Have I mentioned I'm in love with Alan Dart? I wonder if he's gay . . . I don't mean to stereotype, but the man knows cute! First I HAD TO HAVE his gnome pattern. I looked all over and finally sucommed to ebay- of course now I find it on his own website. Too late. Then I had to have - (it wasn't as urgent as the gnomes) some bears- then I made the mistake of looking him up again and I HAD TO HAVE this book. I MUST knit chickens and bunnies!

The next must have is the mice- need them, but I'll wait a more oportune moment for the mice . . .

yes- the mice shall be mine . . . My precious . . .

I have finished all the bits of my first gnome, just gotta sew him together. He's gonna be super cute!

So pk called the other day to inquire about spending some quality time at the Indian restaurant in my neck of the woods- this is the most authentic Indian restaurant I’ve ever seen not in India. It’s more India than some restaurants I did see in India.

When I take someone there, we are inevitably the only whities in the place. It’s even set up in the Indian style, where you have to go to different counters to order different kinds of food- you order it from one (or several) person/people then they call your table number –It is important to sit at a table which they know is not clear over the loud speaker. When they say 13 or 30 they know it’s not clear, so they will say, “13- one-three” or “30- three-zero.” If, however, you sit at table 11 for example- well they know that doesn’t sound like anything so when they say, “Table eh-hen!” They expect you to know that – ‘yes you whitie- I plainly said,’ “Table ehhen!” Then you will look at the woman calling tables and look at your table number “eleven” and realize she’s been calling you for the past minute and a half.

It is called the “Chaat House” which is basically Snack/Street/Fast food in India. Yes, as a matter of fact you can get an entire four course meal at a stand/up-street side restaurant in India. This place, however, has tables and chairs- snacks and meals. I saw it when I first moved to Irving, and just couldn’t bring myself to enter- but after about 6 months of no Indian food, I decided to try it out- It is South India in a strip mall. I deeply appreciate it now. In the same strip mall is an Indian supermarket. If you feel a need for a few liters of coconut oil, or maybe some bitter fruit, or masala tea- this is the place to go. Pk bought a candy bar- I felt obliged to also buy something. I looked at the pharmacy section- found some “creamy snuff” next to the “Monkey Brand Black Tooth Powder” Umm- no to both. I don’t even know what black tooth powder means- Is it for black teeth?

Does it make teeth black? Or is it the actual monkey they are describing? Is it for black monkeys or should it actually read, “Black Monkey Brand Tooth Powder.” I don’t get it. And as for the “Creamy Snuff-” Why is that in the pharmacy section? It’s slogan was “A Wonder Treasure of Tobacco Pleasure.” It said, “Means Feeling Fresh” on the box. Do you brush your teeth with it? Sounds like that would make your teeth black. I found a “Yorkie” candy bar- “Not for Girls!” Well- that can really cut down on sales one would think . . .


I found some “Fat Fat Digestive Pills.” Uh- I don’t even what to think about it.

I finally decided to go with the “Hello Bee Bee” candy. It was yellow, it had a bee on it which looked suspiciously like the “Honey Nut Cheerios” bee. Maybe it’s his Indian cousin. I was thinking, “Ooh, look, they are even shaped like little bee hives! Cute! They must have honey in them! I bet they taste delicious!”
Obviously, with this insanely optimistic train of thought, I have been away from India for too long- I was putting things together in such a way that they would make sense. My mistake.

When I got home I ate one of my “Hello Bee Bee” “honey” candies. First unexpected thing was that although it was “gummy” it wasn’t gummy like Gummy Bears. It wasn’t even gummy like Swedish Fish. It was more along the lines of gummy like Jello which has been left in the fridge, uncovered for about a year and a half. It was resistant to my chewing- it made me feel uncomfortable.

Second, I noticed that I wasn’t tasking honey at all. I was tasting . . . something else . . . something I recognized . . . something that did not belong in my mouth in candy form . . . it was SWEET CORN!
Dang it! That wasn’t a long skinny bee hive!! It was candy corn! REAL candy corn!

India- you’ve done it to me again. Blast you!

I would like to say "What the . . . ?" and "Ewww!"



Tampon dolls look great in your bathroom, maybe next to a toilet paper doll? Not meant for children. Great as a gift for that person with a sense of humor!

that being said you can buy these babies for only $10.00 each!

But sometimes when you are young, you think that you can do everything you want like smoking selling drugs, dancing, being unconscious. Young people should understand that when parants ask them not to o something bad, it is for their well-being. When you smoke, for sure you will get a deisease; when you are unconscious you can miss a lot of opportunity to success in your life Finally, to be young is good but to be young and conscious is great.

Words of wisdom from a former student

One of my students was talking on the phone in class. I asked her why she was talking on the phone during class time, she said, “I don’t know!” So I asked her who she was talking to, she said, “I don’t know!” then she said, “He wants his Jackie.” I asked her if she told him he had the wrong number. She said “Yes!” I asked her why she was still talking to him in that case. She said, “I don’t know! He called me his Jackie!”

I said, “Give me the phone.” I took the phone and told the guy he had called my international student and she didn’t understand what he wanted, and asked who he was calling for. He said he was just trying to talk to Jackie somebody. I said, “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.” He said, “Yeah I figured I might when she didn’t know what I was talking about.” So I hung up.

I asked my student why that was so difficult. “If you get a wrong number, you just say, ‘I’m sorry, you have the wrong number’ and hang up!”
She said, “But he called me his Jackie!”
I said, “But you aren’t Jackie!”
She said, “I thought he knew me!”
I said, “How could he know you if he called you the wrong name?”
She said, “He called me his Jackie!”
I said, “Are you Jackie?”
She said, “Jackie means “honey” in Korean. He said, “Hi Jackie (honey) and talked to me and I am not his Jackie (honey!) He was a bad man!”
Me: “Uh- no, he’s not a bad man . . . he just wanted to talk to (his) Jackie.”

That poor guy . . .