My husband is away on business.
Visiting a far-off land now referred to in our household only as Ja-frickin'-pan. (Usually said while hanging head in despair. Use it in a sentence? OK!
Husband: "I can't believe I have to go to Ja-frickin'-pan."
Wife: "I hate Ja-frickin'-pan!"
Oh, and to clarify, we do not actually say frickin'. We say the other thing. But some people don't appreciate when I use bad language on the blog (hi mom!).
Let me say up front that there are many positive things about Japan. For several years in middle school, when literally no one would deign to speak to me except to say something in the "nice pants loser" genre, there were two Japanese girls, Hiroko and Kaori, who took me under their wing.
We did everything together and their companionship was pretty much the only thing that made middle school bearable for several delightful months. Sadly, our friendship ended when their collective English improved enough to utter the phrase, "You are dragging us down socially." But still, our time together was special while it lasted.
So, my fight is not with the Japanese people but rather with Japan as a country. Which insists on being full of people who want to talk to my husband in person, while being simultaneously extremely far away.
Frick you Japan!
Some other thoughts:
We had a lovely Easter week.
I made the questionable choice of bringing my 6-month-old to Good Friday services, both to worship and because it provided a chance to sneak in an extra hour of family time with my hard working hubby.
OK - make that 2 hours.
The service was long, and for the most part our baby performed admirably, alternating between making adorable faces and being silent. Pretty much the ideal combo for a child his age. The only slight glitch came towards the end of the Passion. Sung in it's entirety (two hours, people!) at the church we attended, the rendition was haunting and beautiful. Arguably one of the most holy and haunting moments on the Christian calendar is when Jesus' last words issue forth and the entire church kneels in reverent silence. The entire church, that is, except Snood, who chose this moment to let out the loudest belch I have ever heard. It still seems impossible that that much gas could somehow have been trapped in his tiny little body. And yet, it was.
Luckily the only result was some brief laughter from the surrounding pews and then a quick return to reverence by one and all, followed by our swift exit from the proceedings.
On Sunday, David and I sat in Griffith Park cuddling and watching the Snood roll around practicing his almost-crawl. We took the morning to relish an Easter that involved exactly zero Easter Eggs, Easter Baskets and/or Bunny-Related Shenanigans, realizing that it was likely our last chance to do so for the next several decades.
The other major revelation of the week was as follows:
The number of pants I own that button at the waist whose button I can actually close while wearing said pants is exactly: ZERO.
The device pictured above is a "waistband stretcher" which promises to, "gently widen your snug jeans, skirts and shorts". I was in dire need of such technology while attempting to dress for Easter week services. It is amazing the amount of denial that can be contained in simple act of putting a pair of elastic waist pants.
So now, as much as I hate to say it, I'm on a diet.
And yes, I know I am not supposed to diet but rather, "embrace healthy lifestyle choices" but let me just make the counter-argument that I HAD TO WEAR SWEATPANTS TO EASTER MASS!
Also, I am someone who often mistakes eating five slices of pizza instead of, say, nine for a healthy choice. And it hasn't been working for me.
I'm living (since this morning) on brown rice, chicken and vegetables and so far it's going great! One day down - only several hundred to go!
And so I must ask you to forgive this post if it comes off in any way as rambling, disjointed and/or (as I reread it pre-publish) deeply culturally insensitive.
What can I say, I'M HUNGRY!