THE JACKPACK

Everyone knows that you're supposed to leave cookies out for Santa Claus.  It's protocol.  But, I think it makes much more sense to leave cookies for the Easter Rabbit (not Bunny, "Bunny" is too sissy).  And, don't tell me that rabbits don't like cookies.  They do.  I'm sure of it.  First of all, Santa Claus already looks like his wife does some good cookin'.  Mrs. Claus probably hosts her own cooking show on the North Pole's version of Food Network.  In fact, I bet Mrs. Claus packs Santa a super-sized batch of cookies and snacks for his trip around the world.  What sweet wife wouldn't do that for her jolly hubby?  As for the Easter Rabbit...  We never hear anything about a Mrs. Easter Bunny.  Nothing.  There's not even a girlfriend who ships him carrots or other healthy, overrated snacks.  Then, Santa Claus rides on a sleigh pulled by reindeer.  That means, he's just in for a really LONG "carride" around t...

I'm currently reading a book entitled This Kind of War: The Classic Korean War History , and I stumbled across a few passages that will help you better understand my experiences here: "The summers were hot and dusty, or hot and rainy, with hundred-degree temperatures.  The winters were Siberian.  The country literally stank, except for the few months during which the ground stayed frozen." "[In reference to the American soldier in Korea] He never got used to the stink.  Inside the city, the odors were of decaying fish, woodsmoke, garbage and unwashed humanity.  Outside, the fresh air was worse.  Koreans, like most Orientals, use human fertilizer.  Their fields and paddies, their whole country smells somewhat like the bathroom of a fraternity house on Sunday morning." And, just so you know, things haven't changed much since 1950!  Sure, when you go to some of the upscale malls in Seoul, you'd think you were in some yuppified shopping ...

Dear Friends, Family and Curious Onlookers, This is a "Mobility Declaration."  Yes, I have mastered what some like to call "crawling."  I like to refer to it as "CPT" or "Cruising 4 Point."  Commence Operation Lewis.  All systems are "GO."  Over.

Every day that we leave the apartment and head on whatever adventure is planned for the day, we pass a building that is but a stone's throw from our building.  Mom and I had been there once before, but I wasn't quite sure why we went.  Mom just talked to an old guy behind a counter.  It was really warm in there, and I noticed an odd smell.  Well, today, I discovered that I am a lucky duck!  Basically, we live next door to a swimming pool.  I had no idea such things exist.  I thought the bathtub was great.  Shoot, the bathtub has nothing!  Mom bought me some Little Swimmer diapers, and at first, I wasn't too sure about them.  But, then, Mom showed me all of the fish on them.  She promised that they wouldn't puff up with water and make me look look like a floating piece of popcorn.  When I put them on, I realized how stupendous they really are.  I'm sure Michael Phelps wishes he had a pair of Little Nemo Swimmers....

I decided to brush my teeth the other day.  I've seen Mom and Dad brush their teeth. While Mom was getting ready in the morning, I whistled my latest tune:  Robin Hood It was the perfect distraction.  I just pretended to be minding my own business.  Warning: If you listen to my tune, you're bound to have it stuck in your head for days on end.  I dream it.  Well, I successfully got the toothbrush.  Mom saw it, and rather than automatically take it away from me, she surprisingly changed out the brush and gave it back!  I even got to brush with it on.  Whoa!  Talk about gum relief!  

A few weeks ago, I realized that Easter would soon be here.  And, seeing as how this would be my first Easter, I began contemplating the Easter Bunny and how he fit into the religious aspect of the holiday.  Then, on Tuesday of this past week, it dawned on me.  I had never registered with the Easter Bunny!  How would he know that I existed?  Or, if he had somehow automatically updated his "new kid" list through federal channels with my social security number, how would he know that I was now residing overseas?  What made matters worse, what if the Easter Bunny didn't have the courage to hide eggs and baskets so close to the DMZ?  I decided to ask Locke.  He always talks about how much he knows. Locke responded, "Well, Jack, did you send a certified letter postmarked no later than 1 March with your updated address to the Easter Bunny's PO box, not his street address? ...

You're probably wondering what a guy like me does for fun around here on the weekends.  Well, for starters, everyone pretty much caters to my schedule, which is a plus.  When I'm hungry, I eat.  When I need a snooze, everyone pretty much gets me nice and comfortable, so that I can drift into sweet slumber.  It's a good deal.  Dad's always home on Saturdays and Sundays, which is also a huge bonus.  After all, he horses around more than Mom does.  If we go outside the wire and into the land of "quirkiness," I usually ride "turret."  For a demonstration, please see the picture below: You're probably going to say that it looks like I put on a few pounds.  Yeah, well, the four course meal I had on Saturday night certainly didn't take off any. It just makes Dad look good in that photo.  After all, people think, "DANG, that dude has muscle to carry around that tub of lard."  Plus, please note that I pump iron every morning between 6:30 a...

Wow, two days in a row that I'm actually typing!  I'm a sporadic type of guy.  This week has kept me ultra-busy.  For starters, the bulk of my stuff arrived on Monday, after spending a good two months on the high seas.  The zoo that now rides the train in my room refuses to divulge any details of their "amazing" adventure on the freighter across the Pacific.  They tell me that they were sworn to secrecy.  Quite frankly, I think the alligator, sand crane, elephants, flamingo, and dog are lying like Russian spies.  You know what I think?  I think they were just downright miserable on that slippery, stinky, ginormous freighter.  They were probably scared out of their wits because I'm convinced that they probably had no access to light or fresh air, let alone cool water and some hunting/grazing pastures.  I know for a fact that they didn't see the light of day because they keep walking blindly into my toys.  Well, I was going to ...

Whoa!  Let me apologize for the train background.  I asked Mom to find me a "cooler" background, but I didn't realize she was going to put something up that would get me sued for making everyone cross-eyed.  So, I've reverted to the default.  It's not permanent, but it will do until I find something more appropriate.  And, besides, I couldn't have done that much damage to your eyes considering that it's been so long since I've updated.  Yeah....'bout that.... I've been partying it up at Osan.  My Dad had his 30th B-day, and boy, that was the first time that I ever got to be part of birthday festivities.  On Mom's B-day, I went to bed before anything started.  And yes, Mom, I do remember crying for quite a long time that evening.  And, no, you didn't come get me.  Ugh... I'll try to forget that injustice.  I just wanted to be part of your big evening.   Well....Dad's B-day... It was a Friday.  I helped Mo...

On Friday, it happened.  That morning, in the distance, I spotted a horde of barbaric invaders.  It looked as though a ferocious, green blob were oozing on the horizon.  I leapt from my high chair and sounded the alarm, but it was too late.  My phagocytes were watching the Super Bowl and consuming large quantities of buffalo wings.  The mast cells were celebrating MLK Day.  The basophils decided to party outside the wire the night before and were suffering from the effects of inebriation.  They tried to talk my liver cells into offering some relief.  They didn't oblige.  To say the least, my security had been compromised by the very ineptitude of my own so-called "defense system."  Irritating beyond irritating.  (Come to find out they all speak French...)  You ask where I have been and why I haven't been writing.  Well, considering what happened on Friday, I've had to single-handedly defeat this m...

Mom baked some homemade bread.  When she does this, sometimes, she lets me help knead the dough.  I pat it, making sure that it has enough flour.  Who am I kidding?  I don't do any of the manual labor.  I supervise the entire operation from my Bumbo seat.  Mom does most of the dirty work.  Until now, Mom never really shared any hot bread with me.  But, boy, this evening, she did. There is something about the taste of warm bread straight from the oven.  I don't think I'll ever eat Gerber purees again.  Unlike Mom, I tried to share my piece with her.  But, she preferred the piece that wasn't completely soaked in drool. 

Mom and I were acting like doofuses the other day in the kitchen!  We couldn't stop laughing.  She insisted that I post these ridiculous pictures. 

Tuesday, March 2nd was like Christmas.  Our "fast" shipment arrived from the States.  I'm not sure why it's the "fast" one.  I guess it's because this one arrived by diesel engine across the Pacific, as opposed to sail.  Even then, the sail is only two weeks slower.  Hey, I'm not complaining...just saying.  "Fast" is not the proper adverb.  Sure, it's "faster" but definitely not "FAST."  But, let's not debate semantics; I don't have time for that.  My post will be brief because I now have zillions of toys, and my new exersaucer is calling my name.  While my exersaucer was making the long haul over shark-infested waters, my friend Sophie let me borrow hers.  So, don't worry; I didn't turn into a fat slob.  For someone with so much potential, I have to maintain a solid physique.  Hers was great, a newer model.  But, it was a bit feminine.  Mine has circus animals, colorful balls, and a plastic...