Sunday, October 9, 2011

Too long, too big

Nagasugi, ookisugi

I'm as much of a fan of loose fitting straight leg pants as the next girl who doesn't like the sensation of belly fat hanging over the waistband. I just don't get why they decided to call them boyfriend jeans.

When I first heard the term "boyfriend jeans," I was really confused because I'd never worn any of my boyfriends' jeans because I couldn't. Well, I could probably put them on, but never wear them. More like swim in them...

Husband is 32 cm taller. When spending weekends at his place became a regular thing, I'd wear his tennis things. Then it got colder and he suggested we go to Uniqlo to buy sweats for me to keep at his place. I knew my bad track record with relationships (nothing had lasted longer than a year until then, and I couldn't seem to stay friends after the breakup) so I bought new sweatpants and a sweatshirt and wore those at my own apartment, while leaving older sweatpants and an older T-shirt at his place (so it would be easier to cut my losses if the relationship ended).

Previous boyfriends have also been a good deal taller and somewhat wider than me. If I borrowed things, it was usually T-shirts and shorts. But I guess "boyfriend shorts" just doesn't have the same ring to it...

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Field Day


The Pumpkin Prince is the one in the green striped shirt. Note the enthusiasm with which he applies himself.

The Pumpkin Princess is not to be outdone by her little brother. The Pumpkin Daycare has gym uniforms for kids in the 3 year-old class and older. They're worn about three times a year, so they tell you to buy them in the size they'll be in their last year there.

I didn't get any pictures this year because the Pumpkin Daddy was doing the lines (no, Brit Friends, he is not writing "I will not create a disturbance in class" 100 times, he was drawing the chalk powder lines on the field so the kiddies knew where to start and turn at each event) and I had the video camera. These pictures are swiped from the Pumpkin Daddy blog.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Three day monk

Mikka bouzu

The title is a phrase describing an interest that lasts for a very short time. I am just bringing this up as an example, but if, say, a woman just barely on the right side of forty decided that she was going to make a regular habit of exercising for the first time since university, and only keeps it up for about a month and a half. Of course, said woman would be slightly better off than the original phrase, which means "three day monk." A month and a half is much longer than this woman's previous "I'm going to be an active, fit person" phases. So maybe I'll get back into it soon. I mean, maybe she will. I mean...never mind.

I got the mumps at the end of July. The Pumpkin Princess (but not the Prince) got them earlier in the month (they don't vaccinate for them here unless you ask for it, which I didn't) and that's probably how I got them. I'm pretty sure I was vaccinated for them as a child, but I guess it wore off. Took the week off lying around and fooling around on the internet (but not blogging, as you can see) and doing housework.

In August, I got a promotion I didn't want. I get paid a little more in exchange for a lot of responsibilities I don't particularly care for. I didn't have the choice to not get promoted, it was either get promoted or find another job, and I weighed the two in balance in terms of the hassle of finding said new job, the potential hassle of a potential new work environment, and day care logistics, versus the potential new responsibilities I don't want, and the latter won out. My friends in academics would probably say "but that's GREAT, that's what everyone wants, good for you..." but it's only great when you are a born academic, which I am not.

September brought us Pumpkin Day Care's annual field day, the most adorable display of child development known to mankind. OK, I'm biased since the Pumpkin Prince was in three events and the Pumpkin Princess in four. The Pumpkin Princess's class did a marching band, but she played the bass organ so she didn't march. She said she made two mistakes, but I didn't really notice, so I'm pretty sure no one else did, either. The 5 year-old drum major took his job very seriously, and was really really good. Boy's got rhythm. Or something.

Up for October is presenting an overview of my department's work to some ambassadors from interesting places like Thailand and Vietnam (a job I did want) and going to the reception afterward (a job I did not want), doing my part to cover for my old boss while he gets treatment (a job I am happy to do for him given all he did for us for seven years) and grant writing (as we used to say in the 80s, gag me with a spoon).