Well, October has been filled with some great new things: weekend travel, CPR and first aid class, new recipes, and an owl sighting. November looms, so I have some thinking to do. November is one of my favorite new thing months because it's also my birthday month. For several years now, my friends Wanda, Karen, and I have celebrated each other's birthdays by doing whatever the birthday girl wants to do. In my case, this means that I have captive company on my November new thing expedition.
So what do I have planned for this month? Well, I have no idea what I'll plan for my birthday outing--feel free to send recommendations--but I do have one thing up my sleeve. I've dreamed of a kitchen renovation ever since I moved into my house thirteen years ago, so this month, I'm going to start getting a little more serious about my dream. My friend Lisa, an artist, architect, and designer, is going to come over to help me figure out what I might be able to do. I'm excited to hear her thoughts. I don't think I can afford a complete renovation, but maybe it won't take many changes to make the kitchen more workable. I have to admit, it's an adorable space now. It's vintage 1935, complete with the original linoleum and the big drainboard sink, but I'm done with adorable. I want storage and countertops. I want a floor that doesn't have 76 years of grime ground into it.
I suspect that it will take me a long time to put this kitchen idea into real action, but I'm looking forward to the planning. As for my 53rd birthday, I'm not looking forward to that quite as much.
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Sunday, October 30, 2011
Saturday, October 29, 2011
In My Wildest Dreams
Last night, I composed a song in my dreams. The tune was catchy enough that when I woke up periodically throughout the night, it was still running through my head. I wish I'd written it down, because all I remember of it now is that it was about an ancient battle fought by big, burly men in kilt-like outfits that were covered by chainmail. Oh, and also that the song was used as the background music for a car commercial.
I love my dream self. She's clearly more creative and successful than I am, plus she does really brave and heroic things. A few nights ago, she saved a cat from drowning in a pond full of slippery Chinese noodles. She's spent some time in death camps, found and beaten the crap out of murderers hiding under her bed, and has successfully handled more than a few student uprisings involving eraser throwing and heckling (on the part of the students, that is). Once, she found a Bassett Hound and named him the astoundingly perfect and creative name of Mr. Barker. She's wonderful.
Of course, she hasn't always been so daring and creative. She's done some supremely stupid stuff. She spent countless, recurring dreams running from monkeys and apes in her childhood, and she never seemed capable of figuring out that if she went inside, she'd be free of them. In dangerous situations where it's crucial that help be called, she is ridiculously bad at dialing the phone--and it's always a rotary phone that stumps her. She is always getting lost, too. I guess that's something we share in common.
One of my middle aged complaints is insomnia, so when I sleep well enough to dream, I'm thrilled. I feel a little cheated when my dreams don't entertain me. If they aren't worthy of recreation as a horror movie or if they don't make me laugh upon waking, who needs them?
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I love my dream self. She's clearly more creative and successful than I am, plus she does really brave and heroic things. A few nights ago, she saved a cat from drowning in a pond full of slippery Chinese noodles. She's spent some time in death camps, found and beaten the crap out of murderers hiding under her bed, and has successfully handled more than a few student uprisings involving eraser throwing and heckling (on the part of the students, that is). Once, she found a Bassett Hound and named him the astoundingly perfect and creative name of Mr. Barker. She's wonderful.
Of course, she hasn't always been so daring and creative. She's done some supremely stupid stuff. She spent countless, recurring dreams running from monkeys and apes in her childhood, and she never seemed capable of figuring out that if she went inside, she'd be free of them. In dangerous situations where it's crucial that help be called, she is ridiculously bad at dialing the phone--and it's always a rotary phone that stumps her. She is always getting lost, too. I guess that's something we share in common.
One of my middle aged complaints is insomnia, so when I sleep well enough to dream, I'm thrilled. I feel a little cheated when my dreams don't entertain me. If they aren't worthy of recreation as a horror movie or if they don't make me laugh upon waking, who needs them?
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Thursday, October 27, 2011
Chicago!
One of my October new things was an academic year weekend getaway. Oh, I've gone out of town for a weekend during the school year before, but only for family get together or conferences. This past weekend, I flew off to Chicago to visit friends, and I had a wonderful time. Just before my sabbatical ended, I made a "note to self" to remind myself of the things that made me happy over the past few months, and I pledged to continue them once school started. Travel and friends were at the top of the list.
Chicago is a fabulous city: big and friendly and sitting smack dab on a Great Lake. And when you have friends like Nell and Peter showing you around: amazing. First, we went to the Illinois Holocaust Museum in Skokie. I know: not an upbeat start to a weekend away, but it was so interesting. The largest population of Holocaust survivors in the US settled in Skokie after the war. In the late 70s, neo-Nazis threatened to march on Skokie, and the survivors and their supporters rose up to prevent that from happening. One of the things they did in the aftermath was to create the Holocaust Memorial Foundation of Illinois and the, later, the museum itself. The museum is a good one, and I've seen plenty: the museum at Auschwitz, the Imperial War Museum's exhibit in London, and the US Holocaust Museum in DC. I'm glad I saw it. As an added bonus, my students got to hear all about it when I got back to Cincy.
Our next stop was the Baha'i Temple in Wilmette, IL. Wow. If you've never seen the place, have a look at their website. The building reminds me of a giant wedding cake. http://www.bahai.us/bahai-temple/. The gardens there are lovely, even in October. The place was a nice antidote for the heaviness we felt after a couple of hours in the museum in Skokie.
Besides the great conversation, I think my favorite part of the visit was the food. Nell and Peter took me to a place in their neighborhood called Green Zebra on Saturday night. They serve small plates of the most wonderful food, so you order several things, and each dish was delicious. I had Butternut Squash Soup with smoked apple, blue cheese, cider, and spiced pecans; Black Truffle Farm Egg Raviolo, with celery root, caramelized parsnip, and pea tendrils; and Country Flatbread, with smoked white bean puree, tropea onion, broccoli florets, chili oil, and sesame. Oh man! Absolutely fantastic. Nell and Peter ordered a birthday dessert for me, so that was a lovely surprise! The next day, we went to brunch at a place called North Pond Restaurant in Lincoln Park. I loved this place. It's housed in a hundred year old building with an arts and craft style interior. I had Shrimp Polenta, Arctic Char, and Apple Caramel tart. We had a nice walk along the lake shore after lunch, so I got my Great Lakes fix.
My first weekend getaway was a great success, thanks to my friends' generosity. Thanks, Nell and Peter!
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Chicago is a fabulous city: big and friendly and sitting smack dab on a Great Lake. And when you have friends like Nell and Peter showing you around: amazing. First, we went to the Illinois Holocaust Museum in Skokie. I know: not an upbeat start to a weekend away, but it was so interesting. The largest population of Holocaust survivors in the US settled in Skokie after the war. In the late 70s, neo-Nazis threatened to march on Skokie, and the survivors and their supporters rose up to prevent that from happening. One of the things they did in the aftermath was to create the Holocaust Memorial Foundation of Illinois and the, later, the museum itself. The museum is a good one, and I've seen plenty: the museum at Auschwitz, the Imperial War Museum's exhibit in London, and the US Holocaust Museum in DC. I'm glad I saw it. As an added bonus, my students got to hear all about it when I got back to Cincy.
Our next stop was the Baha'i Temple in Wilmette, IL. Wow. If you've never seen the place, have a look at their website. The building reminds me of a giant wedding cake. http://www.bahai.us/bahai-temple/. The gardens there are lovely, even in October. The place was a nice antidote for the heaviness we felt after a couple of hours in the museum in Skokie.
Besides the great conversation, I think my favorite part of the visit was the food. Nell and Peter took me to a place in their neighborhood called Green Zebra on Saturday night. They serve small plates of the most wonderful food, so you order several things, and each dish was delicious. I had Butternut Squash Soup with smoked apple, blue cheese, cider, and spiced pecans; Black Truffle Farm Egg Raviolo, with celery root, caramelized parsnip, and pea tendrils; and Country Flatbread, with smoked white bean puree, tropea onion, broccoli florets, chili oil, and sesame. Oh man! Absolutely fantastic. Nell and Peter ordered a birthday dessert for me, so that was a lovely surprise! The next day, we went to brunch at a place called North Pond Restaurant in Lincoln Park. I loved this place. It's housed in a hundred year old building with an arts and craft style interior. I had Shrimp Polenta, Arctic Char, and Apple Caramel tart. We had a nice walk along the lake shore after lunch, so I got my Great Lakes fix.
My first weekend getaway was a great success, thanks to my friends' generosity. Thanks, Nell and Peter!
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Sunday, October 16, 2011
Backyard Birding
Last night, I had dinner with friends. Before we ate, we sat on the deck, looking out on their lovely, wooded backyard. There was a lot of bird activity in the trees--a trio of squeaking blue jays were dipping and diving at what appeared to be big knob on a tree branch. I watched the commotion for a few seconds before the big knob turned it's head and peered up at the wine drinking humans on the deck: an owl!
I've always wanted to see an owl out in nature. I've seen a few in sad little caged bird displays in my childhood. I remember one in some state park or another with a long row of birds of prey, all caged up in their own teeny cages, not even big enough to accommodate their giant wingspans. There were hawks and vultures, eagles and owls. Last night was my first owl in the wild. It was just lovely. One of my dinner companions took out his iPhone and identified it as a barred owl. He said that they're usually about 21 inches long, have dark eyes and no ear tufts, and have a wingspan of about 45 inches. We watched our owl sit patiently as the blue jays tried to scare him off. He even let us walk up to him--not too close, but closer than our deck perch--and he just sat and stared back at us with his dark eyes. Eventually, he was scared into another tree and then off into the woods. He was a real beauty (or she was. Who knows which?). I know I've said that my new things need to be intentional, but I'm counting the owl. My new thing campaign; my rules. Here's a photo of a barred owl, by the way.
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I've always wanted to see an owl out in nature. I've seen a few in sad little caged bird displays in my childhood. I remember one in some state park or another with a long row of birds of prey, all caged up in their own teeny cages, not even big enough to accommodate their giant wingspans. There were hawks and vultures, eagles and owls. Last night was my first owl in the wild. It was just lovely. One of my dinner companions took out his iPhone and identified it as a barred owl. He said that they're usually about 21 inches long, have dark eyes and no ear tufts, and have a wingspan of about 45 inches. We watched our owl sit patiently as the blue jays tried to scare him off. He even let us walk up to him--not too close, but closer than our deck perch--and he just sat and stared back at us with his dark eyes. Eventually, he was scared into another tree and then off into the woods. He was a real beauty (or she was. Who knows which?). I know I've said that my new things need to be intentional, but I'm counting the owl. My new thing campaign; my rules. Here's a photo of a barred owl, by the way.
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Friday, October 14, 2011
New Things Save Lives
New thing for October? Check. Today I completed phase one of my CPR and First Aid class at the university. Not only do I earn one big credit for this class, but assuming I pass both phases (two three hour classes), I get Red Cross certification and two nifty cards for my wallet to prove it. I have to say that I really enjoyed the class. I'm a much better student at age 52 than I was when I was really taking college classes. I smiled, I nodded, I participated actively, I made major eye contact, and I asked lots of good questions. I give myself an A for the day.
In fact, I earned a big, fat 100% on my end-of-class exam. We spent the day practicing CPR chest compressions and ventilation skills on freaky half mannikins. We also practiced using the automated external defibrillator (AED). I didn't lose a single plastic patient all day, so I think I'm good to go. After CPR training on both the adult and the teeny baby mannikins, we learned how to do the Heimlich Maneuver on adults, children, and babies. As a bit of added excitement, the instructor informed us we could use the technique on ourselves. Yippee.
The class was co-taught by one nice professor and one stern one. Okay, maybe not totally stern. She was just the kind of professor who does not want to be asked questions that suggest that the multiple choice answers on the Red Cross exam are a wee bit ambiguous. We teamed up to take the exam, and my adorable nursing student partner and I had trouble with one answer. All afternoon, we'd been taught that when administering CPR, alone or with a partner, you alternate between compressions and ventilation. You do not administer them simultaneously. One question had a list of possible answers that all seemed wrong. The closest one to right said that when you team up to do CPR, on person does compressions while the other does ventilation. That pesky word "while" troubled me, and after I pointed it out to my almost-nurse partner, it bugged her, too. It sounded suspiciously like it was saying your performed these things simultaneously. We chose it as our answer, and we were right, but I couldn't keep my problem with the wording to myself. Stern professor said (with a major tone), "the answer is perfectly clear. There is nothing wrong with the wording.". Nice professor said, "she's an English professor, she might have a point.". Of course she quickly followed it up with this : "Sue, is it possible you're over thinking this?". Ah, how quickly people get to know me! Alas, when I was awarded my perfect 100%, I didn't much care about that pesky word, "while."
So, my new thing this month was really pretty cool. I don't know that I'll have the presence of mind to do things exactly right in the event of an emergency, but I know I'll try. I was required to take the class in order to lead my 2012 study abroad trip. If any potential 2012 students are reading this, I beg of you: keep your airways clear and your hearts healthy. I don't much want to put this new thing into practice.
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In fact, I earned a big, fat 100% on my end-of-class exam. We spent the day practicing CPR chest compressions and ventilation skills on freaky half mannikins. We also practiced using the automated external defibrillator (AED). I didn't lose a single plastic patient all day, so I think I'm good to go. After CPR training on both the adult and the teeny baby mannikins, we learned how to do the Heimlich Maneuver on adults, children, and babies. As a bit of added excitement, the instructor informed us we could use the technique on ourselves. Yippee.
The class was co-taught by one nice professor and one stern one. Okay, maybe not totally stern. She was just the kind of professor who does not want to be asked questions that suggest that the multiple choice answers on the Red Cross exam are a wee bit ambiguous. We teamed up to take the exam, and my adorable nursing student partner and I had trouble with one answer. All afternoon, we'd been taught that when administering CPR, alone or with a partner, you alternate between compressions and ventilation. You do not administer them simultaneously. One question had a list of possible answers that all seemed wrong. The closest one to right said that when you team up to do CPR, on person does compressions while the other does ventilation. That pesky word "while" troubled me, and after I pointed it out to my almost-nurse partner, it bugged her, too. It sounded suspiciously like it was saying your performed these things simultaneously. We chose it as our answer, and we were right, but I couldn't keep my problem with the wording to myself. Stern professor said (with a major tone), "the answer is perfectly clear. There is nothing wrong with the wording.". Nice professor said, "she's an English professor, she might have a point.". Of course she quickly followed it up with this : "Sue, is it possible you're over thinking this?". Ah, how quickly people get to know me! Alas, when I was awarded my perfect 100%, I didn't much care about that pesky word, "while."
So, my new thing this month was really pretty cool. I don't know that I'll have the presence of mind to do things exactly right in the event of an emergency, but I know I'll try. I was required to take the class in order to lead my 2012 study abroad trip. If any potential 2012 students are reading this, I beg of you: keep your airways clear and your hearts healthy. I don't much want to put this new thing into practice.
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Saturday, October 8, 2011
Forbidden Fruit
I took a nice drive with my Guy today. Guy is the name I've given to my brand new used GPS. I chose his name for this stunningly creative reason: he's the guy who keeps me from getting lost--the manly name due to his manly voice, of course. Somebody told me the other day that his GPS speaks to him in the voice of Bart Simpson. Funny, I'm sure, but I like my Guy just fine. Sometimes he pronounces words in a halting way, stressing the wrong syllable, so I've taken to pronouncing Guy with my best French accent, making his name rhyme with the word "see," with a hard G. Of course, this always makes me launch into the one bit of back and forth dialogue that remains in my head from High school French. It begins with "Bonjour, Guy!". He doesn't keep up his end of the dialogue, but that's okay.
So off we went, Guy and I, off to the country to an orchard to buy apples. I was busy running errands all day long, and I was getting a little cranky that my day off was turning into a giant to-do list. Someplace in Northern Kentucky, I hauled Guy out of the trunk, plugged him in, entered the address, and set off in search of fruit and a pleasant little drive. What a gorgeous drive it was: sunshine, blue skies, trees in every shade of gold and green and orange and red. Spectacular. I drove past some kind of pumpkin festival, but I resisted. I was looking for homegrown apples. Eventually, Guy got me safely to my destination, Rouster's Apple House, where I was greeted by this sad sign: We're Semi-Retired. Thanks for Your Patronage. They were closed forever. Alas, Guy can get me where I want to go without getting lost, but he can't remind me to check to see if the final destination is open before leaving home.
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So off we went, Guy and I, off to the country to an orchard to buy apples. I was busy running errands all day long, and I was getting a little cranky that my day off was turning into a giant to-do list. Someplace in Northern Kentucky, I hauled Guy out of the trunk, plugged him in, entered the address, and set off in search of fruit and a pleasant little drive. What a gorgeous drive it was: sunshine, blue skies, trees in every shade of gold and green and orange and red. Spectacular. I drove past some kind of pumpkin festival, but I resisted. I was looking for homegrown apples. Eventually, Guy got me safely to my destination, Rouster's Apple House, where I was greeted by this sad sign: We're Semi-Retired. Thanks for Your Patronage. They were closed forever. Alas, Guy can get me where I want to go without getting lost, but he can't remind me to check to see if the final destination is open before leaving home.
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Neighborhood Watch
There's been a lot of change on my street since I moved in thirteen years ago. I live in one of those city neighborhoods that always seems to be teetering between borderline blight and exciting renewal. The bad economy hasn't helped the tip of that teeter-totter. On my daily walks, I see more litter, more empty storefronts, more overgrown properties. I don't have to walk too many blocks from my front door to feel discouraged about my little slice of the city.
My street is still okay, though. Most of my neighbors take care of their properties, and if they don't, they have some of the rest of us to reckon with. Homeownership brought out the watchdog in me. It seems to me that if you buy a house in a neighborhood like mine, you're also investing in the idea that you are part of the community: you have to mow your lawn, shovel your walk, keep things in a general state of repair, and keep an eye on the overall state of the street (pick up litter, and so on). That last thing on the list seems to have fallen into my lap. I'm the neighbor who reports potholes to the city, who calls about slow snow removal, or who calls somebody to pick up the occasional dead raccoon in the road.
My latest crusades have been to get the gas and electric company to come back to my street to replace the sidewalks and lawns they dug up when they replaced gas lines in the spring, and to help my neighbors get the city to remove an enormous white ash tree on the city grass strip in front of their house. The tree is wonderful in that it provides tons of shade and fall color, but there is a big, deep crack up the trunk, and the tree drops big branches on a regular basis. It's a hazard. When I came home from China, I found a gigantic branch had fallen across my driveway, took out my electric, and lopped off a part of the small crab apple in front of my place. The ash had to go. All of our efforts are starting to pay off.
On Monday, I awoke to the sound of heavy trucks coming down the street. By the time I woke up enough to look out the window, I saw the gas and electric guys prepping the sidewalks for new concrete. By Wednesday, the sidewalks were poured. I don't know when they'll be back to fix the lawns, but I'm prepared to email and call them if they forget about us.
The tree has been harder. The city wrote to us in late spring saying the ash was a danger and would be removed by the end of June. In mid-June, a tree-trimmer came and took off several large branches that hung out over the street, but the tree was not removed. It just looked pathetic and over-pruned. June came and went, July passed, we called again, and in August, a truck came to hack a few more big branches off the tree. Between the torn up lawns and sidewalks and the skeletal remains of the tree, things were looking pretty bad on my street. In late September, my neighbor really sprang into action and started calling and emailing the city arborist. I came home on Wednesday to find that even more tree had been hacked away, but the majority of the poor, amputated tree was still there. Finally, on Thursday, they took the tree down.
Our efforts are paying off, and the street is finally starting to look better. Neighborhood upkeep is hard work, but the alternative is way worse.
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My street is still okay, though. Most of my neighbors take care of their properties, and if they don't, they have some of the rest of us to reckon with. Homeownership brought out the watchdog in me. It seems to me that if you buy a house in a neighborhood like mine, you're also investing in the idea that you are part of the community: you have to mow your lawn, shovel your walk, keep things in a general state of repair, and keep an eye on the overall state of the street (pick up litter, and so on). That last thing on the list seems to have fallen into my lap. I'm the neighbor who reports potholes to the city, who calls about slow snow removal, or who calls somebody to pick up the occasional dead raccoon in the road.
My latest crusades have been to get the gas and electric company to come back to my street to replace the sidewalks and lawns they dug up when they replaced gas lines in the spring, and to help my neighbors get the city to remove an enormous white ash tree on the city grass strip in front of their house. The tree is wonderful in that it provides tons of shade and fall color, but there is a big, deep crack up the trunk, and the tree drops big branches on a regular basis. It's a hazard. When I came home from China, I found a gigantic branch had fallen across my driveway, took out my electric, and lopped off a part of the small crab apple in front of my place. The ash had to go. All of our efforts are starting to pay off.
On Monday, I awoke to the sound of heavy trucks coming down the street. By the time I woke up enough to look out the window, I saw the gas and electric guys prepping the sidewalks for new concrete. By Wednesday, the sidewalks were poured. I don't know when they'll be back to fix the lawns, but I'm prepared to email and call them if they forget about us.
The tree has been harder. The city wrote to us in late spring saying the ash was a danger and would be removed by the end of June. In mid-June, a tree-trimmer came and took off several large branches that hung out over the street, but the tree was not removed. It just looked pathetic and over-pruned. June came and went, July passed, we called again, and in August, a truck came to hack a few more big branches off the tree. Between the torn up lawns and sidewalks and the skeletal remains of the tree, things were looking pretty bad on my street. In late September, my neighbor really sprang into action and started calling and emailing the city arborist. I came home on Wednesday to find that even more tree had been hacked away, but the majority of the poor, amputated tree was still there. Finally, on Thursday, they took the tree down.
Our efforts are paying off, and the street is finally starting to look better. Neighborhood upkeep is hard work, but the alternative is way worse.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Friday, October 7, 2011
Workday Fun
I love Fridays during the academic year. They're the day when I get to catch up on projects I don't have time to work on during the week. Teaching and prepping for classes seems to take most of my time on Mondays through Thursdays. Fridays remind me of sabbatical.
Today, I'm going to finish editing a chapter I'm co-writing and send it off to the editor. I'm mentoring a new faculty member this year, so I'll have lunch with him later. After lunch, I'll start working on analyzing data from a study abroad research project I'm working on with several colleagues. Sounds fun, right? Well, it sounds fun to me.
I love teaching, but days like this are just the best. I think they're the workday equivalent of an unscheduled day off. I can do whatever I want to do. Who doesn't love that?
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Today, I'm going to finish editing a chapter I'm co-writing and send it off to the editor. I'm mentoring a new faculty member this year, so I'll have lunch with him later. After lunch, I'll start working on analyzing data from a study abroad research project I'm working on with several colleagues. Sounds fun, right? Well, it sounds fun to me.
I love teaching, but days like this are just the best. I think they're the workday equivalent of an unscheduled day off. I can do whatever I want to do. Who doesn't love that?
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Dumpling Love
I was in a Chinese restaurant a couple of weeks ago, and I looked at the list of appetizers and sighed. For $5.95 + tax, I could get a plate of five dumplings. Five? That's more than $1.19 a dumpling! There was a time, before my trip to China, when I might have ordered those dumplings. I might have seen that price as reasonable. But now, I look at the menu and I think about the student cafeteria at XISU, about how a carry out bag of twenty dumplings cost me about $1.75, and I just can't do it.
So I'm thinking of making my own dumplings. They don't seem that hard: some ground pork, some veggies, some doughy stuff to wrap it all up in. Sounds easy enough. I remember having lunch in China with a student. She ordered for us dumplings filled with broth--the exploding water balloon of the dumpling world. They were delicious, and she told me they were simple to make. She talked me through a recipe that I don't remember now, but I wish I'd paid attention. I emailed one of the Chinese students who writes to me regularly a few weeks ago to see if she could send me an authentic recipe, and last week, there it was in my email inbox. Her email English is nowhere near as sharp as the careful English she used in my class, though, so the recipe is a bit difficult to follow. I'm going to try making them, though. I'm just too cheap to pay restaurant prices for a teeny plate of dumplings when I know I can get them so much cheaper. I realize that the cheap dumplings are steaming half a world away, but come on!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
So I'm thinking of making my own dumplings. They don't seem that hard: some ground pork, some veggies, some doughy stuff to wrap it all up in. Sounds easy enough. I remember having lunch in China with a student. She ordered for us dumplings filled with broth--the exploding water balloon of the dumpling world. They were delicious, and she told me they were simple to make. She talked me through a recipe that I don't remember now, but I wish I'd paid attention. I emailed one of the Chinese students who writes to me regularly a few weeks ago to see if she could send me an authentic recipe, and last week, there it was in my email inbox. Her email English is nowhere near as sharp as the careful English she used in my class, though, so the recipe is a bit difficult to follow. I'm going to try making them, though. I'm just too cheap to pay restaurant prices for a teeny plate of dumplings when I know I can get them so much cheaper. I realize that the cheap dumplings are steaming half a world away, but come on!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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