mamikaze

Mike and I got to go out for dinner last night. It’s been a long time since we’ve gone out alone. As in I can’t remember the last time we had dinner without kids in tow. We dropped the girls off at the elementary school for a Parent’s Night Out. 3 hours of pizza and movies for $15. Can’t beat that deal!

Our suburb is slowly branching out in food. In about two year’s time, we have several new ethnicities popping up. We can choose from Greek, Indian, Japanese, Mexican, Italian and Australian. It’s a big deal for this former farming town.

We chose the new Japanese steakhouse. I don’t think we’ve ever done teppanyaki together. We were sat at a table with another couple our age. I sized them up and could tell they were DINKS. Despite having enough disposable income to order the lobster, they seemed to be good people.

Mike just finished a series of Japanese culture classes for work. We were comparing notes in the dark restaurant as the chef did his thing with our food on the grill.  I was intrigued by the Japanese chopstick rest. Both Mike and I grew up with Japanese friends and had never knew about such a device. Then we were remarking that if we had known this place was going to give use crappy wooden pull-apart chopsticks, we would have brought our own.

He was telling me about the table manners in Japan. No mixing your foods (what?!), sit up straight, don’t waste the soy sauce and others. He is comforted by the fact that when he goes to Japan for work, they’ll know he’s a dumb American and not expect a lot. As we chuckled at that fact, the guy next to Mike cut in.

“Have you been to Japan?” he asked.
“No, I am going this winter. My job just had me take a course in Japanese culture.” Mike responded.

“This place isn’t very authentic,” he began, “when you’re in Japan, you’ll see that the hunch over there bowls and eat quickly. They also use 12-inch (hand expand for emphasis) ivory chopsticks.”
“Oh, you’ve been to Japan.” I comment.

“No.” His wife chimes in. “He just reads a lot of books.”

Photo courtesy tanakawho on Flickr.

We are knee-deep into fall here in Western Washington. Rain, wind, more rain. We had a storm advisory last week and it scared my neighbor spitless. This never progressed into the major storm forecasted. The trees came down.

I cry when trees are cut down. These are all over 100 feet tall. If I were more bold, I would have gone over and yelled. Taking those trees down is going to make my house hotter in the summer. Bastards.

Instead I took photos and made a 5 second gif. Enjoy.

This is ridiculous. The place where my money to pay for school comes from is taking forever to pay out. I had all my paperwork in before the May 1st due date. Summer quarter is will be at the half way point this week and my tuition isn’t paid for yet.

It’s community college, so they’re not sweating me for the money. But the freakin’ check would be nice. I have other bills to pay, y’know?

Time to go do homework. PowerPoint. So my session at Type-A Mom Conference can be it’s is most kick ass proportions.

Image courtesy foxumon of Stock.Xcnhg

I told Amy I would.

Last week, she wrote “Why Moms Should Support Kate Gosselin.” Amy and I think alike all the time. This is not one of them. Let me tell you why.

The Kate & Jon Gosselin put themselves in the spotlight

I don’t care if it was to make a better life for their kids or to make a million bucks (it is reported  the get $50,000-$75,000 per episode) or for a lark. Celebrity has it’s price.  They let it happen, now they have to pay the piper.

I never watched the show on a regular basis. First of all, it bored me to tears. Second, when I wasn’t wondering why I was watching it, I was thinking “Kate is a shrew.”  I seethe when she talks to Jon. And when he lets himself be treated like crap. I’m not the only one, her former neighbors can confer. Calling her no-nonsense is a gross understatement.

They are adults who dragged 8 children around to showcase products and a happy façade. There were plenty of signs the should slow down:

1. Posting signs on their lawn to keep people away
2. Hiring a bodyguard
3. Paparazzi
4. Defending your spouse’s action to the press

I’m not doubting their love for their children. It all started innocently enough. I can, however, make a few snide remarks:

• Am I the only one who finds it creepy the way she dresses the kids in matching outfits all the time?
• Organic food + paper plates = fail!
• Why does she insist on that hair cut? “Buzz, your girlfriend, woof!”

The whole situation sucks. For the kids.

♥♥Link love♥♥

• Why Moms Should Support Kate
• Kate Gosselin could learn parenting lessons herself
• Kate Gosselin, Hero No More

happy family image by jayofboy of stock.xchng

I had on hell of a night.

First, it’s in Accounting lab. I have been working my arse off to get this account done so I can get y other two tests taken before my cutoff date of May 7. I will fail the class if I don’t get it done. Sigh. So, I had to erase the work I had done the night before. Yeah, I was pleased with myself. I am glad that I noticed sooner than later. It would have sucked to be past the halfway point and have to re-do it.

Then, when I was sure I had things straightened out, I took the practice test for the next chapter in the book. Payroll taxes. Easy. I would have taken the test that night but I can’t until I turn the huge account project. Ugh. I packed up and headed to the car. On the way there I thought to myself “I think I left the lights on.” I was driving Mike’s car. His little gray ‘94 Mazda doesn’t have the idiot bells like my van does. It’s not the first time I have left those lights on. It had been about and hour-and-a-half. The battery is only about a year old, I wasn’t worried.

Stupid me, the battery was dead. It’s a manual, so I was thinking “I’ll just roll it back out of this spot and coast down the incline to compression start it.” Haha. That didn’t work. Those little Protégé’s are heavy!

I called Mike to let him know of my plight. I would track down campus security for help. The security office was up the stairs from the parking lot. Which would have been helpful, except nobody was there. I hoofed around campus until I found a security guard. He told me he would bring his truck around and give me a jump with the school battery charger.

Guess what happened next.

If you guessed I had locked the keys inside, you must have seen my exasperated tweets. As the security guard pulled in I told him what I had done. He told me “I can try to slim jim it but, I have to call someone to get instructions, I’ll be right back.” Sheesh.

About forty days and forty nights later, he returned. He was such a nice kid. He tried every tool to get the lock open. Of course, none worked until I tried to get a hold of one of the PTA moms who has a locksmith husband. Timing is everything.

We got what we paid for. It was just enough to make me mad. A tease of a school vacation.

We got to make one outing. The weather sucked. Mike was on swing shift. Now we are at the Sunday, the end and it is 70 freaking degrees. The one day I set aside to get homework done and we could be playing at the park.

So not cool.