busy mundacity

This past winter someone from the Midwest asked me what we do in Arizona during the summer when it gets really hot.  It depends on the temperature what I can accomplish in a day:  if it is over 110-degrees, I am most likely staying in.  At this point it’s hot in the car even if the AC is on full blast and swimming feels like a bath.  Yesterday hit 113 so I thought I would be staying in even though we had no groceries, the dog needed to go to the groomer, bills needed to be paid, and so forth.  I didn’t want to be out and about with the crazies in the hideous weather– by the way, 110+ heat has the effect of three full moons.  I was settling on to the couch in my pjs when I realized the cleaning lady was coming.

Sidenote:  There is nothing that I love more than other people coming to clean my house.  It might seem like a waste of money during a recession (cue dramatic music) but I like to see it as my patriotic duty to stimulate the ecomony.

When the cleaning lady comes I feel really awkward being at home.  I feel like I should be lounging while someone feeds be grape and another fans me.  Or I think she is judging me for the stains I have in odd places or how grungy my baseboards are.  Either way, I am overwhelmed, write a check, and scram.  It turned out that the dog would get groomed, mail would be sent, and groceries would be purchased despite the sun’s fury.  I dreaded what I would encounter.

Things were pretty copasetic, you know, except for the incessant fear my child would sweat to death, until we left Costco.  I thought I walked out in to a scene from The Happening because everyone was standing frozen, looking off in to one direction.  Alas, what was happening was more compelling than that crap-ass movie (it wouldn’t take much).  Basically, one vehicle was waiting for a parking spot, when another car drove in front of them to take the place.  Naturally, the first vehicle laid on his horn.  The cutter-offer car contained… old farts.  No surprise, right? (For those of you who don’t know why people in Arizona HATE old drivers, I will explain in a future blog… tune in around November when the snowbirds come back.) Anyway, I continue to watch this insanity rather than go to my vehicle because my car is parked down the same aisle and I don’t feel like being the “innocent bystander” in the next day’s newspaper.

This whole thing comes to a head when the old-fart lady passenger gets out of the car and saunters back to the vehicle she just dicked over. She starts screaming at the top of her lungs about how rude they are and why they aren’t entitled to the parking spot.  People start laughing, but quickly stop when she starts waving her finger in the driver’s face.  By sticking her arm in the other guy’s vehicle she is basically asking to be shot. I don’t have a gun, but I know I would have broken that crazy coot’s finger off the second it entered my vehicle.  This is when all the gawkers start getting uncomfortable and we start looking for things to hide behind in the event bullets start flying.  Luckily, some guy goes up and drags the woman away from the window and the fun time ends.

There is a happy ending to this though, when I got home my house was so fresh and so clean clean.

 

fat people are dumb

I hauled my fat ass back to the gym today.  I did one of those fitness classes that has a little bit of everything in it.  We get to the kickboxing part and I am happy because I have done lots of kickboxing classes before.  Anyway, I am following along with the instructor and she stops the entire class and comes over to show me how to properly position my arms for speed bag.  I was really confused why she came to help me, I mean, I had it right.  Especially because the Barbie behind me looked like she was doing some type of cheer from her high school glory days–flailing her arms and all.

We continue on, and we are doing these modified jumping jacks from hell.  Let me get something straight:  I fucking hate jumping jacks.  First of all, I have boobs, big ones that are prone to get pissy if I cough too hard, so imagine how they feel with this jolt of activity.  Second, jumping ranks first in shit I don’t like to do, followed closely by running.  Anyway, Healthy Helen comes back and “whispers” to me (she was wearing a mic, so it wasn’t a secret between the two of us), “Honey, your face is really red, are you okay?”  Do you understand the restraint I showed here?  FYI, she is still alive.  I told her, “Well, I’m really hot and she (Barbie) has all the fans here pointed to her.”  You see, when Barbie cheerleader came in to the room she turned the three fans in the back towards her.  What a bitch with a capital C, right?

After I had (the smallest) fan turned to me, we moved on.  Every time our fearless leader showed an accommodation she would stand right next to or in front of me.  People, there were two women in there three times my age who pretty much just marched the entire time.  But, since I was the fattest in the class by a good twenty pounds, I was voted most likely to need an accommodation.  At that point I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, I still don’t.

Anyway, I made it through the damn class without a) having a heart attack and b) murdering anyone.  I am going back to that class again on Thursday, just so I can show that stupid instructor that the fat hasn’t gone to my brain.  I am also going to get there five minutes early and turn every fan on me!

 

 

 

 

Holy Matrimony

After 55 years, Del and Phyllis were married today.  This couple has been together twice as long as I have been alive.  They would have been married sooner, but Del and Phyllis are both women.  Apparently there is something wrong with that.  Then again, people used to think it was wrong for a Black man and White woman to marry. 

“I think today, marriage as an institution has been strengthened,” said San Francisco mayor, Gavin Newsom while presiding over Del and Phyllis’s wedding.

Amen.  I think my husband and I could definitely learn something about love, commitment, and respect from any couple that has been together for 55 years.

 

Not for the faint of heart

B has a cold.  It’s not even ten AM and my kid has already been to the doctor, smeared green snot all over a wall, barfed up his food (half thru his nose), rubbed his barf into his hair, slapped me with a barfy hand, peed in his bath (then me), and wriggled out of two diapers.  I think I am fine with an only child.  I don’t want to do this again.  I suppose it isn’t as bad as the morning that in the space of ten minutes he spit up, peed, and pooped on me and everything that was within five feet of him.

 

One of my favorite dads

Jeff is such a good dad, it is almost disgusting. He has such a calm and easy way about him (you wonder why we work so well…). I will never forget his face when I told him I was pregnant, in the ER when the tech said our booger was okay, when we were told we were having a boy, or as he supervised the nurses clean up B after he was born. Our little family works so well because he is so willing, sweet, and supportive.

Besides dog, B’s favorite word is dada.  The doctor said this is because it is the easiest word to say, but I think it is because B always gets a different reaction from Jeff when he says it, from a funny face to a ride on his shoulders.  Parenthood is a road littered with guilt, but we share the load fairly.  Jeff will encourage me to take time for a bath or mindless Internet fun while he entertains, feeds, or bathes the baby.  This downtime is so precious, but not nearly as my husband.

Society puts the majority of parenting on the mother’s shoulders whatever anyone wants to say.  In our house things are a little bit more squarely on my shoulders, but it is without resentment or frustration.  I don’t know how I would raise B without Jeff, or even the type of mom I would be.  Most importantly I don’t think I would have the same son if he weren’t as involved and wonderful.  Jeff is truly an incredible dad.

B’s tricks

Just a few of B’s favorite activities:

1.  Getting new perspective on things.

2.  Tarting it up for the camera.

3.  Decorating and organizing.  I think he is realphabetizing here.

4.  Wrestling pillows.  Because they are all out to get him.

How does Santa do it?

Father’s Day is looming.

I always have such a horrible time buying presents for people in our family, especially the boys.  We were told that my dad wanted a belt, a gift-card, and a t-shirt.  That’s it.  Seriously.  I know you might be thinking, “Geez, Keiko, at least he told you what he wanted.  It doesn’t seem that hard.”  However, my dad’s birthday is two days after Father’s Day.  What that means is my mom, brother, and I get to fight over those three items for TWO gift giving days.  My dad would be mortified if he knew I was blogging about his gifts (a. he is old, b. he is Asian), and he would just tell me he doesn’t need anything–I hate that.  I know why people say, “Don’t get me anything,” because it seems frivolous and/or unnecessary, but I WANT to get him something.  Even though he forgets my exact birth date and tells anyone who listens what a bitchy teenager I was, he deserves to be honored on Father’s Day and his birthday.  He is such a kick-ass dad and has done so much for us, plus he is a fantastic grandpa to B. 

I called dibs on the belt while my mom and brother figure out who is getting the other desired items.  This means I am left to brainstorm and decide on his birthday gift.  I have some ideas, but nothing seems cool enough for my dad.  I mean what do I get for the man who taught me about government, how to manage money, be open to all perspectives and arguments, all while scaring the crap out of me?

First thing first…

I have been rightly/unfairly accused of not keeping people up to date with what is happening with our  little fam.  Apparently we’ve all become voyeurs thanks to technology and I didn’t catch on to this.  Either that or our lives are much more interesting than I thought.

So, welcome to our family blog.   I (Keiko) will update as much as possible.  Bear with me as a figure this place out and decide what is appropriate for daytime viewing, etc.

As of right now, the word is “health”.  B had tubes put in his ears this morning.  Basically, little coffee straws were put in to open up his ear canal.  Since October he has had a dozen ear infections and been on countless antibiotics.  We tried everything from changing his diet to a chiropractor, but nothing worked.  He was on such massive doses of antibiotics that he was becoming resistant to meds prescribed.  Anyway, the surgery was pretty simple and took less than a half hour from beginning to end.  He is back to normal already. 

In a couple weeks Jeff will have surgery to replace his ACL.  This means crutches, physical therapy, and so forth.  A lot less fun than tubes.  He was originally supposed to have it on Friday the 13th, which is his lucky day since he was born on Friday the 13th, but it got pushed back a couple weeks.

Anywho, my health is just fine, though I do have the massive headache in the form of a summer class I am taking.  I’m working on my second Masters degree, but this course has nothing to do with it.  Basically every teacher has to take a class about teaching ELLs (English language learners) by 2009.  It is a waste of time and money for me, but not for the schmoe who convinced the AZ dept of ed that the three other classes I took on ELL shouldn’t count.  Whatev

Okay, so how am I doing?  Do you feel more informed?  Honestly, I kind of feel like this isn’t very interesting, but at least you are in the loop now.