Globe explorer. Blogs on (un)celebrity encounters, extraordinary-ordinary people, local politics, tangles with kid(s), and navigates the white water of raising her kid while writing fiction and chasing a media career.
The little cousins roped me into learning some Korean, but when I tried it out, Lee grabbed my arm and hissed, “Don’t do that.” I was incensed he would seize me in that manner; I surveyed the startled, frozen faces around the room, realized none of them had any intention of allowing me entrance into their world, and gave up. (A Single Pearl, Chapter 7).
THE BAD LITTLE COUSINS
“I’ll practice my Korean on you,” I said, baiting for a reaction.“Only if you have a better vocabulary,” Lee replied.“I took a night class; I can do more than name colors.”“Colors? Is that what you thought you were saying?”“What did the little cousins teach me?” I asked, sensing another embarrassing nightmare moment.“Think body parts and...”“Shit,” I erupted, and blushed.“Exactly,” he confirmed.