HAPPY NEW YEAR ... AGAIN . . .

It's the Year of the Rooster, y'all.

Cock-a-doodle-doo.

(It's funny to me, we Koreans spend all our lives moaning about being oppressed by this imperialist power and that imperialist power, but here we are, a gazillion years later, still abiding by the Chinese lunar calendar and rushing back to our hometowns, homelands, or just permanent home addresses for big ol' meals. Not that I'm complaining about the big ol' meals, but you know what I mean.)

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CHICKEN N' BEER . . .

Michael's Tavern in P'ville just got a new chef who's cooking up all manner of fancy and plump burgers.

I can't wait until spring so I can wrangle my friends into heading over there on a lazy afternoon to chow down, guzzle some suds and watch some Yankee baseball ...

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DOO-DEE-DOO . . .

After our Chinese lunar new year dinner -- go figure, we're still Korean -- Appa scurried away from the dinner table and down the hall to his office. "What the...?" I thought to myself and looked quizzically at Omma, who just shrugged her shoulders.

As Omma and I were clearing the table and chattering away, I heard the faint strains of something vaguely melodious coming at us. I turned to look at the kitchen doorway, and there he appeared: Appa, a large six-string guitar strapped to his body, a grinning, cooing look facetiously pasted on his face, strumming some harmonious chords. He slowly paraded around the kitchen, strumming away, winking at Omma and I on occasion, then departed the kitchen and floated back to his office.

For all of you wondering how I got to be the way I am ... now you know.

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FORTY DAYS AND FORTY NIGHTS . . .

Eek. Today was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, the period of fasting and penitence leading up to Easter, the time of rising again and new life. I am not Catholic, but I really appreciate this time of fasting and introspection, and for the past two years have tried to give up something I hold dear, in an effort to remember to be Christ-like, to think like Him, to act like Him, to be like Him, and ultimately to realize that even without pasta (2003) and beef (2004), I have much in life for which to be thankful.

I say "eek" because I forgot today was Ash Wednesday. I forgot to think about what to relinquish for the next forty days. I forgot to be observant of my faith and thankful for my life and everything in it. So now, I have a night's sleep to think up something that I would consider a "sacrifice," something that would make me recall the love of God everytime I cannot have it, eat it, touch it.

The boldest step I could take would be to give up use of the Internet for a month and a half. But get real. I am not nearly mature enough yet to do that. I could give up television -- with the exception of being in the company of my friends, that would not be a great sacrifice for me. Besides, I could beg Camp Capio to TiVo "American Idol" and "Alias" in the interim. I suppose giving up going to the gym might suffice, but puh-leeze. Like I need more incentive to stay in bed in the mornings?

Frontrunners for deprivation right now: potato chips and other salty snacks. Lord, this might actually kill me, but at least I'd be less bloated in the end ...