I'm such a bad blogger. The first step is admitting it.
It's pretty easy to take an experience, pull one thought from it, and post it on Facebook. But whether it's humor, frustration, confusion, etc., it's just one small piece of a larger part of your life. Toward the end of the year I've rapidly become disillusioned with FB and decided it's much more fun to tell the whole story. This way no one will read just one or two sentences and sit there thinking "What a great picture of her kids! How does she manage?" or "Well, that doesn't sound so bad." or "Wow. I wonder how she's processing/dealing with that?" Now there will be no such wondering. You will all instead be thinking "My God, it took 47 tries to get that picture." and "OH. Now I see she's making a joke to keep from crying." or "Good Lord she is totally bat-shit crazy."
Mildly interesting things that happened in the last few months or so that I did not blog about (but totally should have):
Ashlyn fell on her Heelys and broke her arm. Again.
We moved from Seoul to Pyeongtaek.
Skylar started preschool.
Owen joined the Cub Scouts.
Haley got a boyfriend.
Ashlyn fell down and almost broke her head and Scott threw away everybody's Heelys.
Haley made all A's on her report card, a huge mistake on her part, because now we know she's not dumb like we originally thought, but actually just lazy.
Fat Heidi went on a diet.
Two different doctors diagnosed me with COPD, the third leading cause of death and illness worldwide that has no cure.
Skylar got a boyfriend.
I learned how to download movies and television shows off the internet for free.
I had a lung scan to determine the severity of my COPD and found out I did NOT have COPD.
The lung scan showed a tumor on my 8th vertebrae of my spine. I named him Marty.
I was diagnosed with asthma and given two inhalers and three more oral medications to take daily.
Haley joined the guitar club.
I had several heated arguments with random Koreans.
Fat Heidi lost around 4 pounds in 5 months. She's still fat.
I opted against surgery to remove my tumor because I am afraid of doctors who do not speak English.
Scott broke his nose in the unit flag football game.
I forgot to turn off the stove before we left for the day and nearly burned down the building.
I quit all physical activity while the doctors spent several months altering my medication dosages. I promptly lost 7 pounds.
Scott and I implemented the weekly Thursday Lunch Date. Skylar also attends.
Haley dumped her boyfriend.
Skylar got another boyfriend. I'm relatively sure the first one doesn't know.
The fire alarm went off and we had to evacuate the building. The kids freaked out.
My doctor told me I needed to start seeing a Pulminary Specialist for treatment. I declined, again because of the language thing.
Scott found out he will have to have surgery on his nose.
Skylar asked Santa for a Barbie Dream House, which not ONE SINGLE STORE on the internet would ship to an APO address.
Scott was confirmed a slot in the August 2012 Command and General Staff College 1-year course at Fort Leavenworth.
My parents visited.
Scott's mother spent $75 to ship a Barbie Dream House to us.
We had another fire alarm and had to evacuate again. The kids freaked out again.
I finally found a wii game I could beat Scott at.
I would say one of my New Year's Resolutions is to be better at keeping up with my blog, but there's no fun in that. Resolutions should be about much more interesting and/or controversial things, otherwise nobody wants to hear about it. Nobody cares if you're going to run a marathon or drink more water! That's BORING! I'm not going to sit here and talk about any crap resolutions like that!
How many times have you asked someone about their resolutions and they said I'm going to save more money! or I'm going to eat more salad! or I'm going to read a book a week! YAWN. But hey, let somebody throw in some words like drugs, porn, or affair and OMG people can't get enough. BLOG BLOG BLOG.
Sadly, I don't have anything like that to give up, and I can't even make up some pretend ones because people would take it seriously and the next thing you know I would think I'm going to meet a few friends at Starbucks and instead it would be something entirely different and uncomfortable.
Plus, the things I do that are bad I like too much to give up Like cheat at the wii to beat Scott. Give that up? No way.
31 December 2011
29 December 2011
I'm so un-friendly
About a week ago I decided to cut down my Facebook friend list. I've done this before, but, let's face it, I was all pansy about it and cut maybe 5 or 6 people. This time I cut it from 505 to 218, and of that 218, 69 are family. I went through the list and I'm telling you, there were people on there I'm not even sure I knew.
note: some of the people I still don't actually know, but they know scott through the army, and he recently deleted his fb page, so I kept those people in case they need/want to get in touch with him.
another note: scott deleted his fb page because once he returned from iraq several people he met over there friended him and periodically sent him messages saying hello, how are you, where are you now, etc., and since having the job he has necessitates a top secret security clearance from the united states government it's probably best if he doesn't have a bunch of contact with iraqi nationalists. these people are perfectly pleasant but so is a paycheck. also, scott hates facebook because people try to talk to him. oh the horror.
Lots of people on the list went to Coosa, and I decided I don't need to be friends on FB with someone JUST BECAUSE we went to the same high school. This is weird to me. There needs to be more criteria than that. Just because your name might sound familiar to me doesn't mean I care if you get a new job, get fired, have a baby, get a divorce, etc. And I can't imagine you care about the things I post. Unless you are just nosy.
I also unfriended people who I knew, but who I really don't want to have any type of interaction with, because, you know, I can't stand them.
Example #1: When I was pregnant with Owen Scott deployed to Afghanistan for a year. I moved home to Rome with Ashlyn and Haley. I delivered Owen 13 days after Scott landed in the Middle East. One day a girl came up to me and said "He's so adorable, I'm just really so, so sorry he'll never get to meet his father." And I asked her, "What are you talking about?" And she answered "Well, it's just so sad that his dad will die in the war and never get to meet him, and then you'll have these three kids and be a widow. And all for a war that's only about George Bush wanting to control all the world's oil."
Yes, this person was sitting on my friend list. Thank God for people like her, otherwise I might get over my anxiety issues.
Example #2: There was a girl on my list who, every single time I hear from her, asks me how much I weigh. Because GOD FORBID I were to weigh less than she does. In a way I feel sad for her, because she's obviously unhappy and trying to feel good about herself. It's important to her that she win at this, and I totally understand that, so I routinely add pounds onto my weight when I tell her (if she's telling me the truth about her weight I probably weigh a pound or two less than she does). The crazy thing is that it's a number, and it doesn't even represent a proper comparison between the two of us because 1. I'm taller than she is, and 2. we have different builds.
I really have no reason for deleting her besides the fact that I don't have a group to put her in. All I have are acquaintances, family, close friends, Coosa High School, Shorter College, and Pyeongtaek Area. I don't have a group titled Competition.
I refuse to compete with people. Especially about something like that. There was a time when I would have, but then I graduated from high school. Grow up.
There are other people still on the list that don't need to be there.
Since deleting all these people 6 days ago I have received 9 friend requests. All 9 of them are people I deleted. Six of them are people I'm relatively sure I've never spoken to in my entire life, including FB. One of them I'm not sure I even know. One of them is someone I've never seen post anything on FB at all. One of them is the girl from Example #2.
No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. NO.
And yes, I realize I could have remained friends with all 287 and simply blocked them. If I was a PANSY.
It's the end of 2011. I'm tired of a lot of things and I've had an epiphany. I will be a much different person in 2012.
note: some of the people I still don't actually know, but they know scott through the army, and he recently deleted his fb page, so I kept those people in case they need/want to get in touch with him.
another note: scott deleted his fb page because once he returned from iraq several people he met over there friended him and periodically sent him messages saying hello, how are you, where are you now, etc., and since having the job he has necessitates a top secret security clearance from the united states government it's probably best if he doesn't have a bunch of contact with iraqi nationalists. these people are perfectly pleasant but so is a paycheck. also, scott hates facebook because people try to talk to him. oh the horror.
Lots of people on the list went to Coosa, and I decided I don't need to be friends on FB with someone JUST BECAUSE we went to the same high school. This is weird to me. There needs to be more criteria than that. Just because your name might sound familiar to me doesn't mean I care if you get a new job, get fired, have a baby, get a divorce, etc. And I can't imagine you care about the things I post. Unless you are just nosy.
I also unfriended people who I knew, but who I really don't want to have any type of interaction with, because, you know, I can't stand them.
Example #1: When I was pregnant with Owen Scott deployed to Afghanistan for a year. I moved home to Rome with Ashlyn and Haley. I delivered Owen 13 days after Scott landed in the Middle East. One day a girl came up to me and said "He's so adorable, I'm just really so, so sorry he'll never get to meet his father." And I asked her, "What are you talking about?" And she answered "Well, it's just so sad that his dad will die in the war and never get to meet him, and then you'll have these three kids and be a widow. And all for a war that's only about George Bush wanting to control all the world's oil."
Yes, this person was sitting on my friend list. Thank God for people like her, otherwise I might get over my anxiety issues.
Example #2: There was a girl on my list who, every single time I hear from her, asks me how much I weigh. Because GOD FORBID I were to weigh less than she does. In a way I feel sad for her, because she's obviously unhappy and trying to feel good about herself. It's important to her that she win at this, and I totally understand that, so I routinely add pounds onto my weight when I tell her (if she's telling me the truth about her weight I probably weigh a pound or two less than she does). The crazy thing is that it's a number, and it doesn't even represent a proper comparison between the two of us because 1. I'm taller than she is, and 2. we have different builds.
I really have no reason for deleting her besides the fact that I don't have a group to put her in. All I have are acquaintances, family, close friends, Coosa High School, Shorter College, and Pyeongtaek Area. I don't have a group titled Competition.
I refuse to compete with people. Especially about something like that. There was a time when I would have, but then I graduated from high school. Grow up.
There are other people still on the list that don't need to be there.
Since deleting all these people 6 days ago I have received 9 friend requests. All 9 of them are people I deleted. Six of them are people I'm relatively sure I've never spoken to in my entire life, including FB. One of them I'm not sure I even know. One of them is someone I've never seen post anything on FB at all. One of them is the girl from Example #2.
No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. NO.
And yes, I realize I could have remained friends with all 287 and simply blocked them. If I was a PANSY.
It's the end of 2011. I'm tired of a lot of things and I've had an epiphany. I will be a much different person in 2012.
07 July 2011
The High Life
We are staying on the 8th floor at the Dragon Hill Lodge as we PCS from Seoul ALL THE WAY to Pyeongtaek.
BTW, we've found it's easier to move halfway across the world than it is to move 41 miles.
Anyway, back to the hotel thing, yeah. 8th floor. Last night I spent WAY TOO MUCH time considering the fact that it didn't feel like I was 8 floors up. I tried to remember back to when we got here, tried to remember what floor we were on then, but I just can't. I'm leaning toward 5th, but just when I get comfortable with it some little voice in my head says "But what if it was 6th?" and I'm torn. Usually I try to go no higher anywhere than the 2nd floor if it's at all possible. Because if you are on the 2nd floor you still have a chance to not kill yourself it you need to jump. You just never know, THERE MAY BE A FIRE, and you must have a plan, otherwise you die from the chaos. Also, I would have no problem chucking kids out of a second floor window if need be, but anything higher than that and I'd probably feel bad. When we first got here and stayed on the 5th/6th floor (4th?) I probably had this same conversation with myself where I tried to reconcile just what I'd do in case of an emergency, but the time difference really gets you when you get on a plane and go left and cross over the international date line (which I think we did). OH! I remember now! Coming over here we spent an enormous amount of time in a plane over water and God didn't let us die, so I was no doubt feeling cocky.
So yeah, right now I'm trying really hard to concentrate on the fact that I'm 8 floors up and I'm just not feeling it. Which is a good thing, of course, because GOD FORBID I be feeling some type of movement or sway. And I most certainly went to the top of the Seoul Tower not once but twice, and wasn't bothered by it at all. I think it's the hotel part that's freaking me out, because of that one time when I watched the movie The Towering Inferno.
If you've never seen that movie and you're prone to spending time in hotels then I'd recommend you just skip it. Because let me tell you, you'll never be the same. To sum it up, some wires on the 81st floor just happen to spark, the spark falls on some paper in the trash below them, and a fire starts, effectively shutting down the elevators and blocking the stairs, so everyone above the fire is stuck. And there's a party happening at the top, but of course there's a party happening at the top. And Paul Newman and Steve McQueen have to explode a million gallon water tank on top of the hotel to put the fire out. And there's chaos, and fire and death and it's just terrible, and it's a movie. Now I live with an irrational fear of hotel rooms that are higher than what I deem a comfortable jumping height.
Which is crazy, I KNOW THIS, but it's been proven by the people on the Discovery Channel that people with plans have a better chance at survival. Well, people with plans and people with an absurd amount of good luck. So since we have 6 people in this family luck is spread pretty thin, so we need planning. And I don't contribute much to this party going on around here but by God I can plan the shit out of stuff. The bad part of all of this is Scott came over to pick up the keys for the rooms, and had I been there I would have politely asked for SOMETHING MUCH LOWER, but he's all "8th floor? No problem." Obviously I'm going to have to focus harder on his training.
note: I was not present at the picking up of the keys because I was having a heated discussion with a polite man who spoke no English about exactly to what degree he needed to disassemble my kitchen table. Taking the leaf out? Perfectly acceptable. Taking the individual hinges that hold the leaf off too? NOT SO MUCH. I mean, come on.
And now, NOW, we are about to sign for housing at Humphreys. A house we have no other info on other than it's located in a high rise. We had originally planned to move into a 2nd floor condo. We looked at one on the 3rd floor, which had a super high vaulted ceiling and a beautiful view of the adjoining rice paddy, but I opted for the condo of comfortable jumping height. Then Scott got all crazy about how we were going to have to pay millions of dollars out of pocket for electricity because our kids can't turn off a light to save their freaking life, so he wished really hard on a star or something and charmed the Korean ladies at the Housing Office to TRY TO DO THEIR JOB CORRECTLY FOR ONCE and lo and behold they have a house on post for us to live in, where electricity is free. And that? That right there? ALL OUR LUCK. Used up right there getting us a house on post. Now all we've got left is planning, planning, planning. Which is exactly what I do. I've got emergency plans for many things, including but not limited to, bridges collapsing (it's very broad and random, because all bridges are somewhat different, but still), fire in structures within comfortable jumping height (the whole chuck them off thing), getting separated from a child on the subway (you wait in that exact spot, and if any person tries to engage you in any way you kick them viciously in the knee-biting is also acceptable in this case), and compound fractures (which I figure is coming someday based solely on the law of averages). So now I'm going to have to work on a plan for fire in a structure NOT within comfortable jumping height.
Oh, and also one for what exactly we're going to do when we open the box at the new house that the nice movers packed the litter box in. With the litter. And the poop.
BTW, we've found it's easier to move halfway across the world than it is to move 41 miles.
Anyway, back to the hotel thing, yeah. 8th floor. Last night I spent WAY TOO MUCH time considering the fact that it didn't feel like I was 8 floors up. I tried to remember back to when we got here, tried to remember what floor we were on then, but I just can't. I'm leaning toward 5th, but just when I get comfortable with it some little voice in my head says "But what if it was 6th?" and I'm torn. Usually I try to go no higher anywhere than the 2nd floor if it's at all possible. Because if you are on the 2nd floor you still have a chance to not kill yourself it you need to jump. You just never know, THERE MAY BE A FIRE, and you must have a plan, otherwise you die from the chaos. Also, I would have no problem chucking kids out of a second floor window if need be, but anything higher than that and I'd probably feel bad. When we first got here and stayed on the 5th/6th floor (4th?) I probably had this same conversation with myself where I tried to reconcile just what I'd do in case of an emergency, but the time difference really gets you when you get on a plane and go left and cross over the international date line (which I think we did). OH! I remember now! Coming over here we spent an enormous amount of time in a plane over water and God didn't let us die, so I was no doubt feeling cocky.
So yeah, right now I'm trying really hard to concentrate on the fact that I'm 8 floors up and I'm just not feeling it. Which is a good thing, of course, because GOD FORBID I be feeling some type of movement or sway. And I most certainly went to the top of the Seoul Tower not once but twice, and wasn't bothered by it at all. I think it's the hotel part that's freaking me out, because of that one time when I watched the movie The Towering Inferno.
If you've never seen that movie and you're prone to spending time in hotels then I'd recommend you just skip it. Because let me tell you, you'll never be the same. To sum it up, some wires on the 81st floor just happen to spark, the spark falls on some paper in the trash below them, and a fire starts, effectively shutting down the elevators and blocking the stairs, so everyone above the fire is stuck. And there's a party happening at the top, but of course there's a party happening at the top. And Paul Newman and Steve McQueen have to explode a million gallon water tank on top of the hotel to put the fire out. And there's chaos, and fire and death and it's just terrible, and it's a movie. Now I live with an irrational fear of hotel rooms that are higher than what I deem a comfortable jumping height.
Which is crazy, I KNOW THIS, but it's been proven by the people on the Discovery Channel that people with plans have a better chance at survival. Well, people with plans and people with an absurd amount of good luck. So since we have 6 people in this family luck is spread pretty thin, so we need planning. And I don't contribute much to this party going on around here but by God I can plan the shit out of stuff. The bad part of all of this is Scott came over to pick up the keys for the rooms, and had I been there I would have politely asked for SOMETHING MUCH LOWER, but he's all "8th floor? No problem." Obviously I'm going to have to focus harder on his training.
note: I was not present at the picking up of the keys because I was having a heated discussion with a polite man who spoke no English about exactly to what degree he needed to disassemble my kitchen table. Taking the leaf out? Perfectly acceptable. Taking the individual hinges that hold the leaf off too? NOT SO MUCH. I mean, come on.
And now, NOW, we are about to sign for housing at Humphreys. A house we have no other info on other than it's located in a high rise. We had originally planned to move into a 2nd floor condo. We looked at one on the 3rd floor, which had a super high vaulted ceiling and a beautiful view of the adjoining rice paddy, but I opted for the condo of comfortable jumping height. Then Scott got all crazy about how we were going to have to pay millions of dollars out of pocket for electricity because our kids can't turn off a light to save their freaking life, so he wished really hard on a star or something and charmed the Korean ladies at the Housing Office to TRY TO DO THEIR JOB CORRECTLY FOR ONCE and lo and behold they have a house on post for us to live in, where electricity is free. And that? That right there? ALL OUR LUCK. Used up right there getting us a house on post. Now all we've got left is planning, planning, planning. Which is exactly what I do. I've got emergency plans for many things, including but not limited to, bridges collapsing (it's very broad and random, because all bridges are somewhat different, but still), fire in structures within comfortable jumping height (the whole chuck them off thing), getting separated from a child on the subway (you wait in that exact spot, and if any person tries to engage you in any way you kick them viciously in the knee-biting is also acceptable in this case), and compound fractures (which I figure is coming someday based solely on the law of averages). So now I'm going to have to work on a plan for fire in a structure NOT within comfortable jumping height.
Oh, and also one for what exactly we're going to do when we open the box at the new house that the nice movers packed the litter box in. With the litter. And the poop.
22 March 2011
Hair today, gone tomorrow
A while back a friend of mine was living in Italy and while her husband was deployed to Afghanistan she decided she was bored so she bought one of those hair electrolysis systems from somewhere on ebay. She told me about it, explained how it worked, how you have this gel that you lather on your leg and then you take a pair of electric tweezers and grab each individual hair and zap it. The gel carries the current to the follicle or something, I'm not really sure, but in the end the current kills the follicle and it stops growing hair.
This sounds like a great idea, because then you'd never have to shave your legs again, but then you have to think about the number of hairs on your legs at any given moment. And after you wrap your head around that number, you have to think about how all the follicles don't produce hair at the same time, but instead they take turns, which means even if you actually had the time to zap each individual hair you're still not done, you'd still have to go through the whole process two or three more times again.
Skylar is in preschool on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 8:15 to 11:15, and now my friend Tammy has started teaching a water aerobics class on those days from 9:30 to 10:30. I was so excited about this when she told me, because I love water, I love aerobics, and Skylar isn't around at that time to ruin it for me. But putting on a bathing suit and then doing leg lifts twice a week in front of a bunch of other people requires personal grooming.
Now, I'm big, no, BIG on personal grooming. You bathe daily. You brush your hair and your teeth. Don't bother trying to fight me on thisOwen kids, it's going to happen. You're not going to be the smelly kid in school, and you're not going to be the kid no one wants to share secrets with because your breath stinks. Swimming twice a week, though lots of fun, requires grooming and maintenance. And while I have learned over the years how to shower with the door and shower curtain open, due to the fact that these kids have tried to get a way with a LOT of crap during that 10 minutes, I simply cannot do bikini line grooming with an audience. So even though I actively encourage Skylar to hang out in the bathroom while I'm in the shower and practice putting on eyeshadow I HAVE TO DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE.
Well, now I'm having to seriously keep up with the shaving, and it's killing me, and it's so freaking cold here we've about had it with cold weather FOREVER and Scott's started talking a LOT about how we're moving back to Hawaii. A move back to Hawaii means several things:
1. I'd have to home school the kids, because the schools in Hawaii are very very bad.
2. We'd be free to finish up school each day was fast as we could and then go to the beach.
3. Nobody would learn anything.
4. We'd be a the beach a LOT.
5. Daily personal grooming.
And while I love all these kids, the thoughts of them possibly living with me forever because they can't get into a college or get a job because I failed to teach them anything in Jennifer's Homeschool Academy is a little worrisome, but what bothers me most about the Moving To Hawaii scenario is the daily personal grooming part. We have lived in Hawaii before, yes, but back then I only had half as many kids. And those kids were Ashlyn and Haley, who were very well-behaved and would play with baby dolls or watch a movie or just generally stay where I put them while I took care of any business in the bathroom. Now I have the boy and the devil, neither one of whom can be trusted.
So my friend has connections at Dr. Sung's office here in Korea, and she got me a deal on the Laser Hair Removal. We went down there, I thought to just talk more about it and get a firm price, and the Korean lady is like this is this and that is that and
"You think good idea?"
"Yes, I think laser hair removal is a very good idea."
"Yes, good, you come, we go, 20 minutes."
And she's gesturing to a hallway and I'm all "What? Go where? Where are we going? Now? What 20 minutes? 20 minutes til what? I don't understand..."
She was very helpful, "20 minutes now. You come, We go."
And I look at my friend, Joy, who brought me, and she's all "They're just going to do it right now, it only takes about 20 minutes."
Needless to say I felt a little bit of peer pressure, and I don't do well with peer pressure, because I thought we were just going to get some information on prices and an idea of what to expect and all and now she's backed me into a tiny room and is holding her hand out asking for my pants. So I feel a little bit of panic, and I'm all, "Uh, don't you have to shave first, or something, because I didn't realize this was all going to be happening today and I'm not ready."
And the lady is like "Oh, no worry I do."
Um. Excuse me?
You know, I'm sure there are more uncomfortable situations, I just can't think of any right now OR EVER. So yeah, I got to get on a heated bed and lay in an extremely awkward position while Korean lady did my personal grooming. Listen, these people are nothing if not super efficient. There is no room for arguing, questions, lollygagging, etc. They just don't have time for it so it isn't allowed. And then she asked me if I was okay with a little pain.
Well, of course after all the Being Shaved in a Personal Location by Someone Other Than Myself I already felt a little bit violated and vulnerable, so I decided then and there that I wasn't going to let this situation beat me. And I was all "Pain? Pffft. Whatever. I'm good. I don't feel pain, are you kidding? I've had four kids lady, you think I got this body just from sheer luck? Oh no, that's four kids worth of a body thankyouverymuch, and I pretty much laugh in the face of pain. Can I handle a laser? A little blinking light? I mean, come on. I've got a tattoo."
So she said we'd do a small area to test it out.
HOLY HELL OH MY GOD SWEET BABY JESUS WHAT THE HELL HOW MANY MORE OF THESE WILL THERE BE MAYBE I JUST WANT A FACIAL.
She left then, to wait 5 minutes to see if I was going to have any type of allergic reaction to something or another, maybe the laser, maybe the gel, I have no idea, I couldn't follow what she was telling me, as I was trying to get my breathing back under control while panicking slightly because I couldn't feel my feet. After the waiting period was over she came back in, inspected the area, and apparently I passed because she nodded firmly, grabbed the laser, and handed me some goggles.
The good news in all of this is that it turns out that first little area she did? Well, she chose to do the inside of my thigh right where you have a pressure point and that's why it was so uncomfortable. Because she was not only pushing on the pressure point but she was then shooting it with a laser. So I can honestly say that the rest of it was a piece of cake. I'm supposed to go back in one month for round 2 or 6.
Oh, Hawaii. I'm getting close.
This sounds like a great idea, because then you'd never have to shave your legs again, but then you have to think about the number of hairs on your legs at any given moment. And after you wrap your head around that number, you have to think about how all the follicles don't produce hair at the same time, but instead they take turns, which means even if you actually had the time to zap each individual hair you're still not done, you'd still have to go through the whole process two or three more times again.
Skylar is in preschool on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 8:15 to 11:15, and now my friend Tammy has started teaching a water aerobics class on those days from 9:30 to 10:30. I was so excited about this when she told me, because I love water, I love aerobics, and Skylar isn't around at that time to ruin it for me. But putting on a bathing suit and then doing leg lifts twice a week in front of a bunch of other people requires personal grooming.
Now, I'm big, no, BIG on personal grooming. You bathe daily. You brush your hair and your teeth. Don't bother trying to fight me on this
Well, now I'm having to seriously keep up with the shaving, and it's killing me, and it's so freaking cold here we've about had it with cold weather FOREVER and Scott's started talking a LOT about how we're moving back to Hawaii. A move back to Hawaii means several things:
1. I'd have to home school the kids, because the schools in Hawaii are very very bad.
2. We'd be free to finish up school each day was fast as we could and then go to the beach.
3. Nobody would learn anything.
4. We'd be a the beach a LOT.
5. Daily personal grooming.
And while I love all these kids, the thoughts of them possibly living with me forever because they can't get into a college or get a job because I failed to teach them anything in Jennifer's Homeschool Academy is a little worrisome, but what bothers me most about the Moving To Hawaii scenario is the daily personal grooming part. We have lived in Hawaii before, yes, but back then I only had half as many kids. And those kids were Ashlyn and Haley, who were very well-behaved and would play with baby dolls or watch a movie or just generally stay where I put them while I took care of any business in the bathroom. Now I have the boy and the devil, neither one of whom can be trusted.
So my friend has connections at Dr. Sung's office here in Korea, and she got me a deal on the Laser Hair Removal. We went down there, I thought to just talk more about it and get a firm price, and the Korean lady is like this is this and that is that and
"You think good idea?"
"Yes, I think laser hair removal is a very good idea."
"Yes, good, you come, we go, 20 minutes."
And she's gesturing to a hallway and I'm all "What? Go where? Where are we going? Now? What 20 minutes? 20 minutes til what? I don't understand..."
She was very helpful, "20 minutes now. You come, We go."
And I look at my friend, Joy, who brought me, and she's all "They're just going to do it right now, it only takes about 20 minutes."
Needless to say I felt a little bit of peer pressure, and I don't do well with peer pressure, because I thought we were just going to get some information on prices and an idea of what to expect and all and now she's backed me into a tiny room and is holding her hand out asking for my pants. So I feel a little bit of panic, and I'm all, "Uh, don't you have to shave first, or something, because I didn't realize this was all going to be happening today and I'm not ready."
And the lady is like "Oh, no worry I do."
Um. Excuse me?
You know, I'm sure there are more uncomfortable situations, I just can't think of any right now OR EVER. So yeah, I got to get on a heated bed and lay in an extremely awkward position while Korean lady did my personal grooming. Listen, these people are nothing if not super efficient. There is no room for arguing, questions, lollygagging, etc. They just don't have time for it so it isn't allowed. And then she asked me if I was okay with a little pain.
Well, of course after all the Being Shaved in a Personal Location by Someone Other Than Myself I already felt a little bit violated and vulnerable, so I decided then and there that I wasn't going to let this situation beat me. And I was all "Pain? Pffft. Whatever. I'm good. I don't feel pain, are you kidding? I've had four kids lady, you think I got this body just from sheer luck? Oh no, that's four kids worth of a body thankyouverymuch, and I pretty much laugh in the face of pain. Can I handle a laser? A little blinking light? I mean, come on. I've got a tattoo."
So she said we'd do a small area to test it out.
HOLY HELL OH MY GOD SWEET BABY JESUS WHAT THE HELL HOW MANY MORE OF THESE WILL THERE BE MAYBE I JUST WANT A FACIAL.
She left then, to wait 5 minutes to see if I was going to have any type of allergic reaction to something or another, maybe the laser, maybe the gel, I have no idea, I couldn't follow what she was telling me, as I was trying to get my breathing back under control while panicking slightly because I couldn't feel my feet. After the waiting period was over she came back in, inspected the area, and apparently I passed because she nodded firmly, grabbed the laser, and handed me some goggles.
The good news in all of this is that it turns out that first little area she did? Well, she chose to do the inside of my thigh right where you have a pressure point and that's why it was so uncomfortable. Because she was not only pushing on the pressure point but she was then shooting it with a laser. So I can honestly say that the rest of it was a piece of cake. I'm supposed to go back in one month for round 2 or 6.
Oh, Hawaii. I'm getting close.
14 March 2011
Definitely in the top 10
One of the latest from The Tattle Book. For those of you who haven't been paying attention, I explain The Tattle Book here.
Owen picked some dirt out from under his fingernails and put it on the back of my shirt.--Haley
Owen picked some dirt out from under his fingernails and put it on the back of my shirt.--Haley
08 March 2011
Maybe so
"I hate this line! Why is there a line? I hate it!"
"Skylar, what line? What are you talking about?"
"This line on my sock! It hurts my toes!"
"That's the seam. I can't do anything about it. It holds the sock together."
"Why does it have to be right there. I don't want it right there!"
"Skylar, I DON'T KNOW. I didn't invent socks. Uh, they put it there so you know you have your sock on right."
"OH. So it's for DUMB people. Like Owen."
"Skylar, what line? What are you talking about?"
"This line on my sock! It hurts my toes!"
"That's the seam. I can't do anything about it. It holds the sock together."
"Why does it have to be right there. I don't want it right there!"
"Skylar, I DON'T KNOW. I didn't invent socks. Uh, they put it there so you know you have your sock on right."
"OH. So it's for DUMB people. Like Owen."
02 March 2011
Now that I think about it...
"Well good Lord Ashlyn, it's no wonder she doesn't like you. I mean, look at you. You've got the prettiest head of blond hair I've ever seen and eyes that are bluer than blue. You're smart, you get good grades, you're funny, you're athletic, everybody likes you, you're tall, you have clear skin and you don't have an ounce of fat on your entire body....Hell, now that I think about it, I don't like you either."
28 February 2011
Crap Day
Well, let me start by saying my last post was in September, so that's less than a year ago. Things are already looking better. Not really.
Now, a lot of people will read this and go Hey, that's not that bad, and you're right, it's probably not, but the thing is this is not an isolated incident. These is basically a summary of how every day here is, you just change some of the locations.
When we moved to Korea, or rather when we were getting ready to move to Korea, we talked to several people who had lived here before us and they all had the same thing to say: It's just a little bit off. You'll see a lot of things that look familiar from a distance, that sound familiar, but when you get right down to it they're just a little bit...well, wrong. And I want to say that after living here for 14 months I completely agree. There are things here that look very much like things you see in the states, but they are NOT THE SAME. Like cheesecake. Valuable lesson: Never sample cheesecake in a Korean store. Because it's a lie. Also McDonalds and Outback. Korea, be serious. You should not even be allowed to call them by those names.
Then there's all the stuff on post. I'm not sure, maybe all military installations are run this way, but at least on other posts you are dealing with people who speak English. Maybe that's my biggest problem here. All the people who run the places on post are not very good speakers of English, and I am not a good speaker of Korean. Their language has an awful lot to do with stressing certain syllables and voice inflection and the like and you know, I'm from Georgia. I have a friend who was born in Arkansas but spent a good amount of time in Tennessee. Her husband told her once that he could tell when she'd spent the day with me because she sounded like a hick. So, needless to say, my voice box is not capable of producing sound that a Korean will understand. Ever. And don't even get me started on having to deal with them on the phone.
We have a cat named Gary. He's a Korean cat, so basically that means he doesn't understand anything I say to him, and he ignores me. He speaks Korean. I know this because the sound he makes when he meows is unlike any sound I've ever heard a cat make before in my life. And he makes that sound every single time Haley leaves the house. Gary likes to sit in the front window and gaze outside, like all cats do. We had blinds in that window. Gary tore them down. It's been a while since this happened, and we've just been living with the window bare so all of Itaewon Acres can look right in, and finally Scott started to complain about how I needed to do something about it.
I called the number to Kohom, the company that manages the houses on post, and asked for more blinds. They gave me another number. I called the second number and asked for more blinds. You have to take a second here and think about what it sounds like when a southern person asks for blinds compared to when a normal person asks for blinds. The people at the second number had no idea what I was talking about but were relatively sure they didn't have it so they gave me a third number. Fast forward to the phone call to phone number #6 and I finally got an American on the phone who said he'd take care of it. The next day someone called, maybe Kohom, maybe not, but definitely Korean, and wanted to come measure for blinds, and could they come at 2:45. So this is my side of the conversation:
Uh, isn't that when school gets out?
Yes? Then no, you can't come then because I won't be here. I'll be back a little after 3 though.
No, you can't come right before 3. You can come right after 3.
If you can come at 2:55 why can't you come 10 minutes later? 10. T-EH-N. No, not 10:00, just a little after 3.
Well, whatever, but if I'm not here I guess you'll have to wait.
3:00. I get back at 3:00.
No, not usually before 2:55.
Yes, I'm here right now.
No, I'm not going anywhere until I pick the kids up from school.
Well, USUALLY NOT LONG BUT NOT UNTIL 3.
Yes, now would be a great time for you to come.
(3 minutes later they are here. No lie.)
And my point is why? Why Why Why? Why do they have to do this to me?
So they show up and need to measure the window. There is a table in front of that window with all my machines on it, and Korean dude is all climbing all around on the table trying to measure. Nevermind that the old broken blinds are RIGHT THERE with the measurement on them. The window could have changed sizes since those were hung, right? We've got to re-measure. So he does, and then is genuinely surprised when his numbers match the numbers on the old set.
"Now we measure, we find cost you pay voucher cash collection at housing bring us paper we come you all finished about one day."
Uh, what?
"We call."
They called the next day, and that phone call didn't go so well either, but finally I got that the next step was taking place at housing and I needed to be there. Scott and I went to housing and told the girl at the front desk the story about the cat, and the blinds, and the measuring, and we needed to pay, and she told us Mr. Lee wasn't in and he was the only person who could do it and we'd need to come back, probably tomorrow, but she wasn't sure he'd be in, he might be out, so maybe we could call. This girl wasn't Korean, which gave me a false sense of hope, but she turned out to be something other that Miss English Is My First Language, and it rapidly went downhill, because I do not understand why somebody other than Mr. Lee can't hand us the piece of paper we need. And "he's the only one here who does that" doesn't make any sense to me, because what if Mr. Lee died? What would all of us who needed new blinds do then? And when I asked her that Scott had a small heart attack and said it was time to go. We were pulling out of the parking space when the girl came running outside and guess what, Mr. Lee was back! Yay! So we went back in, told Mr. Lee what we wanted and lo and behold Mr. Lee doesn't even handle those pieces of paper. See that room right there? That room with 4 people twiddling their thumbs? THEY do that. THEY can help you. And they did, and we got the paper, and then we went to finance to pay.
Finance is in another building here. You have to drive and you have to find a place to park in one of the two spots that are full, so you have to go all the way to the bowling alley and hike back a quarter of a mile to the office. Oh, finance closes at 4, and it's 4:10. Sorry, come back later. So we went back the next day, but it was a holiday or something for Finance so strike two. I went back last week on Thursday. You know, Finance is closed on Thursday. All day long they are closed. They are open 9 to 4 every day except for Thursday when they are closed all day and the hour and a half they are closed for lunch each day. People, are you thinking of joining the military? WORK IN FINANCE. We obviously need more people there, because we don't have enough to fill an entire duty week. Who works 9 to 4? Good Lord. Today I went back to Finance and you have to have cash. This is totally my fault I guess because I thought you could give them a check or a debit card. It never occurred to me that I'd need actual dollars, but still. That's 4 times I've gone over there and it's just not working out. God does not want me to have blinds.
So shortly after that I was leaving to pick the kids up from school, and I'm driving, and Skylar's in the carseat when all of a sudden she goes two steps beyond hysterical. It honestly was the fastest turnaround any of my kids have ever displayed and she's screaming "It's stuck!" and "In my nose!"
You have got to be freaking kidding me.
Why? Why Why Why would you be EVER be holding something and get tired of holding it and think "I'll just put it here, IN MY NOSE."?? I had been sewing before we left the house, and she'd been going through all my stuff, hiding it, and she'd picked up a pink rhinestone roughly the size of a button and decided to take it with her, because it was a beautiful magic treasure that she was going to keep forever because it was so special. Special enough to shove up her nose not 90 freaking seconds later. And blood is going everywhere, and I'm all "Blow! Blow into this ATM receipt!" and IT ISN'T WORKING and I'm going through my mental list of all the people I can call to help me. Do you know how many people are on that list? ONE. One person could actually help me, but the logistics of it were just impossible for me to figure out as I'm on my way to the ER, worried about
1. Ashlyn has volleyball today, I can't call her and change any previously given instructions because she wasn't involved in them to begin with.
2. Haley doesn't have a cell phone. She's only 10, and she'd annoy the hell out of me calling me every 10 minutes if she did have one so I can't call her.
3. The other two girls that ride home with me have a cell phone. I don't have that number. I also don't have their mother's number. How that is humanly possible is beyond me.
4. I can't call the school. The lady that answers the phone is Korean.
5. I'm speeding on post.
6. I'm talking on my cell phone while speeding on post.
7. TWEEZERS. I NEED A PAIR OF TWEEZERS.
I pull into the shoppette area and there's a little store there called Daiso. I have no idea how to pronounce the name or explain the purpose of this store, but it's about the size of a bathroom and they sell an assortment of things that boggle my mind. It's so random I can't even begin to list it all. All the parking spots are full, so I go all Korean on them and MAKE MY OWN and scream "Stay here!" to Screaming Her Head Off in the back seat and go tearing inside. Don't turn the car off, not even completely sure I closed the door. And hey, how good it that? That whole 'stay here' part? She's locked into a Britax, bleeding all over the place about to faint because her most prized possession in the whole wide world is lodged in her sinus cavity and I'm out of my mind but still enough of a parent to be concerned about her POSSIBLY WANDERING OFF.
I go running in and tell the girl I need tweezers. And she's Korean. Apparently they don't call them tweezers. Really? We have to play Charades now? For the love of all that is holy, I'm standing there with my car illegally parked, my car illegally running without a driver, and my unattended 4 year old still inside (also illegal of course) and I'm miming tweezing my eyebrows. And I guess you don't have to be a rocket scientist to work at Daiso because it took her a good 25 seconds to figure out what I was doing AND I WAS ILLEGALLY USING WORDS. Turns out Daiso has two kinds of packs for sale that contain tweezers, and I wanted to just buy the first one I saw, but she wanted to make sure I saw the second kind, because it was a little different, and I'm all I WANT TO BUY ONE RIGHT NOW JUST SURPRISE ME. $1.60 later I'm hauling back to the car and I fling open the back door and Skylar's all sunshine and happiness "It's okay Mommy, I blowed it out!"
We parked in plenty of time to pick everyone up from school, btw.
Then we went to CYS, which is Child and Youth Services, to pay for ballet for March, and I would like to say that CYS on this post is the worst run establishment in the history of the world. It took an hour to pay for ballet. One. Hour. Because the teacher for her Thursday class told me it might be canceled for March, and I might have to move Skylar to another time slot, so I had to check with the people in charge, I couldn't just put a check in the box, so I had to sign in and wait to be called, and finally when it was my turn I had to explain that I was checking to make sure the class time was still available blah blah blah and if not then I needed a new class time but if it was open I just wanted to pay and THE LADY WAS KOREAN and I totally understand why some people just go sit alongside the highway sometimes and randomly shoot at passing cars.
It's not that it's hard, even though it is. It's not that it's frustrating, even though it is. It's that I have a certain list of things I have to do each day and a certain way I need to do them and Korea does nothing except work against me. And as far as I know I've never done anything to Korea to provoke it.
So I came home and called Scott, because I honestly was about to go off the deep end and when that happens the only thing I can think to do is spend an obnoxious amount of money on something we don't need but promises to make your life easier, like a George Foreman Grill, which makes no sense to sane people but in my mind Hey, it makes your life easier! I need for things to be easier! I'll buy this grill! And Scott said he thought I should go to bed early.
Hmmm.
Good advice, except that leaves no time for me to go buy and play with unnecessary kitchen appliances.
I just need a break. Just a little one. Only I don't see one coming for over a year. Boo.
Now, a lot of people will read this and go Hey, that's not that bad, and you're right, it's probably not, but the thing is this is not an isolated incident. These is basically a summary of how every day here is, you just change some of the locations.
When we moved to Korea, or rather when we were getting ready to move to Korea, we talked to several people who had lived here before us and they all had the same thing to say: It's just a little bit off. You'll see a lot of things that look familiar from a distance, that sound familiar, but when you get right down to it they're just a little bit...well, wrong. And I want to say that after living here for 14 months I completely agree. There are things here that look very much like things you see in the states, but they are NOT THE SAME. Like cheesecake. Valuable lesson: Never sample cheesecake in a Korean store. Because it's a lie. Also McDonalds and Outback. Korea, be serious. You should not even be allowed to call them by those names.
Then there's all the stuff on post. I'm not sure, maybe all military installations are run this way, but at least on other posts you are dealing with people who speak English. Maybe that's my biggest problem here. All the people who run the places on post are not very good speakers of English, and I am not a good speaker of Korean. Their language has an awful lot to do with stressing certain syllables and voice inflection and the like and you know, I'm from Georgia. I have a friend who was born in Arkansas but spent a good amount of time in Tennessee. Her husband told her once that he could tell when she'd spent the day with me because she sounded like a hick. So, needless to say, my voice box is not capable of producing sound that a Korean will understand. Ever. And don't even get me started on having to deal with them on the phone.
We have a cat named Gary. He's a Korean cat, so basically that means he doesn't understand anything I say to him, and he ignores me. He speaks Korean. I know this because the sound he makes when he meows is unlike any sound I've ever heard a cat make before in my life. And he makes that sound every single time Haley leaves the house. Gary likes to sit in the front window and gaze outside, like all cats do. We had blinds in that window. Gary tore them down. It's been a while since this happened, and we've just been living with the window bare so all of Itaewon Acres can look right in, and finally Scott started to complain about how I needed to do something about it.
I called the number to Kohom, the company that manages the houses on post, and asked for more blinds. They gave me another number. I called the second number and asked for more blinds. You have to take a second here and think about what it sounds like when a southern person asks for blinds compared to when a normal person asks for blinds. The people at the second number had no idea what I was talking about but were relatively sure they didn't have it so they gave me a third number. Fast forward to the phone call to phone number #6 and I finally got an American on the phone who said he'd take care of it. The next day someone called, maybe Kohom, maybe not, but definitely Korean, and wanted to come measure for blinds, and could they come at 2:45. So this is my side of the conversation:
Uh, isn't that when school gets out?
Yes? Then no, you can't come then because I won't be here. I'll be back a little after 3 though.
No, you can't come right before 3. You can come right after 3.
If you can come at 2:55 why can't you come 10 minutes later? 10. T-EH-N. No, not 10:00, just a little after 3.
Well, whatever, but if I'm not here I guess you'll have to wait.
3:00. I get back at 3:00.
No, not usually before 2:55.
Yes, I'm here right now.
No, I'm not going anywhere until I pick the kids up from school.
Well, USUALLY NOT LONG BUT NOT UNTIL 3.
Yes, now would be a great time for you to come.
(3 minutes later they are here. No lie.)
And my point is why? Why Why Why? Why do they have to do this to me?
So they show up and need to measure the window. There is a table in front of that window with all my machines on it, and Korean dude is all climbing all around on the table trying to measure. Nevermind that the old broken blinds are RIGHT THERE with the measurement on them. The window could have changed sizes since those were hung, right? We've got to re-measure. So he does, and then is genuinely surprised when his numbers match the numbers on the old set.
"Now we measure, we find cost you pay voucher cash collection at housing bring us paper we come you all finished about one day."
Uh, what?
"We call."
They called the next day, and that phone call didn't go so well either, but finally I got that the next step was taking place at housing and I needed to be there. Scott and I went to housing and told the girl at the front desk the story about the cat, and the blinds, and the measuring, and we needed to pay, and she told us Mr. Lee wasn't in and he was the only person who could do it and we'd need to come back, probably tomorrow, but she wasn't sure he'd be in, he might be out, so maybe we could call. This girl wasn't Korean, which gave me a false sense of hope, but she turned out to be something other that Miss English Is My First Language, and it rapidly went downhill, because I do not understand why somebody other than Mr. Lee can't hand us the piece of paper we need. And "he's the only one here who does that" doesn't make any sense to me, because what if Mr. Lee died? What would all of us who needed new blinds do then? And when I asked her that Scott had a small heart attack and said it was time to go. We were pulling out of the parking space when the girl came running outside and guess what, Mr. Lee was back! Yay! So we went back in, told Mr. Lee what we wanted and lo and behold Mr. Lee doesn't even handle those pieces of paper. See that room right there? That room with 4 people twiddling their thumbs? THEY do that. THEY can help you. And they did, and we got the paper, and then we went to finance to pay.
Finance is in another building here. You have to drive and you have to find a place to park in one of the two spots that are full, so you have to go all the way to the bowling alley and hike back a quarter of a mile to the office. Oh, finance closes at 4, and it's 4:10. Sorry, come back later. So we went back the next day, but it was a holiday or something for Finance so strike two. I went back last week on Thursday. You know, Finance is closed on Thursday. All day long they are closed. They are open 9 to 4 every day except for Thursday when they are closed all day and the hour and a half they are closed for lunch each day. People, are you thinking of joining the military? WORK IN FINANCE. We obviously need more people there, because we don't have enough to fill an entire duty week. Who works 9 to 4? Good Lord. Today I went back to Finance and you have to have cash. This is totally my fault I guess because I thought you could give them a check or a debit card. It never occurred to me that I'd need actual dollars, but still. That's 4 times I've gone over there and it's just not working out. God does not want me to have blinds.
So shortly after that I was leaving to pick the kids up from school, and I'm driving, and Skylar's in the carseat when all of a sudden she goes two steps beyond hysterical. It honestly was the fastest turnaround any of my kids have ever displayed and she's screaming "It's stuck!" and "In my nose!"
You have got to be freaking kidding me.
Why? Why Why Why would you be EVER be holding something and get tired of holding it and think "I'll just put it here, IN MY NOSE."?? I had been sewing before we left the house, and she'd been going through all my stuff, hiding it, and she'd picked up a pink rhinestone roughly the size of a button and decided to take it with her, because it was a beautiful magic treasure that she was going to keep forever because it was so special. Special enough to shove up her nose not 90 freaking seconds later. And blood is going everywhere, and I'm all "Blow! Blow into this ATM receipt!" and IT ISN'T WORKING and I'm going through my mental list of all the people I can call to help me. Do you know how many people are on that list? ONE. One person could actually help me, but the logistics of it were just impossible for me to figure out as I'm on my way to the ER, worried about
1. Ashlyn has volleyball today, I can't call her and change any previously given instructions because she wasn't involved in them to begin with.
2. Haley doesn't have a cell phone. She's only 10, and she'd annoy the hell out of me calling me every 10 minutes if she did have one so I can't call her.
3. The other two girls that ride home with me have a cell phone. I don't have that number. I also don't have their mother's number. How that is humanly possible is beyond me.
4. I can't call the school. The lady that answers the phone is Korean.
5. I'm speeding on post.
6. I'm talking on my cell phone while speeding on post.
7. TWEEZERS. I NEED A PAIR OF TWEEZERS.
I pull into the shoppette area and there's a little store there called Daiso. I have no idea how to pronounce the name or explain the purpose of this store, but it's about the size of a bathroom and they sell an assortment of things that boggle my mind. It's so random I can't even begin to list it all. All the parking spots are full, so I go all Korean on them and MAKE MY OWN and scream "Stay here!" to Screaming Her Head Off in the back seat and go tearing inside. Don't turn the car off, not even completely sure I closed the door. And hey, how good it that? That whole 'stay here' part? She's locked into a Britax, bleeding all over the place about to faint because her most prized possession in the whole wide world is lodged in her sinus cavity and I'm out of my mind but still enough of a parent to be concerned about her POSSIBLY WANDERING OFF.
I go running in and tell the girl I need tweezers. And she's Korean. Apparently they don't call them tweezers. Really? We have to play Charades now? For the love of all that is holy, I'm standing there with my car illegally parked, my car illegally running without a driver, and my unattended 4 year old still inside (also illegal of course) and I'm miming tweezing my eyebrows. And I guess you don't have to be a rocket scientist to work at Daiso because it took her a good 25 seconds to figure out what I was doing AND I WAS ILLEGALLY USING WORDS. Turns out Daiso has two kinds of packs for sale that contain tweezers, and I wanted to just buy the first one I saw, but she wanted to make sure I saw the second kind, because it was a little different, and I'm all I WANT TO BUY ONE RIGHT NOW JUST SURPRISE ME. $1.60 later I'm hauling back to the car and I fling open the back door and Skylar's all sunshine and happiness "It's okay Mommy, I blowed it out!"
We parked in plenty of time to pick everyone up from school, btw.
Then we went to CYS, which is Child and Youth Services, to pay for ballet for March, and I would like to say that CYS on this post is the worst run establishment in the history of the world. It took an hour to pay for ballet. One. Hour. Because the teacher for her Thursday class told me it might be canceled for March, and I might have to move Skylar to another time slot, so I had to check with the people in charge, I couldn't just put a check in the box, so I had to sign in and wait to be called, and finally when it was my turn I had to explain that I was checking to make sure the class time was still available blah blah blah and if not then I needed a new class time but if it was open I just wanted to pay and THE LADY WAS KOREAN and I totally understand why some people just go sit alongside the highway sometimes and randomly shoot at passing cars.
It's not that it's hard, even though it is. It's not that it's frustrating, even though it is. It's that I have a certain list of things I have to do each day and a certain way I need to do them and Korea does nothing except work against me. And as far as I know I've never done anything to Korea to provoke it.
So I came home and called Scott, because I honestly was about to go off the deep end and when that happens the only thing I can think to do is spend an obnoxious amount of money on something we don't need but promises to make your life easier, like a George Foreman Grill, which makes no sense to sane people but in my mind Hey, it makes your life easier! I need for things to be easier! I'll buy this grill! And Scott said he thought I should go to bed early.
Hmmm.
Good advice, except that leaves no time for me to go buy and play with unnecessary kitchen appliances.
I just need a break. Just a little one. Only I don't see one coming for over a year. Boo.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)