An explosion at home; baby wants out

We had a crazy kitchen incident last week. It was a near miss that could have been horrible. Really. Phuong was using the percolator to make my morning coffee. I went to the fridge to get milk and Phuong was washing some spoons in the sink when the percolator blew up. And I mean BLEW THE HELL UP. Coffee grounds were everywhere -- the walls, the ceiling, the kitchen table, in the fridge, on Phuong, on me. Crazy. Phuong got sprayed with a tiny bit of hot water, but she was mostly out of harm's way. The percolator handle was across the room. The screwed-on top had blown off and was on the stove. It sounded like a bomb. Phuong's dad came over and with a smirk on his face said it was like the war. I knew what he meant and we laughed together. Funny, but a really scary moment that could have been much worse.
I'm happiest here when I'm with my wife or in the classroom teaching. Phuong is a remarkable companion, great cook and funny person. When I broke one of the free bowls we got with a purchase of spaghetti sauce while I was doing dishes, Phuong immediately said, "I guess my dear didn't like their promotion." She made an incredible dinner of salmon and shrimp with cream sauce on Saturday night. That's typical. She always prepares unique vegetables. And she's pampered me through my motorbike injuries. Remarkably, I'm all better now and pain-free. No easy feat with two sets of banged-up ribs and a mashed right ankle. She's an incredible woman and I'm a lucky man.
Almost all of my students and classes are wonderful. I have to clamp down on some of my little kids classes early, but they get it and their English improves quickly. Kids -- and teens -- are like sponges. They soak up the language, including the pronunciation. I'm happy to report that teens exhibit similar behavior all over the world. They pout, sulk, push the limits, disrespect the White Monkey, and love to curse. I've tossed a few teens out of my classes, but only when they violate a school or White Monkey classroom policy. But the teens and practically everyone else here never hold a grudge. I've booted teens out of class and the next time I see them we're laughing or joking or sharing a moment. I believe that will continue. In more than three years living here, only one chucklehead -- a co-worker -- will not speak to or acknowledge me after an incident two years ago that was clearly his fault and/or responsibility. That's actually a pretty good testament to the Vietnamese people. Too bad they're chuckleheads when they're riding their motorbikes or behind the wheel of a car.
The motorbike has become the bane of my existence here. I don't like it and I don't trust the people who ride them. Many folk have their left turn signals on and then turn right. The positive -- sort of -- is that very few people use their turn signals. Nobody yields at intersections. I walk much more these days, but motorbikes ride on sidewalks and I've been hit by bikes (not real hard) while walking at least five times. And the bike riders glare at me like I'm the ass clown for using the sidewalk to WALK. (This is why I carry the cane even though my body has healed.) At night, about 10 percent of the bikes have no lights whatsoever and about 50 percent have no rear lights. Kids drive stupid and weave in and out of traffic. Bikes come out of side streets onto the main roads and never yield or give a rat's rump about oncoming traffic or right of way. In short, motorbike riders follow no rules or laws, have no etiquette, and care about no one but themselves. Sadly, I've chatted with two people at Metro Supermarket who told me their children were killed in motorbike accidents. And two students told me about family members they lost in accidents. It really upsets me when I hear these stories, but I'm not shocked since I have first-hand experience with how dangerous the bikes here can be.
The rainy season has arrived and, of course, our new house floods. In fact, just about every house seems to take on water. The streets flood quickly because the litter blocks the drains. The temperature isn't quite as high -- in the low 90s -- but it's very humid. It's a real treat when the power goes out, which happens about once a month for three-hour stretches. (Peru was much worse in terms of power outages. And some of us who lived in California know about Enron.)  So, the motorbikes and weather are practically killing me - literally -- but I've got the best wife in the world and awesome students.
Phuong's belly is huge and it's only a matter of weeks -- if that long --  before she gives birth.  She now has weekly hospital visits and so far, so good. The baby is quite active, kicking and stretching. I think it wants out of there.