A Daring Adventure

Gag Me with an Entire Place Setting (of Bidding, Part the First)

So I've been reading around the State blogosphere and Facebook about how some people's bid lists are supposed to come out today. And they're all chirpy and happy and life is full of delicious possibilities, etc. etc. etc.


None of those people are DS. 


Because DS has its entirely own bidding system. With different experiences and expectations to match.


Not that I'm personally very familiar with the exact intricacies of normal DS bidding, of course, because James technically hasn't bid the normal way yet (since he got Chengdu off of the NOW list). He's supposed to bid the normal way for the first time this summer. But when you're DS and you're listening to FSOs or (worse!) other Specialists, etc., talk about their bid lists and bidding preferences, well, if a picture is worth a thousand words then an animated .gif is worth a million.  So here goes...


I hear, "Well, right now we're at a 20% (or whatever) differential post, and so we're hoping for Paris, London, or The Hague next," and I'm all:

Or when someone FSO-y just did their THIS tour (Consular, Public Affairs, or whatever), so it's now time for them to go do their THAT tour (again... Consular, Public Affairs, Management, the tour they have to do because they came in with language points, etc... which are all places overseas, of course), I try to stuff back being all:




Because the default for basically EVERYONE BUT DS is that they're overseas the hugely vast majority of the time, and they're domestic but a tiny bit, comparatively.


Whereas for DS, it's the exact opposite. For DS, the domestic bidlist (all over the U.S.) has eleventy gazillion openings, the overseas bidlist has a scant few (or at least that's how it feels), and the overseas slots have warm bodies stacked on top of each other sometimes dozens deep, all of which are biting, clawing, and scratching their way desperately through the bidding cycle in hopes of getting an overseas post. Sell your grandmother for the chance to go to Ouagadougou? YOU BETCHA.  


James and I know that our turn for this is rapidly approaching. We've been in Chengdu for eight months and, as I said, he bids this summer.


Okay, sure.


SURE, we could face the seemingly inevitable and plod back to the U.S. next without putting up too much of a fight to stay "out" again. 


But the problem is that Zachary will be in high school starting with our next tour. It's just not that easy to bid somewhere random in the U.S. and feel confident that you'll end up with okay high schools, and, to be honest, we're loving the International School experience (LOVING IT). We want to keep it going for Zachary if we can.


(All that to say: Watch out, Grandma! I love you, but love has its limits!!)


That and...


                                        I'll Tell You a Story:


My boys have a non-State (American) high school kid friend here in Chengdu whose family (her dad is with a large international corporation) was previously posted to a state in the southern U.S. (that I will not specify, but we're talking SOUTH south, people).


One day her class in school was supposed to do presentations on the notable moments of their lives thus far and, being as that she had spent her entire life overseas in many different countries because of her Dad's job, she put together a PowerPoint presentation about the different countries that she had lived in and the different languages she spoke (three). How she celebrated her tenth birthday in Jakarta. How she rode an elephant here and saw the Northern Lights there. You get the picture.


When she was finished with her PowerPoint presentation (complete with photos from different countries and a section where she spoke a sentence or two of the other languages in which she was fluent, just so they could hear them, maybe for the first and last time), the class just looked at her with blank stares.


None of the kids cared. None of them asked her a single question. None reflected even the vaguest sense of interest. In fact, they started looking at her like she was some sort of alien life form. Someone suspiciously different and weird.


And she realized then and there that she didn't belong. AT ALL. That no matter what she did, even though she was also an American, she would never "belong" in that group of kids. And she spent her entire two years there utterly miserable, in a town where American kids are born, are raised, never leave, and die... and like it that way. Where that's normal and everything is else is strange.


So, yeah. I don't really WANT to take Zachary somewhere where the classroom will be full of:




 
But what's to be done when you're DS and getting an overseas post is so difficult it's sometimes nearly impossible?

::sigh::


And the next time I try to explain to any other sort of very sweet, well-meaning (but not DS) State employee friends about how DS bidding is *different* than their bidding and how insanely hard it is to get overseas/stay overseas, I'll do my level best to stuff back my inner:




...which is always there, at or just below the surface, when the topic of bidding comes up.


...


[Also, I swear I'm not trying to pick on the south. James and I both have lived in Florida pretty much most of our lives. I know that this young lady could have had that same experience elsewhere in the States.] 

There's the Right Way, and Then There's... MY Way

Trust me when I say that I am well aware that I don't do anything The Right Way.


(Oh, yes, my friends... there's a Right Way. Let me 'splain.)


                                               SCENARIO 1:

James comes home some random day and tentatively tells me that he will probably have to work that next Saturday from sunrise to bedtime. At least. If not Sunday, too.


If I handle myself The Right Way, my reaction would be as follows: 

 
Though my ever-present, happy smile may dim for a fraction of a second, I beam up at him and tell him how proud I am that he has such an important job, how wonderful it is that he can contribute so well, and I decide that on that Saturday I will, instead of spending time with my husband, catch up on my sweet family photo albums (I'm so behind on them, tee hee!) and try my hand at baking that wonderful cookie recipe that my dear friend at post shared with me the other day!


But, instead, I handle myself MY Way, which looks more like this:


I wail like someone jabbed me in the arm with a safety pin, dramatically throw my dish towel onto the kitchen counter, and whine piteously all the way to my bedroom, wherein I basically am all:





 
                                                SCENARIO 2:

My husband's Blackberry, which he has with him at all times, and which I have crabbily nicknamed first "Your Girlfriend" (as in: Your Girlfriend is buzzing!) and then, later, "That Bitch," buzzes or jingles or makes one of several noises it is capable of. 


If I handle myself The Right Way, my reaction would be as follows:


If I notice that the Blackberry is making a noise, I try to discern whether or not he has heard it, as well. If he has, then I just smile inwardly, happy that he is needed and important and connected to The Greater Good. If, by chance, he has not heard it, I helpfully chirp out in a light and airy voice, "Darling, I think your Blackberry may have made a noise." And then I smile inwardly, happy to have contributed to my husband's successful career.

But, instead, I handle myself MY Way, which looks more like this:

The thing buzzes or jingles or blips or whatever it does, and I throw my hands up in the air and scream at it aggressively:




See what I mean? 


All that to say:  Don't be a me. Be a nice wife.


                                                  ~   ~   ~ 


In the meantime, the school year is slowly wrapping up and Matthew has finished his AP exams.

Being a more math-y and science-y sort of person, and being less of a liberal-arts-y sort of person, he loathes and despises all forms of writing, which is basically the lion's share of what his AP U.S. History exam was. 


But before he took it, his teacher was quick to remind Matthew and the rest of the class over and over again that, when you're writing the AP U.S. History essays, you are to basically include EVERYTHING you can think of. EVERYTHING. Because you can only get more credit that way, evidently, and as Matthew tends to be a word conservationist when writing anyway, adding as much as possible could only help. 


So Matthew came home after taking the AP American History exam and informed me that on the exam he obeyed the teacher and was all:




(Except for that last word.)


(Which almost kept me from posting that .gif, except for it dawned on me that I've already said penis and nipples a thousand times, so what's another word like that thrown in? And aren't you already on notice, Dear Reader, that you NEVER KNOW what you might read on this blog? Why, yes. YES, YOU ARE.)


So we'll see if he successfully tied the topics rectangle and megaphone in with America. At this point in the school year, I'm seriously just all whatever about the whole thing.


Because I'll tell you this - the boys' summer break and our R&R are just a few weeks away, and gosh darn are we all ready for them to be here! A little break is in order. 

 

Because Even My Love for My Husband has its Limits

Okay, so, before I took a turn into blogging about nipples and my husband being solicited for illegal drugs (and who WOULDN'T want to blog about those things?), I was writing about (and showing you pictures from) when my husband, James, and my younger son, Zachary, toured lots of China.


(Not ALL of it, mind you. Since China is super wicked big and all.) 


On their travels, they saw really pretty Chinese-y buildings:





And, seriously you guys, don't you think that the roofs of Chinese-y buildings have a whole lot more character than the roofs of most American buildings?




I just love them.


And then the UFO Flying Water Bottle came back and refused to allow my husband to take any actual pictures of my child:





And then, out of nowhere, whilst trying to avoid bodily harm by the UFO Flying Water Bottle, my husband was presented with THE MAGIC-EST OF ANCIENT CHINESE MAGIC.


For BEHOLD! The Chinese city that they were visiting (named Shaolin) had some sort of magic wormhole or magic Harry-Potter-like flue network or who knows *what* sort of enchantment, but suddenly and quite out of nowhere, James was presented with the option to...


...magically visit our in-real-life friend, Digger, who is posted right now in Tallinn, Estonia!

 
How this Shaolin pharmacy gets people to Tallinn we don't know. 

But James sure did know that at the other end of that wrinkle in time and space, there would be ESTONIA. Amazing ESTONIA with its clear, crisp, clean air and its sushi (which Digger is constantly teasing us about having there in Tallinn (she has TWO sushi places within walking distance of her housing! TWO!), as we don't have any in Chengdu).  


And I'm not sure if the English language has words strong enough to describe just exactly what my husband would do for: 1.) clean air, and 2.) sushi right now.


BUT, ALAS.


Being as that he was a parental chaperone on the school field trip (and was, thus, needed), and being as that he knew intuitively that if he even THOUGHT about going to Tallinn without me, I would be all:





he didn't journey on through regions unknown and travel to Sushi and Clean Air Heaven.


Instead, he journeyed on to that evening's hotel:





(in all its glory)


And enjoyed his hotel room's bathroom, which boasted NOT EVEN A WALL, but instead just a see-through curtain-like thingee:

Meaning that if two people were staying in the two-twin-bed bedroom, then while one was using the toilet, the other could, ostensibly, see them.


(Awkward!)


And while this wasn't a problem for James, since he had a room all to himself (the privilege of being a grownup), the same cannot be said for the school kids, who were bunking two kids to a room. Which meant that if one of them needed to use the toilet or take a shower, etc., the other one would have to leave the room entirely and wait out in the hall for the sake of privacy.


And if you're a parent, you already know how this story ends.


Meaning, of course, that Zachary barged into James' hotel room and announced that NO WAY was he going to use the bathroom in his assigned hotel room with other kids milling in and out randomly, meaning that James actually gave Zachary his bathroom. And waited out in the hall. On more than one occasion.


I'm sure, at that point, James would SO rather have been in Tallinn. BUT I DON'T CARE. HE'S NOT ALLOWED TO GO WITHOUT ME. Thus, this blog post's title. 


The End.

 

You Will Never Believe What Some Idiot Said to My Husband

(The following is a true story. No joke.)

So yesterday, a normal Saturday afternoon here in Chengdu, China, my husband was not working (yay!), the air was not entirely brown (yay!), and he and I had a couple of hours within which we were free to take a cab to a different part of the city (this place is bigger than NYC or Chicago, you guys - it's crazy big with its 14 million people) in search of some Chinese silk material to buy for my sewing-happy, seamstress mother.


Now, here in Chengdu, there are, like, districts. I don't know how to describe them... "streets," maybe. They're like really long streets lined on both sides by small shops, all of which sell one certain thing. There's, like, Sink Street, where a zillion sinks are sold, or Paint Street, where you can find tons of cans of wall paint, or Scooter Street, where you can buy scooters... you get it. You're smart like that.


So yesterday James and I took a cab to Silk Street. And it's really called that - Silk Street. Where you can buy some silk and get clothes tailored with it. And because my mom sews, she has asked me to PLEASE OH PLEASE bring her back some Chinese silk when we get to the U.S. on our R&R soon.


So the cab drops James and me off at the beginning of Silk Street, and we go wandering around from shop to shop. 


At one point, in front of one section of shops, James and I smell this gawdawful smell. It's really strong.


...


me: What IS that awful smell?


James: That's weed. Someone's smoking pot. A lot of it.


me (having never in my life seen or smelled drugs before): Ugh! That stuff reeks! 


...


And then he and I fall into a conversation about his police officer days, etc. Because, don't forget, my husband has been in both federal and local law enforcement for literally decades now. (And this is as good a time as any to remind you that even now, he's still in federal law enforcement. Which becomes pertinent to the story soon.)


So I pop into another silk shop, leaving James standing placidly on the sidewalk by himself, waiting for me. 


He's holding nothing in his hands. He's doing nothing but standing there, waiting for me. Probably looking bored, to tell the truth. I mean, let's just be honest.


Then, out of nowhere, some random white guy rushes up to him and the following exchange takes place:


...


Random White Guy (to James, excitedly):  Dude! Are you smoking pot?

James (who is not above toying with morons when they beg for it, and who, as I said, HAS NOTHING IN HIS HANDS, let alone anything that is wafting smoke anywhere, says *very* sarcastically):  Yes.



Random White Guy (freaking out with happiness): DUDE!  WHERE DID YOU BUY IT?!?!  HERE?  RIGHT HERE SOMEWHERE? 

James (no longer participating in the discussion): **rolls eyes, looks away**


...

Random White Guy, realizing he's going to get no help from James, rushes off, ostensibly in search of pot.


I then come out of the silk store, having seen and heard none of this.


(I ALWAYS MISS EVERYTHING INTERESTING.)


And as James related to me the most interesting exchange he had just had with Random White Guy, I was literally AMAZED at the multiple layers of stupidity. Because, really. Somewhere in Chengdu there's some total moron White Guy (possibly an American?) who basically asked my U.S. federal law enforcement agent husband to help him figure out where to buy illegal drugs. Which, make no mistake about it, are way, WAY more illegal here than in the U.S.

I mean...


...seriously - messing around with pot in China can get a person the death penalty, from what I understand. China don't play with the whole illegal drug thing. 


So - really. What a total tool. 

In Which Jen's Victorious Nipples CONQUER ALL

So, last you heard, the link to my friend Jen's blog had been taken off of the State Department's Official Blog List.


But - good news!


It's now been put back up!


And State bloggers everywhere, who had lobbied together on Jen's behalf, were TOTALLY all:




It's a good day. 


All manner of crazy things went down in between when Jen's link was first taken down and when Jen's link was ultimately put back up. Her story was all over the media! It was in The Washington Post multiple times, both online and in print:





Her story even made Drudge (image stolen shamelessly from Diplopundit):






And her story also (I was in this next one, too! -->) hit Jezebel, along with lots (and LOTS) of other online news sources!


The whole thing really went quite viral.


In the end, when State ultimately put her link back up on the Official Blog Roll, they even included a message not just to Jen but also to us State bloggers who freaked out when her link was first taken down:





 
And what's super duper cool is that Jeff Levine, who signed that awesome message, is going soon to be the Ambassador of Estonia, so he'll be there with James' and my in-real-life friend and State bloggy-pal Digger! Which is totally fantastic, because he sounds like good people.

 
In the end, I'm really glad State put Jen's link back up, because, as I said in my last blog post, Jen really deserves to be there.  And while, as Diplopundit points out, all's not *exactly* well that ends well, this ended well for Jen, and I'm really grateful for that!


                                                     ~   ~   ~




In the meantime, this whole thing got so big so fast that there are now calls for Jen's incredibly famous nipples to have their own Facebook page, their own Twitter stream, their own LinkedIn profile, and, ultimately, their own product line, advertising stream, and sponsorship deals! For truly, Jen's nipples have been vaulted seemingly overnight into epic stardom, and now are quite possibly THE MOST FAMOUS NIPPLES IN THE WORLD.  


Well, there was nothing for Jen's nipples to do but to immediately retain me as their legal and representational counsel, of course. 


And the phone has been ringing off the hook, people. For example, Nike called about a line of sports bras (since they know how much Jen loves to go running), and Victoria's Secret called about a line of super-glam, sparkly bras (I told them that when their models wear Jen's merchandise on the runway, they will NOT also be wearing those tacky paper-mache wings). And that's not EVEN including the sponsorship deals and product endorsements that are in the pipeline! 


Oh, yes - Jen will be an extremely busy girl while her hero of a husband, Peter, is away this next year on his second Unaccompanied Tour. But it's good to keep busy, right?!  :) 

...

[Quick note: everything from the page break on down *might* be just put in here for the sake of humor and *might not* be actually, you know, happening in real life. Except for Peter's Unaccompanied Tour. That's TOTALLY happening in real life!] 

Too Little and Too Much (Regarding Blogging, the ACLU, and NIPPLES)

Unless mine is the only State blog that you read, you already know that there are two HUGE blogging-related, State Department firestorms out there on the internet right now... and both are related. One has to do with State bloggers and the ACLU, and the other has to do with State bloggers and the official list of such on the right-hand side of the State Department's state.gov website. 


Simply put, the State Department has two completely opposite opinions when it comes to social media (like blogging). One side of State wants nothing more than to shut down all State blogs. Period. Blogs by employees, blogs by spouses, it doesn't matter - all of them should be GONE. 


My husband has personally seen this side of State many, many times, via many different official people, during the course of an uncountable number of official meetings over the last few years. As many of my readers know, my blog has been shut down twice...most recently, just a couple of months ago. The only reason why my blog is up now and still exists today is because my DS Special Agent husband feels most emphatically that:


1.) I am a private U.S. citizen, and

2.) My blog represents/is protected by my right to freedom of speech.


Believe me when I say that he has endured much in defense of his position.


My husband is not alone in his belief that blogging is protected, free speech. Recently, the ACLU has jumped headfirst into the nasty fight currently going down between State and Peter van Buren. In support of blogging/free speech, the ACLU has written quite the awesomest of letters. In it, the ACLU says that State's blogging policies/practices are far, far too restrictive. That State's punitive actions against bloggers are unconstitutional. (And the ACLU hasn't even touched on the issue of other shut-down blogs or even the fact that non-employee SPOUSES write a large amount of State blogs.)


According to Diplopundit, if I understand correctly, State's initial reaction to the ACLU letter regarding bloggers' rights was to immediately... forbid all employees to read the letter. 


(Can they even DO that?  If so, on what grounds? It sort of looks like they classified the letter. Again, can they do that??)


So, yeah. That's one side of State - the side that hates blogging. With a passion.

                                                  ~   ~   ~


There's another side of State - the side that loves State blogs and blogging. In fact, just as much as the anti-blogging side wants nothing put out on the internet at all, the pro-blogging side can't get enough from us official State bloggers about State, our lives with State, our travels, our experiences, etc. 

(And I refer to myself as an "official State blogger" because, again, State keeps an official List of bloggers on the right side of its official state.gov website, and I've been on that List since the very first day it came out a few years ago. I'm actually listed *first*! Alphabetization! WOO!)

When The List first appeared and I was asked to be on it, James and I were overjoyed because we (mistakenly) thought that being on The List would thus mean that James would stop getting harassed by official channels over my blog. Because, you know, we figured that since I was all OFFICIAL NOW AND STUFF, that meant that I would have some semblance of authentication or protection or something.


HA HA HA!!!


Being on The Official Blog List actually painted an even bigger bulls eye on my back. And not just on my back, but on the backs of other State bloggers on The List. To date, to my knowledge, at least three State bloggers (and perhaps even up to five) on The List have since been shut down. And there were probably, oh, I don't know, only about a dozen or so blogs on that List when it began. So, you know, not the best odds of bloggy survival.


So, basically, to recap: The pro-blogging side of State puts The Official List together and encourages bloggers to write tons and tons of State-themed blog posts, and then the anti-blogging side of State goes and... shuts those blogs down because they're writing about State-themed stuff.


Don't know about you, but THAT MAKES *PERFECT* SENSE to me.


Well, State can't have dead blogs (that it shut down) linked to on its Official List after their demise. (Which it did, for a while, actually. I recall a time when two of the blogs were shut down and The List kept the dead blog links up on there for quite a while. They were just... dead links... that went to nothing when you clicked on them. It was odd.)

So someone at State must have realized that The List had to be actively updated. That the murdered blogs must be replaced with fresh, happy new ones! And then they evidently decided that they weren't just going to trim murdered blogs off The List, but also blogs that they felt WEREN'T "STATE ENOUGH," or didn't write frequently enough about State issues. (Which is utterly hilarious, because, like I said, one side of State shuts down blogs that it feels are too State, and the other is now removing blogs from its List when it feels that they aren't State enough.) 


One such recently-removed "not State enough" blog is written by my dear, sweet, amazing friend Jen Dinoia. Like other bloggers, I "grew up" in State reading her blog (because she and her husband, Peter, have been with State/DS far longer than many of the rest of us) and wanting to be like her. (Alas, I will never ACTUALLY be like her because she is a total sweetheart and I am... NOT.)


When James was first hired by DS, I read Jen's blog from beginning to end - all of her archives - more than once, and have followed her faithfully ever since. It is a privilege and honor to be able to say... she is my friend online. She is my friend in real life. She and I have literally laughed together and cried together. The Foreign Service is LUCKY to have her in its midst.


She's worth a thousand of me.


Jen isn't *just* a State blogger... she also is the glue that holds together basically all of the behind-the-scenes, morale-boosting, cohesion-building nifty communication-and-meet-up stuff for State folks. I mean, you attack Jen's blog, you attack Jen personally, especially when you drag Jen's breast cancer fight (REALLY??) into the reasoning behind why Jen's blog was removed from The List.


So, yes, I stand in solidarity with all other bloggers who have unashamedly used the word nipple (NIPPLE! NIPPLE! NIPPLE!!) in their blog posts today. (Which my husband thinks is utterly hilarious, by the way. A couple of blog posts ago, I used the word penis, and now nipple. Is there NO END to my irreverence?)


And I also call upon The People Who Make The List to please put Jen back on it. She deserves to be there far more than I do. 


[UPDATE: Jen's story is in The Washington Post!! GO JEN!]


                                                 ~   ~   ~


Above and beyond that, though, I will say that there must - and I mean MUST - be a fundamental change behind closed doors at State. State absolutely must wake up and change its senseless, harmful, hurtful reactions to all things social media.


Some of my dear friends (who are all far more intelligent than I) say that State just needs more/better policies regarding social media... but I don't know if I agree. Because until the behind-the-scenes attitude at State becomes blog tolerating instead of blog murdering, additional policies, even if they are initially written by folks at State who are pro-blogging in an attempt to somehow be helpful, could ultimately just be used as bigger bludgeoning clubs against us bloggers by those who are NOT.


And believe me when I say that that's the last thing we need.

China Randomness. Motherhood. Teenage Boys. Food. Etc.

So the other day it was Mother's Day.


My absolute favoritest You Tube video IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE is Mother's Day themed. I think I embed it into my blog Every. Single. Year. That's because it's made of epic win.


And also: Because it is my life.


My ENTIRE life.


Since I have two older sons. And they basically relate to each other Just. Like. This:





And can I just say?


You people with daughters?


Cute, adorable, dainty little daughters?


Meal times look like this:





Those of us with teenage sons?


Meal times look more like this:





The only thing that keeps mealtimes from looking *exactly* like that is if the teenage guy in question is trying to eat while also doing something else at the same time.


(For example, if he's trying to eat while also playing electronic games on something hand held.)

At which point, meal times could also look like this:





Table manners and hygiene.


Boys care about neither.


I have no idea how in the world I will marry either of mine off someday.


                                                  ~   ~   ~


In other newz, the last time I blogged, I talked about how James and Zachary traveled around China a bit and how they saw that schooling in China can be muuuuuch different than schooling in America. (To be continued, by the way.)


Well, after reading that, a State pal of mine here in China sent me a link to a really, REALLY whacked news story that really brings home just how *totally different* things can be here in China for high schoolers!


Basically, in China, any high school student wanting to go to college must take this HUGE test that is so huge it makes the SAT or ACT look like kindergarten. It's *so huge* that the outcome of that single test literally governs the direction of the rest of their lives. (The test has been called "the life-and-death turning point" for Chinese high school students.)


Their whole lives, all the opportunities they may or may not ever be given... which colleges they can or can not attend (or if they can attend AT ALL)... which careers they may and may not pursue... are boiled down to the results of this one single test.


And while preparing for that incredibly important test, some Chinese high school students are hooked up to IV drips. IN THE CLASSROOM:

Talk about something that wouldn't happen in the U.S.  You can read all about it here.


Utter WOW...you know?

 

In Which China is Toured, Part the First

So a few weeks ago it was time for the once-yearly, week-long field trip for the kiddoes in Zachary's age group at school.


Even from the time we knew that there was going to be a field trip, James and I knew that at least one of us would be going as a chaperone. This ISN'T because we're nosey parents who can't stand to be apart from their children for even two seconds, but IS because we literally can't even fathom sending a child's Diplomatic passport with its only Diplomatic stamped visa** out into the wild with countless other passports and visas (presumably in a huge, communal passport bucket?), whilst simultaneously sending one of our plague/sickness/injury prone children out into the big, wide, no-western-medical-care world without one of us being there. 


[**Seriously, can you IMAGINE if that thing got lost? It's not like you can replace it/the visa at a local Consulate or whatever.]

And it's not like James and I had to draw straws to figure out whether he would go or I would go. I mean, please. People with penises (penii?) are WAY, WAY more easily toted around China than people without. Furthermore, *I* have never moaned and whined about how I desperately wanted to tour every last inch of China and how I've been here in Chengdu without having gotten to yet like SOME of us have.


So, yeah. James went on the school field trip with Zachary and Zachary's school classmates while I stayed home with Matthew, because only the jr. high kids were going that week. James took days off of work, paid his hotel/flight/train/meal costs, and left me behind for a week in order to SEE THE WORLD.


Or, at least, the Chinese part of the world.

AND THERE WAS CHINA:



 

Waiting for them in all its glory! 


They flew out of Chengdu and flew to a different part of China (because China is big, yo!), and the first place they went was the Shaolin Temple. 


Which basically is a big, huge, GIGANTIC school where boys learn to kill people by using lots of different scary weapons.


Now, James is going to come home from work and read my blog and be all No it's not, it's the birthplace of martial arts! And Kung Fu! and... and then he'll talk all about what it really is and that's all great. But I'm sorry, when he came home from his trip and I downloaded all the pictures he took, it looked to me like the place was basically teaching boys how to use lots of different weapons to kill people.


Because the Shaolin Monk Warrior Guys know how to kill you with long poles:





And they know how to kill you with machetes and chains:





And they can fly around in the air upside down and kill you with disc thingees:





And tridents:





And whips:





And there are so many of them and so many different weapons that there's pretty much no end to the ways that they could kill you:

And there are so many younger students there (because it's also a school) that are also learning how to do all of this:

That when you tour the monastery, the young practicing students stretch out as far as the eye can see:





And it's all so very not like an American junior high or high school, you know? 


Because while all those well-disciplined Chinese junior high/high school guys were training and such, my American junior high son was...


... busily trying to make sure that there was at least one excellent photo of him with a water bottle suspended in midair, kind of like a UFO Flying Water Bottle:

So, yeah. If a well-trained Chinese Kung Fu Death Force comes hurling itself at my American son, they had darned well watch out for that water bottle, is all I'm saying.


(Insert here how different American and Chinese kids and schools are, etc.)


To be continued...

 

In Which This Federal Employee Family Fights Back

So I was hanging out on the Federal Times news website this morning. Nothing new there.


And I was reading about how, for the zillionth time, there's another plan out there to financially smack around federal employees. Nothing new there.


Seems the House Money People or Whoevertheyare Blahblah Committee has voted to basically cut federal pay by 5%. Nothing new there.


Then I read a comment on that news story that was very interesting. It seems to have been written by a fellow federal employee, and it said:


                                             ~   ~   ~


"Hey folks, I did a Google search on opposition to Paul Ryan, the architect of most of the cuts to federal pay and benefits and it looks like there is a promising fellow named Rob Zerban who is going up against Ryan in the Wisconsin 1st district. I just sent a donation to his election campaign against Ryan, hopefully it's a few bucks well spent. Just for the record, I don't work for the campaign or have any ties to the candidate nor was I asked to post anything on his behalf. It just seemed like the right thing to do since I don't live in Wisconsin and can't directly cast a vote against Ryan in the November election. Also I am posting this from my home computer and on my own time."


                                              ~   ~   ~


I read that and I was all WHOA.


You mean to tell me that most of the anti-federal-employee attacks, where people are freezing my husband's salary and freezing his cost of living adjustments and trying to take away his benefits and trying to screw with him financially left and right are mostly coming from one single political dude named Paul Ryan? I mean, I've never heard of the guy before, but I cannot TELL YOU how sick to death I am of Congresspeople trying to screw with my husband's pay and benefits. It's disgusting to me.


Now, here's a quick disclaimer. At this point in my life, I pretty much don't care about politics. And, actually, the only thing that's going to be a bummer about being on R&R to the States next month is that I'll be back in the world of American politics.


But, y'all, the one thing that motivates me to NO END is doing whatever I can to stop the continued attack on federal employees. 


So, anyway. The Googles tells me that this Paul Ryan dude is the House Budget Committee Chairman. And he has actually said that federal employees are "immune from the effects of the recession." Which is about the stupidest thing I have ever read. He has also said that "government bureaucrats in Washington enjoy significant advantages over those whose tax dollars finance their compensation." Except that most government employees live outside of Washington, haven't had pay increases or cost of living adjustments in YEARS, are barely middle class, and do all manner of things like guard our borders, keep our food safe, care for our disabled veterans, etc. Not to mention, you know, how some of us are living in crappy places in order to help Americans and American needs overseas. And how pretty much ALL of us are sick to death of being treated like we're worse than Satan and the root of all of the ills of the U.S. economy.


So I looked up the best challenger to this anti-federal-employee Paul Ryan dude, like that comment said. Meet:





Rob Zerban. And his lovely wife, Cornelia, of course.

Like the commenter, above, I cannot vote for Rob Zerban, because I don't live in Wisconsin. But I sure can give money to his campaign. 


And I have never, in my life, EVER given money to a political campaign before. No joke. 


Rob Zerban is a bit of the underdog in the race right now. His campaign has less cash than that anti-federal-employee Paul Ryan dude (who I guess is some sort of Political Big Deal or whatever), however, it's out there on the interwebz that Rob Zerban really does have a shot to unseat him.


So, you know what? I'm going to treat this almost like a drinking game. Every single time I read on Federal Times about how Mr. Political Big Deal Paul Ryan has sponsored this or is doing that to screw federal employees, I'm going to give money to the Rob Zerban campaign. 


At least it will make me feel better!

Welcome to China!

Recently, James had the pleasure of hanging out with a few State folks who came to China on a temporary basis to help out with stuff.


They'd never been to China before.


And now that James and I have been in China for something like almost eight months, it's interesting to see what folks that have newly-arrived notice that he and I don't even see anymore.


Before you move to China, people try to prepare you for some of the totally whacked things you will see when you get here. Except that I hate it when people say stuff in English that basically means nothing to me. For example, before we moved here we would read all manner of vague verbiage like "It is sometimes difficult for westerners to acclimate to some local Chinese practices." And I would think: What does that MEAN?!?! Use real English, please!


So I will. I will use real English for you, dear readers. Prepare yourselves.


Translate the above vague statement to: So, you will be walking down the sidewalk to go to lunch and then, on the sidewalk, there will be a human being that is pooping and you will be all HOLY CRAP, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!?! but you will keep walking while also trying not to step in phlegm/yellow puddles/poo, and you will remind yourself (for the zillionth time) that you will throw away all of the pairs of shoes that you've worn here in China at the end of your tour.


You see, babies/toddlers/young children here don't wear diapers.  They wear something called "split pants." (And this is a good time to tell you that I didn't take any of the pictures in this blog post - that I grabbed them all off the internet.)


Behold, split pants:




So, yes, you will be walking down the sidewalk/walking through the grocery store/walking through the museum/standing on the subway and then some kid will squat and out will come... the stuff you THINK comes out...and if you are with newly-arrived, visiting westerners who have never been to China before, you will very much have to tell them that yes, this happens. Constantly. 

Because that child? In this next picture? Is doing what you THINK it is doing:





Welcome to China.


If the child is old enough, it will squat on its own and do its thing, like the child in the picture above. If it isn't, the grandmother/mother will hold it in a certain way (yes, ANYWHERE), like this:




And when you walk by and you see a grownup/child combination in that sort of arrangement, you immediately look away unless you want to have to go home and bleach your eyes.


Sure, there are diapers here, but almost no parents use them. And no, it's not a money thing, at least for lots/many folks. At one point, James actually saw a Mercedes pull over on the side of the road (there's some serious money in China), the back door of the Mercedes open, two grownup arms extend out of the back seat holding a baby in the fashion like you see above, and a little penis flying about in the wind, doing its thing. 


Oh yeah, we're not in America anymore.


Chinese parents will walk down the street with their split-pantsed kid all holding them and playing with them and I see this sort of thing all the time:




And I think: isn't that sort of DANGEROUS?!?! For the parent, I mean?!? But, then again, I remember that it's really not my problem. 


I mean, it's my problem sometimes, of course. Because there we will be in McDonald's and I'll look over and I'll see some young child sitting in the chair all:




And I'm sorry - maybe this is totally Western Judgey McJudgerpants of me - but I can't help but think... ewwwwww.  


And then the same split-pantsed child runs into the little McDonald's playplace and slides down the plastic slide and I can't help but be grateful that my kids are basically grown and I don't have to forbid them from playing on the playplace equipment.


Or I'll be shopping somewhere and I'll look over at another shopping cart and I'll see:




And I'll inwardly roll my eyes and sigh. Not unlike what I do when I'm in the grocery store and there are little yellow puddles on the floor. 


NOTE TO VISITORS IN CHINA: Never step in the yellow puddles. It's not, like, canned pineapple juice that spilled or something. You will see them everywhere. After a while you will forget that they're there.


And yes, babies/toddlers/children will "go" ANYWHERE. Literally anywhere. 


Last time James was in the Chengdu airport flying out on a trip somewhere, he was standing in line at the ticket counter and - you guessed it - a child right next to him squatted and did its thing on the floor. 


OF THE AIRPORT.


So, yeah. I'll shut up now. I just wanted to prepare you, in case you ever came here. Because westerners may find it difficult to acclimate to some of the local practices.