A dinner party

Yesterday was my first day in the new IUSB tutoring office. The office is on the fourth floor of the library. I sit right up against the stacks, in the “philosophy of social science” section (this isn’t as titillating as it sounds).

The chairs are padded better than in the old office, but they don’t recline as nicely.

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I & Karin and Martin & Mary went to a dinner party given by H., a Korean – or, rather, it was given by his gringa mother-in-law, who is my boss in the high school English Dept. The food was cooked by H.’s wife, K. (my boss’s daughter). It was the Babette’s Feast of Korean food.

I was able to reminisce with H., K., and K.’s mother about Korea.

Didn’t you just love the train?, said K.’s mother (my boss).

It was a very good train, I said, but I didn’t love riding it to and from Seoul three hours every day. (H. and K. agreed about this.)

I told them that I mostly rode the Bundang Line. Ah, the Bundang Line, H. nodded vigorously. I hated the Bundang Line, put in K.

I also mentioned the protests against the American beef, and I said that my favorite thing about Korea was its DVD rooms.

You remember so much about Korea, they said.

Then, at M&M’s and Karin’s and my request, they brought out their dog, a Japanese Spitz, a little breed that is nonetheless a giant compared to most dogs in Korea. The dog’s name was “White Bear.” He yapped incessantly. A short while later, H. and K. put him away.

We ate two flavors of Korean ice-cream: Green Tea and Honeydew Melon. The dinner party was a great success.

Some gluttony

Mary was given a new used car. Our Uncle Stan brought it as near to us as Indianapolis, and so I went there to pick it up with Martin and his parents.

Close to the Grissom Air Reserve Base, we stopped at a roadside café. Martin’s parents bought us breakfast.

It’d be ungrateful of me not to describe this meal. I’m no food writer – but here goes.

It was the Babette’s Feast of breakfasts. It was an all-you-can-eat buffet. The biscuits. The bacon. The casserole. The sausage. All were made from old Amish recipes. I knew, from the first bites, that this would be one of the greatest breakfasts of my life.

Caveman dieters, Martin’s parents ate just a few fried eggs. But they enjoyed the other food vicariously, keenly watching Martin and me. Their eyes took in every detail. They listened closely as we described what we were eating.

It was the first day of our Christmas break.

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Yesterday, for most of the high school students, I photocopied crossword puzzles about Christmas (also, a few “Winter Wonderland” word-searches, for the heathen). Teacher after teacher came into my office and gave me money, cards, and sweets. Then, after school was over, Martin and I went to the staff members’ Christmas party. I ate hors d’oeuvres and watched the teachers drink a lot of beer.