Danny and I started praying together every night. We did this for the first couple of months of our marriage, and then took at three year hiatus. And now we're back in the rhythm. It was mostly because we started praying for our unborn child. It's cute because Danny sometimes sings to her! What a great dad, already.

I have to give props to Danny because he's the one who has insisted that we pray together. It's been great because it draws us closer together, and once you start praying for one thing, the list grows and grows. I guess sometimes it's hard for guys to know how to be the spiritual head of the household. I think this small act that Danny has enforced lately really shows his spiritual leadership. It's nice to be led like that. I know I'm not the best supporter as a wife sometimes, but I try. And it's nice to know that Danny tries to be a good husband.

I've been thinking a lot about pain lately. My friend reminded me today that I'm a sickly person. It's true. Ever since college freshman year, my body has gone through so much sickness. It's partly because I don't exercise. But it's also partly because I am weak sauce. I was made this way. Weak and sickly. A fallen body in a fallen world.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not in chronic pain or anything. I still have good health. The morning sickness I'm going through right now is temporary. There's an ending. But it gave me a taste of what chronic pain, chronic health problems, might feel like. Not only physical, but emotional. I panicked the other day. About having a baby and being pregnant. It was all in my mind, but it was scary.

So I got to thinking about all the people I know of that are going through some kind of chronic physical or emotional pain. The person with the ongoing mouth pain. Sad! The multiple people I know who have some kind of hand and arm pain. The woman at my church with constant back pain. Wow. My friends who are depressed. My husband with the daily heartburn. My uncle in Korea battling liver cancer. These are the people I think of immediately. The kind of sickness that can't be cured easily, and that have doctors baffled.

And here I am complaining and wailing about how nauseous I am. I'm telling you. I'm weak sauce.

I never knew pregnancy would be like this. All I knew before I got pregnant was that you get a cute little baby in the end. I was not prepared nor expecting to be sick day after day for however long. I'm not sure how long because I'm still going through it. It's like that movie Groundhog's Day. Ever seen it? The guy wakes up every day on the same day, and goes through the same exact day. He varies it a little here and there, but no matter how much he has accomplished, he still wakes up on the same exact day. That's how I feel. I wake up sick, and I throw up once. Then I proceed to eat food that will settle nicely in my stomach. Some days I reject the food, and other days, I'm good to go. But no matter how well I feel by the end of the day, I wake up sick. I eat my crackers, and then I throw up. And it starts all over again.

Some women have it worse than I do. Some women are only a little bit sick. And then there are those women who have no symptoms whatsoever from the overproduction of bile and hormones in their bodies. Those are the lucky ones. And quite frankly, I do feel lucky that I don't have to be hospitalized for days. But it is a struggle. Every day. The same exact struggle.

And people have been very nice to me. Those who have suffered through it know exactly what to say and what not to say. Others, who feel helpless when I tell them that I'm not doing well, and have no idea what I'm going through, try to offer some helpful suggestions. When I'm in the mood for advice, I'll gladly take it. But mostly, I just want people to say, "POOR JIEUN!!! YOU POOR POOR THING!!!!" And that's it. I have a husband who gets all my food for me, who is up on the research, and is completely involved with this pregnancy. For everyone else, unless I ask for advice or you really need to let me know something, I just want a look of sympathy or "POOR JIEUN!!! YOU POOR POOR THING!!!" (Although gifts of any kind are always a plus.)

I never knew pregnancy would be like this.

Last night I went to the Container Store. Wow! What an amazing place! Containers for everything. You name it. They've got a container for it. They even had gadgets to organize your wrapping paper!!!! Wowzers. This is my kind of store. I was so excited.

I had my eye on the plastic grocery bag dispenser for a while. So I bought it! And now, I'm pleased to say, our cupboard under the kitchen sink is a little bit neater! Hooray for organization. My next project is to organize the newspapers that pile up every day in our dining area. Ideally, I want something that would fit the microwave, newspapers, and our rice supply, all in one gadget. As I'm writing this, I can hear myself being a loser.

Things I regret about high school:

-Not going to at least SOME dances!
-Not trying out for the musicals
-Not becoming better friends with Gina Fan
-Not taking Spanish V, Japanese I, and French I
-Not going to the beach often enough
-Not wearing clothes that actually fit me (I guess baggy was in?)
-Not taking the time to spark up a conversation with someone who looked down

Things I loved about high school:

-Structure
-Friends
-Church

Next year is my 10-year high school reunion. For some reason, I'm so excited about it. No plans have been made yet, but I'm looking forward to it. I'm sure many people hated their high school experience, but I liked it. I was very goody-two-shoes, played everything by the book, and never really got in trouble.

But there's just something about high school environment that separates you into distinct cliques. It's near impossible to go against this. You have your popular people, nerdy people, jocks, Christian club people, Key Club people, you name it. Very rarely do people try to break out of these socially-constructed group entities. I remember when my older brother had this idea to eat lunch with me and my little brother. He was an example of the lone soldier who tried to break free from the ranks. But it only lasted for one lunch period. The forces of high school peer pressure were too great even for our family bonds.

Anyways, the reason why I am looking forward to my reunion is that I finally get to rise out of the "high school rules" and befriend and connect with whomever I please, irregardless of social status. I say let the 'dungeons and dragons' people hang with the jocks. Let the swim people mingle with the Colorguard people. Let the "mean girls" exchange pleasantries with the math people. On the other hand, I have heard that people tend to go back to their high school ways at reunions, and gravitate towards their former clilques. That's unfortunate. I hope it's not like that for us.

Here are games that I do like:

Taboo, Pictionary, Dr. Mario, Bust a Move, Speed Scrabble, Scattergories, Friends Trivia

These games involve colors, pictures, words, or Friends. Anyone want to play with me? I have a lot of time on my hands lately, and I absolutely cherish it. I get to wake up at whenever I want. Lately it's been at 10am so that I can watch reruns of Dawson's Creek. I even scheduled my tutoring times in the afternoons so that I can be assured that I get enough sleep.

Many of our friends are gung-ho about a game called Settlers. WHY??? I guess I just don't like games that take hours to play, have complicated rules, involve making business deals with other players, and are BORING.

Other games I do not like: Poker, Bohnanza, Trivial Pursuit, any X-Box game, Risk

Basically all the games that Danny loves, I hate.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a people person, and I'm swayed by peer pressure. If everyone wants to play a certain game and it's crucial that I play, I'll play. I'm a good sport.

But today a bunch of people came over and played Settlers. I took a big fat nap. It felt good. Something about a Sunday afternoon nap... Anyways, when I came out, they had just finished playing one game of Settlers, and was setting up to play AGAIN. What is that?? I don't get it. Am I missing something here? Maybe it's because I hate logic. Danny often calls my Settler moves "bold." Meaning, "how illogical and not conducive to winning." But maybe I don't play to win. Maybe that's not my goal! Maybe I value illogical thinking ability. They should create a game that celebrates illogical thinking and non-strategic moves. I would be good at that game.

Oh, and I still haven't seen Star Wars!

I have makeup on right now. That either means that I feel like looking nice, or that I'm stressed. It's the latter that has pushed me to put on makeup today. I'm sitting at my desk at school, typing away at the computer. It's that time of the year again: report cards! Currently, I'm averaging one report card narrative per hour. But after each report card is done, I take a break that can last up to about thirty minutes.

School ended yesterday, so it's quiet around campus. However, there's an audition going on tonight for an educational film that will be shot on our campus this July. I am definitely auditioning for that. SOooooo, here I am, at 4:20pm, working diligently at my computer, waiting for the 6:30pm audition. I'm soooo excited! It's my first time reading lines for film. :) Do you think I'll get a part? It's a video about bullying. I'm thinking I can either play the overgrown bully that's repeated third grade for about 15 years, asking little kids for lunch money, or I can play the teacher with a stern look. I think I can do it! I'm just hoping they're going for a more diverse look.

My one wish for our third year anniversary: to re-take our engagement photos. What a nightmare that was! We ordered one picture out of dozens of pictures that were cheesy cheesy cheesy. And it was pretty bad when I first got the one picture we ordered. I had told the photographer to get rid of the bags under Danny's eyes. But she got rid of part of Danny's eyes! And the amazing thing is, she didn't notice that it looked funny. She probably thought, "Oh, he's Asian. His eyes are supposed to look that chinky." I was horrified when I saw it, and demanded that she get it right. Anyways, long story short, the one picture that we got was not even a good one. My mom took one look at it, and said, "Throw it away. You look ugly." To this day, I have no idea where that one picture is. I must have listened to her and thrown it away.

So my dream is to have wonderful engagement photos. Perhaps we're walking casually along the beach. Perhaps we're in formal attire and gazing into each other's eyes. Perhaps we're standing side-by-side looking pensively into the distance. But the thing is, we won't have that fresh, naive "wow, I'm getting married!" look. Oh well. Can't have everything.

I see other friends' beautiful engagement photos, and I get so sad. I love pictures; they are very important to me. And although chronology is important (ask Danny about what happened when I was organizing my college photo albums, and I accidentally missed a photo from my sophomore year, while I was on my junior year), I'm willing to call these pictures our "engagement" pictures. It's just easier to explain than saying that they're my third-year-anniversary-re-take-photos-of-engagement-pictures-because-they-were-so-
ugly-pictures.

Today, as in most other days these days, I found myself wanting to have someone permanent to talk to while I drive home.

I pretty much call about five or six people on the way home from work, alternating days based on mood, their schedules, and availability. Sometimes it's Karen, who is a mother of a newborn, so her time is mostly determined by her child's needs. I have to catch her when he's napping, or when Seong is feeding him.

I call my mom when I want to discuss what I want to make for dinner or when I want to brag about something or when I want to receive endless support.

I call Danny just to say hello. Literally. Sometimes I'll say "hi" and then say "ok, bye." Mostly we discuss functional things, such as what we're doing for dinner, etc.

Then sometimes I'll call one of my brothers, just because they're my family. I want to know what's going on in their lives. Usually my little brother has much to say (about business, school, finance, Dodgers, etc.). We share some good laughs.

My older brother pretty much has nothing to say. I pretty much talk the whole time, and ask him a bunch of questions, just to receive one-word answers. "Are you at work?" "Yes." "Do you like your job?" "Yes." "What are you eating for dinner?" "Tacos." "Anything exciting happening?" "Nah." He downplays everything that happens in his life. So if he spends more than a sentence on one subject, I listen intently to try and gather the full experience of the words. "So have you met anyone?" "No. Just this girl. We emailed and talked on the phone a couple of times. It's nothing." Woa! Hm. What does that mean??? If it's really nothing, why would he spend FOUR sentences talking about it?? Who knows? He's a mystery wrapped in an enigma.

So I guess what I'm saying is that I wish I had some permanent figure in my car that would love to listen to all of the things I have to say, and talk back to me in an all-encompassing, deeply satisfying way.

Don't get me wrong. I have great friends, a great mom, a wonderful husband. I can't ask for anything else! But I guess I have a deeper need. Perhaps we all have a deeper need? One that can not be met by any one person. I need God. I want to communicate with God. He is my permanent conversation partner! Yes, basically that's what it boils down to. I want to pray more. I want to be heard. I want God to speak to me.

Danny and I watched "Meet the Fockers" the other night. Hilarious, but not as hilarious as "Meet the Parents." Don't you just love the scene where the Owens guy is asking Ben Stiller about his portfolio, and he has no idea what to say, and then later on the Owens guy says something about Jesus, and how he was a carpenter. I'm smiling right now thinking about that scene. Love it!

Anyways, the father in both movies talks about the "inner circle." The "inner circle" is a chosen few to whom all is shared and revealed. The "inner circle" is a group of people you can trust. I guess I've been dealing with this notion of an inner circle lately. Who is in my inner circle? My family? My smallgroup? My best friend? My friends from church? My good friends from college? My in-laws? My husband's friends? My high school friends? My co-workers? I guess to some extent, I've just considered everyone aforementioned to be a significant part of my life, and therefore, part of my inner circle. I guess you can say that my inner circle was a pretty big circle. We're talkin' a huge circumference. So huge that one might say you can't call it "inner" anymore. Some might look at my inner circle and call it an "outer circle."

I think this can cause some problems. As much as I'd like to think I have a big and generous heart, I think deep down, I'm just a selfish schmoe. If I give out love, I want to receive love. If I make an effort with someone relationally, I want relationship back. If someone in my inner circle doesn't give me what I need or want in return for what I've given them, then I get my feelings hurt. I guess I have to be aware of people whom I consider to be in my inner circle, but they might not necessarily see me as part of their inner circle. Or perhaps I got kicked outside of their inner circle without even knowing it. Either way, I need to be okay with that.

So, now you're thinking, "Did I do something to anger Jieun so that I am not in Jieun's inner circle anymore?" Or perhaps you're thinking, "Eh, Jieun was never in my inner circle, so why should I care if I am or am not in her inner circle?" Let's just say I'm going through something that is making me think of this, and then watching "Meet the Fockers" got me to thinking.

Don't get me wrong. I like that I am an "outer circle" kind of person. I like that I am the kind of person that stretches her inner circle wide open to welcome even strangers to join and feel included. It's the hostess in me. But perhaps there's wisdom in tightening it up a bit, so that the circle isn't so flimsy and breakable. Perhaps there's wisdom in knowing my limitations as a selfish human being. If I give, and don't get, I should either be okay with it because that's what Christ's love is all about, or stop trying to give so desperately, so that perchance they'll throw me a bone.

Nicknames I have had...

Jenu (jen - NEW): This is what my brothers sometimes called me when we would just be hanging out. I think it came out of all the funny ways that non-Koreans have pronounced my name, and this nickname kind of came out of a conglomeration of all of them.

G: Certain friends of mine will sometimes call me this. Not sure why. I suspect it's out of laziness. The extra syllable takes a little more work, so why not stop at G. Sounds snazzy and hip hop.

jiji: For some reason, at work, both at Menlo School and Hillbrook School, my co-workers have come up with this name all on their own. It is playful, sexy, and sophisticated at the same time. But if you say it with a certain emphasis, it can also mean "dirty gross stuff" in Korean.

Chej: This one was birthed spontaneously by my friend Miriam. Since my name is now Chai Jieun, "chej" is a shortened version of that. It just kind of rolled out and stuck. It has a charming quality about it that I really like.

I'm not naturally a nickname person. When I choose email names, it's always boring jieunchai, jchai, or my favorite: jieungracechai. None of this dcfly business, or any of the other cutesy things people use to represent themselves. Maybe I'm just boring. I like my name, and I just stick to it. But I do enjoy when other people invent things for me, cuz then I feel cool enough.

This post is dedicated to my friend Connie, whom I miss and whom I wish well as she is all the way out there in DC.

Yes, the first part of the first year of marriage is a HUGE life transition period. Can I just say? Reading your entry about Bed, Bath, and Beyond... reminded me of my excursions to Target and Macy's. They were my best friends and worst enemies the first three months of settling down. So many things to return, and so many things to buy. I wish someone had told me to register for a pizza stone and fine china and bathroom shower curtains and stand mixer. But who knew? I didn't know how to cook, so how am I supposed to know what things to register for in the kitchen? I didn't know until the week before my wedding what my bathroom might look like, so how am I supposed to take the time and figure out what the bath supplies should be?

Oh, and the long lines at DMV and Social Security. HOW MANY MEN HAD TO GO THROUGH THAT? Tell me. I don't know many husbands who actually went with their wives to these places to go through the life-altering processes together. I think it took me about a year and a half to change my name for all credit cards, airline cards (which you have to send in writing!), library cards, etc. Changing my name was a traumatic experience. I mean, I got used to it quick enough, but still, it was an identity change. For Danny, he just enjoyed seeing me sign my name as "Jieun Chai," and not "Jieun Park." It gave him a warm tingle inside. How great for him.

Since Danny had better credit limits, etc., when we merged all of our financial accounts, I had to learn all of Danny's passwords and secret codes to access accounts online. So I sat there and started memorizing.

I'm not sure if Danny went through any agonizing, traumatic, life-altering changes when he got married. I bore the burden for us both.

Hey, but I'm not bitter. :) Looking back, the "transition" period only lasted about three months for me. But I was lucky to have found a church community that helped me transition. It was hard to start anew because BayLight people only knew me as Jieun Chai, and I didn't feel like that was the complete JIEUN. There was more to the package than just Jieun Chai. I was a Park for about 24 years! But they didn't even know that Jieun Park had existed. So I had to carve out a new identity as Jieun Chai. It was difficult, but I pushed through.

So Connie, I feel you, sister. I would have called you, but I don't know that you have a cell phone yet! So I'm communicating to you through my webpage. Hopefully you'll see it soon. The whole "leave and cleave" thing is a healthy and biblical thing to do, and I'm glad that you're taking things in stride.

I miss my mom. I talk to her almost every day, except when she's out of the country. She's been in Korea for about a month now, and I feel like an eagle with a clipped wing, not able to soar, directionless.

You see, whenever I need a perspective on a life situation, I call her and ask her what she thinks. In the past, she has given me advice such as: cast your burdens upon Jesus, be patient with those who are different from you, and take care of your health first.

When I have failed at something, such as making an error on my taxes, I call my mother and she simply listens, saying "Everyone makes mistakes and fails." That's the type of encouragement I need to get me started again.

When I don't know what to make for dinner, I call my mom and say, "I don't know what to make for dinner." She gives me some suggestions, and always tells me that I'm a great cook, even if she's never really tasted my cooking. That gives me strength to get dinner started.

All in all, my mom is the greatest. I hope that I become a great mother someday.

Exciting things are happening this week.

Danny is turning 29.
My friend Connie is getting married.
I get to see my best friend's baby for the first time.
My brother is starting his job with the San Diego Padres.
And I'm going on a field trip tomorrow to the San Jose Mercury News headquarters.

I don't know which one I should be the most excited about!

This is the eighth time I'm celebrating Danny's birthday, the first one being just as friends, the next three as my boyfriend, the fourth as my fiance, and the last three (including this week's) as my husband.

When it comes to birthdays, Danny is the exact opposite as me in terms of how they should be celebrated. He likes a quiet dinner for the two of us in a fancy schmancy restaurant that has gotten great reviews from Zagat. One small gift would suffice. I like medium big gatherings of friends at loud restaurants that don't necessarily have good food, but good ambience. The more gifts, the better! Every year, I want to plan a big or medium party and have people come over our place to celebrate Danny's birth. But every year I stop and remember that it's not all about me. Then I ask to make sure that his personality hasn't changed, and sure enough, he still just wants to have a quiet dinner at a nice restaurant. That's my Danny.

During dinner Danny said to me, "You read a lot!" Then he proceeded to rattle off the names of the books that I have read recently. I was quite amazed at myself. Even a year ago, you wouldn't have called me a reader or a lover of books. But last year around this time, I picked up a book that got me starting to read again: The DaVinci Code. And it came at a perfect time because we went to Paris and London for my spring break last year.

I stopped reading for pleasure after about the sixth grade. I only read for school. Throughout junior high, high school, and college, we were required to read great works of literature. Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed reading The Catcher in the Rye and Of Mice and Men. I remember the tears I shed at the end of Where the Red Fern Grows. I had a good time reading all the required books during my education.

The problem came when my formal education stopped. So did my reading. I did not know how to read for pleasure. I knew this was a problem, but I did not address it because I did not have time. I just shied away from conversations when people talked about books, just like I do when people talk about politics.

But since The DaVinci Code, I decided to change this problem of mine. It's not that The DaVinci Code was a particularly GREAT book. It's just been so long that I had gotten into a book of my choice. The last one had been Sweet Valley Twins, the one where they had a secret language called ithig. I was so fascinated by the language that I started speaking it with my friend, and we would have this secret code of communication.

Anyways, I asked my co-workers to recommend me some books, and over the past year, here are some books I have devoured for pleasure (at the request of other people):

-The Secret Life of Bees (librarian at my school)
-Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim (Danny)
-Tess of the D'Urbervilles (Miriam)
-Kitchen Confidential (Danny)
-Interpreter of Maladies (several sources have told me I should read this)
-A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain (my friend from grad school Mary)
-The Kite Runner (co-worker Jimmye)

I just finished reading The Kite Runner today, and I'm going through book withdrawal. I'm so sad that the journey is over. I feel like I'll never find another book that I'll like. I feel like this every time I finish a book. Extremely proud that I accomplished something, yet extremely sad that the story had to end. Anybody recommend another book?

A couple of months ago, I fed my husband some dirt. Literally. I decided to venture out and put clams into the soondubu jjigae instead of meat. Well, I've never dealt with clams before, so I had no idea how dirty they were. So I just quickly washed them in water, and then plopped them into the boiling water. As I tasted it later on, I noticed a kind of murkiness to the soup, but I couldn't quite place it. I just thought, "crazy seafood."

Then when the moment came to serve dinner, I had him sit down and wait for me to present the jjigae, as I always do. I like how the restaurants serve them, straight from the kitchen and still bubbling. As I eagerly awaited his reaction, I noticed that his eyebrows furrowed slightly. It wasn't exactly the response I wanted.

"Is it good?" I ventured.

"Mm..," he mumbled, with a subdued smile and a raise of the eyebrow. "It's pretty good."

He took a couple of more bites, but chewed very slowly. By this time, I knew something was up.

"Just tell me. What's wrong with it?"

"Well," Danny said hesitantly, "it tastes dirty."

"What!?! Let me see." I took a spoonful, and sure enough, that murkiness I had witnessed while it was stil on the stove was indeed, dirt. It was the most embarrassing moment of my cooking career. I had served dirt. There. I admit it. I served dirt to my husband.

They say "diamonds are a girl's best friend." I'm not sure about BEST friends, but I'd say a close second. Perhaps the first bridesmaid spot, but not the maid of honor.

On to other thoughts, I'm so glad that more of my friends are blogging, so I can take a peek into their psyche.

Danny practices electric guitar every other day now, since he's taking lessons. He is the star student. If his teacher gave out stars every time he sees excellence, Danny would have a million by now. Anyways, I'm glad that he's pursuing his passions. It makes me want to pursue piano lessons or more language classes.

Tonight we went to Saizo for a Valentine's Day dinner. They serve Japanese tapas - very good! I said to the waitress, "Sumimasen, ochya o kudasai." (Excuse me, I would like tea.) And she understood me! Woohoo.

I found my lovely black coat! It was at my gym, hanging innocently on the coat rack. I left it there last week when I went directly from work. I felt so relieved when I got off the phone with the person there who confirmed that my coat was there. I took it as a sign that I should go to the gym to work out again this week.

This morning I decided to wear my lovely black coat along with one of the only three pairs of pants that fit me right now, the black modern fit flare from GAP. As I was rushing out the door, I couldn't find my lovely pair of black shoes! I lost my shoes! HELP.

I lost my black coat! I looked for it in the closet this morning, and I could not find it. How can this happen? The last time I remember seeing it or wearing it was sometime last week. My lovely black coat. The one that kept me warm this winter. The groundhog has seen his shadow, so we have more winter. I need that coat back! Where could it be? Anyone seen it?