While son was in Korea, we’d keep in touch via Face Time or iMessage. before he left, I had asked him to get me black been paste so I could make jajangmyun – the black noodles always consumed by characters in Koreanovelas with much gusto. I had seen this recipe by Maaangchi and wanted to try it out. Just before they flew back, he said he got me jajangmyun instead. Three packs of this. When he saw me looking at it this morning, he asked, “Is that correct?” He got it in 7-11 where he asked if it was jajangmyun and got a yes for a reply. Now he’s wondering. Anyway, the proof of the pudding is in the eating so we’ll find out later.
I had asked him to buy looks like this:
he had gone to bed when suddenly he got up. I thought he was unable to sleep. He got his duffel bag and brought these out, apologizing to his father that he hadn’t gotten him anything. (It’s always so difficult to get guys stuff – they’re hard to please plus choices are limited; we females are thrilled by mere thoughtfulness, right? Anything is much appreciated. :))
He also handed me this:
Soon, I hope, son uploads some photos from which I can filch.
He thoroughly enjoyed Korea and said it was “bitin”. He says there’s so much to see and do there.
Will I ever get to Korea myself? The metros are super accessible, he said.
But my main concerns about going anywhere without HHB are the possibility of developing a pressure sore and the big burden I am for husband and son who have to do for me what HHB does – which is virtually everything except eat and think.
On another note but disability related, here are two articles I found that gripped me in a touching, one-hanky way:
My favorite quote from the latter goes: “I’m looking forward to the long, ramped road ahead.” (Cory Zacker 2013)
From the former, it’s this:
“The nice thing for both of us, maybe for me, was how quickly the wheelchair issues receded away,” Mr. Feldman said. “There was never a moment when Cory had to grapple with: ‘What am I doing? What will my future be?’ There was really no melodrama. The fact that I was in a chair just disappeared.” (Stephen Feldman 1998)