Dependency

So, yesterday at 3 PM, Husband called and said he had landed safely at the airport and would be calling me in a few short hours to pick him up. (He was returning home from a business trip.) Well, I'm a nervous, busy, hyper-active person by nature, so waiting for 2 to 3 hours is very, very, very, VERY difficult for me. I can't wait for anything. I'm the most impatient person I know. So much so that I often just do everything myself because I'm too damn impatient.


If you know me, you know that I will cut you off mid-sentence and finish your thoughts if you are taking too long to tell me something. I will finish your sentences because you take too fucking long to talk and my adult ADD won't wait for you to finish your long ass thought about nothing. No, my eyes will see something shiny and be drawn to it, and you will be left standing in the dust still trying to find the words to tell your stupid, useless story. And I will have found the shiny thing, cleaned it, organized it, and even told a story about it to the nearest stranger all while I'm waiting for you to finish your stupid story about nothing. Yes, I'm quite impatient. Overly impatient.


So, for me to wait possibly 3 hours for Husband to come home was just nearly impossible. I paced. I cleaned. I called every person I know to help pass the time, as I paced. I think I wore a hole in the carpet pacing!


As I was talking to Sister on my cell phone, trying to pass the time, the door bell rang. I thought it was the crazy Japanese newspaper salesman who comes by once a week trying to sell me a subscription to a newspaper I can't read, but instead it was Husband. I was in utter shock! He had made it home in record time and a co-worker had brought him to our apartment. He said he tried to call a billion times, but it kept going to voicemail. Damn cell phone!


So, there he stood in the hall, looking incredibly dark, buff and so good to me! So good! I jumped on him and nearly broke his back. I just couldn't let go. I didn't want to let go. It felt so right, so good, so wonderful, so perfect to hold him in my arms.


I know this sounds cheesy, so grab some crackers because it's going to get cheesier!


I felt complete to hold my husband in my arms. Granted, he had only been gone about 3 weeks, but those were 3 long, boring, miserable weeks filled with rain, gloom and a longing for Husband. At some point during his trip, my heart actually ached for him. I guess distance truly makes the heart grow fonder. Or maybe I'm just dependent on Husband for my happiness. Whatever it is, I'm just so eternally grateful that Husband is home safe and in my arms. I will never let go. So, if you see a really dark, buff, MexiPino (half Mexican, half Filipino) man with a midget, Mexican momma with red hair permanently attached, that would be me never letting go of Husband. And I mean NEVER letting go! I'll have to be surgically removed!


(Oh, I forgot to mention I dyed my hair red. Yes, red. More on that later.)

My new toy

So, this is my new toy. It's a Nikon D40. Supposedly, it is a great starter digital SLR camera that's idiot proof--so, it's just what I need! I bought it Tuesday, and I've been taking tons of pictures. The only problem is I haven't downloaded the software to my computer, yet. I've been too busy taking pictures.

I needed a new camera because my old one (a Canon PowerShot SD 600 Digital Elph purchased 4 years ago) has really, really, REALLY slow shutter action. Which means it takes about 2 seconds time in between shots. And with a 4 year old little monkey, it's hard to capture the really great moments when you are 2 seconds behind. So, after doing about a week of research, I decided to buy the Nikon D40.

As you know, I'm pretty dumb when it comes to computers and electronics, but this camera is even easy enough for me! And it takes fucking awesome pictures! I mean awesome! The picture quality is amazing and so is the shutter action.

I can't wait to show you its awesomeness!

(By the way, I was NOT paid for this product endorsement.)

Texas drought

It's so dry in Texas that PoPo has to water his cactus to keep them alive.

The male heir to the throne

I took these pictures Saturday at the park.

Once Jude turns 15, I'm putting condoms in his pockets. Seriously! I'm not going to encourage premarital sex, but I'm a realist! With this winning smile, and his silly disposition, Jude is definitely going to have the ladies waiting in line.

In fact, it's already begun. We can't go anywhere without Japanese ladies stopping and saying this: かわいい。(Kawaii)

Kawaii (pronounced Ka-wa-i) was one of the first Japanese words I learned when we moved here. I heard it about 10 times a day. It means cute.

In fact, I might keep a candy jar filled with condoms near my front door. That way, the kid can take a handful before he leaves the house. I ain't joking here, people! I don't want my son to be a baby-daddy for a long, long time! At least until he graduates with his PhD in astrophysics. And I don't want my kid to come home one day and have to explain to me how he got herpes from some little tramp.

(Yes, I'm going to be that kind of mom! Look, why pretend 15 year old boys aren't thinking about sex 1,000 times a day?! Why pretend they ain't doing the nasty, little, skank down the street?! I hope to raise my child to make good, sound decisions. And in a perfect world, I would hope Jude would wait until he's married to do the nasty, and blah, blah, blah, but come on folks, we don't live in a perfect world. So, I'm going to equip my son with the tools he will need. And condoms will be one of them!)

(Okay, I'm sure my very, old-fashioned, CATHOLIC, mother-in-law is cringing with each word I type. I'm sure I'm being condemned to Hell right now by all you Holy-roller, SOBs out there. Go ahead, condemn all you want! At least I won't bury my head in the sand and pretend it doesn't happen!)

So, for all the skirt-wearing, Bible-thumping, Holy-roller, SOBs with nothing else to do but criticize me and my useless blog, feel free to leave comments. I welcome an open discussion! Bring it on, Bitches!

(Yes, it's 2 AM, and I can't sleep. Jude was dreaming and twitching in bed. He woke me up, so here I am. You can blame him for this post!)

Sometimes they eat their mate

I took this picture Saturday night at the park near our apartment.

It's a good thing I'm not a Praying mantis! Husband would have been dead long ago!

Yes, I'm going there again

Okay, I've mentioned I sometimes have to crap in a hole. Well, this is the type of hole I crap in:

I'm not really crapping here but just trying to give you a visual.

Just another day in Weenie's world!

Why?

So, this is VERY popular in Japan. It seems to be the newest rage: small fish eating the dead skin off your feet. Yes! That's right, I said FISH EATING DEAD SKIN OFF YOUR FEET! All I have to say is: disgusting, yuck, and no way!

By the way, these are NOT my feet. You couldn't pay me to do this!

On being loved and in love

This picture was taken last November in Shibuya at midnight.

So, I've been in love with the same man for 8 years. Yes, 8 years! And, he's been in love with me for 8 years. (Well, that's what he tells me, and I believe him.) It seems like a long time, but, at the same time, it doesn't. I'm so blessed to have found the man I'm going to spend forever with. I wish every woman could be so lucky!

Our story isn't like other couples' stories. But it's a good one, and it's ours. You can read about it here: How Harry Met Sally.

Granted, being with someone for 8 years can get a little a mundane. I won't lie about that. But we try to keep it (our relationship) new and interesting. We don't have a date night or any of that. But we travel together. Experiencing new and wonderful things together makes us happy and keeps the newness alive.

When Husband goes on business trips, though, it makes me realize just how blessed I am to have him in my life. I miss him when he's gone. I miss his smell. I miss his laugh. I miss the smell of fried Spam in the morning (Husband loves to fry Spam for breakfast). I miss the way he grinds his teeth when he sleeps. I miss sharing our lunch time together. I miss making out with him. Yes, we still make out! I miss the way he rubs my stinky feet after a long run. I miss the way he leaves a trail of paper towels all through our apartment (I'll tell you about that later!). Missing him makes me appreciate him even more. So, even though I hate business trips, they are a good way to make me truly appreciate all I have with Husband.

I must say that the best part of being married is having the partnership. We are definitely on the same team. And our team kicks ass!

Most women spend their entire adult lives searching for what I have- a partner in crime, a loving man who worships me (that is, when he's not making fun of me), my baby-daddy, a responsible, shy man who's incredibly smart and, thankfully, very laid back.

Husband isn't perfect, but I'm glad he's not. Perfect would be boring.

Thomas Land

***Warning! Boring pictures taken at Thomas Land. These pictures are for YaYa and PoPo (my parents).
Jude patiently waiting in line to ride Lady (a purple, girl train.)

Jude and I riding Cranky the Crane.

Jude making silly faces while riding a Giggling Troublesome Truck.

Jude with Percy.

Jude and I riding Percy.

Jude riding Percy.

Mt. Fuji, on the way to Thomas Land.

Darkness

So, I live in Japan, duh! I love it here, but the weather is killing me. Technically, Tsuya (Japan's rainy season) is over, but I don't think Mother Nature got the memo.

The skies are dark and gloomy here. (It reminds me of Seattle, Washington.) Everything is covered in green moss. And it's a lovely shade of green and gray here. But I'm tired of green and gray! I want to see blue skies with white puffy clouds. I want to lay on my back, in the DRY grass, and try to find animal shapes hidden in the white puffy clouds with Jude. I want to feel the sun's penetrating heat on my skin. I want to have to apply sunblock. I want my olive colored skin to turn tan. I want the sun back!

I'm tired of the darkness. It's depressing, dreary, and miserable.

It's July, I shouldn't have to sip tea to stay warm.

I'm a Texan. I need the sun. I need the heat. I need blue skies. But instead, this is what I get:

...the wet, damp, dreary, gray streets of Japan.

Silence

So, I woke up this morning with a horrible sore throat and no voice. That's right, I have completely lost my voice. I have laryngitis.

The only problem is I talk for a living!

And I have an English class today, but I'll have to cancel it. I can't talk!

You have no idea how torturous this is for me. I mean, I'm never quiet! Never! Silence is awkward for me. I don't do it well! But now I have no choice. I physically can't talk.

God must be telling me to shut the hell up. For once, I think I'll listen.

Husband...the man

So, Husband is away on business. He probably feels like he's on vacation, because I ain't around!

My husband is a good, good man, except he's a little on the crazy side. I mean, what normal, healthy man would shack up with a crazy, neurotic, hyperactive, midget Mexican like me?! Seriously?! That's like suicide!


In fact, I am officially apologizing to any man (or boy) that I have dated in the past. I'm sorry you had to put up with me and my very loud, unfiltered mouth. It takes a strong man to handle all this. Really!

Okay, I don't think I'm a bad person. I'm just A LOT to handle! I'm unapologetic. I'm overly opinionated. I'm a potty-mouthed, trash talker. And I'm usually chomping at the bit to tell someone to go "F" off!


I know I'm A LOT, and that's why I'm taking the time to say sorry! So, sorry! Sometimes I drive myself crazy. I can't imagine how you guys felt putting up with me! I mean, you used to put up with me all the time. You deserve an award, and Husband deserves a metal. A gold, shiny metal covered in diamonds and rubies. No, Husband deserves a platinum metal covered in diamonds! Like the kind Mr. T wears. No, Husband deserves a metal of courage. I tell you, he's one courageous SOB for committing to me for the rest of his existence. Seriously! The man should be indoctrinated into sainthood for being married to me!

It takes a REAL man to handle this 4 foot, 10 inch, midget, Mexican momma!

Clean up time

As mentioned before, I work at a local Japanese elementary school teaching English. Well, the other day after lunch, the kids started cleaning up the school. As I told you before, there are no janitors in a Japanese school. Instead, the kids are responsible for maintaining their environment.

So, I took a few pictures of the kiddos cleaning up. They were even on their hands and knees "mopping" the floor with rags. You would NEVER see that happen in an American school. Heaven forbid if American children were on their hands and knees cleaning! I'm sure someone would call that child abuse. But, in Japan, it is expected, so the kids happily oblige.

Man, I love this country!--

Kids going up and down the hall with a wet rag, cleaning the floor.

Sweeping.

I know, it's amazing!

Am I inspirational?

I certainly don't feel like an inspirational person. I've never done anything grand. I mean, sometimes I'm a decent human being with feelings, emotions, and all that crap. But most of the time, I'm just mean, bossy and bitchy.

However, yesterday I had 2 moments where I was called inspirational. (I know, weird!) At one point, I thought the ground was going to crack open and suck me in, to never be seen again. Like all my goodness had been used up, and now I was going to go back into the fiery pits of hell where I belong with all the other hell raisers! But the ground didn't open up, so back to my story:

The first instance of inspiration was simply a phone call from an old friend. I simply encouraged an old, dear friend to work hard and get more out of life. That's all. I mentioned that I thought my friend deserved more out of life than what they currently had. That's all. That's all I did! Then, my friend thanked me for giving them the push they needed. Holy crap, can I actually make a difference in someones life, I thought to myself. Can a midget, Mexican momma actually encourage someone to expect more from themselves, I wondered. Holy shit, I can use my powers for good! I nearly crapped my pants.

The second instance happened at the doctor's office. I had an appointment with my asthma doctor for my annual asthma check-up. They use a little machine to see if my condition is worse, the same, or better. During our discussion, my doc asked if I was exercising. I mentioned that I was in a lull and not really exercising much. He started to give me a lecture about exercise and its benefits for asthmatics, but I cut him off. I told him that at the end of August, I will start training for my third marathon. Yes, I said THIRD MARATHON. His jaw dropped, and his eyes bugged out. This was our conversation:

The doc: "You run marathons?" he asked with a perplexed look in his eyes.

Weenie: "Yes, I've completed 2 marathons and will start training for the 3rd one next month," I replied.

The doc: "Wait, YOU run marathons? Wow, you are inspirational," he said with a shocked look on his face.

Weenie: "When my asthma is in control, I really enjoy running with my friends," I replied back. "It's like therapy when I run," I told him.

The doc: "You have what we call moderately severe asthma. You are on high doses of steroids. Wow! You are what we hope all asthma patients can achieve or become. Do you mind if I use your story to encourage other asthma patients who come to the clinic?" he asked me.

Weenie: "That's fine, I guess," I told him, slightly confused. I didn't think I was a big deal.

The doc: "I don't think you understand. People like you (severe asthmatics) aren't supposed to do marathons. At least that's what they tell us in medical school. My goal, as your doctor, is to help you lead a normal life. To lead a life with very few asthma symptoms. But you have gone beyond that. You have achieved something I can't even accomplish and I have a normal, disease free body. Wow! You really are an inspiration," he said.

Weenie: "Oh, well, okay, " I replied.

I was shocked that the doc called ME an inspiration. All I know is I'm not willing to let a little thing like asthma control my life. I'm in control, remember? Maybe it's my OCD or my unwillingness to be controlled by anything or anyone. Whatever it is, I never thought it was a big deal. But apparently it is.

So, don't fuck with me, I'm an inspiration! I can kick your non-inspirational ass!

Remember, I don't have to use my powers for good!

True Friends

I have the best friends on the planet! I don't have very many friends, but the ones I do have are awesome! They are there when I need them and even when I don't. They are willing to talk to me for 3 hours, if that's what I need. No matter what my friends are doing, they always seem to find time for me. Even if it means staying up until 2 AM to chat, they are willing to do it. For me! Yes, for me! The loud-mouthed, overly opinionated, midget, Mexican momma living all the way in Tokyo, Japan.

Even though I'm 8,000 miles away from most of my friends, it doesn't matter. Modern technology has made it possible for us to keep in touch. I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful I live in Japan in 2009. It's a great place to be. But it's even better than I had hoped, because I get to share it with my friends via e-mail, Facebook, IM, this blog, and over the telephone.

So, if you are my friend, thanks for taking the time out of your busy, hectic lives to chat with me, clear across the world!

It's nice to know that where ever I go, my friends will always be there. No matter what!

Thanks Party People!

I'm screwed and need help!

So, something happened to my computer. My laptop was sitting on the desk slightly crooked, and, well, my OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder) won't allow for anything to be crooked, so I straightened it. Well, when I moved the computer one freaking centimeter, the screen changed and now everything is itty-bitty. Now, I'm trying to read text that is about Times New Roman font size 8. Yes, size 8. I can barely read it. I need effing bifocals to read what I'm writing. What the hell!

And to make matters worse, my tech support (Husband) is out of town.

Oh, I think I forgot to mention that. Did I mention that Husband is away on business and will not return until August? Did I mention that? AUGUST! Did I mention that I'm a single mom, until August, trying to juggle a 4 year old monkey, 2 part time jobs, and a useless blog. Oh wait, I guess I should stop complaining. Upon reflecting on what I just wrote, I don't really have it THAT bad. So, basically I should just shut the hell up and wait until I have something to complain about! So, back to the computer issue and my size 8 font that I can barely read. (Oh wait, I just announced that my husband will be gone for a while. I'll set up another site for all the gentlemen callers. YOU (the gentlemen callers) can e-mail me there.)

So, my computer is jacked, and I'm too ignorant to fix it. Look, I can admit I know nothing about computers. I'm sure it's quite obvious by looking at this basic, bare-bones blog. Other blogs are all high-tech with cool little gadgets, YouTube downloads, and great links to other tech savvy sites. And then there's this one. A boring, half-ass attempt at blogging with no neato-ness. Look, I can't help it that I'm computer illiterate. I grew up taking computer classes where the disk was huge, black, and floppy. In fact, when I started college, we barely had e-mail. Oh damn, I sound old!

Whatever! Can someone please help me? How do I make the font on my computer bigger? Help! HELP!

(FYI: I am not really soliciting sex on this blog! Okay, Mom! It's just a joke! So, please don't call and yell at me for being inappropriate on the blog. And that goes for PoPo (my dad), too! No yelling from PoPo about being inappropriate, after all, I got all my inappropriateness from HIS side of the family (along with the OCD and alcoholic tendencies).)

This is for all the prego ladies out there

Okay, so I've got about 10 friends that are pregnant right now. There must be something in the water, so I ain't drinking it!

Most of these women are prego with their first kiddo. They have no idea their world is about to be turned, flipped, and then squished into something they might not recognize for about 6 months. Seriously, childbirth is a life altering moment that will totally rock your world. For some, it will be a beautiful process filled with happiness, butterflies, and baby coos. For the rest of you (soon-to-be moms), it will be filled with stretch marks, painful, milk-leaking boobs, baby poop shooting from diapers, sleepless nights, crying, crying, and more crying (not from your baby, but from you!). My experience was somewhere in between.

So, as a mother and a friend, I must warn you about the absolute worst moment of the birthing process. And, no, it's not the pain, the burning, or the crapping in a bucket on the birthing bed as your husband watches. No! This is much, MUCH worse!

So, four years ago, as I laid in the hospital bed, after I gave birth to my son, sore, tired and with GINORMOUS boobs, I thought all the horribleness was over. Well, I was wrong! About 4 hours after giving birth, a nurse walked into my hospital room with a small flashlight. Behind her were 4 nursing students. She quietly approached and said, "Roll over, please." Since I was completely exhausted and a little loopy, I completely rolled over and returned to a seated position. The nurse and her posse looked at me and giggled. Then she said, "Roll over, I need to see your bottom." Huh?! Look at my bottom?! What?! I just gave birth to a little, bean burrito, crapped on the table, and had my cooter exposed for viewing for almost 9 hours, and now you want to look at my asshole?! Haven't I endured enough, I thought to myself. I was reluctant. I wasn't moving. Then she explained, "We have to check your bottom for hemorrhoids, please roll over." I assured her that I didn't have hemorrhoids and that I hadn't sustained any damage down there. But, she didn't care. She had to see for herself.

So, after 10 minutes of cringing, squirming, and trying to keep my butt cheeks tightly together, I gave in and rolled over. Then, to add insult to injury she asked, "This is a teaching facility, do you mind if these nursing students take a peek, too?" I kindly responded, "Oh, what the hell, half the damn hospital has seen my cooter, I guess I can show you my asshole next!" All I can remember was the heat from the small flashlight on my bung hole. She explained a few things to the nursing students while aiming the light at my bung hole. After about 2 minutes, she allowed me to roll back over. Then she said, "Nope, you were right, you don't have any hemorrhoids." No shit, Sherlock, I thought. Then, the nurse and her posse left my room.

After that, all I could think about was going to the grocery store and running into one of those nursing students. I never forget a face, and I was sure I would never forget their faces. I could even picture our future encounter at the grocery store. It would have gone something like this:

Weenie: "Oh, hey, how's it going? It's me! Ya know, the midget, Mexican momma. The one that DIDN'T have hemorrhoids! I'm the one that let you look at my asshole 4 hours after giving birth. Yep, I'm the one! So, did you graduate from nursing school, yet?"

Yes, to this day, the hemorrhoid check was the most embarrassing moment of the entire birthing process. I still have nightmares about women in lab coats with stethoscopes around their necks, coming at me with pen flashlights, trying to pry apart my tensed, butt cheeks, in hopes of getting a peek at my bung hole. Yes, I have nightmares about this often. In fact, I just had one about this last night, and that's why I'm writing this. I'm writing to warn all you poor ladies who will soon be going down that very road. I'm writing to warn you! So, be prepared.

Hopefully, your hospital won't be a teaching one!

The kid is going to crap his pants with excitement

Tomorrow we are going to Thomas Land. If you have a 4 year old little boy, then you know this is the absolute, best place in the world! When we went last year, Jude was on cloud nine. He was freezing cold, but it didn't matter, because he was on the Island of Sodor with all his favorite train friends. I hope tomorrow will be a repeat of last year's experience. If so, he will be the happiest kid on the planet!

(Okay, okay, my kid is spoiled rotten. Thomas Land this weekend and DisneySea 2 weekends ago. Look, my kid is the only one, so we can afford to splurge on him. You're just jealous your parents didn't treat you this way!)

PoPo's newest project is sticking it to the man!

So, PoPo (my dad) recently built a deck in his backyard. But, he decided he wanted to build a roof over the new deck to protect his new boat, and so he could fish in the shade from the new deck. Well, the deed restrictions in his neighborhood state that if you build a pavilion or anything with a roof on your property, it must resemble your house and be made of the exact same materials as your house. So, that means PoPo would have to build a grey, brick roof with shingles and all for his new deck. And, well, since PoPo is a cheap ass, like myself, he decided to screw the neighborhood association and build a 2 story deck. So, he's basically built a deck on top of a deck. This way, he gets sun protection for the boat and himself when he's fishing, and he still follows the deed restrictions, because, technically, it's not a roof. No, it's simply another deck on top of his already existing deck!

Boy, you gotta love PoPo!

Yes, this is the same man who built a giant ass kitty litter box. And, the same man who drove a 1975 Ford pick up truck until 1998. (I swear, the damn truck was held together with duct tape and super glue!)

By the way, he built this double decker deck while recovering from a torn meniscus (a knee injury). I know, the man can't sit still! Sometimes I feel sorry for YaYa!

Lunch at a Japanese School

So, I teach at a local Japanese elementary school, duh! Last week I took some pictures of the kids eating lunch. Japanese lunchtime is much, much different than American lunch time. Here are the differences:

1. No cafeteria or lunch room in the school; instead, the students eat in their homeroom classroom. They push their desks together to create 2 long cafeteria tables. And, they cover their desks with cloth napkins, so they don't make a mess.

2. No cafeteria workers in the school; instead, the food is prepared at a main cooking facility and then shipped to the schools. Then, the children are responsible for serving the food and returning the dishes back to the cooking facility.

3. No junk food and no choices; instead, all the kids are given the same, free, wholesome meal with milk.

4. No paper products are used; instead, students bring their own hand towel, and table cloth. At the end of lunch, there is no trash. The milk bottles are cleaned, sanitized, and used again for the next day. (I personally think this is freaking awesome! Can you imagine if American school stopped using paper napkins?! Think of all the money and trees this would save!)

In Japan, the children are responsible for almost everything in the school. In a school with 800 students, there are only about 20 faculty members. There are no hall monitors, no P.E. teachers, no cafeteria workers, and no custodians. The children are expected to behave, serve their classmates lunch, and clean up after themselves. It's amazing what children can do, when it is expected!
Students happily eating their lunch.

A typical Japanese school lunch: rice, Japanese curry, tempura potato, sausage with egg, and milk.

Japanese students serving lunch to their classmates. (They are required to wear the white hats and uniforms.)

I think the Japanese school system is awesome! Children are expected to do a lot, but, in return, they learn a lot. They learn how to help one another, how to clean up, how to maintain their own school, how to get along, and how to get things done on their own.

I think it's a great system, and I'm happy I get to be a part of it!

Happiness is a deli drawer

As you know, everything in Japan is different. Homes are the size of match boxes, most people don't have ovens, and sometimes you have to crap in a hole in the ground. So, when we moved to Japan and into our Western style apartment, I was quite pleased with the space and with our American appliances. (We have an American washer, dryer, oven, stove, dishwasher, and refrigerator. We are very lucky to have these items. Most Japanese appliances are itty-bitty, so they can fit in a teeny tiny apartment. Our appliances seem monster-sized compared to Japanese ones.)



So, last week our old, American refrigerator started to have issues. It was dripping water from the inside of the fridge. So, I called the Japanese repair guy, and he came to fix it. Unfortunately, the next day it started dripping water from the back, creating a mess in my kitchen. So, I called the Japanese repair guy, and two new guys showed up. They took one look at the fridge and said in broken English, "Fridge old, we bring better one."



When they returned with the new fridge, I nearly had an orgasm. Husband said my face lit up like it was Christmas. The new fridge was big and beautiful and clean and working properly and bigger than the other one and beautiful and wonderful and white and big and had CLEAR storage drawers. But the absolute best part was ......drum roll..........................the clear deli drawer! Yes, a deli drawer! You would think that a lactose intolerant person wouldn't care much about keeping cheeses and meats organized in a drawer, but this lactose intolerant person is also OCD! That's right, nothing makes me happier than an organized fridge filled with yummy goodies. And, the deli drawer, Oh, the deli drawer! It's absolute perfection!



Why do you care so much about a stupid clear, deli drawer, you ask? Well, I'm OCD (as mentioned above), and the old refrigerator didn't have a deli drawer, so I was forced to keep my deli meats and cheeses in a big Tupperware on the top shelf. But the Tupperware would always get pushed to the back of the fridge, and the cheese would always be forgotten about, until it had gone green, moldy, grew legs, and started walking around the fridge like little, green Oompa Loompas, stinking up the joint.



So, with the new, clear, deli drawer, I will never have green, cheese Oompa Loompas. No! Now I will have fresh cheese and deli meats in an organized, easily accessible drawer. (I bet Heaven is full of clear deli drawers!)



Yes, that's exactly what a lactose intolerant family needs. Fresh cheese!



Ah, happiness!

Don't ever complain about the price again!

Last week I went to an international grocery store. The store was filled with American products. I thought I would show you just how expensive it is to buy American products in Japan. Enjoy!
One box of Tuna Helper will cost you about $5.50 (with the current Yen rate being 92 Yen per dollar).

All purpose flour will cost you about 12 bucks! (This is why no one in Japan has an oven. It's just too damn expensive to buy flour and bake something!)

Almost $43 for 12 rolls of Bounty paper towels!

Shocking, isn't it?! This is why Tokyo, Japan, was just rated the most expensive city in the world!

My Ome Class

This is my English class in Ome. (I consider the older students my Japanese grandparents.)

When you love your job, it no longer becomes a job. It becomes your passion. I am so lucky and blessed to have the best job on earth. I get to teach English, tell stories, and talk for a living. And boy can I talk! Who knew I could make money being a loud-mouthed, talkative, midget, Mexican?! I love this country!

Driving home

This is what I see on my drive home from work.
Yes, in Japan you can find Baskin Robbins, KFC, and McDonald's. (That's probably why Japanese young people are getting fat! They've learned from us!)

Pervert in training

Jude at the Gap.

Just another day in Weenie's World!