Illness, mountains of laundry and lots of reading

Phuong and I are great believers in recycling, so we have passed the same illnesses around in our household for the last month. We've run the gamut from head to toe -- headaches, sinus infections, runny noses, sore throats, chest congestion, stomach pain, bowel issues, as well as sore knees, ankles and arches. Phuong even had some sort of eye infection. I'm not entirely shocked at our health issues since it's 94 degrees and horribly humid every day, with monsoon rain most afternoons. Also, people dispose of trash here by burning it, so there's the lovely scent of melting plastic and burning tires wafting through the city air about three times a week. And don't forget cigarette smoke. People -- almost exclusively men -- light up everywhere here, including hospital waiting rooms. Somehow, Joanna has avoided almost all of the health issues under these daunting circumstances. She had a runny nose for a couple of days, but that's pretty much it. She reminds me of one of my other daughters, who at age 5 shook off the mumps in an afternoon, and gets sick about once every three years. Despite our persistent health issues, Phuong and I continue to play tennis, hoping to sweat out the viruses and infections that have set up camp in our bodies. We sweat like crazy, but remain a little sick. It'll take time.
I don't go out much or ride the bike anymore so I'm under a self-imposed house arrest in a manner of speaking. I've read eight Jack Vance books since I came back from the U.S. in late August, and I'm already fretting about what I'm going to do when I finish the remaining five Vance books I have. Reading has become a passion for me lately. So has laundry. I do more than an hour of laundry and tai chi every night. The laundry is a little overwhelming because Joanna is struggling with potty training, I take a minimum of three showers daily, and Phuong contributes her fair share to our bulging laundry basket. There are no dryers here, and it takes clothes a long time to dry when they're hung up outside because of the humidity. Laundry is actually more than a passion; it's a lifestyle.
Joanna is approaching 28 months old and she is such a joy for Phuong and I. Joanna speaks both English and Vietnamese, but she clearly prefers English and her vocabulary is remarkably extensive, in my opinion. She knows all the letters, numbers, and she displays a mischievous sense of humor. She loves the books I've gotten her, and one of her favorites is "I Am Bunny." In the book, the bunny says "my name is Nicholas and I live in a hollow tree." When we ask Joanna her name, she gives us  an elfish grin and says "My name is Nicholas." I pretend to be frustrated, pound the table or bed and say "You're not Nicholas, you're Joanna." Of course she repeats "My name is Nicholas" over and over to get me riled.
Phuong's mother got word that I liked bun bo Hue, and now we're getting shipments every other day. Phuong's mom did the same thing with spring rolls. Love Phuong's mom, but she doesn't understand the concept of 'too much of a good thing.'
Our interview at the U.S. embassy to move our family to the U.S. likely won't happen until March or April. If we get one. If Phuong is denied an interview, which I guess is possible, then we'll apply for a waiver. If that fails, then it's off to Uruguay or Ecuador or someplace I'd be more comfortable having my daughter go to school. We're waiting before we get serious about relocating.
Illness and rain haven't helped our tennis, but I did manage to come from ahead 5-2 on two occasions to lose to Phuong 5-7, 6-7 (5). In the second set, in addition to letting a 5-2 lead get away, I was winning 5-1 in the tiebreaker and fell apart to lose 5-7. Phuong courageously called my last shot "out!" when I was sure it painted the line. But I'm a notorious complainer, and it hasn't served me well yet.

From Kavanaugh to death music to my girl cursing

Even my wife's family followed the train wreck that was Donald Trump's nomination of Brett Kavanaugh to the U.S. Supreme Court. Phuong and her family didn't understand all the finer points of the situation, but they got the gist.  They relied on me to fill in the blanks. I tried to be unbiased, but really ... First, I'm a registered Democrat. Second, I can't get my Vietnamese wife a visa to enter the U.S. Finally, we're talking about Kavanaugh, a man who was accused of sexual assault and had the support of a Republican Senate and president who has discussed "grabbing (women) by the p*****",  adding that "when you're a star, they let you do it." The Vietnamese I've spoken to say they liked President Barack Obama. They don't really give me an opinion on Trump. You can guess my opinion. I saw Trump speak at the Bakersfield Business Conference in the 1990s, and I was more impressed with Phyllis Diller's speech. Really. I want to return to the U.S. with my wife and little girl, but I don't want to come back to a divided country that rejects foreigners. Unbelievable, isn't it, that a country made great by its immigrants is now trying to close the door? Hypocrites.

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Everyone in our neighborhood is sick, which would normally make me smile, except I'm also one of the people who's sick. Here's what happened. Two neighbors on our street died last week. No, we didn't catch what they had. But all of us had to endure six days of loud, fingernail-on-chalkboard singing and music starting at 6:30 a.m. and finishing at 3 a.m. Death seems to be a more significant event than life is here, hence the massive death ceremonies. People "celebrate" the anniversaries of death with similar singing and music ... and gusto. The problem last week was that the music and singing really kicked into high gear around midnight and continued easily until 3 a.m. Professional mourners were hired to keep the music and wailing going until the wee-wee hours. Phuong and I went to Joanna's room, where it was only slightly quieter. Joanna tossed and turned, and Phuong and I didn't sleep well and got pissy with each other every day during the death concerts. Even with sickness, life improved the day the music died. I live with headphones on here so I can sleep and not hear death music and people asking me what my name is and where I'm from.

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Joanna has become a talking machine, which makes me so happy since she's only 27 months old. One of my sons was a very late talker, not saying much until he was close to 3 and a half. "Everything was fine until then," he says now. Anyway, I have to be especially careful around Joanna, who listens when you don't think she's listening, and repeats what you have once said when you least expect it. She dropped a "What the f@#k?" on me when one of her toys fell apart while she was playing. And she copied my "bulls#&t" to describe a fish tank with live, exposed wires next to our tennis court. I didn't react either time and there hasn't been a repeat performance, thank God. Joanna copies some of the noises I make during tai chi five animals play exercises -- she does the "hi, hi, hi-yaa" sound of the "bear" very, very well. Love that little girl.

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The tennis workouts and matches with Phuong are fantastic. Every match is close and the rallies are long and hotly contested. The heat is rough, but we persevere and enjoy ourselves. Joanna plays with Lego's or her cousin on the sidelines and is very well-behaved. The No. 1 ranking is up in the air because we've split the last six matches. Also, I want to publicly thank my ex-wife Lynda for getting my new glasses to Phuong's aunt in Chicago, who brought them to Bien Hoa this week. My life is finally coming into focus.