True Irony at home

Here is a weird chain of events that occurred just the other night.

Went out to dinner with a friend and her husband.

Came home at 8pm.

Intended to feed and walk dog immediately.

Phone rang. It was a relatively new friend.
(By the way, any phone call from a friend is such a rarity that I find it impossible to say to that person, "Look, I am really busy right now. Can I call you back later?")

So, we chatted for an hour, while became so engrossed in the conversation that I paid no attention to Max.

Hung up the phone.

Fed the dog.

Went to bedroom to change into more comfy clothes for walking.

Noticed that tennis shoe was sitting on the center of the bed.

Hmmm.

Noticed that there was a large puddle underneath the shoe.

Realized that Max had peed on the bed.
(By the way, this is not the first time. It happens if I neglect to take him outside when he is expecting it. And, this is the precise reason why I usually keep the bedroom door shut.)

Stripped the bed of its quilt and winter blankets.

Threw the quilt in the washer.

Realized that we would have no blankets, lest I wash and dry them before bedtime.

Took Max outside for walk.

Decided to take blankets to local laundromat so they could be properly washed and dried quickly.

I had 90 minutes to accomplish this since the place closes at 11pm.

I packed the blankets up in my huge Costco bags and loaded them up in the car.

I drove the car (for the first time by myself) to the laundromat.
(By the way, in the past, I would have loaded the blankets onto my bicycle, but my bicycle no longer has working breaks...plus, I am pregnant. Pregnant ladies shouldn't be riding bikes with heavy loads tied onto the back, especially with no breaks.)

I drove without incident.

At the laundromat, while waiting, I sat down to enjoy a good book and to drink a Pocari Sweat (sports drink) from the vending machine.

I called my husband. He asked me where I was. I told him where. He asked me how I got there. I told him how.

He got really angry and tore me a new ass.

I told him I couldn't talk right now, and hung up the phone.

When the blankets had dried, I packed them up in the Costco bags along with my Pocari Sweat, and loaded them into the car.

I drove home without incident.

I took the blankets back up to our place.

I removed them from the bags and re-made the bed.

I noticed a big wet spot on the quilt.

The culprit, this time, was my pocari sweat which had not been closed tightly.

The puddle was in the exact same place that the pee puddle had been.

Noting this example of true irony, I finished making the bed.

A puddle of Pocari Sweat is better than a puddle of pee.

I lay down on the couch to rest a bit before going to bed.

Suk called. He seemed to want to continue tearing me a new ass.

It got ugly...real ugly.

Had I been more careful in the first place, none of this would have happened.

Dwarfed Body Parts

This weekend, Suk and I took what we like to think of as our last "getaway". We spent one night in Kamakura at a hotel called The Society. We go there every year, and it had been about 18 months since our last visit.

I made the mistake of not packing any maternity clothes, when I am, in fact, at the point where I need to be wearing maternity, lest I get mistaken for someone who doesn't know how to dress herself.

Since we have a digital camera, I was able to immediately view any photos taken of me among the scenery of Kamakura. Well, to my surprise, I have now developed these humongous boobs, which sort of spread out to each side making way for a little round belly and beneath that, wide hips and big thighs. If I am not mistaken, the wide hips and thighs were there before, but they were not quite as "out there." I started to feel sorry for myself, and I began asking Suk questions like, "Do you think people realize that I am pregnant? Or do you think they just assume I am fat?" Well, I suppose he didn't quite know how to answer this, so he said, "If you had super skinny legs and small breasts, then of course you would look pregnant. But, you don't have super skinny legs and small breasts." Thanks. Ever heard of the simple answer, "Of course you look pregnant, honey? How could people NOT realize that?"

Later that night, we went our separate ways to bathe in the hotel's bath. Suk is lucky because every where you go, there are LESS men around. Sometimes, he is the only one bathing. As for me, there are always lots of women. There are just more of us in this world.

Right away, I started to feel more uncomfortable than usual. I thought the fact that I am pregnant would mean that people would do double-takes at my huger than huge breasts. As if that thought wasn't bad enough. When I got to the changing room, there was a mom with her teenage daughter and (what looked to be) 9-year old son. Okay, 4 or 5 years old is understandable. But 9?

The bath itself was so full that all the shower stalls were occupied, and after my initial rinse, I had to wait over an hour for a shower stall so I could actually wash myself. I waited in the baths, but could only submerge my body in the coolest bath (pregnant women have to take care not to let their bodies get too hot), which was usually full. I finally secured a spot in there after waiting for about 40 minutes. So, I sat on the edge of the other bath with my big boobs hanging around my stomach while that 9-year old boy's mom helped him to shower 4 times. This last sentence will make more sense later in the story.

Now, this whole time, I was not feeling relaxed at all. I should have just left and gone back to the room. But, I was determined to follow through because I like the soap and shampoo that the hotel provides for the showers. Instead, I sat there watching everyone like a hawk until a shower stall opened up. I was practically seething.

Here is what I noticed. These people sure like to waste water. They wash their hair for 20 minutes. Then, they wash their bodies for 20 more minutes. Then, they rinse off and putter around for several more minutes. Finally, they get up and make their way over to the bath for a soak. Before they leave their shower stall, one of their cronies (perhaps a family member or a friend) comes and waits until they're done, and they take over the shower stall. This happened over and over, and often the original water-hog returned to her shower stall after a short soak, and repeated the process all over again. This is what I meant about that 9-year old boy getting washed down by his mom 4 times. While they soaked in the tub together, the teenage daughter was tediously washing her hair and body.

So, finally, I got a shower stall and I tried to take my time, but I just can't seem to stretch a good hair-washing into 20 minutes. And, here is the part where I finally say something funny about the size of my boobs. When naked in a room full of naked women, you cannot help but compare yourself a bit. These Japanese women have breasts about the same size as my husband's. Meanwhile, when I wash, I actually have to lift my breast up in order to wash beneath it. This was not an issue for me before. Now, my breasts have not only grown, but they are also quite heavy, and they dwarf my pregnant belly, which makes me feel even more self-conscious. Okay, back to the ofuro dilemma.

I left the ofuro and went to the changing room, where the little family was still changing their clothes. The 9-year old boy was all dressed and ready to go, but his sister was taking her time. I thought to myself, "Why in the hell is he still hangin' around?" There are about 10 other women in the dressing room all in various states of nakedness, and he is just standing there. Why doesn't his mom tell him to go and wait out by the vending machines?

New Endeavor

Okay, as promised I will now reveal my decision.

Not that it is a big deal.

For those who know me well or have been to my house, I am really into scrapbooking and have been for about 9 or 10 years.

I wanted to make a career of it somehow, but wasn't sure how to go about it and read some books to get ideas. Finally, though, I decided to take the easy route and join Creative Memories (CM) as an instructor. So, now I can host workshops or I can teach classes about scrapbooking, and I can sell the products.

So far, I have no workshops planned in the near future, but I would like to start having some after the holidays. I think people are getting too busy right about now, and I actually plan to attend three scrapbooking workshops (hosted by other people) in the next two months, so I'll be quite busy myself.

When I stop working in January, I thought that would be a good time to get started. For now, I have several projects I am working on, and I am planning to sign up for an on-line art class.

So, though I have considered grad school and getting a degree in TESOL, I haven't gone that route yet. Suk is not exactly supportive of continuing education. That is an understatement, by the way. He has asked me why I didn't major in art or graphic design in college though. Well, it was partly because I didn't know I was that interested in it at the time, but luckily I DO use my Communication Arts major every day for my job, so that was worth something.