Christmas gets bigger; Joanna, Phuong light up my life

There are more signs of Christmas every year in Vietnam. More store windows are decorated and even little coffee shops and some of my creepy neighbors have lights hanging. A few have even put up Christmas trees. There's also much more traffic and even more stupid motorbike riders on the road -- people slowing down and pointing at lights and stuff with no brake lights, no lights at night, no signal, no clue. Bah humbug on the motorbikes. In the U.S., the auto traffic and crowds swell around the holidays, so it's pretty much the same everywhere, except in  places like Iran and North Korea, I guess.
I put up and decorated our little artificial tree. It's artificial because I care about the environment and I'm lazy. I also wrapped a few presents. Phuong is absorbed in Joanna, and she doesn't fully understand the Christmas spirit thing. Maybe it's the heat. Her family doesn't do the tree or presents or fruitcake (thank God). This means I give presents but no one gives me anything. We don't open anything together. I give them presents and they take them home without opening. But it's better to give than ... oh, you know the drill. Phuong is Christian, but the whole holiday is kind of lost on her and her family. That's a sigh of relief you heard, not complaining. New Year's is even more obscure here because of Tet. So, a festive time of year in my culture is a growing economic phenomena here, but not much more at the moment. Besides, the Vietnamese are more pragmatic than sentimental.
Joanna is a daily joy for me. She wakes up every day at 4:45 a.m., and I'm right there with her. I've been waking up at 3 a.m. since returning from the U.S. The first thing Joanna does is smile, and the second is poop. After cleanup, we'll play for  half an hour. She's about 5 1/2 months old and she crawls, rolls every which way, and doesn't care if she falls off the bed. We don't let that happen. Her smile and laugh are infectious, and when she starts giggling, I start giggling, too. It's wonderful. Phuong is more dedicated than ever to Joanna's well-being, if that's possible, and Phuong and Joanna are the joy of my life.
My daily walk is very good because the weather is "cool" -- about 90 with grueling humidity -- and the people that I always see smile and wave at me. Cheerful people make me cheerful these days. They also make me feel bad for being a grumpy complainer for so many years. My waitress at Thuy Nga coffee shop is one of the nicest girls in the world. She's always smiling and understands my order -- hot coffee with milk and a pitcher of iced tea. I always leave a tip and she's always appreciative. Some waitresses here don't understand the concept of tipping, which is why a lot of foreigners come here. The rude ones screw up their faces when you try to tip and look at their co-workers so they can laugh at you together.  OK, no tip for you. I don't like being laughed at, even when it's over something innocuous like tipping. Must be an American thing.
I returned to the classroom this week, and my first class was awesome. I hope that trend continues. I'm optimistic classes will be cool because I got some needed time off when I came to the United States. The time away helped as well because it made me more appreciative of what I have in life.
A quick shout-out to the many, many Russians who are reading my blog. Since I have no money, they can hack me all they want. And I'm still waiting for Donald's check.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!!!

Family love in Vietnam after long trip

As 29-hour trips go -- with two connecting flights that contributed six hours of layovers, along with a one-hour delay on the Tokyo tarmac waiting for passengers from late connecting flights -- this one wasn't as bad as it sounds. Really. The older Japanese woman sitting next to me on the nearly 14-hour flight from Washington D.C. to Tokyo did not speak to me the entire trip, and she spoke English (to the flight attendants). In fact, she slept 11 of the 14 hours, so I had to wake her up every time I needed to leave my yucky window seat to pee or stretch. No wonder she acted like she hated me. But, she wasn't fat, which is my biggest concern. It doesn't matter that I'm fat. That's the problem for the person sitting next to me. So really, the longest leg of the trip was OK. I watched five movies: the latest Jason Bourne (bad); The BFG (surprisingly good story about a giant and little orphan girl); Brothers of the Wind (very watchable nature drama about an eagle and young boy); My Kind of Traitor (OK movie about the Russian  mob); and Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (I love Harry Potter books and movies). The food on ANA flights is pretty darn good and the flight attendants were very pretty Japanese women, not that I noticed.
I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, got my luggage and cleared customs at about midnight. I exited the terminal and there was my incredibly beautiful wife Phuong, smiling as always, and my lovely daughter Joanna. I immediately gave Joanna a big kiss, and she immediately burst into tears. But she stopped crying after about five seconds, looked at me really hard, and broke into a big smile. I almost cried I was so happy. I held Joanna nearly the entire one-hour ride home in  the car and we smiled and laughed constantly. Joanna and I hung out, laughing and playing, until 2:30 a.m. (She was pretty grumpy the next day, but so what.) Phuong and I and Joanna have been almost inseparable since I got back. I returned to my daily walk and coffee, but other than that, it's been Phuong and Joanna. I couldn't be happier.
I'll return to work Monday, and I'm looking forward to it. I bought candy canes and educational games and puzzles in the U.S. because I want the students to have a good time while they learn English. I didn't like the cold weather in the U.S. as much as I thought and the heat in Vietnam isn't bothering me as much as before. I loved seeing my children in the U.S., even though they're grown up and on the go. U.S. prices are rough and I burned through a ton of money (I'm sure the Donald will cut me a check). I loved seeing friends and I really enjoy the peace and beauty of Yellow Springs, especially Glen Helen. But the bottom line is that I really missed my wife and new daughter.  Being away from them makes me realize how truly wonderful our life together is.

Joanna crawls and I go on a spending spree

My daughter Joanna continues to amaze me as I watch her on Skype each day. She just turned five months old and she is already sort of crawling. She uses her knees and elbows to lift her bottom in the air and then she'll lurch forward. She'll repeat the process rather quickly -- knees come forward, bottom goes up in the air, and a lurch forward. It's not classic crawling, but she gets from A to B in a hurry and she can't be left alone on the bed. She moves like a speedy caterpillar. I see a Phuong-like grit and determination in Joanna's actions, whether it's attempting to crawl or trying to take off her socks so she can suck her toes. And there's such glee and joy in Phuong as she chases her daughter around on the bed and makes sure Joanna doesn't suck her toes or fall off the bed. I can't wait to get back to Vietnam to see my wife and daughter. I hope Joanna still recognizes me. I hope Phuong still recognizes me, too.
My eyes, which have high pressure that causes glaucoma and eventual loss of vision, are in pretty good shape, all things considered. But examinations, new glasses and eye drops cost me a small fortune -- about $3,000 out of pocket since I don't have health care. I looked into health insurance but the payments were over $300 a month.  Can't afford that over the long haul, but I have enough money to cover my eye treatment and yearly trips to the United States. (Thank you VMG!)  I've been staying in Yellow Springs, where I have a house. Yellow Springs is nice enough, but it's very expensive and property taxes are very high. It's like a resort town. I tell everyone in Yellow Springs, also a very liberal town, that President-elect Trump is going to write me a check to cover my eye care and miscellaneous expenses on my trip to the U.S. That line barely gets a smile in town.
I had a wonderful visit on Saturday with Anthony and Amelia, my former co-workers at the Dayton Daily News newspaper, which laid me off in 2008. Anthony and Amelia are good people and good journalists. I loved seeing them. I should send the DDN a thank-you note for laying me off. I ended up getting a master's degree, teaching in Peru and then Vietnam, where I met my incredible wife Phuong and had an incredible baby girl (Joanna). Most of the copy editors I worked with in Dayton either moved on or were laid off. Newspapers are dinosaurs. But I discovered I really loved teaching, so I don't hold any grudges or harbor any ill will toward the newspaper industry. Quite the contrary.
I'm preparing to leave the U.S. It was wonderful to see friends (John, Eve, Ron, Andy, Jane, Tommy, Anthony, Amelia, Laurie, Lynda) and my children Jessica, Caroline, Jack and Alec.  Planning a shopping trip with Jessica tomorrow. Vacation isn't over yet.
I stayed at the Springs Motel in Yellow Springs and the manager Robyn is one of the nicest people I've ever met. She found my misplaced cell phone, got milk for my coffee and bought me Yoo-Hoo chocolate candy, all while listening to the White Monkey whine about anything and everything for a couple of weeks. Thanks Robyn, you're wonderful.
It's been cold lately (lows of 25 Fahrenheit / -6 celcius). We had a dusting of snow Saturday morning. Ah, December in Ohio.

Breakfast with Laurie and a visit with birds

I had breakfast with my teacher-mentor Laurie M. on Sunday morning in Yellow Springs. It's great talking to Laurie because she has remarkable insight into her students and profession. Laurie teaches special education and I've seen her students make fantastic progress and strive to learn and express themselves because of Laurie. And those students will never have a better advocate than Miss M. Of course, I soak up every word she says and try to steal/borrow/use any of her ideas about teaching.
After talking with Laurie for two hours, I took a three-hour walk in Glen Helen, and visited the Raptor Center to see the hawks, owls and bald eagle. Glen Helen is a special place. The water from the yellow spring tastes wonderful -- full of iron and flavor. A happy day that continued when I bought some gifts and toys for Phuong and Joanna at some of the countless shops and boutiques in Yellow Springs. I capped off the day with dinner and a craft beer at Peaches. Success on Sunday!
I return to the eye doctor tomorrow. A doctor in Vietnam changed one of the prescriptions for my eye drops, and I developed an allergy to the new drops. My eyes itched like crazy with the new drops, so I stopped them. But I have to have drops to relieve pressure in my eye or my vision goes south. My eye doctor in Dayton, Ohio, figured all of this out when I told her my story. My eye doctor is one of the reasons I return to the United States every November. Dr. Talluto is awesome. Of course I come to the U.S. to see my children and drink Yoo-Hoo, but I trust my eye doctor with my vision, and that's serious stuff.
I drove to the East Coast of the U.S. and I visited my friends Ron, Tommy, and Andy, and saw my brother Thomas as well.  I gave my friend Ron a cane, and if he doesn't use it to take walks, I'll run over his legs with a truck. Wait, that's already been done. Well, I really hopes he starts taking a daily walk (like the White Monkey). It's good for everything -- health and outlook. I really miss my walks in Vietnam and the folks I see and clown with along the way. I miss teaching at VMG, and I miss the staffers there. The staffers and I sort of agree we're a pain in each others' asses, but in a good way. I'm not the easiest teacher to get along with, but I really like my students and I show up on time. Hell, I'm not the easiest person to get along with, regardless of when I show up or who I like.
I chat with Phuong most days on Skype, and I love watching Joanna roll on the bed and zip around in her walker. I love and miss my wife and daughter Joanna so much. I'm looking forward to returning to Vietnam. Yep, you read that right.

Missing Phuong and Joanna; waiting for vacation

Greetings from the United States. The weather is awesome here. It's 55 and sunny in the day, and 35 and moonlit at night, so it's cool enough to be refreshing and warm enough to go outside and play. I've played a little tennis -- the first tennis in more than a year -- and only fell once. It happens when you get my age. As my friend Andy said, the real winners in our tennis were the fans who witnessed the exhibition of athletic skill. No witnesses, so no winners.
I talk with Phuong, my beautiful, wonderful wife, on Skype most days. Some days I don't have internet, but if I do, I Skype with Phuong and Joanna. Joanna tries to put the computer in her mouth when she sees me and I talk with her on Skype. I try to put the computer in my mouth when I see Phuong and she talks with me on Skype. We're a happy family. Being away from my wife and newborn is very difficult, of course, but time is moving fast here. I've seen the lawyer, the eye doctor, family, my banker, and friends. I must do some shopping for my students in Vietnam if I still have a job when I return, and I have to get some clothes and toys for Joanna and me. I have another eye doctor visit and I bought new glasses for $1,082. Big money for bad eyes.
I saw all my children on Thanksgiving and took their photo, but one of my children said not to put the photo on the internet. Fair enough, so the photo is for my eyes only. Love my children (all five) and don't really care if people see their photo or not.
Driving is kind of a drag here. It's not as bad as the motorbikes in Vietnam, but cars and such travel much faster here, adding to the excitement and danger. In Vietnam, there are few traffic laws (that are obeyed) so there's something of anarchy on the roads. Here, there's order, but one chucklehead doing something stupid can kill lots of people because everyone travels so fast. My rental car has had some issues, but I'm still alive, so who cares.
I've been traveling and visiting constantly since I got here, but this week I'm going to chill out and shop. That means I'll spend money I don't really have. And have fun doing it.
Today, I drive from Washington, D.C., to Ohio ... about 7 hours in the car. Then the real vacation begins.

It's cool visiting family, being in Yellow Springs

My children Alec and Jessica were waiting for me when I arrived in Columbus, Ohio. It was incredible to see them. They look great, and they even carried my luggage for me. Great kids. I hope to see Jack and Caroline on Thanksgiving. There's a lot of catching up to do since Phuong and I had a baby in July.
 I love travel and being in Yellow Springs, Ohio, but I hate being away from my wife and daughter. Unacceptable trade-off. Phuong and I talk on Skype and I can watch and listen to Joanna do baby stuff, like grunt, laugh, cry and kiss Phuong. And when I shout into my computer to get Joanna's attention, she looks around like she's expecting me to show up and sit on the bed next to her. I wish it was that easy. It makes me unbelievably happy to see Phuong and Joanna together. Phuong is so committed to motherhood, as she should be. And she's so cheerful even when she doesn't get sleep. Phuong is always smiling. Me? I'm Mr. Complain when I don't get much sleep and Mr. Complain when I get too much sleep. I never smile. Well, that's not really true, but close enough.
I love the weather and food here. It's been about 40 degrees F  or about 0 to 15 degrees C. I bought gloves, an Ohio State pullover sweatshirt/hoodie and camouflage pants to stay warm. I've eaten hamburgers, french fries, tapioca pudding, pizza, sausages, $3 muffins, hard pretzels, and stinky cheese. I drink beer, coffee and Yoo-Hoo.  And I've had some nice beers at a local brewery and my friend's apartment. My friend John has been a gracious and generous host, as usual.
Americans want to talk about the election, but there seems to be some concern about which side you were on. A truck driver staying at the Springs Motel, where I happen to be staying, was telling me how happy he was that Trump defeated that "evil woman."  He was cool about it, and didn't preach to me in any way. I responded to the "evil" comment by saying that Trump won, so it doesn't matter now. Most of the folks in Y.S. are like me concerning the election -- shocked and disbelieving. It's really difficult to grasp two words: President Trump.  I hope things work out for the best.
Gas is very inexpensive here at the moment. I have a mid-sized car, and it's OK. Driving is OK, or a little better than the motorbike. I still prefer walking.
My son Alec and I took a hike in Glen Helen and we were about to cross a small bridge when we saw a blue heron about 20 feet away standing in the creek. The blue heron is a good-sized bird, but this one seemed a little too comfortable near people, in the White Monkey's opinion.  I go to the Glen every day, even though there some construction work in progress on some of the trails. The Glen is one of the things I really miss when I'm in Vietnam.
Anyway, excited about family Thanksgiving and upcoming trip to the East Coast to see friends and family.

Leaving my wife Phuong and daughter Joanna to visit the land of Ronald Mac Donald

I have mixed emotions as I pack to go the United States early tomorrow morning (Nov. 15). I can't wait to see my children and the few people in the U.S. who let me say they're my "friends." I also need a break from the heat here, from our visa drama, and I really need some time away from work to recharge my battery. My schedule isn't heavy, but I do have classes six days a week. The most significant time off I've had this past year is from two rough motorbike accidents, gallbladder surgery, and the birth of my fifth child, the beautiful Joanna Pham Millman. I didn't even take any real time off to celebrate Phuong's divorce and our wedding (in that order). I took a week off when my son Alec came to visit, but that's pretty much it in terms of free time. And don't forget, I'm a 61-year-old White Monkey with a four-month baby and beautiful wife who has endless energy. Guess it could be worse, but my wife and baby are the reason for my conundrum. I don't want to leave them. Joanna actually recognizes me now -- she always smiles at me first thing in the morning when she sees my ugly pug. I'm usually a gummy bear (our term for a grump) in the morning, but Joanna and Phuong have me loving life in the morning. It helps that I rarely drink, quit smoking, and don't work stupid late like I did in the newspaper business. So my family in Vietnam is one big reason I have mixed emotions about traveling. The other is the elephant in the room that is president-elect Donald Trump.  It took me two days for me to get over his victory, and really, I'm not sure I'll fully recover until he's out of office. But I'm an eternal optimist, so I'll hope for the best, which means I'll hope the guy gets a clue and some class along the way. I've got a Vietnamese wife, and things are tough enough for our family when it comes to immigration and visas. I can't see that improving in the short term. So I'm leaving my beloved wife and newborn to take care of business in a country where anger, frustration and race fueled the election of a "businessman" with questionable qualifications and even more questionable character. But I'll tell you what: I'll grab Trump's you-know-what (small hand) and kiss him on the lips if he gets Phuong a visa to legally enter the United States so we can raise our daughter there, enroll our daughter in American schools, and sign our family up for Obamacare. I think Obama is a great president. Whether you agree or not, I have to believe you know he'll be missed, especially now.
But these issues won't detract from the fact I'll see my children and friends, I'll visit with my lawyer and eye doctor, I'll eat pizza, subs, barbecued beef and pork, and coffee ice cream. I'll  drink Yoo-Hoo, the delicious chocolate energy drink that I've enjoyed since I was 4 years old. The only way it gets any better than this is to have my wife and daughter with me. Maybe one day.
* Joanna got her social security card today, making her an even more official American citizen. I wonder if she'll have to pay taxes. Hell, the president-elect doesn't pay taxes any more (or at least I don't think he does), so why should she.

My kids are blessed with incredible moms

I'll be 62 years old in December when Joanna is five months old. This is no news flash, but physical conditioning and commitment will play a huge role in how effective and successful a parent I will be with Joanna. I'm trying to do my part with daily walks, no cigarettes, very minimal alcohol, tai chi, and pansy weightlifting for a balky shoulder and ailing back from my motorbike wrecks. I do my own damn laundry, cook when necessary, whip Phuong in rock-scissors-paper to do the dishes, and keep the kitchen and house pretty clean. The bathrooms are a little gritty, but I don't care since I don't eat or sleep in them. (Let me clarify: The bathrooms I use are gritty, the bathroom Phuong and Joanna use is immaculate.)
My employer, VMG, is understanding and trying to be as accommodating as possible with my schedule. Ideally, I wouldn't work at all, but I've felt that way my entire life regardless of parenting responsibilities or past employers. But in reality, I enjoy teaching and the students in Vietnam, so I'll work as long as I can. My 38-year-old wife Phuong is endless energy and has been waiting her whole life to have a baby. I can't say enough about Phuong's dedication and commitment to making Joanna's life incredibly wonderful and comfortable. But Joanna is developing a distinctive personality and Phuong and I must adjust. Joanna doesn't sleep as much as my other children did, if memory serves me well. And when Joanna is hungry, or lonely, or super tired (from not sleeping), she expresses her unhappiness in no uncertain terms, meaning she wails and screams at the top of her lungs and turns bright red in the process. On the other hand, when she gets a vaccination or smacks her head or face with a plastic toy, she hardly cries at all. Sounds like a tough kid (like mom) with a bad temper (like dad). She's only four months old, but she'll belly laugh when we play with her. However, she gets bored with our antics pretty quickly. Phuong and I like to say that Joanna is thinking: OK, that was funny once or twice, but now what are you going to do to make me laugh? She rolls over only from back to front, and only to her left. One time she rolled over so hard that she went from back to belly to back. Man, was she shocked. She likes to play with her toys by herself (thank you for the rattles, Joy) when she isn't demanding Phuong's presence. And when she expresses her need for company, Phuong is there faster than you can say whaaaaaa!
I mention all this because it brings back the wonderful memories of my four older children when they were babies and kids growing up. There were some rough moments, like in any family, but my kids turned out to be great people.  Phuong has the utmost respect for my ex-wife Lynda, since Lynda raised our four children and did an incredible job doing so. I feel the same way about Lynda. The commitment shown by Phuong and Lynda to children and family is incredibly humbling. It's made me re-think my values, my commitments, my screw-ups in the past. Maybe the White Monkey should stop thinking ... and start doing.
I can say now that I'm blessed to have met Phuong and have another child, even at the age of 62. On second thought, make that: Especially at the age of 62.

Is white right? 'Beautiful' isn't most important adjective

White skin is considered chic in Vietnam. If you go into the beauty shops, which I do on occasion, there are countless skin whiteners or lighteners on the shelves. The billboards feature light-skinned Vietnamese women with equally white teeth, and the outdoor advertisements and posters for local English language centers show smiling, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, white children studying English. Everyone knows that the sun can damage your skin, but I think that many white wannabes here are more afraid of darker skin  than they are of skin cancer. I have no statistical evidence to support this, but I think the preference for white skin explains why folks go to remarkable lengths to cover up by wearing hats, hoodies, gloves, long pants, and scarves on their faces in 90-plus degree heat. White was the preferred skin color in Peru, as well. The lighter the skin, the higher the caste in many people's eyes. How ridiculous.  In the U.S., a lot of people go to great lengths to have darker skin, or a tan. Go figure. I find darker-skinned Vietnamese and Peruvians and African-Americans more exotic looking. In other words, I think they're hot. My wife Phuong has fairly dark skin -- not super dark, but certainly darker than mine. And Phuong is very pretty, in my eyes. Our daughter Joanna has light/white skin, and that seems to attract a lot of attention in town. But an older, wiser White Monkey realizes that looks and appearance don't mean much after a while. Qualities such as kindness, generosity and intelligence will give a relationship longevity. Physically "beautiful" people aren't physically beautiful forever.
I tried to explain my philosophy about beauty to a couple of my classes with an adjectives exercise. One of the tasks: Use three adjectives to describe your favorite person. Every student, and I mean every student, used the adjectives "pretty, beautiful and handsome" and then were at a loss for words. They had used up all their adjectives to describe people. So I asked about their moms. One girl said "fat" and another said "short."  I told them their mom isn't their favorite person because she's "short" and "fat" or tall and thin or ... beautiful. Maybe she's chic, but hopefully she's a child's favorite because she is kind, caring, generous, thoughtful, nice, smart, loving. These are adjectives, by the way. And these are traits that don't erode over time, like physical beautiful can. I believe a couple of the students actually understood the point I was trying to make. When teachers make students think, they're doing their job. So maybe I actually earned my paycheck this week.
I'm loving my walk and coffee shops these days. The corner coffee shop, where I take all the traffic pictures, has great coffee and nice waitresses. The owner is very nice as well. And Lidos by the river has cleaned up the riverbank and added a nice waiter and waitress. Since I walk almost every day, almost everyone knows me. I shake hands with some of the security guards and car wash employees, and wave to coffee shop waitresses and vendors. When they're not on their motorbikes, the Vietnamese are some of the nicest people I've ever met anywhere. Especially the ones that are pretty and have white skin. Ha ha.
My son Jack recently passed the bar exam in the United States, which means he's an honest-to-god lawyer now after graduating from New York University Law School No. 3 in his class. I'm so incredibly proud of him. Of course, I'm proud of all my children -- Jessica, Caroline, Alec, Jack and Joanna. But this is Jack's time in the spotlight. Congratulations, son. I love you and admire you.

"Peanut" head, healthy living, "Dollars"

Phuong's dad has a nickname for his granddaughter Joanna. It's "Dollars" because Phuong and I dropped a bundle last week on the world's most beautiful baby. We bought a stroller and high chair, more toys, cool pants and shirts, and fancy diapers. We spent millions (of dong) and it was worth every dong.  We also dropped more money on Joanna for medicine, but we don't even consider that spending. Phuong is so proud of our daughter that she doesn't just push the stroller and walk in the morning; she struts and strides with stroller in hand. You can see that Phuong is waiting for the neighbors to come and admire Joanna. We had trouble leaving the mall because shoppers wanted to look, touch, and kiss Joanna. The White Monkey, once the  darling of the female crowd in Bien Hoa,  is no longer the star of the show. Joanna, the little "Peanut",  has made the White Monkey an afterthought. I started calling Joanna "Peanut" because I always have a nickname for kids -- and Joanna's head is kind of shaped like a peanut. My friends Tommy and Tony have also used that nickname for Joanna without knowing Phuong and I also use that nickname. We'll drop the nickname when she gets a little older (and when her hair grows to cover her head).
Joanna now rolls over routinely -- back to stomach only -- so we have to keep an extra sharp eye on her. Her first turn was stomach to back, but she freaked a little because her head bounced on the bed when she landed on her back. I poked around on the internet and saw that the average baby who is 14 weeks old weighs 6.5 kilograms and is 61 centimeters long. Joanna is 14 weeks old, 7.5 KG and 72 CM.  She's tall and really stands out here, so to speak. Joanna is going to be someone special because her mom is someone very special. I'm jealous of both of them.
My body has made a rapid recovery from surgery, thanks primarily to Phuong's cooking. She bought a pressure cooker and has stopped using any oil in her cooking. We eat beef, pork and chicken with steamed potatoes, carrots, corn on the cob, onions, and anything else we can buy from the vegetable man. I still have yogurt and cookies for dessert, and everything has been just dandy.
I've pretty much cut coffee from my diet. I have a small, watered-down cup late morning during my walk, and that's it. I used to have at least three hearty cups a day.  And since I don't smoke anymore (7 months now!) and never drink more than one beer at a time, the White Monkey is not only healthy, he's incredibly boring. Phuong is happy, and that's what matters most to me. Well, that and Joanna and my four fantastic children in the United States: Jessica, Caroline, Jack and Alec.
I saw a motorbike accident last week. A guy turned right from the center lane and clipped the bike in the right lane, knocking the rider to the ground. The rider on the ground rolled quickly and avoided having his head hit by a fast-approaching bike. Typical stuff here. No one slows, no one yields, and nobody stops their bikes to help a victim. Pedestrians will help, but motorbike riders only seem to care about getting somewhere fast.
I ride very slow these days so even if I'm in an accident, the damage hopefully will be minimal.
I returned to teaching a week after surgery and I've had some great classes ... no, I wasn't great, but the students were. One class in particular on Monday night was hilarious but focused. We laughed and learned the entire 90 minutes. These types of classes remind me why I got into teaching in the first place.

White Monkey's doctor leaves no stone unturned

 The most difficult part of having my gallbladder removed was being separated from my daughter Joanna. Everything is happening with her now -- she's three months and one week old. She baby babbles at everyone; she can kick like a mule; she has a great smile, giggle and belly laugh; and she uses her hands to grab toys and my glasses. I missed all that for four days last week when doctors in Ho Chi Minh City poked, prodded, tested and eventually sliced and diced the White Monkey to remove a sack of stones next to my liver that was impersonating a gallbladder. The process was a little too long but the doctors and nurses were competent enough. I went to the hospital on a Monday, was sent away, returned Tuesday for some testing, had more testing and waiting on Wednesday, surgery on Thursday, and finally, more waiting on Friday. Most unpleasant was when the nurse stuck a quarter-inch wide, 3-foot long plastic tube up my nose and then gagging-ly guided it down my throat and into my stomach. The tube stayed there 12 hours -- before, during and after surgery --  and was quite uncomfortable. Another challenge was my noisy roommates, two loud, talkative women who turned on a bright spotlight at 3 a.m. for god knows why. I also had to shave my chest and stomach with a cheap razor that left about 11 cuts on my torso.
Phuong was incredible throughout the entire process. She acted as translator, facilitator, nurse, doctor, counselor, accountant and dietician. Of course, she never stopped being an incredible and caring mom for Joanna. I couldn't live without Phuong and every day I thank God she's in my life. And Phuong made sure to get my gall stones from the doctor after the surgery so I could share an image of them with all my Facebook friends, whether they liked it or not. I love that woman so much. Phuong's mom and dad were also there, getting food and drinks, watching Joanna, and being supportive in every way possible.
I'll have three small scars on my stomach where a tiny camera and cutting tools were inserted into the White Monkey to remove the bladder. The pain is fairly minimal -- nothing like the last two motorbike accidents. And as I noted on Facebook, the pain that has been dogging my back, shoulder and ribs for more than a year is gone.
Right before surgery, while under the pleasant influence of drugs, I started thinking of all the puns I would use in my blog (for the benefit of legendary punsters Lucy Baker and Andy Vincent). I thought of stuff like listing my new favorites -- actors: Rock Hudstone and Stoney Curtis; activity: getting stoned; drink: anything on the rocks; TV show: The Flintstones; city: Boulder;. and movie: Rocky. 
I'm sure my diet will adjust to no gallbladder, as will my body.  Everyone says cut down on fatty foods, which are my favorite, but otherwise, it's business as usual. Phuong is a great cook and she'll take care of the White Monkey. Since I'm returning to the U.S. soon, I want to be able to eat some of that great, greasy American food that my bloated body has been missing for the past year, and drink a few quality beers with my buds.
And most of all, I want to see my children, who I miss so much while living here. I'll eventually get my wife Phuong and daughter Joanna to the U.S. where they can meet my children Jessica, Caroline, Jack and Alec. Phuong and Alec met earlier this year and hit if off super well. I can't wait for everyone to get together. Let's rock!

Doctor will remove body part from fat teacher in burka

I taught a class of young teenagers last week that I hadn't taught in a few months. We were becoming pretty good friends before I was taken off the class, and when I finally returned, the class dynamic had changed. Now there are only two girls in the class of 11 students, and one is new. One or two of the boys are new as well. The new girl was friendly and chatty, and quickly became concerned about my weight and a scab on the side of my head. The scab is the remains of a big lesion that was removed by laser. Anyway, when I had students write five sentences with "should" and "shouldn't", the new girl gave me the business:
1. Teacher John should lose weight and have a good body.
2. Teacher John shouldn't eat so much and be so big.
I'm glad this girl didn't see me when I was eating Vietnamese donuts every day. Or see the lesion on my head before the laser treatment. Several staffers where I worked asked about the scab on my head as well. I'm considering wearing a burka (burqa?) so I don't have to field questions about my face or body, both sensitive subjects for the White Monkey.
Being confined in a small area is also a sensitive subject for the White Monkey. That's where I found myself when I got stuck in the elevator at work recently. I never take the elevator, however on this day I was running just a little bit late (because the copy machine was struggling) and I was teaching on the fifth floor. So I joined a couple of kids who were taking the elevator to the second floor. When they got off, the doors closed and everything stopped working. The elevator didn't move and the doors wouldn't open. I was worried the elevator would plummet to the lower levels and damage the White Monkey. I called the front desk and the girl who answered had no idea what "stuck in the elevator on the second floor" meant. She handed the phone to an intern who "translates" for the front desk girls, and I think he asked what location I was in -- we have three or four branches. After much discussion, we decided I was in the same building as he was. A very nice man who does a little bit of everything at the school showed up with a crowbar and eventually pried the doors open. I was in the very, very warm elevator for 18 minutes -- I timed the whole affair. The students laughed at me -- and with me -- about the incident when I finally showed up to teach. Another day at the office.
I haven't had a cigarette for more than six and a half months, and what I saw the other day makes me so happy I quit. At the beginning of my walk near our house, a man was holding a young baby with a lit cigarette in his mouth. I presume it's his son. When I returned from the walk, I saw the same man holding the same baby with another lit cigarette in his mouth. I was gone an hour, so this guy could have smoked a bunch of cigarettes in that time with a baby in his arms. Even in my worst smoking days, I can't recall ever holding a lit butt and baby at the same time. Maybe my ex-wife could produce a videotape of me smoking during child care. If she does, I'll feel like Donald Trump.
Phuong, Joanna and I are going to the hospital in Ho Chi Minh City tomorrow so I can get my gall bladder removed. I've got some real stones ... in my gall bladder ... and I've been in much pain lately. I've learned to embrace pain after my two motorbike accidents, but the stones are causing pain in my stomach, back, and other places not worth mentioning. After the mini-surgery, I want the doctor to give me the gall bladder and stones so I can put them in jar and take them to class for show and tell.
I wonder what the teenage girl would write then:
Fat Teacher John shouldn't bring his disgusting body parts and stones to class.
Doctors should cut more out of Teacher John so he isn't  fat.
I booked my plane ticket to the U.S. today. Of course, my wife and daughter won't be coming with me. We've hired an attorney who will deal with the Embassy. Phuong was completely truthful throughout the visa application process. It'll take time, but we have nothing to hide or fear. 

If the marriage is legit, they must acquit

If the marriage is legit, they must acquit. (Credit to the late Johnnie Cochran). Denying my wife a visa to come to the United States was bad enough, but U. S. consular officer "KN" decided Phuong's marriage was a fraud and that she submitted false documents in her effort to get a visa. He's dead wrong, of course, but the ruling -- stronger than a simple denial or rejection -- possibly bans my wife Phuong from ever getting a visa to come to the U.S., which means our daughter, American citizen Joanna, and her dad (American citizen me) would most likely only visit the U.S. because living there would separate us from our Vietnamese wife/mom Phuong. We are retaining the services of immigration lawyer Robert Brown of Ohio, and we've had contact with U.S.  Sen. Sherrod Brown of Ohio. Generally, I'm a passive fellow. I don't often return bad meals at restaurants, I don't complain too much if my coffee is cold, and I don't usually correct others when they make stupid or incorrect statements. But a cruel consular officer has lit a fire under this White Monkey's butt. I don't want to become obsessive, like Lenny Bruce, but right is might. Thanks for your help and support everyone, especially Jack, Lynda, Andy, Jane, Randal, and everyone else.
Joanna got two vaccinations, and she was a trooper both times. The first vaccination was the 5-in-1, which we asked not to have but were given anyway. Joanna didn't cry, but turned her head and buried her face in my arm when the needle went in her thigh. It was so cute that even the nurse smiled. The nurse said the second shot, for hepatitis B, would hurt. Joanna cried when the long needle went in her thigh, but she stopped crying 15 to 20 seconds later and resumed her usual baby behavior. Tough kid, and she's got the size to back it up. She's about 15.5 pounds already and pretty tall, but it's difficult to get an accurate length because she still has the frog leg posture at this point. Although Joanna's only two months and three weeks old, she rolled over for the first time on Sunday. I think it was a case of all the stars aligning just right: We put her on her stomach with her elbows close to her body; she was agitated to begin with; she lifted her head up high and then used her head and left leg and elbow to kind of topple over. I was shocked but Phuong took it in stride. But that's my wonderful wife. She's cool, calm and collected when the unexpected happens.
I've met a nice vendor on my daily walk. She's close to the Hu Tieu girls, so that makes for a pleasant stretch of the stroll. The young lady sells fruit, and she doesn't try to rip me off. I've posted pictures of some of the fruit I buy from her on the right. She's sold me mang cau; bon bon; nhan; mango, apples, and bananas, and Phuong's mom, who I trust, vouches for the quality and price.
I've mentioned before that people don't know how to drive cars here. They'll put on their right turn signals when making a willy-nilly U-turn (the U-turn is always to the left, so the motorbike riders  behind the car are confused and in real danger of getting killed or maimed). Also, the drivers will just drive up on the sidewalk and park wherever, which is one of my favorites when I take a walk. So it's no surprise these morons wash their cars in the rain. I've seen this on numerous occasions, so maybe it's easier to get the dirt off when it rains. Hell if I know. These people probably have no problem getting a visa.

Sen. Brown, U.S. government please read this blog

People in power have two choices. They can use their power to help, guide and teach others. Or they can use their power to humiliate and belittle others. The consular officers at the U.S. Embassy in Ho Chi Minh City have made the wrong choice. They've gone out of their way to embarrass my wife Phuong and treat her like she doesn't deserve a fair hearing or the same rights as others.
My wife was denied a tourist visa on Thursday to accompany me with our daughter to the United States. It's her fourth rejection.  The officer asked her if she spoke English. When Phuong replied "a little," the man made a "ch" sound and rolled his head back. Make your own interpretation of that professional behavior. Then he wanted to see our marriage license. He left Phuong alone at the table for 10 minutes, then came back and said her marriage was a fake and gave her a rejection letter. When Phuong started to challenge his outright lie, the man put his hand up in front of Phuong's face and waved in the next visa applicant. She wanted to know if  he thought our baby was a fake, also.
It's interesting how the same people accepted our marriage license a few weeks earlier when they made our baby Joanna a U.S. citizen.
On Thursday, Phuong had the deed to our house that proves she is the owner, and she had my work contract. Both are evidence we would return to Vietnam from the U.S., but the consular officer didn't ask for either. He was too busy fabricating an outright lie about our marriage.
I understand there's a vetting process involved with immigration, but denying a visa on a false premise sounds like a criminal act to me. I think that clown may have broken the law. We've written letters of protest and have received a response to each. Of course the world is powerless to overturn the incorrect judgment of someone who makes false accusations. After all, it's HIS judgment, we were told, and that embassies all over the world never overturn a visa denial ... even if it's based on a lie, I guess.
The Embassy did say we could apply again, but that once a visa application is denied, it's very unlikely it would be approved at another hearing unless there was a dramatic change in circumstance. I would assume the truth isn't strong enough. So why apply if their minds are made up? Well, they probably want the application fee of $160.
We'll keep sending letters, we'll get an attorney of course, and I've reached out to U.S. Sen. Sherrod Brown of Ohio to help us, since Phuong will eventually be trying to immigrate to the U.S. with me and Joanna. There is no way in hell I'll let the prejudices and arrogance of some embassy flunky tear apart our family. Brown's office has already responded (I did vote for the man), and Phuong and I are hopeful we'll be able to raise our American daughter in the United States. Phuong is an incredible mom and wife, and we won't accept being separated. She was stunned and fought back tears after she was rejected. If the consular officer showed any compassion and gave her a reasonable explanation as to why she was denied a visa, maybe we wouldn't be so riled up. But this guy treated Phuong with no respect or dignity. He was dismissive and churlish. It's on, bro'.
If this farce continues, we can either try to stay here or seek asylum in another country. I love the U.S. and I know my wife and daughter would too if they can ever get there. So why is this happening?

Phuong's mom 'takes' my money; all lives matter

Phuong's mom is very helpful. She brings us food, sews our clothes, buys diapers for Joanna, and brings over lots of toilet paper for me. But ... God love her ... she speaks very little English and understands even less. The other night I needed to make change for a 500,000-dong bill.-- we're paid in big bills at work, just like Peru, and street vendors and some shops struggle to make change, just like Peru. So I gave the big bill to mom, and tried to explain in Vietnamese that I needed change, or smaller money. Mom looked so happy. She smiled and said in OK English: "Thank you, John."  Then she put the bill in her pocket and went home. That money was gone, never to be seen again. I told Phuong and we laughed about it. Her mom is so nice. I'm more than happy to donate to the cause. 
But I'm not happy to donate to VinMart or Bien Hoa Market vendors anymore. VinMart is a weird supermarket that's part clothing store. It's a healthy walk from our house and I've gone there in the past to get Q-tips and soap and some exercise. The supermarket is on the second floor and they sell the usual supermarket stuff, except they don't sell bread.  I asked "co banh mi" (have bread) in Vietnamese and the older ladies looked at me like I'm a White Monkey or something. No answer from them. They spoke to each other in Vietnamese and laughed at me. This is the all-too-frequent interaction I have with the real locals here. But a younger girl who happened to walk by asked in poor English what I wanted. I responded with my Vietnamese bread question and she said "khong co" (don't have). I thanked her profusely. When I checked out with my Q-tips, soap and three boxes of cookies and no bread, the girls took my money, gave me a receipt and then gestured that I go to the next register. I'm not sure what was going on, but I played along. I had my bathroom stuff in a bag in my hand, but they had the cookies. The girl started to put the cookies in another bag, but I motioned that I'd put everything in one bag, and started to jam the cookies in the bag with Q-tips and soap. The girl called security and he rushed over to me and sternly motioned for me to take the cookies out of the bag. You know, this is crap, so I demanded my money back, which I got, sarcastically thanked the clerks and security guard, and went home, where my ears are still dirty. Bien Hoa Market does the same bullslip that San Camillo Market in Arequipa, Peru, did. Try to cheat the White Monkey for a dollar or two and not care about future business. There's a language barrier, to be sure, but there's also an intelligence barrier. The low-life cheaters think they're smart, but I've got a paper signed by a psychiatrist that states my IQ is 107. Soooo ..... nah-nah-nah-nah-boo-bee.
A few odds and ends from the  week:
* Every time Phuong calls for a taxi, the driver has no idea how to get to our house. We're near a couple of huge coffee shops which are well known. We're two turns off one of the biggest streets in Bien Hoa. It takes at least 30 minutes and at least two phone calls for the driver to find us. Then we have to describe where we're going ...
* Joanna got a vaccine -- taken orally -- for her stomach. The doctors/government here gives you a 5-in-1 vaccine for a bunch of other diseases, and warns you that your baby could develop a fever from the multiple vaccines in one big shot. We opted to pay money to have the vaccines separated to reduce fever risk.
* Phuong has her interview at the U.S. Embassy this week to get a visa so she and Joanna can join me in the U.S. this November and December. Fingers crossed.
* Joanna likes to raise her right fist and focus on it. (See photo on right.)  Joanna, mom and dad believe black lives matter, white lives matter, Vietnamese lives matter, all lives matter.

The White Monkey gets fat on donuts

I've always been a fat slob, but now I'm a fatter slob because the donut lady started coming to our house every morning. Phuong and her mom thought they were doing me a big favor by getting six to 10 donuts a day for me. Like I said in an earlier blog, these donuts have an extremely thick caramelized sugar coating, which I assume is put on after the dough is deep fried in trans-fat-filled oil. Some of the donuts have a kind of green bean paste filling, which is yummy. In fact, all of the donuts taste good. Unfortunately, they're a death sentence, and they're not something you can or should eat every day, although I gave it my best shot. Phuong took a look at me and stopped buying the donuts this week, saying they're better if you only eat them once in a while. What she's really saying is that I'm fat. The donuts aren't big, but they pack a wallop (see photos on right). I'll take a break for a while. It was simply a case of too much of a good thing.
Good news: I'm back in the good graces of the Hu tieu girls. The 38-year-old with the doctor friend from the U.S. said she wasn't shooing me away. She said she was saying hello. I disagreed, of course, because the White Monkey knows shooing when he sees shooing, but we let it pass quickly and all is well. The Hu tieu girl said that I didn't understand what she was saying because of my headphones. If I were to die here -- oh God, please don't let that happen -- the Vietnamese would write the following epitaph on my tombstone: "Here lies White Monkey who didn't understand". The Vietnamese always forget articles, like "a". The tombstone would no doubt have some graffiti on it as well: "What your name? Where you from?"
Some sad news, but not totally unexpected.: The park near our house where I used to do some Tai chi has gotten seedy. I was coming home from my walk at 11 a.m,. and I passed though the park just in time to see some loser standing with his pants around his ankles taking a pee -- in front of God and everyone. This little wiener -- in every sense of the word -- wasn't behind a tree or being discreet. He was peeing and proud. Of course, he's friends with my sleeping buddy, and this dynamic duo hangs around on flattened cardboard in the middle of the park. Some other guy shows up regularly with a German shepherd and another big dog -- leash-less, of course -- and nods approvingly as the dogs threaten all passersby. More cars are parking in the park. And naturally, more motorbike riders zip through the park these days, which is completely understandable. Why use the traffic-free roads that run alongside the park when you can ride your motorbike through the park and anger pedestrians and guys taking a piss?
I'm still trying to gather documents for Phuong's visa interview at the U.S. Embassy. I really need a break in the United States with my wife Phuong and daughter Joanna, especially after the rough week of classes I had. Adding to my frustrating week: people have been pointing at my daughter when she's out and about, saying "my" (pronounced me), which I think means foreigner or American in Vietnamese. Give her a break folks, she's two months old. Actually, Joanna is doing very well, thanks to her mom's tireless efforts. She weighs 13 pounds already, is quite tall, and consumes mom's milk around the clock. She's smiling a lot, and making more cute baby noises every day.
I really miss playing tennis with Phuong, and I even started jogging a little to help my ailing right ankle and prepare for a possible comeback on the court. But finding a partner is the biggest challenge, so I make do with walking these days.

No apples and peanut butter; no Hu tieu and crepes; Joanna will be U.S. citizen

I teach a group of government workers, and they're pretty nice folk. Most are older, with husbands and wives and children. I was explaining apples to the group -- things like core, stem, skin, seeds, pie, cider, and all things apple. I brought in some peanut butter and apples and explained how this is a good combination and popular with some people in my country. I invited the class to try a small slice of apple with a little peanut butter on it. The 10 students looked at me in horror, like I asked them to lick the top and bottom of my shoes. I had already cut one apple into quarters, so I slapped some peanut butter on a quarter and ate the damn thing, exaggerating how good it was. Really, it was good (USA apples and chunky peanut butter from Golden Farms, a local company). Finally, two women wanted to try a quarter slice with peanut butter, and I think they actually liked it. They ate the whole piece, which I coated with peanut butter, and said it was very good. No one else budged. They refused to even have a taste. That's not how I live my life, but what the hell do I know.
I walked into a new store coming home from my daily walk. It was a crepes store, and they sell specialty drinks along with ice cream and fruit wrapped in crepes. I asked to see a menu and was instantly surrounded by three staffers. Bad sign.  The girl who opened the menu motioned for me to order one of the drinks on the right-hand side of the menu. But I wanted crepes with strawberries and ice cream, so I pointed to where this item was listed on the menu. That set off a barrage of questions and Vietnamese-speak, none of which I truly understood. Again, I pointed to the item I wanted -- and asked for two of them so Phuong could have one -- but things got more complicated. I asked for the items "to go" and the staffers looked at me in horror, like I asked them to lick the top and bottom of my shoes. One guy said in tepid English that the ice cream would melt and they wouldn't give me the items "to go."  I tried to explain to the English speaker that I lived two minutes away so it was no problem. But in unison the staff shook their heads and hands and wouldn't make the crepes "to go" for me. I'll never go in that shop again, but those losers don't care. They know what's best for the White Monkey because the White Monkey is a flaming idiot who doesn't know what's good for him. But that's how people do business here. Screw the customer. The customer is wrong and they're always right and you can take it or leave it. So ... I'll leave it. Good-bye. It reminds me of some computer stores in the United States where a snarky teen refuses to wait on you until he or she is damn well ready.
Another mystery on the walk: One of the Hu tieu girls decided the White Monkey is not welcome to share food with the girls. Three of the girls seem OK when I drop off some food, but one of the girls (really, a 38-year-old woman) runs up to me and shoos me away when I approach with a treat. Really. No big deal for me, so the treat exchange is over and I buy my Hu tieu elsewhere. Weird.
Joanna is going to be a United States citizen. We spent all afternoon at the U.S. Embassy on Tuesday, and the applications were accepted and stamped and pre-approved and post-approved. Now we're trying to get Phuong a visa for our trip to the U.S. If Phuong is rejected again and keeps getting rejected -- even though we're married with a child -- we'll look into moving to Canada when I retire. Prince Edward Island is one of the nicest places I've ever been to, but winter could be too much for my wife. We'll see what happens. I really like Yellow Springs, Ohio, so I hope my government realizes Phuong is so cool, so nice, and an asset wherever she goes.

Daughter Joanna improves my quality of life

Life has been wonderful since the arrival of my daughter Joanna Pham Millman. I've had several extremely close calls on my motorbike, but no accidents. My lottery ticket was a winner last week and paid Phuong and I a crisp 100,000 ... dong (a little less than $5 in U.S. currency). Phuong's mom hit for 200,000 later in the week by playing my birthday numbers. The rich get richer. And it gets better. The donut lady I haven't seen for more than a week walked past our front door hauling a ton of donuts. No doubt about it, these donuts with a one-inch caramelized sugar coating will decay your sweet tooth, but that's a small price to pay for these tasty treats. And the actual price is even smaller .... six for 10,000 dong (less than 50 cents U.S.)
Phuong's mom is totally enamored with Joanna, like all of us are. Phuong's mom has two grandsons, but there's a special bond that connects a grandmother and granddaughter. My mom was so taken with my daughters Jessica and Caroline that she could hold them for hours, and make sure their every wish was granted. And she was smiling the whole time. I love my kids, but I admit I don't have that kind of parental endurance.  I really wish my mom could have seen Joanna. I'm happy Phuong's mom can spend time with her and spoil the heck out of her -- and us.
We're back on the U.S. Embassy trail, requesting an appointment to get started on Joanna's U.S. citizenship request. We had to scan four documents to send with our emailed request for an appointment at the Embassy. When and if we get the appointment, we must bring the emailed documents and a whole bunch of other documents to get things rolling. We'll apply for Joanna's U.S. citizenship, passport, and social security card and number all at once. We need to have this happen quickly if  we hope to come to the U.S. later this year as a family. I  have to return for eye work -- again -- but I can't imagine being without Phuong and Joanna when I travel this time.
Joanna is finally starting to grow a little hair, and it's clearly reddish-brown. So cool. But the main concern, of course, is that all is well with our little angel (that's what Phuong calls her sometimes -- I like it). Joanna  is closing in on being two months old but still hasn't seen a doctor yet. Seems odd to me, but that's how they do things here. She's sleeping lots lately, but she's also eating lots lately, and pooping lots lately, and smiling more lately. Everything seems OK so far.
I had a wonderful week of classes. One small teen class was a problem, but that's nothing new with this group. I'm not sure what the issue is, but I've suggested to the staff  they get a younger, more energetic teacher for the class in question. Everything I've tried -- from videos to games to handouts to music -- has been met with silence and a shrug or sneer from this group. I hope their new teacher fares better than I did. I certainly tried but it's obvious that some fresh blood is needed. It kind of bums me out because I feel like I failed. But all my other classes are going great, so I guess I shouldn't get too bummed out about it.
I tried to buy gasoline for the motorbike today, but neither attendant would wait on me. They motioned to each other to wait on me, but neither would get off their ass to sell me some gas. I wonder if my race is an explanation. They both took care of Vietnamese customers while I waited. I finally rode to another  station to get gas. Phuong said it was a control issue, explaining to me that everyone here wants to be a boss and tell someone else what to do. They can kiss my crankshaft for all I care.
But stuff like this rolls off my back these days. I've got a wonderful wife and daughter who are both good luck charms for the White Monkey.

Entertainment in Vietnam and teaching manners

When you're an old White Monkey, what do you do for fun? These days, I sit with my wife Phuong on our bed and we watch our daughter Joanna sleep. And we talk about how wonderful she is. Now that's entertainment. Joanna sleeps with her arms raised like she just won the Wimbledon final. She smiles a lot in her sleep, no doubt dreaming about her dad's funny face. Sometimes she sleeps with her eyes open, just like her mom. Creepy.  Joanna is six weeks old and she seems to be doing just fine. Her baby acne is gone thanks to my suggested treatment of putting her in a cold room and taking off the hat, gloves and towels that she was wrapped in by her mom and grandmom, Joanna doesn't seem to enjoy the heat here -- just like her dad. After all, she's got half of my genes. Her skin is white at this point, and her hair is brown with a little red and a little blonde. It's pretty thin for now. Her eyes are green, according to Phuong, but I think they're brown. She's pretty big, like her dad, but fortunately, her eyes and face resemble Phuong's, in my opinion. That's great news because my wife is beautiful. Phuong is an incredibly doting mom and she is absolutely devoted to making sure everything is wonderful with Joanna. I love 'em both, of course. However, I almost choked on my chocolate milk the other day when Phuong mentioned that Joanna really needs a little brother or sister.
I'm becoming friends with the Hu tieu girls and their mom. They give me free Vietnamese desserts when I buy Hu tieu (about twice a week) and I give them cookies and little cakes in return. Phuong says their Hu tieu has too much sugar in the soup, but I like it. They give me a good-sized portion and I leave a little tip and we're all happy. As it should be.
I bought a backpack today at a little store on Vo Thi Sau, where I walk every day. When you walk into a store here, the clerks come rushing at you and won't give you a moment's peace. When I was looking at the backpack I wanted, I asked the girl "how much" in Vietnamese. Granted, my Vietnamese sucks and doesn't meet the ridiculously stringent standard of the locals, but I said "bao nhieu?" as well as I needed to -- I suspect most people here would get it. But this girl didn't understand. I think she was trying to sell me a more expensive backpack. Ah, but the store owner, who knows me from my walks and previous purchases there, screamed BAO NHIEU at the girl and smiled at me. I'll have to get that guy a Christmas card this year.
The store also sells baseball-type caps with Hollister, Vans, Nike and such embroidered on them. I guess they're knock-offs, but some of them seem legit. Who knows and who cares? They're 30,000 Dong each (about $1.50), so I've bought about 25. They're always on a table outside the store so I don't have to deal with the clerks. I tried to give a couple to my son Alec when he visited, but he said he's not a cap guy. I'm not either, but I don't want my face fried by the sun here, so I cap out.
My right shoulder was bothering me a little this week, and I mentioned it to my massage girl Chi. Man, did she go to work on me, twisting my right arm, punching my shoulder, squeezing the hell out of my shoulder and arm, and cracking my elbow, wrist and fingers. Son of a gun, the shoulder is fine now. Chi can't be taller than 4-foot-eight, and she has the tiniest hands I've ever seen. But she's strong, gritty, and gives a great massage. No nonsense. She takes her job seriously and I really like her.
Classes are going well, but I do teach lots of little kids. In addition to English, I feel compelled to teach them not to curse, not to throw trash on the floor, how to say please, thank you, no thank you, sorry and excuse me, not to screw up their faces and say WHAT? when they don't understand something, not to wave their hand in a White Monkey's face to say no, not to cut in line, and to always allow ladies to go first. All that additional stuff is so much more challenging than the English because it goes against what these kids have seen and experienced most of their lives. We're making progress, although I admit that sometimes I get frustrated. But these are good kids and they want to do the right thing. They're learning. I'm not trying to change anyone's culture, but I want them to understand how successful they can be when they treat others with kindness and respect. These are lessons I wish I had more of -- or paid more attention to -- when I was a kid.

Eyes closed; bureaucrats; The Beatles

We took Joanna to a local photo shop to get her passport picture taken. But Joanna refused to wake up and open her eyes. No open eyes, no passport photo. We put ice on her feet and face to get her to wake up. She whined a little, but didn't open her eyes. I held her upside down, and she opened her eyes. But she closed them and went back to sleep the moment I held her right-side up. Amazing. Joanna slept through everything we tried, so we returned home. As soon as we got home, Joanna opened her eyes and stayed awake. Phuong snapped a quality photo with her phone and Phuong's mom took the phone to the photo shop. And got the wrong-sized pictures printed. They printed 1x2 for a Vietnamese passport. The U.S. passport size is 2x2. We paid extra for the correct size. That's typical. Everything related to documents, records and bureaucrats here has been, well, difficult and challenging.
We almost had Joanna's birth certificate last Tuesday, but there were a few problems. My name became Michael John Millman and Joanna became a boy and my U.S. zip code was close but not quite. And my street name was wrong. These were "copied" from a document we gave them. But the bureaucrat argued that my name was Millman John Michael on my passport so it should be blah blah blah.  I won't even dignify that argument with an insult or explanation. The birth certificate was to be retyped Wednesday. When you haves tons of bureaucracy, you're going to have tons of mistakes. Guaranteed.
For example, we went back to the house of  b-crats Wednesday to get the new birth certificate, but Phuong and her dad were told the person who fixes mistakes and retypes documents had to leave town. This same crap happened with our marriage license. So just like our marriage license, we have to wait another week to get a document that was promised to us but not delivered on the day it was promised. What did I say about bureaucracy?
I've lived here a little more than 3-and-a-half years, and I had my first street vendor donut last week. It was loaded with caramelized sugar and it was flat out good. There's a catch: This is the first time I've ever seen street donuts like these and odds are I won't see them again. I'll remain optimistic, try not to be Mr. Complain, and look for the donut lady from now on. But four other trips on the same street at the same time this week produced no donut lady ... or donuts. I did buy a sweet, greasy bread that wasn't bad, but it wasn't a donut, either.
Phuong's family had a wonderful get-together to celebrate Joanna's one-month birthday. We had a huge lunch of Vietnamese food, including lots of great chicken. A very nice gathering. Joanna slept through much of the lunch. She's relaxed ... what can I say?
There has been a reincarnation of The Beatles in our house, especially late at night. After my last class of the evening followed by dinner, Joanna will eat and get ready for bed. That's where The Beatles come in. I'll hold my daughter and dance to songs from Abbey Road, and after three or four songs, Golden Slumbers usually fill her eyes. I know she's too young to distinguish different groups and types and music, but she honest-to-god seems to relax to The Beatles. If Abbey Road doesn't do the trick, we'll keep on dancing through The White Album and finish with the song Good Night, which has become a household favorite. Phuong is even mildly impressed with how dancing to The Beatles seems to relax Joanna.
By the way, I'm one of those guys who still likes both The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. I don't have a favorite, although I'm a little partial to the Stones these days because they're still having children. I can relate
The folks on my walk are nicer and nicer to me. I buy a 6,000 dong raincoat each day from a shop owner who always points to the sky -- and laughs -- when she sees me. I get my 20,000 dong coffee that's awesome. I smile and chat with the Hu tieu girls. Some days I'll get duck, a real treat here. I shake hands with the car wash guys, who used to shout at me through my headphones. In a few months, Joanna will join me on the walk, making it even better.
I only taught one class a day this week, so life is pretty relaxed. My school has hired a bunch of younger types -- in their mid-20s, I would guess. An old White/Gray Monkey isn't a hot commodity here -- where the emphasis is on youth and good-looks --  but I still really enjoy the students, and I hope they tolerate me. I love teaching and I want to continue doing it indefinitely. We'll see what the future brings.

A walk on the not so wild side.

My daily walk through Bien Hoa, in addition to being good for my health, has become a great social outlet for me. My wife encourages the walk and my tai chi, which is just another reason I love her so much. I've met some nice coffee shop owners, waiters and waitresses on the walk. I've discovered  a family restaurant near my coffee shop where the family grills chicken and pork in honey sauce. They're quite nice and their chicken and pork are delicious. I've met a family of five ladies -- mom and her daughters -- who make Hu Tui (or Tieu in the north), a noodles, pork, sprouts, onions and broth concoction that comes with really hot peppers. One of the girls speaks OK English and was showing me pictures of her American "friend", who's a doctor. I show them pictures of my wife and daughter and we try to chat in a combination of Vietnamese and English. Two of the daughters are twins and lament their freckles, telling me local men don't find them attractive. They're just fine, believe me. I bought a cool spatula in this little shop where they also train chefs in Korean cooking. I've gone to a couple of businesses where the prices seem to rise for the White Monkey. Instead of a discount, I qualify for the White Monkey miscount. Whatever. Vietnam calls itself a Capitalist Communist country, or something like that, so I sample the burgeoning free enterprise and shop where I want.
We made another trip to Ho Chi Minh City last week to complete paperwork to obtain our daughter Joanna's birth certificate, which we need with a bunch of other documents -- like our passports, marriage license, divorce decrees, social security card, driver's license, and my social security benefits statement from the U.S. government -- to apply for her U.S. citizenship. All the documents must be double-secret certified. Should be a snap, right? I have to prove I lived five consecutive years in the U.S. to get her application process going. That's why the social security document is so crucial. It proves I worked a lot of consecutive years in the U.S. Amazingly, the U.S. tracked me down in Bien Hoa at our house and gave me the exact document I needed when we apply for our daughter's citizenship. If only the folks here would get their act together and stop trying to frustrate the White Monkey, and allow me to do the best for my daughter.
Joanna will need a passport because I hope to take her and Phuong to the U.S. in November for Thanksgiving and Dec. 12, the world holiday and celebration that is my birthday. I joke, of course, because once you get passed a certain age -- for me it was 21 -- birthdays don't mean too much. But now that I'm in my 60s, birthdays are a little weird. They remind me of my mortality. No matter because paperwork, embassies and government officials will be the death of me anyway, since I apparently have nine lives on the motorbike. Phoung and I are hoping and praying we can come to the U.S. together for a month.
On a sad note, my big, black, mean, ornery cat named Kitty (like all my cats), that my friend Ron took care of for me, apparently died. Ron is one of the great people on planet Earth. He's smart, kind, generous to a fault, funny as hell, and great company. The exact opposite of my cat. Maybe that's why they hit it off.
My daughter Jessica, who is one of the brightest and most genuine women in the world, turns 33 on Aug. 8. And no matter how old she is, Jessica will always be my little girl. I know she might not want to read this sort of stuff, but I have so many wonderful memories of her growing up (the Bee Hive trail in Maine) and becoming an adult (a hard-fought college degree). I know I'm preoccupied these days with my newborn Joanna in Vietnam, as I should be, but Jessica was my first child and she's No. 1 for a reason. Sounds corny, but I love all my kids the same, regardless of past history, dramas, disappointments and triumphs. Jessica, Caroline, Jack, Alec and Joanna all bring something special to my life. I'm a natural cynic, and my sincere and always cheerful wife Phuong has nicknamed me "Mr. Complain,"  but I've been really fortunate and blessed to have such wonderful children. And I continue to be blessed.

New friends, Russian readers, Joanna turns 21

We celebrated our daughter's 21st birthday -- that's 21 days -- with several breastfeedings, intermittent sleep and a short trip outside. Joanna seemed to enjoy all of the festivities, especially the breastfeedings. But I'll say this about my daughter: She's very social. When we put her down to sleep in her crib and we leave the room, she'll start crying almost immediately. I'll return, pick her up, and put her down on the couch with mom and dad, and she'll go to sleep right away while Phuong and I watch CNN. It seems she wants to know people are nearby so she can relax and sleep. Maybe she'll be a people person. I'm the opposite. I scream when people are nearby. For the most part, I like being alone (except when I can be with Phuong and Joanna).
I may be less social than everyone else, but I've got lots of new friends in Bien Hoa these days, thanks to my daily walks through the city. All of the coffee shop waitresses, scrap collectors, lottery ticket sellers, security guards and street vendors have become the White Monkey's best buddies. Everybody needs friends, right?
The guy who sleeps in the park now wakes up and says hi to me, with a big smile, when I pass by. Welcome to my world. You're all invited, if you can get away.
Phuong, Joanna and I got away this past Thursday for a trip to Ho Chi Minh City. We had to go to the U.S. Embassy and get papers stamped -- and then go to a worthless agency about a mile away to get verification that those same papers were stamped at the U.S. Embassy -- so we can apply for Joanna's birth certificate in Bien Hoa. When we eventually get our daughter's birth certificate, then we can return to the U.S. Embassy in HCMC to apply for Joanna's U.S. citizenship. Other trips for her passport and social security card come later. I don't care.  I'll get her U.S. citizenship no matter what --  regardless of the hassle, bureaucracy, inconvenience, money and bull$%&!  Phuong supports me on this and has been an invaluable help. And Joanna charmed the bureaucrats so we had our initial document mailed to us. I think Joanna is great-luck charm.
Phuong is getting stronger every day, and she's started walking up and down the stairs a little.  She did the wash and cooked dinner yesterday, and I couldn't be happier. No, I'm not happy because I can become lazy again. I'm happy because my incredible wife is getting her life back little by little. Phuong is so happy and so proud of Joanna. And now she's feeling good physically. It's wonderful to see and be a part of.
Joanna scored a trifecta Thursday and Friday: She pooped all over my legs, all over Phuong's arm, and all over Phuong's mom's dress. In every instance, she had a little poop first to lull all of us into a false sense of security, then came back with a big blast a couple of minutes later to catch us off-guard. Hilarious.
On my daily walk I wear headphones and blast my music. I've mentioned this before. This week as I walked past a car wash (I know. A car wash of all things...  in Vietnam), one of the washers started repeatedly shouting "HELLO!" next to my head. He was being a smart-ass for his car wash buddies. I ignored him, waited, turned around, tip toed behind him and screamed HELLO in his ear as he walked away. The startled car washer jumped three feet in the air. He turned around and laughed and I laughed. I have another new buddy.
I have a deal at my massage parlor. Only this little girl named Chi gets to rub the White Monkey's head and shoulders. There's nothing sensual about this massage. Chi grinds on my shoulders and, as a result, a persistent pain in my right shoulder has gone away. I sleep on my right side, so I think that's the culprit. That, and the fact I'm an old White Monkey. Chi has fixed the shoulder, but she hasn't made me any younger. Actually, that's Phuong's job.
I exceeded 20,000 hits on my blog and I'm close to 21,000 already thanks to a surge in Russian readers. By the way, I don't agree with banning Russian athletes from the Olympics (because a lot of Russians read my blog). I also think that Barrack Obama is a great president, Hillary Clinton will be fine as president, and that Donald Trump is a conceited and scary guy. I saw him speak in person in Bakersfield and his favorite word was "I".   Sorry, not sure how I got on these topics.
Finally, again and again I thank everyone for their "likes" and kind comments on Facebook and in emails directed toward my beautiful daughter. She would thank you herself, but she's breastfeeding at the moment.

The joys of fatherhood at 61

Being the 61-year-old father of a half American, half Vietnamese, beautiful newborn girl is both exhilarating and exhausting.
The exhilaration comes from seeing Joanna pucker her lips and stick out her tongue to breastfeed. Or it comes from watching her sleep and kick off every blanket and towel she's wrapped in. Yesterday, she grabbed her own hair so hard she started crying, and she wouldn't let go. I had to literally pry her fingers open to make her let go of her hair. Phuong was concerned and wanted to put gloves on Joanna , but I laughed and kept watching my daughter. I say no gloves or hat at this stage -- two weeks old -- because she spends almost all of her time in our second-floor bedroom with her mom. Joanna loves her daily bath, and she has already kicked off her little belly button cord somehow. She loves to kick and stretch, and thankfully all signs point to a normal and very healthy baby girl. I think back to my first two daughters and remember how fantastic it was seeing them grow, learn, and develop into wonderful women.
Now for the slightly exhausting parts of my new life. First of all, I'm 61. Just the thought makes me tired. And there's the lack of sleep caused by Joanna's demand for mom's milk. But this is to be expected. As for me not getting enough sleep, so what. I'll sleep when I die. I've returned to work, which is a little tiring, but almost all of the students have been extremely cool about the new addition to our family. Because Phuong had a C-section, her mobility is quite limited. This means I do all the cooking, laundry and cleaning. I'm in a good rhythm with all the chores, and I really enjoy cooking, although I sweat a lot in Vietnam's god-awful heat. But I've gotten creative with fish and pork and cooking with beer, as well as making different smoothies and ice drinks. The part that's most difficult about the cooking and chores is the stairs. The Vietnamese may be the stare masters, but I'm the real stair master. I estimate I go up and down our three flights of stairs about 12 to 15 times a day. Our washing machine is on the third floor. So is the printer for my school work. When I carry food to Phuong on the second floor, I inevitably forget something crucial, like chopsticks or a fork ... or the main course. But I'm excited to go up the stairs because I know I'll see Phuong and my daughter. I hate going down the stairs because it hurts my ankles and usually means I have to do the dishes.  But maybe my fitness will improve a little.
Speaking of fitness, I still do my daily walk, and I've expanded it a little so I can buy milk from a store near my coffee shop. The park I often write about has gotten a little seedy -- no shock there. A guy was in the park training his chicken for chicken fighting; another guy sleeps there every day; and a group of guys play cards there daily.  Now, I do my chi at home when there's time.
The great news, after Joanna, is that I'm still not smoking. I haven't had a cigarette in more than four months and I have no desire to start smoking again. Well, maybe when I'm 70.