My Friend Aki Needs a Husband and What Are YOU Going to Do About It?

So I happen to know the cutest, smartest, funniest and most independent kick-in-the-pants Japanese girl on all the islands over there.

Her name is Aki (oh, wait, no it isn’t but I sure as heck am not going to write her REAL name here for all those freaky freaks out there to google) and last Christmas I sent her a Christmas card and this Christmas she sent ME a Christmas card (we keep in pretty good contact, huh?) and scads of pictures of her looking all cute and trotting around to her friends’ weddings and wedding showers and around Japan and around Bangkok and on the freighter she took to GET to Bangkok and her on her basketball team but with a tear in her eye because she is 31 and a half and isn’t married.

Do you know what it is like to be an Asian woman and be 31 and not be married? It’s like every single person you meet staring with dubious pity like you have 2 heads and asking you when you are going to get married every 8 minutes of every day.

I mean, I guess. Not being an Asian woman in Asia, that is just my rough approximation. Most likely it is worse than that.

Of course, the fact that she is, in fact, the smartest and funniest and most independent might have something to do with the fact that she is, in fact, still unencumbered by a long-term relationship.  It would be easy to say that Japanese men might tend to run away from women like that (but actually I think that MOST men would run away from a woman like that, what with the whole fragile egos and all).

(and also she is really, REALLY funny. I mean, FUNNY. Do you know how hard it is to be funny in another language?  Just think of the last time you tried to tell a joke in Spanish.  How many people laughed?  With you, not at you, that is?  AND humor is also not a very cross-cultural kind of guy. If you think it is, when was the last time you watched a Korean game show?  Was it funny? Or were you just bemused and also kind of scared in a nervous kind of I’m-glad-I’m-not-near-those-people kind of way?)

So if you or someone you love knows of any eligible and super-nice bachelor between 30 and 40 who is willing to undergo rigorous and grueling interviews by ME and also by AMBER, and also SHARON (even though she is in Africa) we would be happy to vet some individuals looking for a relationship with the cutest, funniest, smartest and most independent Japanese girl on the Japanese Islands.

Thank you and good night.

The one on the right. How cute is she?

Still cute, going up.

 

Regression; Or, why I Haven’t Had More than 2 Hours of Sleep in a Row for What Seems Like Forever

For those of you playing along at  home, you will remember that sleep has never been the Tyrant’s very strong point. But there have been spells where it has been better than others.

One of the others would be right now.

For the past 3 and a half weeks the Tyrant has been waking up every hour and a half at the end of his sleep cycle and can’t or won’t go back to sleep without nursing. Which makes it hard to sleep for Mrs Fussy Crankypants, particularly when he’s not the world’s most careful latcher.

It’s like having a newborn all over again. Except bigger and louder.

Mrs FC sometimes doesn’t know if she is going to survive and thinks she has only survived this far because for half of the time this has been going on, she’s been staying at places where she could send Miles out when he wakes up and get another hour or two of sleep herself. It not only makes her crabbier and crankier than she wants to be, it makes her eat nonstop as well as she constantly shovels food—usually sugar—into her gaping maw mouth to stay awake.

Mrs Fussy Crankypants does not know what to do about this issue at this point. She certainly never set out to be in this position and is superlatively slightly horrified that she now is . If this behavior is related to the stress of moving (which the Tyrant hasn’t manifested in any kind of other behavior) then night weaning would just cause that much more stress, which Mrs FC frankly feels is unfair. Night weaning is going to be a huge calamity in his life and Mrs FC for one is not necessarily looking forward to how it will affect The Tyrant while he adjusts. And as Mrs FC is the one who will be dealing with the fall-out, she feels that she is the one who must consider that step with GREAT care.

 Also, she is not sure how to go about it. Theoretically, Mrs FC would have Mr Fussy Crankypants take over all night duties for a few weeks but now that he is commuting 3 – 4 hours everyday Mrs FC feels like would affect his cranky ability to drive crankily safely.

If she knew that it would resolve in a week or a few weeks, that the Tyrant would reach the point where he could or was willing to get back into a deeper sleep without using Mrs FC as a human pacifier, then she would just hang in there. But she is also afraid that the longer they go along, the more the Tyrant will lose his ability to settle himself. Two to 3 night wakings Mrs FC can do; 5, 6 or more are driving her certifiably and crankily insane crazy.

The next couple weeks, Mrs FC will be places where she will be able to send Himself out in the mornings while she catches some more sleep. Then after then, she’ll at least have Mr FC start splitting the night shift again, something that has gone by the wayside as while Mr FC was away before the move, the Tyrant forgot about having him help at night and just won’t settle now without Mrs FC‘s cranktabulous yelling in the night.

But don’t mind her, she’s just sleep deprived.

Mrs FC will now go mope more and also drink coffee and she apologizes for the long and tedious rant and maybe next time she’ll post some jolly Christmas photos instead of whinging ad nauseum about this mind-numbingly dull topic.

Addendum:  Coffee drunk, chocolate eaten, feeling better. Thanks for playing!

Not That I’ve Been Avoiding You or Anything; Or, Amber Finally Made Me Feel Guilty Enough to Write Something

Amber told me it’s been a month since I chatted last.

*sigh*

I know.

It’s not that I haven’t been thinking about you. In fact, I intended to write to you throughout this whole tumultous time, to give you a blow-by-blow account of the moving madness.

but then I realized that I didn’t actually want to depress you that much. And I also didn’t want you to be that concerned for my mental health.

Suffice it to say that is has been a pretty craptaculuar few weeks.

Have you ever tried moving with a toddler when your husband is several hours away and then the movers come and tell you your packing was crappy and it will take them a whole day to re-pack and then they’ll have to come back the next day, when the new owners are going to come take over your  new house, and it will take them the whole next day to pack?  And then they get it done after all so what were they about giving you a heart attack to start the day with?  And then they finally get out and you think that you’ll be able to take a couple more hours and get the last things in the car with the cats and the toddler after cleaning a little and 3 hours later you are still cleaning and the new owners are there HOVERING watching you trying to not have an actual mental break-down while they wait for you to leave even though they don’t legally take possession until the next day and you are trying not to hyperventilate and the vacuum stops working and all the trash bins have been filled to the rim and the toddler absolutely MUST accompany you on every trip you take out to the car and back to take stuff to pack in SOMEWHERE because he  can’t be away from you for a millisecond? And meanwhile the new owners are standing around in the kitchen and bringing in hanging lamps and etc, etc.?

And I could actually go on and on in the same vein to cover the last couple weeks and tell you about the landlady’s artistic endeavors in the bathroom that she decided should be a Victorian get-away complete with mauve walls, Victorian Rose wallpaper border, and fuzzy pink bathmat, toilet seat cover and mat-that-goes-around-the-toilet-thing also sporting roses that she forced upon a 1930s bathroom with a fabulous peach-and black tile backsplash around the bathtub?  And the shower that wouldn’t turn on and when it finally turned on wouldn’t draw hot water?  And the original-to-the-house single pane windows that apparently let in every draught and sound even though they look charming? Plus the multiple cracked window panes AND the glass pulling out of frames requiring emergency caulking AND the several panes that have been replaced by plexiglass? AND the neighbor’s “victory party” for Ohio beating Michigan (it’s football.  they are kind of into that here) on our first night. AND the trains whistling all through the night from 2 blocks away.  AND the accoustical tile in the kitchen. AND the gravity furnace in the basement that is wrapped in asbestos and which, after I swept the basement with my little son chasing the dustmotes with his tongue, gave me pause to wonder if maybe I should not have swept ANYTHING down there and in fact he probably shouldn’t be down there at all and now I’m convinced he will suffer from asbestos-related illnesses a decade hence and don’t think it hasn’t kept me up at night.

AND living among a vast crowd of boxes which say nothing and do even less.  Why can’t they unpack themselves? And also why do movers use one whole box for a lightbulb?

And if one more person comments on how much stuff I own, I’m going to sock them one.  If they don’t think they have as much stuff, then they haven’t moved an entire household recently.  So stuff it.  Especially when movers use one whole box to pack one lightbulb in.

AND the irony is that T  has decided he can take no more of the Big Sucky Corporate Bank he hired on with and is going to start back to work with his OLD company. In Cincinnati.  Where he will commute daily. Sadly, he feels that even with the commute he will be home more than if he had stayed at the Big Bad Bank. Which is probably true and is sad that people are expected to work and not go home to their families ever.  But that is a whole other topic.

And nap-time is rapidly disappearing.

And all my other interests and pursuits have had to go on the back burner for the past month and that is quite irritating. 

So Merry Christmas, y’all. Bah! Humbug!!!