Jude's 1st tee ball game was cancelled because of the weather.
:-(
Mother Nature, you suck!
Monday, April 26, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
"...you're a vegtable..."
Last night we sung karaoke with a group of people. It was kind of a going away karaoke night. One of our good friends is moving back to the States, so we thought we'd say goodbye by singing. That's just what we do, how we roll.
Anywho, one of the members of our group was old, and I mean ancient. He was a nice, interesting man but hard of hearing, and he was slightly on the frail side.
So, we met at our friend's apartment, had some hors d'oeuvres and headed out to sing karaoke. Unfortunately, the hors d'oeurves contained milk, and, well, I'm lactose intolerant and so is husband. I thought my GI tract or Husband's bowels would be uneasy as a result. Thankfully, I was wrong.
As we sat there singing Michael Jackson's song Wonna Be Startin' Something, we smelled something rotten, something dead. The New Yorkers thought it was me, knowing my current digestive state. I mentioned I wasn't the one who made the offensive smell. Naturally, I blamed Husband. He, too, vehemently denied that he was the creator of the bad smell. All of our eyes met at once, and we immediately knew the offender: the old guy.
Keep in mind, the karaoke room was about the size of a small, walk-in closet. The room was cramped and there was little space to move around. So, the fart lingered in the air, burning our nostrils and making us gag. Luckily, we covered our mouths with my scarf, but the smell still managed to seep through. We had to open the door repeatedly to coax the smell out.
During this time, the old guy was oblivious to what he had created. He was oblivious to our actions. He probably just thought we were crazy.
After about 5 minutes, the smell dissipated, and we returned to singing. Shortly thereafter, there was another smell, similar to the first. Again, we opened the door for ventilation. This time the old guy caught my eye as I gave him a dirty look for creating such an offensive smell, in such a small, small place. He definitely had a guilty look in his eyes!
Note to self: the next time we sing karaoke there will be a no farting rule for everyone involved!
Anywho, one of the members of our group was old, and I mean ancient. He was a nice, interesting man but hard of hearing, and he was slightly on the frail side.
So, we met at our friend's apartment, had some hors d'oeuvres and headed out to sing karaoke. Unfortunately, the hors d'oeurves contained milk, and, well, I'm lactose intolerant and so is husband. I thought my GI tract or Husband's bowels would be uneasy as a result. Thankfully, I was wrong.
As we sat there singing Michael Jackson's song Wonna Be Startin' Something, we smelled something rotten, something dead. The New Yorkers thought it was me, knowing my current digestive state. I mentioned I wasn't the one who made the offensive smell. Naturally, I blamed Husband. He, too, vehemently denied that he was the creator of the bad smell. All of our eyes met at once, and we immediately knew the offender: the old guy.
Keep in mind, the karaoke room was about the size of a small, walk-in closet. The room was cramped and there was little space to move around. So, the fart lingered in the air, burning our nostrils and making us gag. Luckily, we covered our mouths with my scarf, but the smell still managed to seep through. We had to open the door repeatedly to coax the smell out.
During this time, the old guy was oblivious to what he had created. He was oblivious to our actions. He probably just thought we were crazy.
After about 5 minutes, the smell dissipated, and we returned to singing. Shortly thereafter, there was another smell, similar to the first. Again, we opened the door for ventilation. This time the old guy caught my eye as I gave him a dirty look for creating such an offensive smell, in such a small, small place. He definitely had a guilty look in his eyes!
Note to self: the next time we sing karaoke there will be a no farting rule for everyone involved!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Exploding Chicken
This could only happen to me!
Tuesday I nuked a leftover piece of chicken in the microwave. I heard it popping and cracking, so I assumed it was warm. When I took it out, it popped a few more times. I thought nothing of it. I waited about 10 seconds, and, then, I put the small piece of chicken in my mouth. The next thing I knew, I heard a pop and felt a mini-explosion in my mouth.
(Being patient is a virtue I don't have!)
The chicken was so hot the oil inside continued to boil, even after I removed it from the microwave. At the exact moment I bit down, the oil shot out like a rocket, all over my mouth. Boiling, scolding, hot chicken juices and oil exploded in my mouth. IN MY MOUTH! I yelled as my tongue and the area under my tongue were scorched.
Husband witnessed the event and asked if I was okay. I couldn't speak. I thought shit, shit, shit; my fucking mouth is on fire! All I could do was grab a cold glass of water and fill my mouth with it over and over and over and over and over (I'm sure you get the point) until the pain subsided enough for me to speak.
When it was all said and done, my mouth was covered with several burned areas, including that very sensitive area under my tongue.
Yesterday, when I had to teach, I had a difficult time articulating certain words because of the pain. I was talking like a 7th grader with a giant, goofy retainer in my mouth. I was also salivating profusely, like a dog waiting anxiously for its owner to give it a slab of bacon.
Needless to say, I will try to be a more patient person!
This video has nothing to do with exploding chicken. But it's MythBusters, and I love MythBusters!
Tuesday I nuked a leftover piece of chicken in the microwave. I heard it popping and cracking, so I assumed it was warm. When I took it out, it popped a few more times. I thought nothing of it. I waited about 10 seconds, and, then, I put the small piece of chicken in my mouth. The next thing I knew, I heard a pop and felt a mini-explosion in my mouth.
(Being patient is a virtue I don't have!)
The chicken was so hot the oil inside continued to boil, even after I removed it from the microwave. At the exact moment I bit down, the oil shot out like a rocket, all over my mouth. Boiling, scolding, hot chicken juices and oil exploded in my mouth. IN MY MOUTH! I yelled as my tongue and the area under my tongue were scorched.
Husband witnessed the event and asked if I was okay. I couldn't speak. I thought shit, shit, shit; my fucking mouth is on fire! All I could do was grab a cold glass of water and fill my mouth with it over and over and over and over and over (I'm sure you get the point) until the pain subsided enough for me to speak.
When it was all said and done, my mouth was covered with several burned areas, including that very sensitive area under my tongue.
Yesterday, when I had to teach, I had a difficult time articulating certain words because of the pain. I was talking like a 7th grader with a giant, goofy retainer in my mouth. I was also salivating profusely, like a dog waiting anxiously for its owner to give it a slab of bacon.
Needless to say, I will try to be a more patient person!
This video has nothing to do with exploding chicken. But it's MythBusters, and I love MythBusters!
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Tee Ball
Jude will have his first tee ball game this weekend. I'm excited and delighted to watch such an important event in my son's life.
Unfortunately, because of the rainy weather, the team has only been able to practice one time. So, it should make for an interesting game on Saturday.
Oh, and I recently discovered what the "T" in tee balls means: tears! At our first practice, several of the kids cried when they didn't catch the ball or when others ran faster than them. Keep in mind, the team is made up of 5 and 6 year olds.
Of course, I will be there to document the event, and I look forward to sharing it with you next week.
Unfortunately, because of the rainy weather, the team has only been able to practice one time. So, it should make for an interesting game on Saturday.
Oh, and I recently discovered what the "T" in tee balls means: tears! At our first practice, several of the kids cried when they didn't catch the ball or when others ran faster than them. Keep in mind, the team is made up of 5 and 6 year olds.
Of course, I will be there to document the event, and I look forward to sharing it with you next week.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Nightmare
So, last night I had a dream I was being chased down and hunted by Japanese vampires. They were like ninja vampires desperately trying to enter the building where I was. They were trying to get to me to eat me and my friends. Luckily, I survived.
Phew! That was a close call.
Hmmmm, Japanese vampires. I wonder if that's been done before!
Phew! That was a close call.
Hmmmm, Japanese vampires. I wonder if that's been done before!
Monday, April 19, 2010
Scared Skinny
I come from a good family. The kind that sits around telling stories and jokes while eating mass quantities of delicious, homemade tamales. The kind that would help you out in any situation, if you asked. The kind that pays taxes, works hard and never complains. The American kind!
I also come from a long line of over eaters. I know this. It is evident when you attend a quinceanera, a wedding, or a funeral which involves my family members. My family loves food. I love food.
But, unfortunately, a love for food can lead to obesity, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, strokes and so on. I know this, and I know what I can become if I make unhealthy choices.
And, I don't want to become that.
And recently, I've been eating way too much crap food. I've also stopped exercising regularly. But all of that is about to change.
I'm going to try to be a better example for my son. I'm going to exercise 5 days a week and make healthier choices when it comes to food. I'm going to get back on that wagon and stay on it.
After all, I know what I can become.
I also come from a long line of over eaters. I know this. It is evident when you attend a quinceanera, a wedding, or a funeral which involves my family members. My family loves food. I love food.
But, unfortunately, a love for food can lead to obesity, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, strokes and so on. I know this, and I know what I can become if I make unhealthy choices.
And, I don't want to become that.
And recently, I've been eating way too much crap food. I've also stopped exercising regularly. But all of that is about to change.
I'm going to try to be a better example for my son. I'm going to exercise 5 days a week and make healthier choices when it comes to food. I'm going to get back on that wagon and stay on it.
After all, I know what I can become.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Jealousy
I'm from Texas, duh! Right now in Texas, it's spring. Right now in Tokyo, Japan, it feels like winter, seriously! It snowed briefly last night, and now it's raining-not hard rain, but just an annoying all-day-light-raining that never seems to stop. And, it's 37 degrees. What the freak?!
I'm ready to see the sun. I'm ready to start running again. I'm ready to play outside, but Mother Nature obviously has other plans. Apparently, Mother Nature is trying to kill me. She's providing this crappy weather so I'll go stir crazy, catch cabin fever and later eat my couch, only to choke on it and die. See! She really is trying to kill me, slowly, one day at a time. What a bitch!
I'm ready to see the sun. I'm ready to start running again. I'm ready to play outside, but Mother Nature obviously has other plans. Apparently, Mother Nature is trying to kill me. She's providing this crappy weather so I'll go stir crazy, catch cabin fever and later eat my couch, only to choke on it and die. See! She really is trying to kill me, slowly, one day at a time. What a bitch!
Friday, April 16, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Near Nagano
When BJ and her husband came to visit, we took a trip to Nagano prefecture to see the snow monkeys. I took these pictures along the way.
Lately, everyday has been dark, foggy, rainy, wet and dreary. Sometimes I wish I were back in Texas, feeling the hot rays of the sun.
Lately, everyday has been dark, foggy, rainy, wet and dreary. Sometimes I wish I were back in Texas, feeling the hot rays of the sun.Guam, the 2nd time
This time when we went to Guam, we bought some cheap-o under water cameras. Here are some of the keepers:
Jude and I snorkeling without the snorkel.
Me, relaxing in the pool.
Sister and I relaxing in the pool. Jude took this picture.
Jude and I hanging out in the pool.
Jude about to go down the slide.
Jude and I snorkeling without the snorkel.
Me, relaxing in the pool.
Sister and I relaxing in the pool. Jude took this picture. 
Jude and I hanging out in the pool.
Jude about to go down the slide.Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Plastic People
****Warning: If you've had a nip and a tuck, I'm about to offend you.
Recently, a bunch of women I know have had plastic surgery performed. Most have had the usual boob job or boob lift, lipo, and tummy tuck, and I just don't get it.
Our bodies are not perfect. No one's is. And that's okay!
I don't understand why these women would put their lives at risk for elective surgery to supposedly enhance the way they look. Is it that important? I think not!
I think these people have their priorities all screwed up!
Look, I certainly am not perfect. I could write 17 paragraphs about what's wrong with my body. I could start with my giant nose, my saggy boobs, my jelly roll or my flat ass. I could go on and on, but I won't.
I've accepted my flaws and realized that they aren't really flaws. Instead, they are what make me me, and that makes them cool, because, well, I'm cool, damn it!
Yes, my nose is big, but it makes me looked distinguished. Yes, I have a spare tire around my waist, but at one point it housed my son, and for that, I don't mind so much that it's there. Plus, I can always wear a girdle. Yes, my ass is as flat as a pancake, but at least I'll never have to worry about my ass needing its own zip code. Yes, my boobs sag down to my waist, but that's okay, because they provided nourishment to my son for the first year and a half of his life. Plus, I can always hoist them up with Victoria's Secret Angel Bra the Ultimate Lift.
Why can't we (women) just be content with what we have? Why do some women feel the need to put their lives at risk to try to achieve something that will never happen...perfection?
I'm not perfect, nor do I want to be. I'm cool just the way I am...healthy and happy!
Recently, a bunch of women I know have had plastic surgery performed. Most have had the usual boob job or boob lift, lipo, and tummy tuck, and I just don't get it.Our bodies are not perfect. No one's is. And that's okay!
I don't understand why these women would put their lives at risk for elective surgery to supposedly enhance the way they look. Is it that important? I think not!
I think these people have their priorities all screwed up!
Look, I certainly am not perfect. I could write 17 paragraphs about what's wrong with my body. I could start with my giant nose, my saggy boobs, my jelly roll or my flat ass. I could go on and on, but I won't.
I've accepted my flaws and realized that they aren't really flaws. Instead, they are what make me me, and that makes them cool, because, well, I'm cool, damn it!
Yes, my nose is big, but it makes me looked distinguished. Yes, I have a spare tire around my waist, but at one point it housed my son, and for that, I don't mind so much that it's there. Plus, I can always wear a girdle. Yes, my ass is as flat as a pancake, but at least I'll never have to worry about my ass needing its own zip code. Yes, my boobs sag down to my waist, but that's okay, because they provided nourishment to my son for the first year and a half of his life. Plus, I can always hoist them up with Victoria's Secret Angel Bra the Ultimate Lift.
Why can't we (women) just be content with what we have? Why do some women feel the need to put their lives at risk to try to achieve something that will never happen...perfection?
I'm not perfect, nor do I want to be. I'm cool just the way I am...healthy and happy!
Father-son conversation
So, the other day I was getting ready to go somewhere, and I heard this:
Husband: "Jude, why are walking like a cowboy? You look like you are straddling a horse. Do you have sticky balls?"
Jude: "No."
Husband: "Then why are walking like that?"
Jude: "Just because."
Husband: "Is your scrotum sticking to you?"
Jude: "What's a scrotum?"
Husband: "Your testicles."
Jude: "Oh, okay. You mean my balls?"
Husband: "Yes, your balls. Are they sticking to your leg?"
Jude: "Nope."
Husband: "Are you sure?"
Jude: "It's dry down there."
Husband: "Where?"
Jude: "My testicles are stuck to my leg."
Husband: "That means you have sticky balls."
Jude: "Oh, then yes. I have sticky balls."
Husband: "Jude, why are walking like a cowboy? You look like you are straddling a horse. Do you have sticky balls?"
Jude: "No."
Husband: "Then why are walking like that?"
Jude: "Just because."
Husband: "Is your scrotum sticking to you?"
Jude: "What's a scrotum?"
Husband: "Your testicles."
Jude: "Oh, okay. You mean my balls?"
Husband: "Yes, your balls. Are they sticking to your leg?"
Jude: "Nope."
Husband: "Are you sure?"
Jude: "It's dry down there."
Husband: "Where?"
Jude: "My testicles are stuck to my leg."
Husband: "That means you have sticky balls."
Jude: "Oh, then yes. I have sticky balls."
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
In memoriam
Our beloved Bobik passed away today. Bobik was special in every way. He was everything every great dog should be. He could brighten your day with a just a single glance. He could make you smile with his silly antics. He was great!
As long as I live, there will always be a special place in my heart where Bobik resides.
Farewell sweet pup, I'll see you on the other side!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Boobs
Well, some people pay good money for these. Luckily, mine were free!
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Me
This is my new profile picture. I took it while I was sitting at the computer.This is how I look when I'm blogging. What do you think?
Cherry Blossoms
So, I downloaded this really cool ap for my iPhone, and now I've been taking tons of pictures. Here are a few I took of the cherry blossoms down the street from my place.
Cherry blossom petals covering the street...
Cherry blossoms...
The view looking down the street...
The same view. This picture was taken last year by my friend.
Cherry blossom petals covering the street...
Cherry blossoms...
The view looking down the street...
The same view. This picture was taken last year by my friend. His first day
Today is Jude's first day of K5-- that's kindergarten for 5 year olds. He'll start real kindergarten in the fall.
Walking to the bus...
Sitting on the bus, looking sad and pathetic...
Walking to the bus...
Sitting on the bus, looking sad and pathetic...My baby is growing up way too fast. I wish I could stop the hands of time and keep him at this age forever.
Being 5 years old is so amazing. The world is a wondrous place when you're 5, especially if you get to live in Tokyo, Japan.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Dreams do come true
So, I'm sitting here on the computer listening to all the clangs, bangs and plops going on in the other room. And, no, it's not Jude making a ruckus. No, it's my cleaning lady. She's making all kinds of noise doing whatever it is cleaning ladies do, and then, poof, she walks out of the room carrying a bag of trash, some cleaning fluids and a couple of dirty rags. The result is astonishing. It's like she can do magic and make everything clean and perfect.
As you know, I've really wanted a cleaning lady for a while now. And, as luck would have it, I found someone who would be willing to clean up after us for an affordable fee. So now I'm sitting here, just as happy as a clam. I'm getting warm fuzzies just thinking about all the cleaning and organizing I don't have to do.
I even like her smell. It's somewhere between Clorox bleach mixed with potpourri with a hint of noodles and rice. I love it! (She's a Filipino cleaning lady and that's probably where the noodle and rice smell comes from. Shit, was that racist?! You can send your angry hate mail to my tech support or to my secretary (neither of which I have).)
All the husbands out there, listen to me. If you want your wife to love you and do naughty things to you on a regular basis, then hire someone to clean your house! Your wife will be energized, thankful and up for anything. I know I am!
Cleaning ladies make me hot, especially ones that smell like bleach and noodles!
As you know, I've really wanted a cleaning lady for a while now. And, as luck would have it, I found someone who would be willing to clean up after us for an affordable fee. So now I'm sitting here, just as happy as a clam. I'm getting warm fuzzies just thinking about all the cleaning and organizing I don't have to do.
I even like her smell. It's somewhere between Clorox bleach mixed with potpourri with a hint of noodles and rice. I love it! (She's a Filipino cleaning lady and that's probably where the noodle and rice smell comes from. Shit, was that racist?! You can send your angry hate mail to my tech support or to my secretary (neither of which I have).)
All the husbands out there, listen to me. If you want your wife to love you and do naughty things to you on a regular basis, then hire someone to clean your house! Your wife will be energized, thankful and up for anything. I know I am!
Cleaning ladies make me hot, especially ones that smell like bleach and noodles!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Boobs are best
Okay, if you know me, you know that I'm type-A all the way. I don't do anything a little bit. If I run, I run marathons. If I don't eat meat, I become vegan. If I become a member of something, I want to take over. That's just how I roll.
And, not only do I do things all the way, but I do them to the best of my ability. That's another type-A trait. Granted, on the outside it might seem I'm mediocre, but I know I have tried to the best of my ability--never understanding why the rest of the world doesn't do the same.
With that said, I breast fed my son. FOR ABOUT 18 MONTHS! For those of you without children, this means nothing to you. For those of you that have actually pooped out a kid, you are now in awe. That's right, this little, midget, Mexican, momma had her kid on her boob for 18 months. AND I ENJOYED IT--not in a pervert kind of way, the way most of you are thinking right now, but in a motherly kind of way. I knew that I was providing my son with the best I could possibly give him. And the best was MY milk, and not some fabricated milk product created in a lab by a bunch a scientists trying to replicate my milk. My milk!
In the beginning it sucked big, fat, donkey balls. Seriously! It hurt like hell. My boobs were bigger than Al Gore's head! My boobs leaked, leaving a trail around my house with my dogs following me!
It wasn't easy to nurse my son, but I endured the pain and the sleepless nights, because I wanted to give my baby the best, and because I'm type-A. When I decide to do something, I do it all the way and then some, regardless of how much it hurts or how much time it takes or how much effort it requires...I give it my all. Again, that's just how I work, and how I function. Yes, it's exhausting to be me, but I don't know how else to be. I just do everything ALL the way. But, if you know me, you already know this.
So 10 years from now, when my kid is in therapy complaining to his therapist how I screwed him up, I can say, Ha, I gave you what was recommended!
You can read the article on breastfeeding here.
And, not only do I do things all the way, but I do them to the best of my ability. That's another type-A trait. Granted, on the outside it might seem I'm mediocre, but I know I have tried to the best of my ability--never understanding why the rest of the world doesn't do the same.
With that said, I breast fed my son. FOR ABOUT 18 MONTHS! For those of you without children, this means nothing to you. For those of you that have actually pooped out a kid, you are now in awe. That's right, this little, midget, Mexican, momma had her kid on her boob for 18 months. AND I ENJOYED IT--not in a pervert kind of way, the way most of you are thinking right now, but in a motherly kind of way. I knew that I was providing my son with the best I could possibly give him. And the best was MY milk, and not some fabricated milk product created in a lab by a bunch a scientists trying to replicate my milk. My milk!
In the beginning it sucked big, fat, donkey balls. Seriously! It hurt like hell. My boobs were bigger than Al Gore's head! My boobs leaked, leaving a trail around my house with my dogs following me!
It wasn't easy to nurse my son, but I endured the pain and the sleepless nights, because I wanted to give my baby the best, and because I'm type-A. When I decide to do something, I do it all the way and then some, regardless of how much it hurts or how much time it takes or how much effort it requires...I give it my all. Again, that's just how I work, and how I function. Yes, it's exhausting to be me, but I don't know how else to be. I just do everything ALL the way. But, if you know me, you already know this.
So 10 years from now, when my kid is in therapy complaining to his therapist how I screwed him up, I can say, Ha, I gave you what was recommended!
You can read the article on breastfeeding here.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Azul's baby: the next Beastie Boy
Dear Future Beastie Boy,
Even though you aren't born yet, you will be one of the lucky ones.
You have been loved since the day your mommy and daddy discovered you. Your abuela is anxiously waiting for your arrival, as is the rest of your huge Mexican family.
You have been loved since creation. You are a lucky one!
You are also very special. Your mother and father are two very passionate, artistic, and creative people. You will grow and flourish in an environment different than most. Your world will be filled with creativity, art, music, love, and healthy, organic foods-- considering both of your parents work for that hippie grocery store.
Your life will be more grand that most. Your ears will be filled with the sultry sounds of the greatest music ever created. Your father will see to that. Your eyes will constantly capture glimpses of your father's intriguing and grand artwork. You will live in a world with vibrant colors and mysterious melodies. You are one of the lucky ones!
Because you are a product of your father, you will be strong but compassionate. You will be artistic but grounded. You will be understanding but feisty. You will never want for anything. Your father will grant your every wish. He is already preparing to be your little league coach in just a few short years.
Even though I won't get to meet you when you arrive (because I live in Japan), know that I'm thinking of you. And, I'm sure your proud Papa will send me countless pictures of you. And, I can't wait for the day when I can meet you in person.
Until then, remember, you are one of the lucky ones!
Even though you aren't born yet, you will be one of the lucky ones.
You have been loved since the day your mommy and daddy discovered you. Your abuela is anxiously waiting for your arrival, as is the rest of your huge Mexican family.
You have been loved since creation. You are a lucky one!
You are also very special. Your mother and father are two very passionate, artistic, and creative people. You will grow and flourish in an environment different than most. Your world will be filled with creativity, art, music, love, and healthy, organic foods-- considering both of your parents work for that hippie grocery store.
Your life will be more grand that most. Your ears will be filled with the sultry sounds of the greatest music ever created. Your father will see to that. Your eyes will constantly capture glimpses of your father's intriguing and grand artwork. You will live in a world with vibrant colors and mysterious melodies. You are one of the lucky ones!
Because you are a product of your father, you will be strong but compassionate. You will be artistic but grounded. You will be understanding but feisty. You will never want for anything. Your father will grant your every wish. He is already preparing to be your little league coach in just a few short years.
Even though I won't get to meet you when you arrive (because I live in Japan), know that I'm thinking of you. And, I'm sure your proud Papa will send me countless pictures of you. And, I can't wait for the day when I can meet you in person.
Until then, remember, you are one of the lucky ones!
To my lovely readers
Yes, I know, I've been neglecting you. I've pushed you down to the bottom of my list of things to do.
My life has been getting in the way of this useless blog.
However, that is about to end. My mundane, boring life is about to be back, and I can't wait.
So, with the boring-ness comes free time, and free time equals time to blog. So, I'm back. I'm back in the blogosphere.
My life has been getting in the way of this useless blog.
However, that is about to end. My mundane, boring life is about to be back, and I can't wait.
So, with the boring-ness comes free time, and free time equals time to blog. So, I'm back. I'm back in the blogosphere.
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