Such Great Heights

Now that I have taught my last class, finished most of my reading, dotted the i's and crossed the t's, I am feeling back to my usual heights of blogging genius. I have a new blogging space, lots-o-time, and a space heater to keep my fingers from freezing in typing position over the keyboard. I will once again spend my days watching Club 314 1/2, a.k.a. the alley outside our house, the hottest spot for limbless alley cats in heat, illegal Hispanic teenagers smoking weed, and the weird man who sits in his dark garage on a riding lawn mower, to get their respective grooves on.

Speaking of new heights, I had my first sampling of Vietnamese food today in Garden Grove and it was, in the words of the boba shop we got drinks at afterwards, "tast-tea." Spring rolls with crunchy pork, a clear vermicelli packed with pork, carrots, cabbage, and crushed walnuts, and sweet potatoes fried with shrimp and a yummy dipping sauce. Why have I lived this long without grubbing on Vietnamese food? Oh yeah -- I grew up in Aurora, Illinois, not only home of Wayne and Garth, but such local delicacies as "the slider" from White Castle. I didn't know any Asians, unless you count my doctor, Dr. Hao, a nice guy and doctor whom I was nevertheless mortified to have examine me by the time junior high rolled around. What thirteen year-old girl wants their male doctor (of any ethnicity) to check and make sure that she's developing? I don't know that I've ever been more embarassed than by that visit to Dr. Hao, unless you count the time that I mentioned I had diarrhea in a microphone at an all-school assembly, followed by an utter all-school silence.