so soon?

EDIT – I think I’m finally done. Come see! No more updates here, so please update your blog rolls. Thank You!


Ok, the layout is still getting worked out — but due to a fortuitous turn of events (aka free hosting) I registered milktongue.com and I’m moving over. Same content, new cooler name.

It’s cool, right? Everybody update your links. Thank you!


school girl crush

In 4th grade I had a crush on a boy named Jason. We lived a few streets apart and had been playmates since we were small. Our parents would joke about how someday we’d get married and after awhile I found this speculation rather comforting. I felt very proprietary toward him although I don’t think he ever really returned my feelings.

One afternoon in science class, our teacher thought of a demonstration to show how 2 pieces of matter cannot occupy the same space at the same time. She asked Jason to sit in a chair at the front of the classroom and then asked someone to volunteer to sit on his lap. I wanted to be chosen so badly but I knew I couldn’t raise my hand.

Too sensitive to put up with the teasing that would follow and too proud to give Jason the satisfaction of knowing I liked him, I sat in my seat, hands demurely in my lap and stared. I mustered all the attention and focus at my 10 year old command and in a Matildaesque moment of glory, my teacher and I made eye contact. She picked me! I rose from my seat primly and as though I could barely be bothered to, walked to the front of the room and found my place in my beloved’s lap.

Today is the first day of 4th grade for Mitten. I’ve had an astonished “I can’t believe you’re in ___ grade” moment every year since preschool though this year feels different because I remember my own 4th grade year so very vividly. I was on the cusp of adolescence and all the social trials that go with that time occupied my full attention. Mitten is no different. I’m hoping I can guide her through this with a bit more grace than I had. It would help if she inherits my psychic powers.

(p.s. Jason married his high school sweetheart. They have 5 kids. They named their first daughter Katherine.)

kalbi chim

Today as I pulled into the parking lot of New Seoul Garden, I sang a little song to myself.

“…kalbi chim, oh kalbi chim – I will eat you, kalbi chim…”

I love kalbi chim and yooke jang and bibimbap. I like them even better than mashed potatoes when I’m feeling run down though I certainly don’t have to be sick to enjoy them.

Here is The Boy, sucking on the bones.


My husband and I recently caved to family pressure and agreed to have Toot and Pickle baptized. Recovering catholics ourselves, we weren’t going to go through all the rigamarole of attending baptismal classes but we told our parents that if they could make it happen without us, we’d show up with the kids on the appointed day. Well, Halmoni got it done and the kids are scheduled for their “dunking” in early November.

Free from original sin? Pffft. I get to buy baptismal clothing!


I ordered this dress for Toot and a matching, fully functional miniature tie for Mr. Baby from Bellasofia on Etsy. I know where to get him a white dress shirt but I’m still looking for the perfect pair of pants. Time to visit Janie and Jack.

I was on the phone with a friend this morning when I heard Toot shouting something at her sister. It took a minute to resolve the sound from background noise Toot-speak to standard English but when I did, I realized she was shouting “night of debauchery!” over and over. Thank you, Spongebob Squarepants. I cannot properly express how happy it makes me that she knows and uses this phrase.

Just a few minutes ago she was standing on our bed rocking a notebook and singing the first verse of rock-a-bye-baby. In tune.

I have a feeling that the deployment of her father’s ultra-withering “Your continued existence offends me” look is not far behind.

Two anecdotes proving that I am well on my way to decrepitude.

Coming from the park, I was turning on to Maple Road when two of these guys jumped out into traffic. They were aimed at a bar on the other side of the street. Annoyed that they were too cool to use the crosswalk provided, I paused and then went around them. Through the open window of my mini-van I heard one shout, “……soccer moms!” I gave them a “hand signal” as I stopped at the crosswalk only a few feet away.

My mother looked at me in amused disapproval.

“Sorry” I said. “But he called me a soccer mom! He gets the finger.”


Later that day I was talking with my dad about the guitar lessons he’s offering to members of his church youth group. In an effort to engage the kids, he asked them for the names of current bands whose music they might like to learn. Since names were not forthcoming, my father mentioned a few bands he thought they might like. He also told them a horrible groaner about Kurt Cobain and “decomposing”.


Probing why his “hilarious” joke had fallen flat he realized that not one of them had ever heard of Nirvana.

After 3 glorious months on a local project, my husband is back on the road.

It’s been a great summer though.