British Museum and the London Dungeon

London is magnificent! It is has been so fun to share the experience with Sarabeth and see where her home has been these past few months.

For those who are wondering, aside from a cold virus, she is doing well right now. Looks like she will be able to wait until April to have surgery and our time here won't be spent using the British Health Care System. That makes my heart very glad.

Yesterday we ventured out to the British Museum.

Fascinating place. I enjoyed seeing the stone carvings from places like Ninevah and Egypt that were from 700 BC.

Truly incredible, the stories etched in rock in massive pieces.

Outside the museum, was a street vendor. I had to try the cornish ice cream.

As Michael described it, a cross between ice cream and whipped cream.

Later in the day, we visited the London Dungeon, where we shared in the horrors of British past. Jack-the-Ripper, Sweeney Todd, The Great Fire of London, Bloody Mary and the likes.

I only wish we could have brought our camera inside. After the tour, I took this pic of Sarabeth:


For Ghost Hunter fans, I took this picture right before the last one.

What's with the red mist?

Lastly, a terrifying capture:

London

What is London without a photo shoot in a red phone booth?


This was at the Picadilly Station.


Big Ben


I love seeing the sculptures


and architecture of both old and new.

Flying

Time flies when you are having fun. We are having a grand time in turbo speed. When traveling so much happens in a short amount of space, there isn't time to blog much. Trying to keep a written journal to catch up later.

Busan has an interesting bit of history. Michael's dad spoke of it as a place he spent time during the Korean War.

We found these photos of what the area looked like in 1950-1953.


We so wished we could share these with Grandpa, knowing they most likely would spark stories from that time.


This last one, the top shows the area back then and the bottom the current look of the same location.

It was especially poignant watching this older gentleman browse the locks of love. He seemed to be searching, as he picked through them, turning them to read what was written. He was alone, and I couldn't help but wonder if sometime in years past, he and his lover had penned their forever loved and locked it onto the fence.


We also visited an instrument museum, which was fascinating.


As you can see,

Christopher was the grand master at playing instruments.

A 10 second video



and one more:

A Few Photos

Just returned from Busan on the KTX. Pretty impressive to ride a train going 300 km/hr., or roughly 180 mph.


I realized a little late, at the fish market, that I had my camera on manual focus, but didn't attempt to focus, so he claritity is lacking.






After browsing through so many live and dead fish,


we opted for something else for dinner....


pizza hut,


at the mall,

And watched a show in the middle of the mall.


Will share more later, and this is just a random photo where we were obviously a little nervous about what we were eating.

And the kids.

Happy Birthday Hilary!!!

My baby is 19 today. One more year, and the teen years will officially end. For both of us. I guess we'll have to start acting like grown ups soon.

I love everything about you, Hilary-how beautiful you are both inside and out,

your silliness,

your loving care with Ethan,

forever finding ways to keep us entertained.

You aren't afraid of challenges,

and love making us laugh.

You inspire others to be there best,

and never forget to laugh.

How did we get such a wonderful daughter?

Our family just wouldn't be the same without you.

Happy Birthday Hilary, wish we were with you!

Signs That You Are In Korea

You know you are in Korea when:
you have Bulgogi Bimbob for lunch


Nights look like this:


You see buildings and people everywhere


You share the streets with cars,

Your blog has mysterious Korean characters showing at the top:



Home looks like this:


And you get to spend time with Lauren & Christopher

And Derek too!

Happy Birthday To Me!

Wow, what a long flight it was from San Francisco to Seoul. We were served 3 meals. I'm trying to take lots of pictures. At the moment, this was the best birthday photo. After traveling for 24 hours, with no sleep, I looked rather spent in. Prior to our trip, I slept for about an hour and a half after a very busy day. I needed way more sleep than I did in my previous post.

Off to take a nap. Here's one more of the birthday in Christopher and Lauren's lovely studio apartment where we are staying. They are giving up their bed to sleep on the floor. Is that amazing or what?

I Need Sleep

Tick tock, tick tock, counting down of the clock. In less than 5 hours, I have to wake up. I am supposed to board a plane that will take me halfway around the world. It doesn't seem real or even possible, but ready or not, here I come.

I feel like I'm forgetting so many things, leaving too many things unfinished. Five minutes into the flight, I most likely will remember what all I've forgotten. It feels uneasy.

I almost started to cry in the store tonight. Even though I am so very excited to see my kids in 2 countries, an overwhelming sadness of the ones I'm leaving behind hit me. What if we never come home? What if....I think the 4 1/2 hours of sleep I had last night is catching up to me.

I'm also uneasy about leaving someone else in my kitchen. This is where I am most at home. It's like letting someone else wear your shoes and socks. It is just weird. Especially since there is no time for her to get acclimated to.....well, to my way of doing things. I was serious when I told you I was a food nazi. Very serious. Ask any of my family members. It's one thing to let others help out in my kitchen, it's something completely different letting them have full control. And I won't be there! It makes me scared.

I'm off to dreamland, the short version. Tomorrow is the real deal.

Hi, My Name Is Joanne. I'm A...

I'm a food nazi. I shamelessly admit it. Truthfully, I was a little ashamed last week. I hurt someone's feelings. I'm becoming more and more proficient in offending others, while protecting my gf food. I've done it 3 times in the past week-that I'm aware of. So I confess, I'm a food nazi. I will always be a food nazi.

When it comes to avoiding wheat gluten, I am over the top careful. Too frequently, Elisabeth gets sick from accidental ingestion of wheat gluten. Or barley. Or oats. Or Rye. She tries not to make it an issue. She doesn't want to be "one of those people" who constantly complains how easily cross-contamination happens or how sick she gets. She doesn't it to be an imposition on her friends and family, or make them uncomfortable. She doesn't want to trouble them. So I do it for her, happily. Sometimes it embarrasses her.

What does a food nazi look like? Let's just say, I view wheat gluten and her cohorts as the enemy. I do everything I can to keep them out of my home and away from my kitchen. So far, that has not been possible. When I see toast crumbs in the butter, or on the counter, I tend to freak out. I border on OCD.

When making a sandwich on wicked wheat bread, you commit a grand faux pas if you stick your knife in the mayo, spread it on a slice, then dip it back in the jar. You have just contaminated an entire jar of mayonnaise . If I didn't see it happen, and I use that mayo to make salad dressing, I inadvertently introduce gluten into what I believe is a gluten free meal. I am left wondering what made my daughter so sick, when I was so careful.

Sometimes it is preferable for others to NOT try to prepare gluten free food. When Sarabeth arrived in London, her new family knew she couldn't eat gluten. They very carefully prepared a soup recipe that they believed was gluten free. Before serving their lovely stew, a decision was made to thicken the soup. What ingredient was used? Flour. Good ol' gluten-stuffed wheat flour. So their careful attempt at making gluten free soup was sabotaged.

At Thanksgiving, one of Sarabeth's friends painstakingly attempted a gluten free dinner. She took Sarabeth shopping and had her oversee the preparations to make sure she had lots of gluten free food Sarabeth could eat. Gluten free turkey, stuffing, pie crust...she even thickened her gravy with cornstarch instead of flour. Right before serving the dinner, the host grabbed a dinner roll and dipped it into the gravy to taste for seasonings. And with that quick dunk, she contaminated the gravy with gluten, making it inedible for Sarabeth.

Unlike most 12 step programs, I'm not here to change. I feel it's my job to bring an awareness to others-and force them to change, when necessary. Believe me, it's necessary.

I'm Done

I was reading PW's blog regarding grammar and the use of "done" and "finished." She explained:

"it was drilled into me time and time again that while both 'done' and 'finished' meant 'brought to completion or accomplished,' DONE was used to describe things. FINISHED was used to describe people.

This is an overly simplified description of the rule, but in general, this is how I always understood it:

Correct: I am finally finished with my homework.
Incorrect: I am finally done with my homework."

PW wondered if this was an antiquated rule of grammar. I find it interesting that I've never heard of this rule. Not that this doesn't mean anything, it's just that I've been around longer than most. (Based on the fact that I'm older than the median age-way older.)

At the end of a day, I often say, "I'm done." While some would laugh and say, "Cakes are done, people are finished," I think I'm correct in this usage when I say "I'm done." As in, "Lord, if you don't take me out of the fire now, I'm gonna be burnt to a crisp. I'm done already."

Which makes me think of Jesus' last words on the cross, "It is finished." (That is, if he'd spoken in English.) I'm glad he said His task was truly finished, as opposed to "I'm done. Get me out of here."

Some Just Naturally Give

I was on the phone to my sister, Laurie. We had nearly 2 hours of catching up to do. While we were chatting, my nephew was busy evesdropping. Every few minutes he'd interject into our conversation until finally my sister asked, "will you just talk to Paul?"

Paul got on the phone. I inquired about school and asked how he enjoyed the cruise with his broken arm. After a few minutes, my sister got back on the phone. Paul went back to talking in the background.

"Hey mom! Has Aunt Joanne ever gone on a cruise?"
"No, Paul. She hasn't."
"Mom, we should take her on a cruise. Don't you think Aunt Joanne would like to go on a cruise?"

I hear my sister laugh.

"Yes, Paul. If we bought Aunt Joanne a ticket to go on a cruise, I'm sure she would absolutely love it. Now can you please go to bed so I can talk to my sister?"

I laughed too. My nephew has a heart of gold.

When Paul was 2, I stayed at my sister's home so I could meet his new baby brother. Laurie had some serious magnetic locks on everything in her house. Paul was a little houdini. The first day there, my sister was busy with the baby, and Paul wanted a drink. I filled his sippy cup with juice. He grinned and said, "Tank you."

Later in the day, after his dad came home, we were visiting in the living room. I watched Paul wander into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he appeared in the doorway. His chubby little hands were wrapped tightly around a glass of water. Somehow he had managed to climb up onto the counter, get a glass from the cupboard, and fill it halfway with water. He toddled in my direction, sloshing a bit of water with each step. I jumped out of the chair, to rescue both the glass and save him from completely soaking his shirt. He looked very pleased with himself as I took the cup.

His dad scolded him for climbing on the counter. But I looked beyond his disobedience. I saw a little boy with a generous spirit. This tall-for-his age two year old stood as a gentle giant: kind, thoughtful, & selfless. He was returning my earlier favor by offering me a refreshing drink.

Before going to bed, he needed a pull-up. Laurie was again busy with the baby, so Paul helped me find the diapers. I got a big hug before he went to bed. Early the next morning, I heard little footsteps upstairs. In hopes that I could be helpful to my sister, I hopped in the shower, so I'd be ready for the day. Within a few minutes, I heard tapping on the door. I poked my head out of the shower, "who is it?" No answer. I finished as fast as I could, knowing Paul must be waiting on the other side of the door.

Knock, knock, knock...I turned the shower off and quickly grabbed a towel. The tapping continued and then I heard a little voice, "open de door." I could tell his lips were pressed against the crack on the ground, where the floor and the door didn't quite meet. "Open de door, Aunt Doanne, open de door." His voice was urgent. Not quite dry, I pulled my clothes on and opened the door.

There stood Paul with his arms raised.

"Here you go." To my amazement, Paul held his gift up for me. Clutched in his hands was a pair underwear. My big girl panties that he must have found after foraying through my suitcase.

"Why thank-you Paul!" If I'd known of his generous offering, I wouldn't have bothered to dress so quickly. I could have opened the door wearing a towel and accepted his gift more readily. I hoped I didn't disappoint him since I was already dressed. I would never want to discourage this big-hearted boy.

I really should let Paul take me on that cruise. Afterall, it would encourage his kindness and give him great satisfaction.

The Countdown Begins

I was thinking of doing a 2 week countdown to our trip, or at least a 10 day one. This morning I decided to figure out what day I needed to start. Well, that would be a week ago. Or at the very least 2 days back. I now have 7 days, 17 hours, and 17 minutes until the plane takes off with me in it. (And at this moment those numbers really are the exact. I did NOT make them up.)

What this really means is: I won't be losing 15 lbs. before my departure. Which really means: I have nothing to pack, nothing to wear. Oh my word! How exciting this trip is going to be, it really and truly means I can take an almost empty suitcase and come back with lots of souvenirs. Either that or I'll be wearing the same two outfits the entire time I'm there-or going naked.

I am not going naked...not one single day. Aren't you glad to hear that?

Thank-you all who took my bathtub poll. Your answers confirmed my own thoughts on the subject. Consequently, I won't be having a bathroom remodel while I'm out of the country. Come on, nobody does that. Oh yes they do! My neighbors had a wall torn out, their kitchen completely remodeled, a bathroom, and I can't remember what else. While the destruction/construction was taking place, they spent 6 weeks in Australia. I kid you not. They came home to a completed house. How cool would that be?

I couldn't afford to do both anyway. But I can dream.

Speaking of dreams, I have a dream. In my dream, nobody is sick. I don't wake up to 4 urgent phone messages/texts or emails needing me to call/text/skype ASAP. I won't hear about an early morning ER visit from the dorm kid. Instead I'll hear all is well, she had a wonderful night studying, then sleeping, and getting an amazing grade on her test.

I won't hear that my Londoner needs surgery and wonder if it can wait until she gets home or if it will be done in a foreign country with a national health care system. Instead I will hear of her travels to Ireland & Scotland. I will meet up with her in a few weeks and see the sights with her, without worrying about things like surgery.

In my dream, there are no coughs or doctor visits that might prevent my mother-in-law from traveling. No fever, severe pain or trips to the emergency room because nobody can figure out what is causing it. Both Elisabeth's will wake up and forget what it feels like to be sick instead of not being able to remember a day when all was well.

If my dream goes well, we'll meet up with our Korean couple kids, and try new foods and hear them tell about their decisions about coming home.

I have not heard from my grandson or daughter this week. Not once. I sure hope that means not only that all is well, but that life is grand and good.