The Jennifer Blogs

Singapore’s MDA has nothing to do with the Muscular Dystrophy Association. The Media Development Authority explains on its website their reason for existence is:

to develop a state-of-the-art media city
to position Singapore as a media exchange
to export made-by-Singapore content
to augment the media talent pool
to foster a conducive regulatory environment and culture

What they don’t tell you is that you are paying for the above program by owning a TV. Not by using a TV. Not by subscribing to cable. Just by owning one. It doesn’t matter if you don’t watch it, it isn’t plugged in, or it doesn’t work. You own a TV? You pay. In our case, Marso & I have a TV in our bedroom that we never use to watch over-the-air TV. We download movies from iTunes and watch those through our TV. Doesn’t matter. We have a TV.

I was doing a little research on this matter of the TV License Fee and found a guy here who had to pay his $110 annual fee plus a $250 late fee. He received a notice that he needed to pay the license fee, but since he does not own a TV, he didn’t pay it. The authorities with MDA contacted him repeatedly, and still he did not pay because he does not have a TV. Finally they reached him on the telephone and he explained to them that he does not have a TV. They told him that he was supposed to have reported that. He asked, “You mean I had to call you to tell you I don’t have a TV?” They told him that was correct. So he asked, “I have to pay $250 because I didn’t call you to tell you that I don’t have a TV?” They again told him he was correct. Ridiculous!

We have contacted the owner of our condo and he told us not to worry about the license fee. He will pay it. I am so impressed. Many of the landlords here nickel and dime their tenants. I was fully prepared to pay it when our landlord told us not to worry about it. Many expats here argue that whoever owns the TV should have to pay the license fee. That seems fair. And since our landlord owns the TV in our condo (we rent the condo fully-furnished), maybe he feels the same way. Regardless, we don’t have to worry about it.

Growing up, I remember my friend’s uncle Dennis. Dennis Dennis. First name - Dennis. Last name - Dennis. No kidding. And my high school boyfriend went to school with a girl named Snow White. My mom told us about a girl she knew growing up by the name of Lula Belle Thigpen. That struck us as funny too. But when I took D’Ette to the doctor the other day, I thought to myself, “Now this man literally has a funny name.”

The sign on the door read: Dr. Michael Ha.

I wonder if his parents had considered naming him twice, like Dennis Dennis’s parents did. Then he’d have been Ha Ha. And if he has a son, they could have named him Mini Ha Ha. (A little family joke.)

As you can tell, the magazines at the doctor’s office weren’t that great. I let my mind wander a bit.

The Singaporeans will be celebrating the Moon Festival, or Mid-Autumn Festival, in a couple of weeks. The festival dates back to China’s Zhou Dynasty some three thousand years ago. In Singapore, it’s also called the Lantern Festival or the Mooncake Festival. You see a picture of a mooncake above.

According to WikiPedia, the Mid-Autumn Festival is one of the two most important holidays in the Chinese calendar. (The other is the Chinese Lunar New Year.) It’s the day Chinese families gather together to admire the bright harvest moon and eat moon cakes and pomeloes together. (We’ve already discussed in a previous blog how much I love dem pomeloes!)

To celebrate the Moon Festival like a good little Chinese, you may:
Eat mooncakes outside under the moon
Put pomelo rinds on your head
Carry brightly-lit lanterns
Burn incense to revere the gods
Plan Mid-Autumn trees
Collect and distribute dandelion leaves
Participate in a dragon dance

Since our family is not Chinese we will probably eat mooncakes (cuz who doesn’t love a good cake?), eat pomeloes, put the rinds on Jean-Luc’s head, and maybe get a day off work.

My daughter and I were in the kitchen this morning. She was sweeping the maid's quarters (yes, we really have those just off our kitchen, only we use it for our storage closet) and I was making a protein shake. I'm trying to consume fewer calories, and this seems like a great way to start.

I poured too much protein powder into the blender, so I asked my 12-year-old daughter if she would like a protein shake also since I'd definitely have enough for two. She said she would love one. Then I told her one of the side effects.



Me: "It'll make your boobies grow."

Her: "YA-AY!" (Two syllables, very loud and enthusiastic-like.)



Okay, that's not actually what I said. But you needed to understand her reaction. Picture the reaction I *would* have gotten from a 12-year-old little girl who wants her boobies to grow.

Now imagine that was the response I got when I told her, "It'll give you gas."

Yes. She was excited. About getting gas. Cuz farts are funny.

I was getting ready to place my monthly order for oils, so I asked my husband if he needed anything. He said he needed more lavender. While I knew the answer, I still asked, "Have you been using your Thyme at night?" He said, "No. I've lost a few pounds and I don't think I need it anymore."



See, here's the thing. My husband makes snoring look like an Olympic sport. And, he wins the Gold Medal! (Good job, honey! See you in Beijing!) However, I got him to try using Thyme Oil at night about a year ago. He noticed he slept better. In fact, we both slept better. He slept better because he wasn't snoring. I slept better because he wasn't snoring. He loved how I didn't jab him at night anymore, so less bruising too! (The FDA will not allow me to tell you that Thyme oil keeps you from getting bruised, though.)



Anyway, the first night he used the Thyme oil, no snoring. The second night, no snoring. The third night, no snoring. In fact, he was so quiet on the third night that I woke him up from a sound sleep. He was TICKED. But I wasn't sure he was alive. (True story.) He had never slept so silently before! 



But here we are in Singapore and he's under the assumption he doesn't need the oils because he lost some weight and thinks he's not snoring anymore. 



So I blogged about him last night. Tonight it kind of smells like spaghetti in bed again, so I know he's got the Thyme on his feet. Plus it's very quiet.



Thankyouverymuch!

One of the nice things about living in Singapore is that it's pretty much disaster-proof. There are no typhoons or hurricanes. There are no blizzards or tornadoes. Singapore doesn't have monsoons or tidal waves. And there aren't even earthquakes.



But, just because there are no earthquakes doesn't mean you don't occasionally feel the earth move.



In fact, before we moved here, there were some huge earthquakes moving the ground in Indonesia. My husband was in Singapore on a business trip at the time and said he could feel the hotel swaying. He was high up on something like the 30th floor and everything just sort of tilted one way, then back again. I can only imagine what they felt in Thailand if here in Singapore --a whole other country, for crying out loud-- there were skyscrapers leaning to and fro.



Anyway, he's fast asleep (and snoring so loud I want to beat him with a shoe), and I'm catching up on my blog-reading. The poor guy woke up cuz he thought there was an earthquake. I was laughing so hard at Jen Lancaster's blog about ant killer that I was shaking the bed. But the thing is, it wasn't one of those laugh-out-loud-HAR-HAR-HAR kind of laughs. I was stifling it so as not to wake him up. (Okay, I may have snorted a couple of times, but they were quiet snorts.) Because I worked so hard to stifle the laughter, I ended up shaking the bed twice as hard as if I'd just opened up my gut and busted out the laugh.



No honey, it's not an earthquake. Go back to sleep. And quit snoring.

Hey Dirtbag,



I'm kind of curious how --even though my debit card is still in my possession-- you were able to steal the number, expiration date, and any other pertinent information you illegally acquired to go on this month-long shopping spree.



Lucky for you that account is *barely* used and fully-funded. And since I'm living overseas and use my Singapore account way more than my American one, I haven't been checking it on a regular basis. Lucky, lucky you.



Let me ask you about a few purchases though. Some of this crap really doesn't make sense to me.



BMC CHILDREN'S B - Is this some book club for your kid? Wow! You're such a role model. How I wish my parents had ripped off some other family so they could read to me.



AIC HYDRODERM S - What is this? Hydroderm? Sounds like some kind of face cream. But for $5.95, how great can it be? Maybe you know something I don't know. Perhaps you could give me some great tips for my combination skin. You must have acquired a wealth of knowledge with all that reading you're doing to your kids --you know from those books you're buying online using *my* debit card.



WWW.BLOGTOOLKIT.COM - Only $1.97? What a bargain! But did you know you can blog for free at MySpace? Seriously. And I won't even charge you for the great lead, so you won't have to enter *my* debit card number at the end of this blog. It's free. Seriously. Put the card down.



A few of these seem related -- GOOGLE MONEY PR, M2C GLOBAL, CONSUMERDIRECT.COM, PDF-LICENSE.COM, SEGPAYEU.COM. I'm wondering, are you starting a new business with my debit card? If so, please respond with the type of business you are starting. The start-up costs seem fairly cheap and I'm wondering about the income opportunities.



COLUMBIA HOUSE VIDEO -- How nice that you're watching movies. Reading books. Watching movies. Starting a business. You're very well-rounded, I'd say.



I saved the best for last. I'm sure you'll agree. This Travel Service thing. Yes, the most expensive post against my account. Please let me know how your vacation was and send some pictures. I can show you how to build a slideshow and post it on your MySpace page even. That is, if you decide to move over here where the blogging is free. Oh, and if they have Internet in prison.



Sincerely,



Jen




P.S. Who will read books to your kid while you're locked up for stealing from innocent expats? 


P.P. S. I'll use your Hydroderm if the stuff's any good.

My friend Robin posted a blog: "I love my husband, but ..." and challenged her readers to write an "I love my _____, but" blog also. So here it is.



I LOVE MY KIDS, BUT I REALLY NEED SOME TIME TO MYSELF.



Here's how my day typically starts: 

I wake up and quietly tiptoe to the kitchen to make an iced caramel non fat macchiato, but before I can even get a glass out of the cupboard, in skips my lovely, perky daughter, "Good morning, Mommy!" Then come the questions ... how are you this morning? Did you sleep well? Did you have a dream? Were you awake when Daddy left? What time did you get up? Do you want me to make you breakfast? Finally I answer her. "Yes, I want eggs. Pronto. And toast."

If I could just teach her how to make the coffee, I'd be set.



I'm homeschooling my son over the summer. Torture for us both, but it means he gets to make up a grade when we held him back a few years ago. So in the end, we all win. He wins cuz he gets to graduate sooner. We win cuz he gets a job and moves out sooner. See?



Don't get me wrong, I love my children. But a gift certificate to the spa would be nice. I'm wasting my breath writing that because my husband no longer reads my blogs. But if you see him, could you please tell him maybe I need a gift certificate to the spa?



What does going to the grocery store look like for you? Let me guess.


* You start out by making a list of what you need.

* You grab your purse, jacket, umbrella, bratty kids and head to the car.

* You drive to the supermarket and hopefully get a parking space. You tell your kids to quit fighting in the back seat or you'll stop this car right now and beat them.

* You find your spot and grab a cart. Maybe two if there's a lot on the list.

* You maneuver the aisles of the store, glancing at your list to make sure you get some of the stuff on it. Into the cart go the items you have written down, a few items you don't need (impulse buys), and some crap your kids throw in there that they *need.*

* You try to squeeze by some woman who is chatting with a friend, leaving her cart in the way so you cannot pass and are forced to turn around and go the other way just to get to the other half of the aisle she is blocking. You tell your kids to shut up as they whine out loud, "Why is that woman in our way?"

* You cuss under your breath, or maybe out loud (depending on which of my friends you are reading this at the particular moment)

* Once you have filled your cart, you approach the shortest line that will allow more than 10 or 12 items. You tell your kids to shut up or you will spank them right there in front of everyone.

* You tell your kids to stop grabbing at the gum/candy/chips/band aids/aspirin/tissues/disposable camera/whatever else is on the impulse shelf next to the register they think they need.

* When the guy ahead of you finally gets out of the way, you start putting things on the conveyor belt.

* You make the decision as to whether you really want the tampons since the clerk has to request a price check over the loud speaker. Forget it. You've got tissues at home. That's $6.99 you'll save on your bill.

* You pay the damages, grab your receipt, try to put the debit card/credit card/change back into your wallet before you leave the line so you don't lose it.

* You push the heavy cart back outside, begging your kids to shut up so you can just get home.

* You search for your car in the parking lot, hoping not to get hit as you walk up and down the rows of the parking lot.

* You shove the groceries into your trunk and tell your kids to crank the AC so it's cool when you get in there.

* You drive home, exhausted.

* You carry the bags into the house. By yourself. Your kids are no help and at this point you really just want them to go away.

* You unpack the bags and put everything away.

* Time for a nap.



Here's how I shop for groceries:

* Make my list

* Sit on my butt and open my computer

* Visit www.coldstorage.com.sg

* Type the items I want into the Search Box

* Add them to my online shopping cart

* Type in my debit card number
* Choose my delivery day/time

* Go to the pool


Next day:

* Groceries are here (someone else has bagged them, brought them here, carried them up 16 flights, and brought them in the condo and set them onto the table)

* I try to tip the guy, but he refuses

* I unpack my bags and put items away



Life is good. Groceries will be here in about a half hour and I'll be heading to the pool shortly after.



Grocery shopping here is so much easier than in the US!

Let this be a warning to any teenage girls reading my blog. Boys suck. Especially teenage boys. Don't let them fool you with their sweet-talking. Teenage boys leave their underwear on the floor at home. They are lazy. They don't make their beds. They sass back to their mommas. They wear the same thing days in a row without washing it. They are mean to their sisters. They are lazy. They hate school. They don't pick up after themselves. They lie. They are soooooo lazy. They are selfish. They don't wear deodorant unless you make them. They hate to get their hair cut. And did I mention they are LAZY?



Oh. My. Gosh. Being a mom is tough. Being mother to a teenage son is near impossible.



Here's just one small example. I am homeschooling my son over the summer to help him catch up where he has fallen behind. He will be able to catch up an entire grade by doing this. It only requires about two hours of work per day, five days a week. In other words, it doesn't interfere with your life if you get up a couple of hours early and get it done. Ya know, that's what a girl would do anyway.



But not my son. He still sleeps til noon. Then when he gets around to the schoolwork he notices he has WAY more than two hours worth of work ahead of him. Why? Because a good hour of it is correcting errors from the previous day's work. Things like "Capitalize the word *Spain,*" for instance. No matter how many times we go over capitalization and punctuation, he still insists on doing it the lazy way. "It takes too long to hit the shift key." WHAT?!? You're freakin' kidding me!?! 


I wonder if we had raised our kids milking cows and plowing fields if the boy would be less lazy? Or is it just a boy thing? Are all boys this lazy? Too lazy to hit the shift key? Too lazy to capitalize proper nouns? Too lazy to put periods at the ends of sentences? And how does he not realize he is creating more work for himself? Of course, it's more work for me too since I have to go over all the work. That makes me a very unhappy mum.



So to all my friends in Lakeland who are spawning off female children -- GOOD FOR YOU! YOU WILL LOVE LIFE! For Beth in Tokyo, I'm sorry to tell you that boys are lazy. Tell Naomi to get used to having to do *everything,* as D'Ette puts it. (She's used to re-doing all her brother's housework.)

And for you men who read this -- you *used* to be a boy -- what made you stop being so lazy? Or are you still lazy? If you are, you probably will be too lazy to leave a comment anyway.

This blog is in response to a quote I read -- something Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks reportedly said:


"I don't understand the necessity for patriotism. Why do you have to be a patriot? About what? This land is our land? Why? You can like where you live and like your life, but, as for loving the whole country... I don't see why people care about patriotism."



Let me first say that I have been a *big* fan of the Dixie Chicks' music. I'm not going to go burn their CDs or try to get people to boycott their music. I just think what Natalie said was stupid. 

I was *blessed* to be born in the USA. I could have been born in any country on Earth. Growing up I would sometimes think these really deep thoughts (deep for an 11 or 12 year old, anyway). What if I had been born in India? Or Ethiopia? Dang Sally Struthers and her pleas for money in foreign lands where children were starving while I got all the macaroni & cheese I wanted, straight from the box. Sometimes with a hot dog, even. I would honestly ponder this at night while I was laying in my comfy queen size bed after watching my very own TV.



Usually the feelings of gratitude would quickly pass. I'd fall asleep thinking how lucky I was to have been born in the greatest country on Earth, but wake up thinking about a boy I had a crush on.



Later in life I thought about it less and less. I started to believe I deserved certain things - clothes and shoes, privileges, an education, etc - because I was a white girl born in America. I mean, that's not what I thought on the surface, but that's pretty much what it boiled down to. I never thought about the fact that those things weren't rights. They were privileges. And I was seriously taking advantage of them.



Fast forward to now. I left the US for Tokyo in September, 2007. After living in Japan for a couple of months, we got to go home for Christmas. Then it was back to Japan for a few more months before the Singapore move in April, 2008. In a little more than two months I will have lived abroad for a year. I have never been more homesick in my entire life.



These past couple of weeks have been really bad for me. I miss my friends and my family. I miss my dogs. I miss my church. I miss the familiarity of life. Not just the food (we actually can get Kraft Mac N Cheese here, but it is outrageously expensive). I miss driving on the right side of the road. I miss understanding how the bank works. I miss knowing how to pay my bills. I miss being in the same time zone with all the people I want to talk to. The kids miss public school with their friends, and Tae Kwon Do and sleepovers. I miss small group and Tuesday meetings and my candle parties. I miss knowing how to do my banking. I miss talking to people I understand who also understand me. I miss English words (it's a TRUNK, not a BOOT). I miss money that I can identify quickly as being a quarter or a dime. I miss being allowed to browse in the mall without being attacked by every sales associate. I miss going to the post office and understanding their shipping rates.



Don't get me wrong. Singapore is awesome! There are a ton of things I love about this country. Just the fact that we get to be here - the experience - is such an amazing opportunity. But I miss my country. I miss my people. I've never been to Nevada, but if I were to meet someone tomorrow who grew up in Las Vegas, they'd feel like my next door neighbor and they'd probably become my new best friend.



My friend Ruth sent me a video while I was still in Japan. It was of the Blue Angels doing a fly-over and dropping a large American flag. I cried like a baby when I saw the Stars & Stripes. I've never cried at our flag. Until you've been away from your country and have had to learn "how they do it over here," you can't fully understand what it means to love your country.



My friend Robin married a Canadian who recently - finally - became an American. I think I'm prouder of him and happier for him than anyone else (except Robin).

One thing about Singapore, too, is that their government owns the media. In other words, every newspaper, TV station, radio station, etc is run by the Singaporean officials. You cannot say anything against them on TV or radio. You can't speak out against what they're doing or question them in any way. The people here don't seem to mind either. You can't complain to businesses if you are treated unfairly. People here just don't complain if they get bad service, a fly in their soup, or anything else that might cause a person in the US to file a lawsuit. Here you can't even talk to a manager about it.



My mom and dad were both in the Army. Both my brothers served in the US Navy. My husband was in the Army. I went to college. I know that people I'm very close to have served our country, yet it never meant to me what it does now -- now that I am so far away from the familiarity of the United States of America. So far away from Wal*Mart, Target, Panera Bread, Church of the Highlands, I-4, The Gulf of Mexico, Cows, Suggestion Boxes.



Still, I know we're here for a purpose. We aren't really sure what that is at that point, but we'll figure it out. And this weekend my friend Alicia has advised me to hit the Fourth of July festivities here in Singapore. It'll be a slice of America and I'm not gonna miss it! I only wish Natalie Maines could have been here every step of the way. Maybe, just maybe she'd tear up when the Star Spangled Banner plays and the fireworks explode overhead. I know I will. God Bless America.

I love Singapore for a lot of reasons. Probably the biggest reason is the melting pot of people. I have met other Americans, sure, but I've never in my life met so many Aussies, Brits and Indians. Then there are the Malays, the Thais and the Singaporeans themselves. There are also plenty of Chinese people here, and a few Japanese. All in one place!



I have one British friend who has introduced me to the practice of kissing on both cheeks. The first time we met - when I had dinner at her house - she greeted me with a half-hug and a kiss on my left cheek, then a kiss on my right cheek. Actually, these were more "air kisses" than actual kisses on my cheeks. I just rolled with it. I saw her again recently and I knew what to expect this time, so it was no biggie to do the mwah! on the left side, then the mwah! on the right side.



Later D'Ette wanted to know, "Mommy, why do you guys kiss on both cheeks every time you see each other?" I told her, "I think it's a British thing and we wouldn't understand. I kind of feel like an idiot doing it." She said, "You look like one."



I may look like an idiot (and sort of feel like one), but I also feel so posh!

How old am I that the first female tennis reference that popped into my mind was Martina Navritilova? (won Wimbledon nine times, first in 1982) Perhaps I should have come up with one of the Williams sisters or Maria Sharapova. Oh well, I said Martina and I'm sticking with it.



We've got tennis courts at the condos, and I'm really surprised more people aren't using them. I used to love to play tennis when I was in college. I played more racquetball than tennis, but racket (racquet) sports are my thing.



I've been trying to work out more, but let's face it, working out isn't fun. That's why the word "work" is in it. Still, I've been getting up early every morning to hit the gym. A lot of health experts say you should find an activity you love and then do that. Then it won't feel like so much work. Thing is, there's not a lot of fitness involved in MySpace, Facebook or iTunes. So I had to find a different kind of activity.



I had to dig way back to think of something I might like. When I was in grade school, I was a great rope jumper. I was the only white girl on the Double Dutch Jump Roping Team. Yeah, that's right. I was the token white chick. And I was gooooood.

Whaaaaat? 

Anyway, I don't see myself out there jumping rope "for fun," and besides, double dutch is impossible alone. 



I was also a great sprinter. I won all kinds of track and field awards. But I don't run anymore. I had knee surgery a couple of years ago and I'm lucky to climb stairs. I hate riding bike. Besides, it's too easy to grab a taxi.



Then one afternoon the kids asked me if I would come watch them play tennis. I stopped by one afternoon when they were playing and they asked me about the rules. I showed them a few things and both of them were in awe that MOM CAN RUN. In fact, they were kind of laughing at me. They said they don't think they'd ever seen me run before (my son forgets how many times I beat his butt sprinting down the road when we lived in Louisiana and he was supposed to be some big bad runner).

So that's my activity. Tennis. I want to take lessons while I'm here, so today I went and bought a real big-girl, grown-up tennis racquet (racket?). I even convinced my husband to buy one for himself. He tried to talk smack at the sporting goods store, but I have to tell you, I'm afraid he may have to call his Mommy after I whoop him so bad out there. I'm so Martina. (except I like guys)

I feel like the past few days I've had a lot to blog about, but not a lot to say about each individual thing, so thought I could put it all together in one neat little blog and tie it with a bow, then deliver it straight to your computer. How's that sound? Splendid! Let's get started!



BOOK STUFF:

 I recently finished reading the book 19 Minutes by Jodi Picoult. It's the first time I've read any of her books and I am hooked! I don't know if they're all this good, but I chose this book based on the story, not on the author. It's about a school shooting, which my kids think is very morbid -- that Mom can't stop talking about a book she loves that deals with a school shooting. Anyway, it's a great book. You always get to hear what the victims and their families go through, but this one also lets you see inside the shooter's family. The parents -- so distraught -- wondering what went wrong. The shooter himself -- bullied from his first day of kindergarten through the day of the shooting. This is a book I won't forget for a very long time. And I actually hope I never forget the way I felt after finishing the last word. The things we say and do really matter. You have two choices in every situation in which you deal with others - treat them kindly, or don't. Period. If you treat them kindly you may just make someone's day. If you don't, you could be the one to push them over the edge. And maybe neither, but won't you feel a lot better knowing that you treated them kindly anyway?




GEEK STUFF: 
Speaking of the book I just read, it's the second one I finished on my Kindle. I'm so in love with this wonderful electronic gadget! I am currently reading "Size 12 Is Not Fat" on the Kindle, and "Life of Pi" on paperback. I still have a lot of paperbacks that my mom sent me from the US from before I had my Kindle. Books are just so expensive over here. And with the Kindle I don't have to worry about taking up room trying to find places to store them all. I also downloaded The Renaissance Soul on the Kindle. Can't wait to delve into that one! Oh yeah, and Bitter is the New Black.
I'm only a few chapters in to "Life of Pi," by the way, but it's *very* good!




RADIO STUFF:
 I've been reading out loud a lot lately -- practicing, I tell the kids and my husband. I hope to get a job (or two, or a thousand) reading for books on tape, so I want to make sure I can read well. It's not as easy as it seems.
My friend Robin sent me a job ages ago with information on how to apply for a job reading for books on tape - someone was looking for demos. I didn't have my studio here at the time -- it was still on its way from Japan -- and then things got busy and I never did submit anything. I did, however, finally finish recording a short demo of me reading from a book and put it up on the website yesterday.
Oh yeah, the website. It's no longer up at www.jenniferpagemedia.com, but it will be again one day. For now it's on a back site. I'm designing this one myself so I can update it whenever I want to. That's important to me -- to try to keep my demos fresh and the page looking current. So if you want to see what I've done so far -- keep in mind it's STILL under construction -- it's at web.mac.com/radiojen/JPM.




SINGAPORE STUFF: 
I'm meeting a friend Monday at the Bird Park. She's got two kids close in ages to my two. I've only met Nicky once, but we've corresponded by email a lot since before I moved here. I really like her. She's normal. I like normal. You don't find a lot of that here. Nicky is going back to the US next week, so it'll probably be the last time I see her until after summer.
Alicia has been busy with a friend in town and then will be going back to the US soon. That kind of bums me out, cuz who will I hang out with? Who will get me into trouble, and then get me out of it? 
Marso & I were supposed to meet with some of Don's friends here in Singapore. They'll only be here like another month and then are going back to the US for a year. They're missionaries, and are very busy with some training they're conducting before heading back to Florida. We've missed out on seeing them twice, and I'm kind of bummed about it. I cannot begin to tell you how homesick I've been (off and on) for the past couple of months. Seeing some people who know my dear friends back in the US was supposed to make me feel a little closer to home. I hope I get to see them before they leave.




US STUFF: 
Speaking of the US, I got a nice letter today from my friend Melanie and a package in the mail yesterday from Mom. Mom sent microwave popcorn, a sarong, a couple of tank tops, a t-shirt, some pictures and some American candy. Nothing beats letters and goodies from home. 



I have always loved fruits of all kinds - apples, bananas, cherries, and all the way through the alphabet. So when I saw that the ExxonMobil Expats were having a class to teach ladies how to select, cut, prepare and eat fruits from Thailand, I had my name on the list but fast!



I couldn't believe the spread Nantana had laid out for us. Her table was covered in unique delights! The colors and shapes ... the textures! I knew before she began that there was going to be some really good stuff hittin' my mouth that morning!



Now I wish I had taken some notes, but I was too busy eating to hold a pen. The first thing we were served was grilled banana. It wasn't a long banana like you'd see in Publix with a Dole or Chiquita sticker on it. These bananas are smaller. Much smaller. And like I said, they were grilled. Well, actually she said she cooked them in her toaster oven because she doesn't have a grill. It was really good. Definitely very black on the outside, but so tasty on the inside. And Nantana told us the Thai people do not eat those same bananas "raw." Only cooked.



I don't remember the order in which we were served the rest of the fruit, but she also taught us how to choose and prepare rambutan, mango, mangosteen, santal, longkong, pomelo (my favorite), salak, guava, pomegranate and pineapple. I think there may have been some others in there as well.



The pomelo was probably my favorite. It resembles a grapefruit, but doesn't offer the same bitterness as a grapefruit. It was delicious and I can't wait to go buy some this week. My friend Melanie told me these are also available in Florida, but I was never introduced to all the deliciousness that is a pomelo while living in Florida. What a shame!



Before we left, Nantana made us some mango sticky rice. We had to peel our own mango (not an easy task), and the sticky rice was so good! It's basically white rice with coconut milk and sugar. Delicious! I would have never imagined I'd like it because I'm not a fan of the taste of coconut, but this was really good.



If I hadn't gone today I would have missed out on a lot of great fruits that are available here in Singapore. It's not that I'd be worried I wouldn't like them. It's that there's no way I'd ever have figured out how to peel or serve any of them on my own.

Tonight I met my neighbor Moik in the hot tub. He lives across the hall from me and just moved in with his wife last month. We've never had an opportunity before now to chat.



Moik and his wife Maria are here for about the same amount of time we're here, so it looks like they'll be neighbors for the long-haul. I learned that today Moik and Maria went to Malacca and got some great deals on designer handbags and Polo shirts.


I told Moik we hoped to visit Australia this Christmas, so he was telling me what I needed to know. For instance, don't. Don't go at Christmas cuz it's too freakin' hot. Something like 40 or 42 degrees (which is over 100 degrees Fahrenheit). So yeah, duh, it's on the opposite side of the world from America, so of course. So now we're not sure if we'll wait and go in April or May when it's cooler, or if we'll just go someplace different at Christmas. That Moik. He's a wealth of information.



I just like saying his name. Moik. Moik. Moik. It's actually Mike, but when he says it, it sounds more like Moik and it's too fun to say.

In the past if you had asked me what kind of music I like I'd have told you, "anything but rap." That has all changed, and fairly recently.



I used to work out with my iPod, but I always listened to podcasts. While I still enjoy a good podcast every now and then while I'm walking, most of the time these days I prefer music. Rap music. It really motivates me. Sometimes it makes me angry. But usually it just provides a great beat to keep me going. Unless the lyrics just downright make you laugh. Like No Ayer by Flo Rida.



When I was first listening to this song I couldn't wait to hear what an "Ayer" was. And I think I literally said, "Nuh uh!!" out loud when he got to the part that says, "Throw my hands up in the ayer." AIR. It's AIR. A-I-R. Not ayer. It's one syllable. Air. As in hair. Oh wait, you also say hay-er.



That one just makes me laugh. No way I can walk when I'm laughing.

Having lived in Tokyo for six months, I thought it was pretty cool when we came here and saw a store in the mall called Authentic Japanese Souvenirs. There were honestly a few things in Japan I wished we had brought with us, and this was going to give me an opportunity to pick them up here in Singapore.

 I found something of interest, turned it over to see the price and instead saw the words Made In China.

 So much for that.

I just returned from the condo office to voice my complaint over the Speedo Rule. Before walking in and making a complete idiot of myself, though, I walked to where the pool rules are posted to make sure there wasn't something on there that I missed. Indeed there are only two rules. Both apply to safety-type issues.



While I was on that side of the pool I noticed a man and his wife getting ready to swim. He had on a pair of swim shorts like what Jean-Luc wears. I was going to approach him and ask if he had any problems with his bathing suit choice, but as I got close he removed them to reveal a tight little pair of Speedo trunks. I smiled through my teeth and continued toward the office.



I think I frightened the little Singaporean woman behind the counter. I told her my son was kicked out of the pool, and I wanted to know why. It seemed like she was already familiar with the situation. Apparently the security guard who reprimanded my son already filled in the office staff.



She came out of the office, pen and paper in hand, and proceeded to draw for me the different types of bathing suits with which she is familiar. She then wanted me to point to which kind my son was wearing. Then she drew a diagram of the swimming pool and pointed out which areas he could swim in with his current bathing suit. I'm not making this up. He is allowed to swim in the "kiddie pool" with his shorts-style trunks. But to swim in the "Men's Pool" as she called it, he must wear a Speedo. (where the heck is the woman's pool??)

I explained to her that I wasn't trying to cause any trouble, but that my son is 15. FIFTEEN! F-I-F-T-E-E-N. If he puts on a Speedo and a pretty girl walks by, the office may get complaints of a different kind. 



I also explained that since they are "taking complaints," I am actually quite unhappy about my 12 year old daughter having to look at all the European junk hanging out at the pool. In some cases, almost quite literally. 



You would NOT BELIEVE some of the bathing suits out there. One old guy has a pink speedo with white polka dots. A little tiny tight pair of girly panties, if you ask me.



Anyway, she told me to bring the bathing suits my son wears to the office. She will photograph them and write descriptions to send to the management. They will decide on the matter. Whatever. I'm not stupid. I know what that means. And there's no way in heck Marso will ever get in that pool with those things either!

 As disgusted as I am by this, there's a little part of me that wants to invite a bunch of big men to a swimming party at our pool. Is that bad?

 Anyway, I'll let you know what "management" says about the suits.

I've seen some kids do some crazy stuff at the pool here. Everything from cannon balls and pushing each other in the pool to cursing quite loudly and even eating in the pool. Ya know why Jean-Luc got kicked out? Because of what he wasn't wearing.



Okay, calm down. He was definitely wearing a bathing suit. But, he wasn't wearing a Speedo, and apparently that's required here.



The way my son tells it, he and his sister were in the pool when one of the guards here told him that he needed to get out because he wasn't wearing a Speedo. Apparently, people were complaining because he wasn't wearing one.



If it is a rule that you have to wear a Speedo in the pool, it has never been brought to our attention. I will have to go double-check the sign, but it seems I would remember if it said:



Rule 6: 
All men must wear bathing suits 
so tight that we can see what God and
 your momma gave you.



So tomorrow I will have to go to the office to find out what this "rule" is all about. If I knew I was allowed to complain, I'd be complaining about the 65-year-old man who lays by the pool in his Speedo. It's bad enough to see the younger guys wearing them, but there are some things that men over age 40 and men over 200 pounds should not be allowed to wear. One of those is a Speedo. In fact, Speedo is at the top of that list. Yet there appears to be a Speedo Meeting congregating at our pool.



Of course, I must keep in mind that I am not in America, and that here in Singapore there are way more Europeans than anything else. Europeans love to show their junk.



Wish me luck!

I had lunch with my friend Alicia the other day. She's American, and has lived in Singapore for a few years now, so she pretty much knows the ropes. I think she's secretly giving me about three more weeks before I have a maid living in my bomb closet.



Before we moved to Singapore, we knew there was a good chance we may end up hiring some domestic help. We weren't sure if we wanted a live-in or not, but we did talk quite a bit about having someone come in at least part-time to help keep things together. However, the kids also wanted a way to make money and have asked us a few times to please not get a maid. They don't want anyone coming in and taking away their opportunity to make money. However, there has been more than one occasion where we've had to remind them that we could pay just a bit more and have twice the work done. The number of times I've had to re-do a job ... well, I just stopped counting.



Are you still stuck on the line, maid living in my bomb closet? You read it correctly. Under law, Singapore builders had to include bomb shelters/closets in each unit. Every condo we looked at included a bomb closet, however nobody really calls them that. Instead they are referred to as the "maid's quarters."



The bomb closet has no windows. There is no AC. There is only a small square of space. However, right next to the bomb closet/maid's quarters, there's a small bathroom with a toilet, sink and makeshift shower. It's plenty for a maid. I mean, not in America. But in Asia, they tell me it's plenty for a maid.



Tonight I was on the verge of answering an ad. D'Ette had tried to iron her daddy's shirts, but she just didn't use enough starch and I had to re-do them. Ironing is not one of my favorite things to do. On top of that, you are looking at a woman who, when she was a girl, was not allowed to buy anything with cotton in it.



Jen: "Mom, just look at this beautiful shirt!"

Mom (reading the label): "Oh yeah, cute. Too bad it's 100% cotton! This thing will wrinkle!!! We don't even own an iron!"



So you can guess my limit of experience with ironing. I didn't even own anything with cotton in it until I moved into my own place. You know, when you live under your parents' roof, it's their rules. Some girls couldn't wear short skirts. I couldn't wear cotton.



Did I mention we are on our second iron? I ruined the first one. It ran out of water, so I had to refill it. I turned it off, put it flat on the ironing and board and proceeded to pour in the water. When I picked it up, it was very colorful and there was a huge spot missing from my ironing board cover. I haven't replaced the ironing board yet, but had to buy a new iron the next day.



I was reading some ads from expats who are getting ready to leave the country to go back to their homes either for the summer or for good. They are selling a lot of their home items very cheap. I saw a lot of irons for sale, for like $10 and $15 bucks. I'm seriously thinking about stocking up.

I met a new girl in my building yesterday. Her name is Mary. She's from Singapore, but lived in the US for a while too.



Mary and I walked beside one another almost the whole way from the MRT to the gate where we both live. Of course, neither of us knew where the other was going and we walked in silence the entire way.



Once we got inside the gate and realized we were neighbors, we began chatting like old friends. She's been living here for six months now. She moved from near Cleveland. We talked about the gym. She admitted she had never been and wanted to know what it was like. Then she began to turn toward her tower, which just so happened to be *my* tower too. So we talked as we rode the elevator. She got off on the 10th floor. I had another six floors to go before reaching my condo. The whole way I couldn't help but be excited I finally made a friend in my building.



You know how the girl in the stall next to you becomes your new best friend when she's got toilet paper and you don't? "Could you please hand me some toilet paper?" Your hands touch beneath the stall. It's magic. Okay, maybe not quite like that. But admit it. You have so much gratitude for this girl that you want to get her MySpace username, add her to your friends and put her in your Top 8. Then you want to invite her out for drinks and introduce her to your other friends (who you met exactly the same way, only at a different Wal-Mart). Well, that's how I feel about Mary. She didn't hand me toilet paper, but she's my first friend in my condos. That's H U G E. And I know we only talked for just a few minutes, but there was a connection.



Oh crap. I really need to get out more. I just re-read that. Boy do I sound like a stalker. Or maybe like an expat who really needs some friends!



TGFA. Thank God for Alicia. I have gotten out of the house at least once this week. And next week she's taking me shopping. And, next week I'm teaching some other expat women how to build a website, so that'll get me out of the house. See? Mary has nothing to worry about. Until Alicia goes back to the US, anyway.

As anyone who knows me can confirm, I am a huge advocate for animals. I take in all the strays, especially those nobody else wants. In Florida, I had a blind, diabetic poodle to which I had to administer insulin shots twice a day. I also had an epileptic poodle who was prone to having seizures and freaking me out. The third poodle had a problem too, but his wasn't medical. It was just gross. He ate his own poop. (At least he never left a mess!)

I also donate to animal causes - money, time, talents. Whatever they can use, I try to give. In fact, I'm thinking of going into the dog-walking business here, but I'll save those details for a later blog.



Anyway, suffice it to say I love animals. But I also like eating meat. Sorry. I actually envy those people who can give up meat and dairy products. I really love fruits and vegetables, but I can't get myself to eat soy, tofu, a veggie burger or any of those other foods. I'd have to live off salads for breakfast, lunch and dinner if I gave up meat. I just can't stomach the substitutes.



Until this morning.


I've been working out almost every day, so I'm trying to eat healthier too. That includes egg white omelets about three mornings a week. This morning I just barely tapped my second egg. The light above the stove caught it just right and I noticed a feather sticking out of the crack of the egg. For a moment I stood there trying to determine what to do.



If I crack the egg completely open, is there a baby chick inside? Dead, of course, but still traumatic for an animal lover to witness.



I pondered that for a bit, and I'm not sure if it was gross curiosity, extreme bravery or sheer stupidity, but I cracked it wide open. No chick. Just a furry yolk I guess. Actually, it was just a small feather and I guess it must have just not been washed clean before it was sent to the grocery store. Still, it was enough to make me wonder if the vegetarians have it right.



I don't think I'll ever be a "good" vegetarian, but fortunately it's not a religion. I can pick and choose a little more carefully and maybe cut back on my animal products. I won't stop drinking milk (how else would I drink my coffees if not with milk?). I probably won't stop eating eggs, though I may switch to egg whites like Egg Beaters or something similar. I doubt I'll stop eating ham or turkey, but there are a few things I could probably cut out of my diet that would make my vegetarian friends a little proud, and make me healthier in the process.

I just finished reading the book "The Next Thing on My List" by Jill Smolinski. It's about this girl, Jane, who has a "List of Things to Complete By My 25th Birthday." Thing is, it's not her list. She's completing it for a girl who recently died. In the process, she learns a lot about herself. I won't spoil it in case you decide to read the book. (It's fiction - completely made up - chick lit.)

Anyway, I'm sure I'm not the first to start my own list after reading this book. I did feel compelled to start writing my List of Things to Complete By My 25th Birthday. *sigh* Wishful thinking. By my 40th birthday. Granted, that's still a few years away, but I'm going with more than 20 items since List of Things To Complete By My 37th Birthday not only doesn't give me a whole lotta time, and it doesn't sound nearly as glamorous.



So far, I've got things like: sing karaoke (God only knows why cuz I have a horrible voice and I'm petrified, so I guess maybe this is one of those face your fears of humiliation things), learn to play one song on the guitar, learn CPR, give up a bad habit, pick up a good habit, write a book, take a Girl's Trip, walk in a fashion show, go back to San Diego.



I'm just like the character in this book. In fact, from near the beginning of the book I began to identify with her. I'm a world-class procrastinator. I don't know when it all started. All I know is I'm very, very good at it. That's why I'll be counting on friends and family to help me complete my list. I can say I'm very glad that my karaoke-singing friends in Florida are too far away to force me into karaoke night with them and my friend Alicia here in Singapore doesn't read my blogs (I don't think). So I may not be forced into doing that one til I've been able to practice a bit.



If you've got a list - or if you feel compelled to write one - I'd love to know what kind of stuff is on it. Maybe I can steal a few of yours for my list too.

I'm not talking about my daughter this time. I'm talking about my mom. The one who accidentally ordered a "crappuccino" from Starbucks.



Sometimes my mom is just too cute!



To set the story, you need to know my mom works at Wal-Mart as a cashier. Today is her 71st birthday. She doesn't look 71 by any means, but that's what her birth certificate tells us.



Anyway, about a month ago they had a contest at Wal-Mart to see which cashier could sign up the most credit card applicants. My mom was telling me the winner would get a $50 store gift card. With gas prices where they are and her and my dad being on a limited income, she wanted that gift card and she was out for blood, boy. This little sweet lady would ask every customer that came through the line, "Would you like to apply for a Wal-Mart credit card? It only takes a moment." Don't you know this sweet little old lady not only won, but she blew the other cashiers out of the water!



So Mom tells me that after they announce the winner, she is given more hours than all the other cashiers. Some of these women have families to support. But my mom, the credit queen, has earned these hours. She's a valuable employee. She can help Sam Walton's family make more money with high interest credit cards.



The contest is over, but another one begins. The cashiers are told they need to sign up another 10 applicants in a week. There's another prize on the line. Mom wins hands-down. So the next week they do it again. Mom wins again. The manager tells her if she can do it again, she'll treat my mom to dinner. Piece of cake. Mom signs up 10 more. I ask her where she's going to lunch. She says, "Wherever they serve frogs legs and creme brulee."



So now they're doing another contest. She's way ahead.



I told her tonight that there are probably no real contests going on. There's probably some people in suits who can't believe the old lady is doing so well signing up credit card applicants and they're back there making bets.


Suit 1: I'll bet you a hundred bucks the old lady can't sign up another one.

Suit 2: I'll take your bet. Here's $100 bucks.

Suit 3: I'm in. Here's my $100.

Suit 4: Here's mine.

Suit 5: Count me in.

Suit 6: Might as well make it an even $600. Count me in.

Suit 1: What do we give her if she wins?

Suit 2: How about a $25 gift card to the store?

Suit 1: She only has to sign up 10 applicants!

Suit 2: Okay, a $10 gift card.


They all laugh maniacally as she signs up her 10th credit app.



Still, I'm proud of my little 71-year-old mother out there doing her thing. I told her she got into the wrong business. She ought to be selling cars!

Since I've had so many emails and comments about it, I figured I'd blog about my Kindle. I've had it just for a couple of days, but I'm already madly in love with my Kindle. Granted, there are a couple of features I cannot use since I'm living overseas, but it's still worth it to me! Yes, it's expensive. Of course, just days after we dropped $399 on this little bugger, Amazon decided to lower the price by $40 bucks. Oh well. It was bound to happen, I guess. And quite honestly, this beautiful little piece of technology will be paid for very quickly.



Books in Singapore are expensive. And not just a little bit expensive. One of the books I bought here when we came to scout out places to live cost me $39 Singaporean dollars. That's $28.50 American dollars. For a paperback. That's not the average cost, but it's not uncommon. Most of the books I'm interested in reading are between $19 and $29 Singaporean dollars, or $14 to $21 American dollars. I'm reading more here than I ever have, and I just can't see paying those kinds of prices for books. Yes, there are used book stores here, but they're not easy to find and they're still expensive. Well, they're probably about on par with what new books cost in the US. Only for used books. No thanks.



For anyone who follows me on Good Reads, you know I've been reading up a storm. Can you imagine what it would cost me to buy all those books new over here? At $18 American dollars each (the average of what most of the books I'm interested in reading cost), that's only 22 books til the Kindle is paid off. I can read 22 books in about four months. Maybe five months. But the Kindle does so much more! It has a built-in dictionary. So if I come across a word I'm not familiar with (which happened a lot in a book I recently read), I can easily look it up. Kindle has free access to WikiPedia. This is one of those features I can't use. Amazon's free Internet service (WhisperNet) isn't available outside the US. But when I get home, I'll be able to use it.



Kindle also offers free email. I'm not sure what my email address is (something that ends in @kindle.com I think). Again, this is something I can't use overseas anyway. You can send documents to your Kindle - like .pdfs, .docs, or other files that you need to take with you. Only this way you don't have to carry papers.



It's also got built-in speakers or a headphone jack if you want to listen to music while you're Kindling. You can upload mp3 files to it easily by attaching it with a USB cord to your computer.



Oh yeah, and you can listen to books on tape if you want. You can buy them from Amazon or Audible. It will play either format.



The Kindle is so small and so lightweight too. Marso and the kids were amazed when they saw how compact it is. It really is thinner than the paperback I am currently reading, and it's much lighter. The screen is so easy to read - even outside by the pool. No glare!



Yes, definitely add it to your Amazon Wish List and pray your hubby is as generous as mine is! :-)

Last Sunday was Mother's Day. It was also my 7th anniversary. Since it was a double-whammy, my husband really did it up. He bought me a Kindle! Well, he ordered it. It's on its way to me right now.



The kids noticed Daddy didn't hand Mommy a present Sunday morning, so later in the week they wanted to know what Daddy got for me. I told them he bought me a Kindle. D'Ette said, "Nuh uh!" Jean-Luc said, "You're spoiled."

Have you seen that commercial where the beautiful woman walks into a clothing store, wriggling and writhing? She is making all kinds of funky faces and distorts her body in kinds of ways, til finally she falls down face-first into the carpet. On the floor beside her -- a display with wedgie-free underwear. We are to surmise from this commercial the woman was having a hard time dealing with a wedgie, but didn't want to face the humiliation of picking it in public.



I wish my daughter was worried about this same humiliation. She picks here wedgies freely, as though she's covering her face during a sneeze or something equally socially acceptable.



It's great that they sell wedgie-free underwear for adult women. But I've never seen anyone with their fingers in their rear so much as my little petite flower. She's way too pretty to always have her fingers up her butt.



In the cab, in the pool, in line at the grocery store, standing up in a subway car, taking Communion at church -- she doesn't discriminate. If the underwear is creeping, she'll pick it up no matter where she is and no matter who is looking.



I asked her last night why she is compelled to pick every wedgie, even when there are people staring. She looked me dead in the eye and said, "I have a high-maintenance butt."



I guess that explains it.

I read something incredibly inappropriate in the news this morning. As a mother, it makes me cringe. It makes me angry. And for a change, it has nothing to do with Britney Spears.



Undoubtedly you've heard about the whole Miley Cyrus thing. I mean, unless you've been under a rock or on the moon or under a moon rock, you know about the pictures for Vanity Fair magazine. Miley is supposedly very embarrassed. Some say it was a publicity stunt. Others say it was a big mistake, and that it's all her parents' fault. Regardless, I'm a forgiving person. We all make mistakes. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, and all that.



But Hugh Hefner has taken it to a very certain level of "ooginess." According to the TV show EXTRA, the Playboy King would welcome Miley to the pages of his magazine once she turns 18.



Is anyone else bothered by the fact that Hugh is thinking about a 15-year-old girl in those terms? I'm disgusted by it, personally. My daughter is 12 and she's beautiful. She's lean with an athletic build. She has beautiful skin, beautiful hair and beautiful eyes. One day she will turn heads. But she's only 12. She's still a little girl. And it makes me completely sick to think that someone would say, "When your daughter is 18, I'd like to see her naked."



Miley's parents have got to be livid over this. I'm sure they were hoping it would all blow over -- this whole Vanity Fair photo thing. But I wouldn't blame Billy Ray if he headed over to the Playboy Mansion in search of an old geezer in a bathrobe and made a few threats. A good old fashioned butt-whoopin' wouldn't be out of place. Maybe he could find some other people with two first names to help out -- Jim Bob, Ricky Bobby, Bobby Steve, Billy Joe, Tommy Jack, ... you get the idea.



I hope for poor Miley's sake this whole thing becomes old news, but with TV channels like E, there's bound to be some special 10 years from now about "Mistakes of the Disney Stars," and she could very well be in second place behind Britney.

I ran into an old friend the other day. Not entirely accurate, but in this digital age someone finding you on a social networking site is as good as running into them, right? 

Anyway, to the point. This "old friend" explained to me that he is not married, but he is seeing someone. It's his girlfriend of nine years. NINE YEARS! As he was updating me on the past 15 or so years of his life, he then went on to say that his first marriage failed, as did his current girlfriend's, so they didn't see the need to "have the piece of paper."



To me, that's the problem. That's why marriages don't work. Too many people see them as "just a piece of paper." Forgive me, but I think this idea about marriage is freakin' stupid.


I promised before God, my family and friends to love, honor, obey and cherish my husband as long as we both shall live. I didn't take those vows lightly. And the fact that so many people think the paper is the important part are sadly mistaken. What about all the things that come before the signing of the paper?



Choosing the person you want to spend the rest of your life with shouldn't be taken lightly. But the fact that so many people joke around about, "she's my future ex-wife" and similar statements, shows me that a lot of people do take marriage lightly. They figure that if it doesn't work out, they'll try, try again.



Or not in my friend's case. Instead he falls under the belief that since the first one didn't work out, why bother? Let's just date for as long as we can stand each other and then when it doesn't work out, there's nothing messy in the end. We can live together, sleep together and do what other married couples do. Who needs "the paper?"



I guess I need the paper. And for the life of me, I can't see why any woman out there wouldn't want "the paper." There are so many promises that come with marriage. Are people afraid of making promises they can't keep? In the back of their minds, do people think, "What if someone better comes along?" Or is it more like, "Why buy the cow when you get the milk for free?" Or maybe it's the fear of divorce.



My parents are still married - 37 years this June. So I don't have a lot of first-hand experience with divorce. My older brother recently got divorced, though, and I know how ugly it can be. I have friends who have also gone through divorce. And I am not my husband's first wife either. So I do have some insight and apathy. But I wonder why people would go into a relationship thinking, "what if it doesn't work out?" Why not instead tell yourself that no matter what, you'll make it work? Why not instead adopt the policy that you will work on your marriage every day of your life, protect against divorce before the thought of it ever has a chance to enter your mind?



Yes, marriage takes work. It's not all daisies and puppies and rainbows. But when I got married, my husband and I became one. I cannot for the life of me imagine myself without him. It would be like losing a limb. If I thought I might lose an arm or leg, I'd do whatever I had to do to keep it -- surgery, therapy, prayer, diet, exercise, you name it. So why not the same with your marriage -- do whatever you have to do to save it, and preferably before it's too late.



And here's the part where I thank God for unanswered prayers, and Garth Brooks for an appropriate song. This "old friend" is actually my ex-fiance. He broke up with me one month before our wedding was supposed to occur. I was 18. I was devastated. But I went to college and moved on with my life while he went on with his in the US Air Force. Two and a half years later, for some reason, he called me out of the blue before he was to come home on leave. He wondered if I thought of him as much as he thought of me, and wanted to know if I would marry him when he came home. I said yes. So in one week's time my mother and I planned a wedding. He broke up with me again - the day before. I have to say that I'm so glad that God saved me from what would have probably been a horrible marriage. I'm sure he's a nice guy -- he was always a nice guy -- but quite obviously our views on marriage are completely different.



And here it is one week exactly before my 7th anniversary with my husband. I have to say I love him every much as the day I married him, and more. I am completely happy and grateful that God put this man in my life. I was 29 when I got married, but it was definitely worth the wait!

I am so proud of my friend Amy. She has three beautiful kids who are getting through middle and high school, and she has just taken in two Guatemalan foster children. Both are girls. Sisters, as a matter of fact. One is only five months old. The other is 19 months. So yeah, babies still. She's already been through some serious kid-raising, and is about to hit some really tough years with her three biological kids and she is now taking in two babies! On top of that, she tells me she and her husband want to adopt them!



So I asked Amy how her three kids feel about the foster children. She told me that not too long ago a friend of hers took in a couple of foster children from Mexico. Ever since then, her kids have been asking her, "Mommy, when are we going to get some Mexican babies?"

I just laughed until my stomach hurt at that one!



Then tonight when Marso got home from work I asked him if we could get some Mexican babies. I figure they'll work twice as hard as my Cajun babies. And maybe they'll teach me Spanish.

The kids are at a movie tonight, so Marso and I are on our own for dinner. There are three delivery options that we know of:



McDelivery -- Get McDonalds food delivered to your door 24/7. www.mcdelivery.com.sg


KFC -- They've got more than chicken here. You can also order pasta and other dishes if you're not in the mood for a thigh. The "special dishes" are for delivery only, though.


Pizza Hut -- They've got some crazy combinations available in Asia. And I'm not talking anchovies.



We decided to have some pizza for dinner tonight. Not the crazy stuff though. Pepperoni with a cheese-filled crust. Yummmm!



Jean-Luc will be so disappointed he missed pizza night. But, if the kids had stayed in we probably would have eaten chicken and rice. Ya win some, ya lose some.

One week from today is April Fool’s Day. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.



When I was a kid, my little brother and I used to love to play tricks on each other. I have to admit -- he got me every time! He was a far better jokester than I was. When we were about 8 or 9 he came to the door screaming as I walked in from playing with the neighbor across the street,
"Jen! Jen! You’ll never guess who won the Lottery!"

"Who? Not Mom?"

"No...guess again." (I assume he felt it would be too much of a stretch to tell me our mother won the Lottery. And he always made me, "guess again.")
I never did guess it, so he just out and told me, "Veda!" (My mom’s best friend)

I was flipping out...imagining that Veda was going to spread the wealth and I could buy that Barbie Dream House (or whatever I was wishing for at that particular moment in time).
Then he brought me back to reality.
"APRIL FOOLS!!!"



Another year he taped the handle on the sink hose so that when I turned the faucet on I got doused!



I only pulled two really good April Fools Pranks my entire life. I was doing mornings for a radio station in Huntsville, AL and two years in a row, I played a joke on my listeners. The whole morning show was in on it, but I was the one who dreamed up the ideas.



The first year we told people that there were several traffic lights in the city that had new signal sensors. You had to blow your horn to get the light to change. We even had a cop call us who told us that he was off duty, but that we got him hook, line and sinker. It was all fun and no one got hurt.



But the next year I really pissed people off. I told them, "remember -- thanks to Bill 105A (or whatever we named it), you have to have your taxes turned in by midnight tonight, or file an extension. In my mind, the worst that would happen is people would get their taxes done two weeks early.



Oh noooo ... some people actually turned around and headed back home, called in sick (or late) to work, and proceeded to do their taxes. My boss got serious complaints and someone even wrote a letter to the editor of the newspaper about how careless the radio station was to allow that kind of joke on the air. The general manager was SO mad at us -- me specifically. So anyway ... remember when you turn your radio on one week from today -- April 1st -- not to believe everything you hear. Don’t believe everything your friends tell you. And be careful when walking around the corner at the office. You never know ...

My husband is a safety trainer/consultant. That is why we are in Japan. He is working with a Japanese-owned company on a project they are building in Singapore. This short stint in Japan is for the planning phase of the project. We are leaving April 12th for Singapore for the actual construction. It will take about 2 1/2 years.



That’s the brief history.



Part of my husband’s job is to train people in safety procedures. He has to put together presentations, and often uses Power Point to get his ideas across. Usually he builds his own, but sometimes he is given presentations to "tweak" and make his own. 

Recently he got one from a Japanese colleague. I giggled when he showed me that the presentation he was given said to "crick here" to go to the next page.



*** Please know that I am not making fun of Japanese people or their attempt at speaking our language. Lord knows they can speak English way better than I can speak Japanese. But I’m childish and immature and still laugh at fart jokes.

I am not Japanese, and I hate that every website out there thinks I am! Just because I'm in Japan and my IP address shows that I am in Japan, all these websites I visit think they need to default to Japanese writing. It even occasionally happens on MySpace. I go to log in and can't figure out where I start typing. It's happened enough here, though, that I can maneuver my way through the site to make it go back to English.



Tonight I was updating my books on Good Reads and had to figure out how to do it there. I ended up having to sign out and sign back in again. Not so bad.



Sometimes it also happens on Amazon.com.

It's nice that these websites are trying to be accommodating -- "Let's give her Japanese instead of making her find it on her own." But I wish they'd let me just have my English!



I'm also kind of not happy that every website out there knows my IP address. They know that I'm in Japan, and some websites even discriminate against me because I'm in Japan. For instance, there are some radio stations I can't listen to online because they know I'm in Japan and they don't allow you to listen to them outside the US. Same thing with some TV station websites -- won't let me watch videos because of the same reason.



Oh well. If I could have learned to speak Japanese in my five and a half months here, I would have, but this isn't exactly an easy language to learn. But at least I can order chicken rice and water. I'm keeping fed.

Before moving to Japan I was well aware that the Japanese have a tough time pronouncing the letter "L." It just does not exist in their vocabulary! So, before we moved here, our friend Chris pointed out that we might be coming during their pubric erections (public elections - har har har).

I thought that was hilarious. Then when we got here and found out it really is time to vote in some new officials we realized we really did get here during erection season.



Until today that was one of my favorite Japanese mispronunciations. Tonight we had dinner with a family that I am absolutely IN LOVE WITH! Marso works with the guy whose family we went out with tonight. It was our first time meeting his wife and I have to say that she is my new best friend. She is the Japanese version of me! Seriously! If you've ever heard that Japanese people don't really have a sense of humor, you're right. But they forgot to tell this woman she wasn't supposed to crack jokes. And her husband is exactly the same way!



So anyway, we were talking about music at dinner tonight and she pointed out that her husband does enjoy rock music from America. In fact, he's very fond of Eric Crapton. That's my new favorite mispronunciation!



Crap your hands! Stomp your feet!

I can't believe that in a little over a month, it'll all be over in Tokyo and I'll be on to the next adventure -- Singapore. So many things to look forward to!



I've had tons of fun exploring Japan, and I'm very excited about what kinds of things lie ahead for me in Singapore. Mostly, I'm excited that I'll have 2 1/2 years there to do whatever it is I will do. So what will I do?



Well, for one thing, there's a group of women there -- the ExxonMobil Expats -- that meet regularly for everything from Starbucks coffee and movies to game night and tours. Lots of opportunities to meet new friends and get out and see the country.



I'm also excited about our apartment. We haven't picked one out yet, but we do have a few requirements. It must have a gym and a pool. And it must be near Starbucks. Funny how my priorities have changed in this short time since leaving the US. I'm not nearly as picky about square footage or countertops. Now I just want a gym to work out in and a pool to cool off in. And coffee. Is that too much to ask for?



Singapore is also a great place to shop! While I can't afford most of what they're selling on Orchard Road, I love to look at all those gowns in the windows at Louis Vuitton and the shoes at Jimmy Choo. And who knows, maybe I'll catch a great sale!



Our friends from Louisiana -- Chad & Shea -- are also considering an opportunity in Singapore. I'm excited about the chance to live near them again. Their daughter and D'Ette are great friends. Their son Kade is always great for laughs! And they've got a new baby for me to love on! Oh, and of course we just adore Chad and Shea!



I've also thought about going back to school. I'm not sure yet what for. I've toyed around with massage therapy for a long time. If I'm going to become a licensed massage therapist, where better to learn than Asia? I've also toyed around with a degree in religion.



Lastly -- I believe that we're going to have fantastic opportunities to serve our community when we get to our next stop on the Asian Tour. We've already begun the search for a church that we feel would be a perfect fit.



Just the fact that I have so many opportunities within reach is exciting. I'm still not sure exactly what I'm going to do, but am definitely open to whatever God has for me, and whatever THAT is -- I can't wait to blog about it!

Oh boy, did I learn the hard way to double-check my words!



This afternoon I took my mom and the kids to Asakusa. We had a great time and we were tired, but before going home I wanted to go to Akihabara to Tower Records to pick up Tristan Prettyman's new CD. 



I was in Asakusa Station staring at my map trying to figure out the best route when a young Japanese man stopped to help me. Typically when this happens it means that the person stopping to help you speaks a decent amount of English. In this case, he spoke none. But he figured out where I wanted to go and TOOK ME THERE.

No kidding! Mom, D'Ette, Jean-Luc and I followed this guy onto the train and let him take us from Asakusa Station onto the JR line, and then on to Akihabara. I have no clue where he was headed, but this kindness was greatly appreciated.



After he left, my mom said to me, "Jen, it's a good thing you're married! He's hot!" I couldn't believe my 70-year-old mother calling this guy hot! Then D'Ette echoed the sentiments, "Really, Mom! I was thinking the same thing!" I told D'Ette, "Your daddy is all I need." D'Ette was singing in the background, "Can I have TWO daddies?" Then she told me, "Maybe we'd better not tell Daddy about this. He was hitting on you." I tried to explain that people here are always very helpful and that he did it because he was kind. Not because he was hitting on me.



I got his business card and wrote him a thank you email this evening. I wanted to thank him for his kindness and asked for an address where I could send a gift of appreciation. Then I thought how nice it would be if I would translate it for him. So I used Google to find a page that translates text. I typed in my text and voila - there it was - in Japanese! How cool is THAT? So I typed up the email to this guy - first pasting the Japanese text, followed by the English text below it. Then I hit SEND. 



You'd think I'd have these great ideas BEFORE hitting the SEND button. Nope! I decided AFTER I sent it to translate it back to English. So I copied the Japanese text and pasted it into the box and clicked TRANSLATE from Japanese to English. 



Oh boy! That isn't really at all what I wanted to say! Too late now. Next time Ueda-san opens his email he will see that please I want to send you something, and that I signed my letter AFFECTIONATELY, Jen. What th'??? I did NOT sign it that way!!! I hope he finds someone to translate the original for him. LOL



Now this guy will think I am stalking him, for sure. Oh well. You live, you learn. And if he replies now, should I be worried?

When I was growing up my mom would always try to tell me how it was when she was my age. She warned me against doing certain things, or encouraged me to try something else. But often when I was a teenager I would snap back at her, "you got to learn by making your mistakes. Let me make mine!" I never realized how much there was to be learned by someone who had "been there, done that."



Now that I'm older and I see what other people go through, I can take something from that and apply it to my own life. I guess that's what's called wisdom.



My father-in-law is dying. We got a call at 7:00 this morning, and Marso had to get on the first international flight he could so he could make it home, and hopefully say goodbye to his daddy.



About a week ago when Marso was on the phone with his dad, his dad said to him, "I made a lot of mistakes. I have a lot of regrets in life." What a sad, but profound statement. How many times have you heard that you should "live each day to its fullest," or as Tim McGraw so eloquently puts it, "live like you were dyin'."



The point isn't to go out there and have a party every night. But you should definitely chase your dreams. I believe that if there's something you've always wanted to do that you should do it. Stop wondering, "what if" and just go see for yourself first-hand! What's the worst that can happen? You realize that it wasn't all it was cracked up to be? Okay. So you tried, right? Go skydiving. Apply for college. Ask her out! Send in your resume! Don't leave things left unsaid. If you owe someone an apology, make it. Ask for forgiveness if you haven't yet done that. Make things right. Say "I love you." 



Marso's daddy retired early. He was 55 1/2 when he quit working. He's now in his 80s. So for the past 25+ years, he's been retired. To him, retirement meant going out for coffee every morning with the guys, going to the library in the afternoon, and hanging out with the guys again after lunch. Sundays he spent with his wife at the mall. Every week. Week in, week out. They couldn't take vacations and travel because on his retirement and social security they could barely make ends meet. They couldn't even run the air conditioning or the dryer. She had to hang her clothes out to dry. They had to keep the shades drawn and the windows open for a breeze. There was never any extra money left over. 

I think if Bobby had it to do over again, he'd have worked a little longer, saved more money and enjoyed what he *did* have. He'd have spent more time with his children. He'd have spent less time complaining about the things that really don't matter. He'd have said more kind words and less unkind ones.



Bobby was an only child and he always got his way. So when he got married, he expected his needs to be met. Period. And that's the way it was his whole life. Bobby was always right. Everyone else was wrong. He became unapproachable and hard to get along with. And it wasn't until a couple of weeks ago when Marso led his daddy to Christ over the phone that Marso told his daddy, "you are unapproachable." His daddy had asked, "why didn't you do this with me sooner?" He agreed that he had built up a wall that made him difficult to talk to. And he agreed that he would never have listened until this point in his life. I think if Bobby could live that part of his life over again, he would. He'd be more approachable. He'd be more open to other people's thoughts, suggestions, ideas, and opinions. Especially when they came - in love - from people who cared about him.



Maybe this will spark something in you. Maybe it's just another testimony of how you should "live each day to its fullest," but it's definitely a wake-up call for me, so if I say something to you that seems "out of the blue" or if I seem a little different, you'll know why. I don't want to waste one more minute.

On the eve of my 36th birthday I got a much-needed ego boost!



Tonight on my way home from coffee with Beth, I stepped on the escalator behind a pretty good-looking guy. He didn't look Japanese, but I can't really tell you where he was from. He greeted me, but I didn't hear what he said. He said something else to me, but I couldn't hear him over the background noise, and I had to tilt up the front of my hat to see his face better, hoping that by reading his lips at the same time or judging his facial expressions I could learn more.



He had a very big smile on his face and was asking me questions I didn't know how to answer. At the top of the escalator, he kept talking to me. We stopped and he started saying, "France? Germany?" I finally figured out he was trying to ask me where I was from. I told him, "America." He smiled and repeated me, "Ahhh, America!" Then he put his hand to his face (to let me know he was talking about my face) and told me, "You are very beautiful." 



We went in opposite directions at Urayasu Station, and I walked off with a huge grin on my face.



All week I've been saying, "I can't believe I'm almost 40." Not that 40 is so bad, and not that I'm turning 40 tomorrow, but I am turning 36 tomorrow and that's more than halfway between 30 and 40. Thirty-five was halfway between and I was fine with that. But tomorrow means I'm closer to 40 than I am to 30. That's a hard pill to swallow.



Next time I attempt to talk myself back into that "I'm almost 40" self-pity, I'll remind myself that I got hit on! All the young, attractive, skimpy-dressed Asian women surrounding me, and this guy (who was attractive himself) hit on *me*!

An open letter to the man who picked his wedgie as I walked behind him this morning.



Dear Wedgie Picker,



I was standing behind you today as we crossed Mitsume Dori. When the light turned green and you began to walk, it was *me* standing behind you who had to watch you dig your fingers inside your crack and pull out your apparently riding-up undies. This was not a pretty sight!



For one, Wedgie Man, you dug too deep.
Secondly, WM (may I call you WM for short?), you dug too long! How small *are* your underwear, anyway? 



Here's a tip - take Y800 out of your next paycheck and get a pair of boxer briefs. They're not only way better looking on men, but no wedgies! If you can afford it, splurge and spend Y1200 on the silky ones! Your bottom will thank you for it!



Sincerely,



The girl who had to watch you dig.

Warning: If you think my daughter is one of the most gentle, beautiful, innocent little darlings you've ever met, this WILL ruin your image of her. Turn back now.



My beautiful petite flower is gassy. And she's proud of it. In fact, tonight at dinner this little beauty interrupted my sentence with something loud and duck-like. Immediate laughter from her brother. She applauded herself. I left the table and warned her that if she did not start exercising her sphincter muscle that it will fail her miserably by the time she's allowed to date boys.



She wanted to know, "What's a phinkster?"

Ever since I moved to Tokyo I've been looking for bloggable moments. I've even got the kids trained. They will say something funny and I'll laugh...laugh...laugh. One of them will ask me, "Is this going in the blog?" They used to ask me, "Are you going to talk about this on the radio?" Now it's the blogs that worry them.



Like the other day I was telling Jean-Luc that he will have to shave soon. He's getting some fur on his upper lip. My little boy is becoming a man. Look out world! I don't know how old most guys are when they start shaving. I was oblivious to the fact that my brothers shaved when I was growing up. I had my own problems to deal with. Boys. Pimples. My period. All that fun stuff. So guy shaving wasn't even on my radar. But I know that at age 14, Jean-Luc will have to start shaving soon.



When I told him that he'd be shaving, Jean-Luc was adamant that he will NOT be shaving his lip. I told him that he would too be shaving. We went back and forth - "Will not." "Will too." "Will not." "Will too." (We're really mature around my house.) Until finally I called him a name. I said, "Listen here Paco McHairy Lip, you WILL too be shaving."

D'Ette liked my Spanish name for Jean-Luc, but she did me one better. She said, "We can call him Jalapeno!"



Before she could even ask I told her, "Yes. It's going in the blog."

You have been tagged. Post a new blog and list 10 odd or interesting things about you that most people don't know. Then tag 10 of your friends to do the same. Make sure you message or comment them and post a bulletin so they know they have been tagged!


1. My friend JP helped me pick my "radio name." He was reading an industry magazine and found a girl in Denver named "Jennifer Page" who was mentioned in one of the articles. We liked how it sounded and since she was in Denver and I was in Gainesville, FL, I took it.


2. I prefer eating with chopsticks to eating with a fork.


3. I picked two of the American Idols from the auditions. I knew from their auditions they would win that season, and I was right twice.


4. At one point in my life I was so afraid to speak in front of people that I had to drop out of my speech class in community college. I had to retake it to graduate, but waited a couple of semesters to work up the nerve.


5. I was named after my mother's favorite actress, Jennifer O'Neill. My middle name was my maternal grandmother's first name.


6. I had to go to speech class when I was a kid because I couldn't say my "esses." They sounded more like a "th."


7. I remember what I got for Valentine's Day in second grade, but not last year.


8. My knee surgery screwed me up. The doctor didn't send me to physical therapy right away, so by the time he did send me (several months after the surgery), it was about too late. I still have problems climbing stairs and doing certain cardio exercises.


9. I'm addicted to cereal. I love ALL KINDS (except the stuff with peanut butter in it) and could eat it for breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks in-between.


10. I really like what JJ said in her 10, so I'm going to borrow it. I've never heard it put so eloquently. Here goes: I am a Christian but I'm not likely to hit you upside the head with a bible. I don't feel it's my job to judge anyone and I would much rather show by *who* I am that I am a Christian than by preaching to anyone. What you do with your life is between you and God-not up for my approval or judgement. I do, however, hold my values and morals very close and am not afraid to stand up for them.

Valentine's Day is coming up and boy, do I feel sorry for the single girls! I thought that with the pending holiday you love to hate, I'd share some of my dating horror stories. Maybe that'll cheer up my single gals. And feel free to post yours, too.



Bad Date 1:
 We'll keep it on a first name basis. His name was Louis. (I guess it probably still is, huh?)

Louis and I were going on a blind date. Ugh. I gave Louis directions to the apartment, and he showed up right on time. I went to answer the door and all I could think when I saw him was GOMER. No kidding. Gomer Freakin' Pyle at my door. Still, I'm nice, so I can't just fake a cold all of a sudden. I notice he's got his hand behind his back. I figure he's got a bouquet of flowers. Nice gesture. He pulls his hand out from behind his back and he's got a bouquet alright -- a bouquet of TOOTHBRUSHES. NO KIDDING! His dad was a dentist (probably still is), so Louis thought he would stock me up on toothbrushes I guess. He was even kind enough to bring me a few sample toothpastes and dental flosses. Gomer.



So after I ran to put the toothbrushes in a vase of water (I'm kidding), we headed out to his Gomer car. I don't remember what he was driving, but I remembered feeling like Urkel. So anyway, I ask him where we're going. He decides that before dinner he'd like to take me some place "special." All I'm thinking is that I've never heard of an Inspiration Point in Huntsville or anything like that, so hopefully I'm safe. I'm a little puzzled when we pull up to an empty building -- a ... what does the sign say? Dentist office? Oh great. He's going to stick a drill in my mouth next. 

Not quite, but he did give me the world class tour of his dad's dental office. All this before dinner. What more could a girl ask for?



I don't remember where we ate, but I was so glad when it ended. Gomer dropped me off. He did not get a kiss. But he did get made fun of the next day on the air. How could I not share this date disaster with the guys on the morning show?




Bad Date 2:
 Larry took me to a fair being hosted by a local car dealership. (Yep, still in Alabama.) We went to Subway first to grab a bite to eat. Even though I told him I don't do well on wild rides, he insisted I ride something that made me go upside down, jerked me around, and then deposited me dizzy on the ground. 

Next stop - the Pirate. 'Cause what else should you do after you've eaten and then ridden a wild ride? Ride in a big ship that rocks you back and forth, baaaack and forrrth. 

Next thing I know I'm feeling really queasy and I lose my sub and chips on the Pirate. Ahoy. 

Yep - it's coming out and I. Can't. Stop. It. I hear a kid yell, "Someone puked!" 

I'd open my mouth - puke comes pouring out - and as the ship rocks us baaaack and forrrrth, someone else gets swung into my liquefied Turkey and Swiss on Wheat.



I was covered when we got off the ship. For a second I contemplated telling Larry someone puked on me, but it wasn't just on my shirt and my watch - it was all over my chin and mouth. Needless to say, I didn't get a kiss goodnight. In fact, I didn't even get another date.



Happy Valentines Day to my single friends.

Warning -- this is a very long blog, but there really is a point/lesson.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Being in Baton Rouge has made me think a lot. We moved from Louisiana in 2004 and this is our first visit back. It feels weird. Things have changed a lot since we left. Of course, much of it is probably due to Hurricane Katrina. 



Tonight we had coffee with some friends that we haven't seen or talked to since we moved. We didn't hang out with Stephanie and Chad a lot before we moved, but they are some of my favorite people. Stephanie and I worked together under some pretty crappy conditions, so we bonded very easily since we were the only two sane people there. It was really good to see her again.



Anyway, I got to thinking about how all of this started.



When I moved to Louisiana, I couldn't get a job in radio to save my life. I had responded to an ad for an on-air position at Citadel Broadcasting, had a great interview, and then nothing. After several un-returned phone calls to the PD who hired me, I gave up and started working for the Salvation Army. I was the social services director. It was a thankless job, but I know I did a lot of good during the time I was there. In fact, if it weren't for Francesca, my life would probably be very different.



Francesca came into the Salvation Army with a story very different from all the other people I had helped. She actually WANTED to do better for herself. She didn't want a hand-out. She just wanted some help getting back on her feet. As the social services director, I wrote her a check from the Salvation Army to pay for some training she needed so she could get a job in construction, a field where she had some limited experience. Well, she took that test and she scored a perfect score. The only problem was - she didn't have any steel toed boots to go to work in. The Salvation Army couldn't help her anymore. There was some policy that said she had to wait 30 days for another "hand out." Thing is, I knew this girl really was serious about doing better for herself. So I went to Wal-Mart that night and bought her a pair of steel-toed boots in her size. She came in the next day and I gave them to her. 

I didn't hear from Francesca for a couple of weeks, but when she came back to the Salvation Army the next time rather than asking me for something, she brought me something. She gave me a coupon for a free coffee at the Starlight Espresso Cafe. Now, that may not seem like a big deal, but the story behind it is amazing. She told me how, at her church on Mother's Day (just a few days before), the pastor's wife spoke about what a mom is. She heard that a mom doesn't have to be someone who gives birth to you, but someone who takes care of you -- someone who puts your best interests first -- someone who loves you as you are. This pastor's wife then instructed everyone in attendance to take the coupon that was in their bulletin and give it to someone who was a "mom" to them -- maybe their birth mother, maybe not. Francesca gave her coupon to me.

I got my free coffee, but I also decided to visit this church. Household of Faith became my home church after that, and is the place I credit for helping me grow and mature as a Christian. It's the place where I fell in love with Jesus all over again, and the place where my entire family was baptized together on September 1, 2002.

I began praying that God would get me out of the Salvation Army and back into a job that I loved -- something in radio. 

One afternoon I called Citadel Broadcasting to ask if they would run a PSA for the Salvation Army. I got to talking with the guy on the phone. During our conversation I learned the PD who had interviewed me was no longer with the company. I told this guy on the phone that I really wanted to come work there, so he told me to bring him a demo as soon as possible. I drove it over that afternoon and was hired almost immediately. (A total God thing.)

(In case you're not following -- Francesca got me back into church, where I started redeveloping my relationship with Christ. It was only then that I was able to get a job doing what I loved.)

While I was working at this radio job, I became friends with Stephanie. There was a lot of turn-over at this radio station, so while I really loved the guy who ended up hiring me, he was moved to a different department shortly after I arrived and was no longer my direct boss. Bummer. Stephanie and I grew close and I invited her to church with me. She and her boyfriend Chad fell in love with it too, and began attending regularly. 



Skip ahead to 2004. We move to Florida. I don't know if I never got Stephanie's email address when we moved or what happened exactly, but we didn't keep in touch.



This past Sunday we visited Household of Faith for the first time since we left. It was as if we'd never moved. Sure, there were a lot of new and different faces, but there were a few familiar ones too. It was SO good to see Pastor Scott and Vanessa. Hearing Michael lead worship was INCREDIBLE! And running into Stephanie and Chad was unexpected. I guess I didn't figure they'd still be going to church there, but they were...and we were able to spend some quality time with them tonight.

I've probably written this blog more for my benefit than for a reader's, but I guess all this has made me realize that we play roles in people's lives sometimes that we never ever realize the full effect of. 

Francesca came into the Salvation Army for help, but ended up bring me more than I ever could have given her. It won't be until I meet her in heaven one day that she'll ever know what a difference that day made to me. I don't remember her last name. I don't know whatever happened to her. But it was because of her that I went to Household of Faith. It was because of Household of Faith that I renewed my relationship with Christ. It was because of that I got back into radio. It was because of that Stephanie became my friend. It was because of that she is now at Household of Faith and is actively serving (so is Chad). After leaving HOF, Marso and I helped start two churches.

I'm telling you all this to say that *YOU* have no idea the influence you have on someone. You have no idea the difference you can make in someone's life. In fact, Francesca not only made a difference in MY life, she made a difference in the lives of anyone affected by my going to HOF or in the lives of anyone affected by my helping to plant two churches in Florida.



So thank you Francesca.