I'll have the grapes, please.

Three weeks and counting until I depart for China. My team is busy with our pre-work assignments, which are to prepare us to consult our clients in country. More on the team and our clients later.

For now, some Friday Fun! Friday's in my casa are all about fun, which usually starts with pizza, one of four major kid food groups. Pizza brings me right back to my preparation for China. My husband, an ex-pat of the semiconductor industry with many tours of duty in Taiwan, has assumed responsibility for ensuring that I have 100% clarity on all the foods I will not be eating in China. Pizza is right at the top of the list, followed closely by pasta, Mexican, fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, cheesecake, pancakes, french toast, french fries, Caesar salad, Skittles, dim sum, and sushi. When I told him he was pulling my leg about the last two, his said something like, "Just because you eat with chopsticks at PF Chiang's . . . " which I waved off, citing the importance of cultural immersion. And since I have never been a picky eater, that I am up for the adventure.

Today, one my my teammates shared a great presentation she came across by an alumnus of a CSC Tianjin team, which included these excellent photographs of the specific kinds of foods that I can eat in China. I never watched Fear Factor mostly because I didn't want to see the cast eating live bugs, which aren't the least appetizing dish of all these options. At least they have grapes.


frogs


scorpions


chicken feet


chicken heads


silk pupae


man eating a jellyfish


dog!


Grapes. She looks really happy to have them.

Shake It Like a . . . Chicken

Last time I checked in I was in an epic snit about vaccinations. Usually I prefer to forget about exposing my inner toddler, but I giggled all day after getting my shot for Japanese Encephalitis and not because they gave me laughing gas before sticking me. Evidently this vaccination is one big, bad, muscle burning cocktail that, if one does not flap one's upper extremities all day like a yard bird running from a stray cat, then your biceps wind up feeling like you lost a boxing match.



I tried the flapping and I guess it worked. My arm looked a lot worse than it felt a few days later. At least now I have something else funny to laugh about whenever I hear the Chicken Dance polka song at a wedding. As if that song doesn't get enough laughs on it's own.