We're out walking with the kids, trying to find some black bamboo for Buddha's birthday. It isn't a custom, black bamboo, but ones on Buddha's birthday we visited a temple, and the surrounding mountains were full of black bamboo. We brought some home, and now it is our custom.

Coming back onto campus, we are walking through a parking lot with assigned parking, and I mention to my wife that the administration had floated a plan of assigning parking around campus.

"It seems that it would cause way more problems than it solves." I finish. She likes any opinion that is contrary to authority or prevailing opinion.

"Then you should say something about it." she says.

My wife likes stirring shit up. The other day some asshole had parked taking up two spots in the parking lot of our department. Pulling into the last open spot, I cursed along the lines of "Look at this asshole, thinking he is twice as important as anyone else." But cursing is all I would do.

My wife found the guy's phone number on the windshield– people put it there for when they have to park blocking someone in– and she yelled at him to come and park properly.

"It's not really my problem," I say to my wife's suggestion that I say something. "I walk to work."

"But people saying things when they see something wrong helps everyone." she says. "And you are a full lady professor now, people listen to you."

"Full lady professor?" I ask?

"You have tenure." she explains.

"I know what being a full professor means," I say, "but I'm not a lady."

"People listen to full lady professors." she says, clearly not doing listening at all.

"You don't even have to say 'lady professor'," I go on, "It isn't relevant here. You would just say 'full professor', even if I were a lady."

She isn't listening. Or doesn't understand what I've said.

"You know that lady professor means 여성교수, right."

"So?" she says. "You don't think people will listen to a lady professor?"

"I'm sure they would listen to me," I say. "I was just raised to believe that ladies shouldn't speak until they are spoken to."

She pokes me in the back of the head with her umbrella. "You're going to get a sunburn," she says.

I pull up my hood. I've worn a running shirt to keep the sun off. It has long sleeves and a hood, and it is tight.

Seeing my reflection in the window of a car we are passing, I see that the tight shirt emphasizes my breasts.

And I realize what this is about. My wife gets jealous of my breasts.