The Answer is Always "Monkey"

Yesterday, I auditioned several dozen children-type people for theatre shows. To start, I just ask questions about what they like to do--makes them feel non-threatened while I assess their English level.
I've had some interesting experiences doing this: a kid who cried on his mom's lap every time I asked him his age. A girl who, although I suggested she could sing "Happy Birthday" or "Twinkle, Twinkle," replied, "I will sing the Chinese national anthem." And so she did--in its entirety.
Yesterday, I had Queenie, age 4.

me: So, Queenie, what do you like to do at school?
Q: Monkey.
me: Oh! Do you have a game called 'Monkey'?
Q: yes
me: That's great. Do you play any sports?
Q: yes
me: What sport do you play?
Q: Monkey.
me: Oh...okay. Do you like music?
Q: yes
me: Do you play an instrument?
Q: Monkey.

So, when in doubt...Monkey.
I've been rubbish at blogging of late, as you can see as I tell tales of toddlers. Also, I can't find the cord that connects my camera to my computer, so I can't post recent photos of a hike where I saw many monkeys. Serendipitous coincidence defines my life.

I know I'm not supposed to talk of future events on the internet, in order to discourage predators, but in an effort to keep my blog readers waiting in anticipation for something worth reading: Soon, I will go to China for my friend's wedding. Although in recently past months, we had gone to movies and dinners and the like, he sent me a facebook message to the tune of: "Camber--I will marry on [insert date]. I invite you to go to my wedding." Right on. I have a hunch it's an arranged marriage of some sort and I am the token caucasian. My flatmate has warned me that I'm going to have to eat some disgusting things, so I plan to stock up on granola bars before I go.
I'm charging my camera battery now, so bate your breath for a pictoral review of being a foreigner at a Chinese wedding of an arranged marriage! I have no idea what to wear.

This is my Hatin' on the Kong Blog. I'll get over it.

I sold a painting. In my quest to relinquish myself of all extraneous possessions and live like a nomadic Gandhi, I posted several items for sale on a site for expats in Hong Kong. I sold my DVD player and space heater to an Indian family. I'll take my toaster to someone tomorrow. My tennis racket and hair dryer are still on the market. I even received several offers for dates from these ads (though that was not the intent)--due to the hilarious descriptions I posted along with the photos. I turned them all down.

As a joke, I also put my first and only painting up for sale. It was sold in less than 15 minutes to a handsome Chinese man with a British accent. He brought along a pen with which he urged me to sign the piece. I polled my friends on facebook to decide whether he really thinks I'm the next Picasso (for he said so) or if he's trying to steal my identity. I think identity theft won out, citing the "special pen" he brought, from which he will definitely lift my finger prints.

Other than being a famous artist, life has remained a steady flow of teaching classes, rehearsing for Rocky, and training for the 5K race. I can't run the 5K race anymore, due to work, which I did not know about until after I had already signed up and paid for the race. I'm more than ready to be free from these tethers of non-communication.

I'm actually more than ready to leave Hong Kong; mostly because of the air pollution, the slow walkers, the smokers, and the lack of sarcasm comprehension. I'll miss the curry, though. And the sushi.