawing board.

I put my name chosing on the back burner. I decided to finish knitting a friend's birthday present and watch a Taiwanese t.v. series on Netflix. The one I chose was 'Love Cuisine.' One of the secondary characters was a sort-of plain, nerdy, kind girl who had a crush on the Gaston character in class (who, by the way, during his 'maturing' story arc, turned into the Beast, I'm thankful to say.) She was someone who put others first almost all the time, but when need be, she stood up for herself. She stayed true to herself and kept her kind heart. And I loved her character best out of all of them.  Her name was 'Qi Zhen' (奇珍)(or Chee Jen in American English.) Her name means 'Unique Treasure.'  I decided I would adopt the name of this admirable literary character as my name and those of you who have heard me wax on about what I would name my own children, if I wasn't too old for children, should not be surprised that I chose a 'literary' character, yeah?    

So, if need be (cos I still haven't figured out the culture of foreign teachers, what staff and students call them, etc.) I will use the name Jin Qi Zhen while I am living in Taiwan (although, obviously I'll always be Loralee.  So, now you have it.  My name choice is:

津津奇珍 or Jin Chee Jen, or Ferry, Unique Treasure.  

Mandarin Lessons on my birthday!

So, I love my Mandarin lessons with my mandarin tutor, Diane--even though they are at six a.m. every Sunday! I can only say (without thinking too hard) about three or four sentences; however, I know the 'alphabet' about 80%, very strongly, and I'm working on the rest of the alphabet. I feel like I'm at least three to four weeks of the way through Kindergarten with my Mandarin knowledge, and growing every week. Abbey Perkins--Are there any students who don't get their letters (and pronunciations) correctly every time by a month into Kinder?

Here is what I know--sentence-wise: Ni hao!("Hello!) Wo shi Jin Qi Zhen. (I'll explain the name choice later! ("I am Jin Qi Zhen") Bu shi wo. ( "It wasn't me!" Not sure why we learned that one, but I'm sure it'll be useful at some point when I get to Taiwan) And (because Diane sang it to me this morning) Zhu ni Shen ri Kuai le! ("Happy Birthday to you!") Anyway, I'm happy fun! "Wo like being xue sheng" (I like being a student!)

By the way, if you're interested in learning Mandarin, I suggest looking for Diane (https://preply.com/en/tutor/1282692) on preply. She is new but is really good. She is also fluent in French, but she only teaches Mandarin.