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Digging into my memory bank, I remember the very first time I learnt or perhaps laid eyes on Amish people was when my husband and I started to look for a property. To be correct, I was the one being watched by an Amish girl.

We found a farm for sale on a newspaper and called to get a direction. The farm was located in the south of Columbus, taking almost 3 hours to get there. I remember we stopped at a small restaurant somewhere not far from Athens - a college town where students have a reputation of partying too much - and incidentally my advent drew an attention from people there. Every head turned and every pair of eyes stared at me as though I were an alien. They might have wondered which planet I came from, I jokingly thought to myself. Their gazing didn’t intimidate me, though. Looking straight into their eyes with a big smile on my face as usual, I said, “Hi, how’s it going?” and paid no attention to them. I was so starving that I could eat a horse. A waitress came to our table and next thing I knew I heard someone sitting next to us ask, “Where are you folks from?” “We’re from Columbus”, one of us replied. And a friendly conversation flew in from every direction. These people were very nice even though they seemed to be a little bit too inquisitive at first. They gave us a clear direction how to reach the property we came to see. Bless their hearts.

We arrived at the property around 2 in the afternoon. In front of us were a two-story wooded house and a gigantic beat-up barn on the right hand side. The smell of cow manure hit me as soon as I opened the car door. It was so strong that I coughed. Then we were greeted by an old gentleman, wearing denim trousers with suspenders, a broadcloth long-sleeve shirt and a straw hat. His long beard and a bowl cut hair-style made him look so different than anybody I had ever seen in my entire being. *** Confession - I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I did exactly the same as those people from the restaurant; that is, to stare at him.*** As plain as he looked, there was something mysterious about him. I stared at him for a full minute. Realizing it was rude to do so, I looked away. There was a slightly energy transported directly to me and I could feel it. I sensed that I was being watched; therefore, I turned to that direction immediately. Sitting on a corner of a large and open living room was a young Amish lady - couldn’t tell exactly how old she was. She gazed at me with curiosity and our eyes met for a quick moment before she pretended to carry on with her sewing. She had blond hair tugging under her white cape; her light blue eyes looked innocent but stunning. She blushed as she knew she got caught. A masterpiece, the real and natural beauty I had ever seen in a woman, imprinted in my memory. We finally exchanged our smiles before I followed my husband and the old Amish gentleman to a basement area where that Amish family normally bathed. The house didn’t have an indoor plumbing.

“I have to go potty.” My husband responded, “They don’t have a bathroom but outhouse.

“What on earth is outhouse?”, asked I.

—To be continued -:)

A compound adjective is made up of two parts and sometimes it’s written with a hyphen such as good-natured, or one word, e.g. nearsighted. Its meaning is usually clear from the words combined; the second part of the compound adjectives is often a present or past participle. I’m not certain if there is a specific rule for a learner to memorize or a hint to go by. The best way might be to consult with a dictionary.

A large number of compound adjectives describe personal appearance. Here is a somewhat far-fetched description of a person starting from the head to toe.

My brother is a curly-haired, suntanned, brown-eyed, rosy-cheeked, thin-lipped, broad-shouldered, right-handed, slim-hipped, long-legged, flatfooted young man, wearing brand-new tight-fitting jeans and opened-toed sandals.

Here is a lighthearted description of someone.

Sandy is absent-minded (forgetful) , easygoing (relaxed), good-natured (cheerful), warmhearted (kind) , and quick-witted (intelligent) perhaps a little pigheaded (stubborn), two-faced (hypocritical),self-centered (egotistical), quick-tempered (easily angered) , and stuck-up (conceited) at times.

Can you give yourself a description using compound adjectives?

I went to see my chiropractor in a small town close to my house because I have gotten ‘cold foot’ for several months now. It’s not the same as ‘cold feet’ – an English phrase meaning ‘nervous’. For some reason my right foot is always cold; it is a freezing sensation that comes and goes. Surprisingly, it’s because I have begun to have low thyroid. Well, I’ll talk more about this ailment another time.

While I was waiting for my turn to get into a treatment room, I grabbed a magazine and started to read an article called “Animals nobody loves.” It’s one page article so it didn’t take me a long time to finish it. An author mentioned that there were a dozen unloved creatures: Wolves, bats, fleas, mosquitoes, octopuses, rats, snakes spider, vultures, pigs, eels, and coyotes.

‘What good is a rat?’ or ‘What good is a flea?’ seems to be a question that we have in mind because we look at everything from the point of view of what benefits us. Ignorance is the primary reason we react to unloved animals the way we do. Lack of education leads us to fear these animals.

The author defends his dastardly dozen with some surprising statements:
• The wolf is loyal, brave and affectionate.
• The rat is courageous and adaptable.
• Given a spacious sty and some hay to make a nest, the pig is as clean as a cat.
• The vulture eliminates disease and pollution.

He says that the bat has a face “not even a mother could love. With most of the birds asleep, the insect hordes would have their own way through the night if it weren’t for the bat. The evening is better because he’s abroad in the dark.

He even refuses to slap down the pesky mosquito. Let’s think for a moment. Mosquitoes are vital to the life of a pond or stream. They are the link in the food chain from algae to minnows to game fish. Many serve as bacterial traps in stagnant water. Some are even downright beneficial, catching and killing other mosquitoes.

It’s almost 11:30 at night. I should hit the sack.

I have been monitoring the situation in my motherland for a week now and worried about the dissidents or protesters. Although I have seen a similar crisis many times in my life, I will never be accustomed or inured to it. As far as I know, my people love peace; therefore, to try to overthrow or topple their government with no good reasons is out of their characters. Not having followed the political situation there for several years doesn’t help me much. The only source to check what’s happing or what triggered the protest is from on-line newspaper. After having read the news for a week now, I decided not to cast my opinion on this crisis though I could make a comment. Since I have vowed not to criticize or to say anything bad about my motherland and my people here, I will have to keep my own word and hope that both sides will reconcile and come up with the best solution for the sake of the country.

Oliver, the dog from a horse farm, comes to visit me once in a while and scares the day light out of my chickens. Since he is a border collier, his nature or perhaps his job is to herd animals. The very first time he followed me home, he saw my chickens. He was curious still didn’t know what to make of them. He was sitting and gazing at them. A month later, he came on his own. Oliver brought with him a lot of burr all over him and he was soaking wet with dew. David said, “Your dog is here.” Having a door crack open, I saw him sitting in front of my house. “What are you doing here, girl? Did your master know you’re here?” I stepped outside and rubbed his lean body lovingly; he seemed to enjoy that magic touch from me. Stupid as it may sound; I still assumed that he was a girl. Though he was more curious than the first time he had first set his paws on my property, he was obedient enough to listen to me. I said to him, “You stay right here, young lady. I will grab my socks and will take you home.” A half way to his house, Oliver disappeared from my sight. I saw him running toward the soybean field opposite to his house and gone. The very next time he came, I finally convinced myself to check if he was a boy or a girl. “Ah..ha. You’re really a boy. No wonder you like to come here. I bet you have fallen in love with me, hah?” He acts like a beagle, the breed that can’t be kept inside a house. Beagle enjoys hunting and roaming around. In fact, ‘Buster’, my next door neighbor’s dog used to come around to play with my dog. The first week after she had gone, Buster made his usual round and barked - a signal to call her out to play. They were good friends, I surmise.

**Mother’s Day as I recall**

August 12 is known to Thai people as Mother’s Day as it’s the birthday of Her Majesty the Queen of Thailand. She is regarded as the mother for all Thais. In commemoration of Her Majesty, this day is recognized as National Mother’s Day and is granted as a nationwide public holiday. All buildings throughout Thailand are decorated with her portrait and garlanded with flowers and many colored lights. Display of fireworks is typical around the kingdom. At school, the students take part in a special ceremony to honor HM the queen as well as their mothers. The students show their appreciations towards their mothers by presenting them with the garlands - made of jasmine flowers.

When I was young, I loved all public holidays. I got to ride in a car around Bangkok to enjoy the lights decorated on the buildings. (pai-doo-fai = meaning to go see the lights) was a magic phrase. I would try so hard to be a good girl all day so that I would be allowed to go. Any usual naughty thing I always did would be postponed or procastinated, suppressed, or even temporary erased from my mind until the holiday passed by. It was very exciting to leave my house at night and the feeling was too overwhelming or inundated for me. I guess it was like “W-A-L-K” word for my dog. Well, I have gotten to digress for a little bit. ‘Rain’, my border collier understood the word ‘walk’ in English so we started to spell it out just to tease her. She was just too smart for her own good. Later on, we just spoke a whole sentence in Thai and that darn dog couldn’t still be fooled easily. She would sit in front of the door with a leash on her mouth waiting, “Come on, you guys. Didn’t you just say the magic word?” I believe she enjoyed walking us. Pulling and digging her paws on the walkway spoke louder. I remember one day my next-door neighbor gave a photo. Looking at it, I burst out laughing. They were lovely old couples; I would say they were my very first friends in America. Anyway, it was Rain and I on the picuture. That photo told the whole story; they thought it was funny and cute so they took it. My arm was stretched out and the dog was pulling all of her mights. She was 25 pounds and I was 97, very skinny indeed. I was not inured to that kind of hard labour.

Well, I’m a bit late on posting my writing about Mother’s day for there had been so many things going on to prevent me from fulfill my own commitment. ‘Late’ is better than ‘Never’.

M – O – T – H – E – R
‘M’ is for the million things she gave me.
‘O’ means only that she’s growing old.
‘T’ is for the tears she shed to save me.
‘H’ is for the heat of purest gold.
‘E’ is for her eyes, with love-light shining.
‘R’ means right, and right she’ll always be.

** Originally from Yindii.com ***

I was late in submitting my writing assignment so I think it might be useful to post it up here for a change. I must say that it was rather difficult to write an essay with a limitation of 150 words.

“The disadvantages of the new technology”

The new technologies developed after the original was introduced, improvements made and the new players came into the picture. It is difficult to remember a time when computers or cell phones didn’t exist. Though they make our lives easier and more convenient, they are susceptible to complicate our lives and compel us to rely on them.

As the new technology continues to thrive, the opportunities for human contact have been diminishing. Many jobs are eliminated and replaced with the new automated computers and equipments. When the computers are down, the businesses abruptly cease and millions of dollars are lost within an hour.

Cell phones are the life-savers as an emergency arises; however, they have been held liable for an accident on the road. People become so absorb in their conversations that their abilities to concentrate on the driving become severely impaired.

The new technologies have both pros and cons in themselves. If we don’t treat them as though our lives depended on them, we will not be the victims of the new technologies.

There had been a lot of activities going on in my unfinished garage during a month of June and I happened to find a boisterous source. A clucking of a hen that was ready to lay egg indicated that another hen might be occupying her favorite spot. These hens are very rowdy when their times to lay eggs come. As I heard the noise coming out of one of my hens, my interpretation would be something like this, “Hey, are you done yet? Is it going to be long? I really have to go, you know!” It was like ‘first come, first serve’ scenario. “Sorry, I came here first so you have to wait, lady.” Their clucking would be carried on until their favorite spot was available. Once in a while I would see two hens sitting side by side.

One day I went in to my garage just checking how many eggs they had just laid and I saw the same hen sitting since morning. My guts feeling told me that she was in the brooding mood. As I reached close to her just to check how many eggs she had under, she began to pick on my hand. I also saw two short gray tubes with white caps lying near here. She kept moving them under her as thought those tubes were her eggs that needed guarding. Unless I moved to her to a safer place, she would indubitably be a nice supper of a raccoon or a possum. My husband arranged a palace-like for her comfort in a coop where no other hens could bother her. On that particular day, I counted 10 new eggs and decided to put them all in the nesting area we had just made for her. Mommy (I have been calling this hen for a while now) was very upset after my husband had carried her to a new brooding site. She had nothing to do with those eggs; moreover, she ran around screaming her little head off. It was really a chaotic scene. Since we couldn’t force her sit on the eggs, we were almost hopeless. Then it was like a blinking light popping up on my head, I ran back to my garage to grab those two tubes and put them with the eggs. Strangely, it may sound, my mother hen recognized the tubs and began to sit on the eggs willingly. Twenty-days later, I heard a peeping noise coming out from her body but couldn’t see a thing. The very next day, more sounds started to come out and I noticed the little heads close to her wings. Over all, seven out of ten eggs hatched. I saw two yellow chicks, one completely black (from head to toe), and four black-white chicks. They are so cute but I shouldn’t dare picking them up. Their mommy is very protective. It took her almost two weeks to realize that I’m always with food. The little ones started to have a taste for chopped fresh corn mixed with dry food and water. Their mother would make some kind of noise signaling them to eat.

The Greek Myth of Winter

In modern times, science has explained the causes of storms, floods, earthquakes, and disease, but ancient people were awed by these mysterious event. Perhaps to gain a sense of control, they created tales about the world around them. Since humans are congenitally self-centered, it was natural for ancient people to assume that the forces driving nature were just like themselves. Stories were told of gods who ate, loved, and hated just as we do, but on a larger scale. Because these gods had gargantuan powers, their smallest wish could mean disaster or good fortune for all the Earth. Amisanthropic god might send deadly storms; a philanthropic one might share the secrets of fire and food.

One ancient Greek tale of humanlike gods deals with the genesis of winter. The legend blames it on a common problem of the human psyche, a mother-in-law’s jealousy of her daughter’s husband.

According to the ancient Greeks, the Earth was once a warm, green paradise where the goddess Demeter provided summer throughout the year. But one day, Persephone, Demeter’s beautiful and vivacious daughter, wandered away from her friends to explore a flowered field. Unfortunately, Hades, the god of the underworld, was visiting the Earth and enjoying a panoramic view of the very same place. With one look at Persephone, Hades instantly fell in love. Unable to control himself, he carried her off to the underworld and made her his bride.

Pandemonium broke loose when world of Hades’ crime reached the other gods, Demeter frantically tried to get her daughter back, begging Zeus, king of the gods, to order her return. Although Zeus was renowned for his power, Hades, a maverick who resisted all control, refused to return Persephone.

In her desperation, Demeter forgot to provide the Earth with the warmth and sunshine vital to growing crops, and the world was plunged into winter. Plants began to die one by one, and when no viable crops were left, humans faced starvation. Through here personal sadness, Demeter was causing the genocide of the human race. Zeus appealed to Hades, who finally agreed to let Persephone return home, as long as she had not eaten anything.

What had Persephone been doing while Demeter was trying to release here? Sitting unhappily in the underworld, she had led a spartan existence, refusing all the luxuries that Hades offered. She had eaten no food – except for seven pomegranate seeds. Alas! Persephone had eaten only a nominal amount, but she had eaten. Hades did not have to let her go.

Zeus and Demeter quickly thought of another arrangement. For nine months of the year, Persephone would live with her mother, and for three months she would live with Hades. Just as Persephone’s life was divided, Demeter decreed that for nine months the earth would have warm weather, and for three months it would have winter. Although this arrangement was not perfect, it was a relief from endless winter.

And that is how, according to the ancient Greeks, winter began.

In the months of May and June, a lot of durian lovers are looking forward to tasting their favoriate fruits. Durian is an exotic fruit that grows in Thailand and other Southeast Asian countries. It has an outstanding spiky rind and pungent fragrance. Wiith its lush yellow flesh, durian has sweet taste and melt-in mouth texture when it’s rippen.

Even though it is praised as the king of fruits, many people do not care much for it. Every summer in Thailand you expect to see a large crowd gathering around a cart full of durians, vying for the best price. At the same time, other pedestrain scurry past, squeezing thier nose or turning their face away for they can’t stand the obnoxious odour of durian. Durian is much loved in Thailand but is not tolerated in most hotels, on airline, or in a subway. A sign of ‘No durian allowed’ can be seen in a place where an air-conditioning is operating.

My very first time tasting durian was not a memorable one. My aunt who assumed that every nephew and niece of hers must have liked this fruit, she always bought some home for all of us. Being a favorite niece, I was given a bigger chunk of rippen durian to try first. It was so bitter that I threw up after the first bite. I hadn’t touched it again until I grew up. Still durian has never been my favorite fruit. I might have a bite here and there but will never spend money buying it for myself. My sister, on the other hand, loves it. She prefers the hard or not too ripe one, though.

I just had a short conversation with my mother a few minutes ago and learnt a little bit more about my family. My great grandma was born and raised in Siam (old name for Thailand) not China as I thought. She and her husband came to visit their son once when my mother young so it was hard for my mother to remember anything about them. She only knew their faces and names; that was all.  I’m not certain if it was a Thai culture or just my family traditional, children were not allowed to ask too many questions no matter how curious they were. 

Original pictures location: http:wilkipedia

My grandma’s ancestors were one of the earlier ethnic groups occupying Burma called ‘Mon’.  Since Siam and Burma fought like cats and dogs, the winner would always capture the loser’s population and herd them to the capital.  The commoners would automatically become the slaves and the noblemen would live comfortably in their new country.  Some might even be granted a position in a government. 

Because of the bellicose situation, my grandma’s ancestors were brought to Siam. They served under a protection of the Royal families from that point on and never went back to Burma.  I believe it’s called under “Royal Decrees”.  Grandma said that her ancestors had never been slaves. In my opinion, to be under a control of other people was not much different than being the slaves.  Luckily, Siam abolished the slavery a few centuries ago during King Rama V.  Whether or not my ancestors had ever been the slaves, now we are all free in certain aspects.

I asked my mother how grandma and grandpa met; she said her dad’s sister introduced them.  My great aunt (grandpa’s sister) happened to work in a palace where grandma grew up so these two women knew each other all of their lives.  My grand-parents married and had several children.  The first couple of children were all boys; she wanted badly to have a girl. For some reasons, it didn’t happen.  One day she heard that a Chinese couple just had a baby and they were not thrilled to see a baby girl.  They had nothing to do with her so my grandma was excited to welcome this little baby girl in to her life. 

Every Chinese people in the old days preferred their oldest child to be a boy because he would take a responsibility in a family business, carry on a family name, take care of his parents, and bring in a wife after he got married. They believed that having a girl was a lost cause; she would soon marry and became a member of her husband’s family. A mind-set like this should be abandoned. A baby can’t choose her own gender; it was not her fault to be born a girl.  I can’t help being upset just to think about it. That was a reason the Chinese couple wanted to rid their baby, my adopted aunt.  Less than a year after my Chinese aunt came to our family, grandma gave birth to her first biological daughter.  Two years later, my mother was born followed by my youngest aunt.

Our family was rather big but it was typical back then.  Grandpa was a teacher while grandma was a housewife. During the Manhattan Project in 1945, my grandpa passed away leaving all children and his wife behind.  Life at that time must have been very harsh for a big family like this. Two of my uncles, the oldest and the youngest, were killed by a bomb when Japan invaded Siam. My mother said that the sound of an emergency warning was heard every day. When it occurred, people would abandon whatever they were doing at that moment to seek for shelters.  Smokes and the voices of wounded people could be heard; it was horrific memories for my mother. Her two brothers ran as soon as they heard the warning sound; unfortunately, they were not quick enough. The impact from the bomb nearby caused them to fall down from the bridge and died in an instance.

My grandma was rather myterious and didn’t like to talk about herself. No matter how much I tried to get it out of her or the tricks I pulled, she declined to reveal anything. That really made me be more curious so I always called her Princess just to tick her off.  My grandma’s silence didn’t stop me from getting a story out of my mother and my aunt but they could only tell me what they knew from a horse’s mouth.