Power, Fame, or Winning?

I thought the Guardian really had something with their Charlie Sheen v Muammar Gaddafi quiz, but NY Mag did them one better with It’s Time to Play ‘Sheen, Beck, or Qaddafi?’

Yo should go check those out, but remember, these resentments, they are the rocket fuel that lives in the tip of my sabre!

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On a more serious tip, if you haven’t had a good cry in a while, go read this: The Someone You’re Not

Wat Ban Donnad

A couple months ago, when it was still “cold,” we visited a temple that we’d been hearing of for a while, Wat Ban Donnad (Wat Ban Don Nad?). At the end of a long, broken dirt road that runs through several villages, we ended up here:

You can see our destination out on the island:

We honked our horn, and a young monk on a small outboard came putt-putting out. Max saw the boat and it was on.

Max was wearing his inflatable life jacket all day in anticipation of riding on a boat.

The monk was shy, so I spared him the embarrassment of  a face shot.

There’s no electricity on the island, so we brought yard-long candles in addition to the usual food offerings. Giving these to a temple is the most popular form of making merit in Thailand. We talked to the monk that greeted us on the other side for a while, and he seemed to enjoy playing with the kids. Then he showed us the new temple they are building with massive slabs of timber floated down the river from Laos.

We walked around the island for a bit, then headed back to the boat.

We’ve since visited the landing again, but didn’t cross over because there was a temple festival with crowds of people, and they were packing themselves onto the tiny boats to cross over and back. In typical Thai fashion, the people sitting on the edge of the boats were half-heartedly bailing them out until the water inside reached their ankles, at which time the rate of bailing doubled or tripled – this would repeat until the boats reached their destination. When we saw this was happening, we decided it would be okay to pay our respects from the shore on this side.

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a seed

Max, in twenty years will you remember when daddy told you that chicken pox causes you to see Mickey Mouse Clubhouse episodes in black in white? Because it was actually a PAL to NTSC-J conversion problem. I hooked up your DVD player to an old brownscreen set we brought from Japan (that Auntie Merin gave us) that’s been sitting unused in our bedroom forever. We moved you there to be under the new cooler, since it eats comparatively little juice and is running all day to keep you from sweating…

Sorry ’bout that.

It is kinda funny, though (at least funnier than my other idea, which was to tell you you were turning into a dog).

Love,
daddy

Poxy Varicella

I came home yesterday after lecturing for two days, fresh off finals week, looking forward to a nice, relaxing evening and some much-needed sleep. Alas.

Max has chicken pox. Which means Mina will probably get them soon as well. Trying to keep babies living under the same roof quarantined is pretty much impossible, especially since the nanny isn’t around today, and Nam has a faculty meeting from now. It’s all on sleep-deprived daddy now… Max is just torture to look at with sores all over his mouth, writhing in agony and saying no to everything. Mina just wants to play. Plus the fuel pump in the Kujira died this morning. And the coffee in the pot tastes bitter.

A pox on pox.

Lunch break

I’m eating a plate of crab fried rice that looked unremarkable, but actually tastes quite amazing. This is a touristy dish that I pass on in Thailand because it’s usually got bits of shell in it, but it’s what they made for me today, and I’m glad they did – there’s huge chunks of crab meat hidden in the middle, and the egg was crispy with a runny yolk. Yum.

Meanwhile, there’s a guy who looks like jesuscristo floating in the huge hotel pool. If he turns it into wine, I’m calling off the afternoon lecture..

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