Recently, Eunjoo reads Lucy to sleep every night. Four or five books, over and over, until, if all goes well, Lucy gets sleepy and nods off. If all doesn't go well, Eunjoo gets sleepy, and nods

We're in a park with Lucy. I tell my wife I'm going to the powder room. It isn't so affected to say this in Korean. In Canada, when you have to go

I'm sitting in my office with the windows shut, and my finger in the open jaw of a stapler. It is hot -- humid hot -- and I have the air conditioner off. The stapler is

I ride my bike to Costco, sporting a big empty red backpack. I get off, stick my ear buds in my ears, my hands in my pockets, and head down to floor B2. It's a weekend,

Lucy is on the phone with her Grandma, the simple one. They talk for a while, in Korean. I'm not paying much attention, but I catch the following. Lucy:   Why did you call, Grandma? Grandma (assumed)

Walking through downtown Daegu, I see a man who looks lost. I walk up to him, "Are you lost?" "Yeah," he says, "I'm looking for --" "Forget it, brother,

I get a new pair of shoes. THE new pair of shoes. They are sparkly and red and they highlight my eyes. I look fantastic in them. I AM fantastic in them. And they whistle sweet music when

I'm playing with Lucy. She finds small round piece of plastic, and pretends to put it in her eye. "What's that, Lucy?" I ask her "For Daddy's eye."