Two years without a cigarette; one more key TEFL tip

I celebrated a significant anniversary in my life on March 23. That day marked two years since I last had a cigarette. I love being cigarette-free, and free is the optimum word. No longer do I ''have to" search for my brand of butts in a town that either doesn't understand what I want or tries to overcharge me for what I need. I don't "have to" have a cigarette with beer or coffee. In fact, I drink less beer and coffee, possibly because I don't smoke. No longer do I literally burn through my money to feed an unhealthy habit. And no longer do I "have to" go into those god-awful smoking rooms at the airports in Tokyo, Vietnam, Qatar, and other foreign countries that still have those god-awful smoking rooms. I don't hassle smokers about being smokers -- I'm not one of those ex-smokers. I really don't care. But I will ask smokers to move if they light up next to Phuong or Joanna. That can get you into a fight here, but so be it. The first year I quit I had to overcome urges to light up from time to time. Second-hand smoke smelled pretty good the first year that I stopped smoking, but it gradually got less attractive. Now, I'm not grossed out or anything, but I don't like it. I've also noticed a subtle improvement in my tai chi breathing, which is an integral part of the exercise. Maybe a downside is that I've put on a little weight, but I'm 63 and I never, ever really looked liked the  Marlboro man, who died of lung cancer. So, if you're still a smoker, that's cool. But I'm not jealous anymore, and that's cool, too. I'm kind of proud of that.

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March 22 was five-year anniversary of my dad's death, but anniversaries like that aren't very significant to me. Whenever I remember, I'll say, "Oh yea, that's right. He/she died today (or this week or yesterday or whenever)."  Death anniversaries are more important in Vietnam, but I'm not interested. Once you're dead, I believe -- in the words of the late, great Harry Kalas- -- you could be, you might be, you're "Outta here!"
I try to remember people's lives from time to time, especially my mom's. Gertrude (Stachow) Millman taught me to always give and be generous. Her wise words didn't always resonate with me, but they seem to have taken on added significance lately.
That's probably because my third daughter, Joanna, reminds me so much of my mom: similar expressions, similar determination, and the same caring nature.

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 My friend John S. gave me a knife sharpener when I visited him in Dayton, Ohio, about a year or so ago. It was one of those gifts I threw in my suitcase and pretty much ignored. I used it once in Vietnam, and it seemed OK, but lately it has become one of my favorite tools. I've sharpened every knife in my house -- and you have to be careful because it can make knives almost too sharp. I'm going to use that thing to sharpen my wit, but I'm not so sure it'll help my writing.

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I forgot one very important tip for TEFL job hunters. When you read an advertisement for a job from a language center that contains bad grammar, misspellings, strange, awkward or incorrect sentence structure, weird collocations, lots of promises but no salary minimum, BEWARE! BEWARE! BEWARE! You'll be working for someone who doesn't have a good command of the English language, but they'll tell you how to teach it.  And trying to get paid -- not to mention trying to get all of the other promised benefits -- could be very testy. Remember: Experience keeps a dear school ...

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Phuong and I are playing tennis three times a week these days, and the matches are very competitive. Phuong rallied from a 1-3 deficit to beat me 6-4 on Thursday.  I haven't slept well since.