Busy day

I added a buncha pictures today ... the remaining Japan ones, ones from the fair and, of course, ones from Friday night's Bangs Blast 2007 (more details on that later). You should check them out.

Blowing off some steam

This was Friday.

How hot is it?

It's so hot that the adhesive from the tape holding up my Woody Guthrie poster gave up the good fight tonight, ever so slowly melting away from the wall.

On the up side, it's hot enough that all my bread is automatically toasted, thereby cutting 30 seconds from my typical morning routine.

H-O-T-T

For those of you wondering -- and, I mean, who isn't? -- it is hot right now in our house. Like, surface-of-the-sun-hot. In-the-center-of-a-volcano-hot. Frying-the-egg-that-is-my-brain-hot.

Sollie and Rosa have taken to splaying out on our hardwood floors in an attempt to cool down. Myself, I've been binging on Pop Ice (you know, those ultra-cheap frozen tubes of brightly colored goo that are so divorced from the reality of fruit, that it makes more sense, when asked for which flavor you prefer to say "purple, please!" than "grape!"). It is quite delicious, but we've eaten nearly all of the 100 frozen treats our box came with in less than a month and I am quickly becoming convinced that I've replaced the blood in my veins with corn syrup and food coloring.

Anyway, the one window fan we have downstairs cuts the muggy air only fractionally, and I am finding myself rethinking the necessity of central air in these hot hot hot summer days. Presently, the only a/c in this house are the window units chugging along in our upstairs bedrooms, and I've been trying to convince myself that, in itself, is a luxury (which I guess is the case, if I think about things *too* much, so let's avoid that line of thought).

As a kid, my parents had only two window units for our house. One went in their room, the other in my sister's. I'm not sure why my lil' sis got the other a/c, seeing as how she had the ceiling fan my room lacked, but I would imagine it had something to do with the agreement my mom and I struck: I didn't have to clean my bedroom, as long as I kept the door shut. So, yes, on summer nights, my parents and my sister would open their bedroom doors to (theoretically) cool all of the upstairs rooms, but I spent most nights in a tangle of sweat-dampened sheets. And that is when my youthful DIY-er spirit presented itself: The freezer is cold, ergo anything placed in the freezer will get cold, I reasoned. And so each night, I would strip my pillowcases off my pillows and set them in the freezer. The shock of the ice-cold cotton is only a brief pleasure, but man, it ruled.

And so, tonight, I am going to freeze me some pillowcases. Heck, at this point, the ol' slumber party trick of the bra in the freezer sounds pretty daggone good, too. We'll just hafta see how much stuff I can stuff in there.

In the D.I.Y spirit of this blog

I present to you a snippet of WikiHow's instructions on How to Panhandle:

1. Swallow your pride. Most people find it difficult to quietly beg for money from friends or relatives; it’s even harder to beg from complete strangers where everybody can see you. Still, you’re going to have to suck it up and be humble. If you've already exhausted the alternatives (see Tips) and begging is your last resort, it may help to keep in mind that in many countries, begging does not hold the stigma it does in most of the Western World, and in some places asking for alms is considered an honorable profession, such as with Hindu sadhus who pursue begging for spiritual reasons.

This is the part (aka Two Long Islands later)

Where the crying begins anew.

Good thing the alkyhol has hobbled my dexterity, as there is so much I would like to say, but can't.

The beatings will continue until morale improves

So, yeah, my thoughts on this thing are as such: While this blog began as a way to share all the ever-lovin' deets on our trip to Japan (and I still have stuff to add in that regard), I had some thoughts about eventually turning this into a crafty gig, alongside another blog (to be described later). Indeed, that is still the plan -- with some minor alterations. I *still* have some words and pictures to share about the that trip, and I *still* plan on putting my crafty efforts on this here thing, but I can't go further without acknowledging this: the last 48 hours have been simply awful.

Our company was sold shortly before I left, and the consequences of that sale started to shake out while I was halfway around the world. Yesterday, the other shoe dropped. I got to work late Thursday, delayed by a press conference and a stop to buy band-aids for the oozing sores left behind after I scratched at the bug bites covering my arms, legs and torso. Anyway. I watched as our boss appeared to escort one of our part-timers out the door. And there was whispering ... lots of worried looks and muffled talk around the ol' workplace. When all was said and done, I had a lot fewer coworkers than I had when the day began. The coworker with the cute shoes and the cuter dog? Gone. As was the grandmotherly receptionist with whom I've exchanged the same daily patter with for years, the photographer with the short gym shorts, the verbose sports writer and many more ... They were redundant. There were meetings. Then they were gone.

There's more I could say, more I would like to say, but I need to keep Sollie in kibble and myself in Tofutti Cuties, so I'll stop for now and just say that I haven't cried this much in a long time -- and I'm one of the luckier ones.

So let's try something a little bit lighter, shall we? Here's a blog entry I should have written, well, almost two months to the day, now. Remember that ferris wheel ride? Welp, I left out some details. Most of you have probably heard them by now, but for the latecomers, a story:

Did I talk about how tall that ferris wheel was? It was tall, very tall, and I was nervous to ride it. Fortunately for me, Kyle appeared even more nervous, even though we were there at his insistence. Mike had me convinced that we should skip it altogether and head to a tall building in a livelier part of town, but Kyle protested, puppy dog eyes and all, and we agreed to the original plan of riding it, one he had set on the long drive from the Osaka airport to Ichinomiya, its lights setting off a glow in the nighttime sky.

So yeah, we three clambered into the glass enclosure of the ferris wheel car together, Kyle and I on one side and Mike on another. The windows were etched with line drawings of different sights we could see from the sky -- a mountain here, an Santa Maria replica ship there (don't ask me why). A recorded voice, speaking Japanese and English in turns, described our view. All the while, Kyle glanced over his shoulder, his back to the wheel's axis. He's freaking out about the height and he wants to know when we get to the top, so he knows the worst is over, I explained to Mike. But then when we got to the top, Kyle turned to me and smile, his tight grin forming a perfect U-shape. Jenny, I wanted to know: will you marry me? Me being me, I had to fight the compulsion to make a joke, and kept it simple: Yes.

There's more of course, tremblyness and teary eyes and a moment of Wait. What the fuck just happened? running through my head, but I've already written so much, your tender eyes are probably sore with strain. Anyway, this leads me to what I mentioned at the beginning of this entry. You can now find my (at present limited) wedding and marriage-related blatherings at nochickendance.blogspot.com.