In 3 days it will be the 3 month anniversary of my aunt’s passing.  I previously mentioned that we all deal with things a little differently.  I have not step foot in the gym or gone running since she passed.  I’ve also gained 8 pounds, lost muscle mass and have been eating poorly.

I find comfort in my bedroom.  No, not sleeping.  Not crying.  Not wallowing in self-pity.  Or maybe it is self-pity.  Or it’s just my way of having my emotions catch up with my logic.

My aunt passed and I accepted it because it was time.  She was very ill and her body gave out on her.  I was sad to see her go but glad not to see her suffer anymore.  But somewhere inside I guess part of me still needed to do whatever it is people do after the death of a loved one.

It just so happened my thing was to sit in pyjamas when not involved with work duties and social obligations.  I would either read, craft or watch movies.  All from the comfort of my own little cave.  Away from people.

Yesterday was my first day back at the gym and my first day running.  Well it was more like walk 1 minute, run 2, for half an hour.  Better than nothing I guess.  I am sore today.  I have become a soggy lady during my grieving.

I still don’t want to be around people but I don’t feel it necessary to sit in my room all day.  I did come to realize that my cave started to feel quite oppressive and cramped.  So I have taken on the task to “clean my room”.  I don’t mean: dust, vacuum and change sheets.  I mean eliminate clutter.  I haven’t quite made it to the closet and I already have 6 medium sized boxes of stuff to get rid of.

In the last few weeks I have also found my pottery mojo.  I was making stuff, but not much and I didn’t feel the want to do anything with clay.  But I have found my way and have started to produce again.  I should probably slow down as the kiln won’t be fired for another 2 weeks.  I am going to end up bringing 6 more boxes home of stuff before I get done cleaning my room!

I still don’t quite feel “myself” and I might not bounce back to who I was.  I feel that this event has matured me, a little.  Thinking of death, the older generation quickly approaching their end of life and watching my family all handle death differently has changed my outlook on life.  It has helped in rearranging my priorities some what.  It is helping me not just tidy up my room and closet but also my life.

It’s time to get back into my health regimen and leave the pyjama days for when I have to suffer illness.  Or when I am far too old to do much other than sit in pyjamas.  I have wasted 3 whole months of my life shrinking into the shadows instead of doing what my aunt said:  Don’t change your plans.  Just keep living and stick to your plans.


2 months

Since my last post here; two whole months.  And yesterday was exactly a month since I lost my aunt.  If you didn’t read about it already or I didn’t mention it, now you know.  Fair warning this is going to be a long winded post.  I mean, I am 2 months due for posts right?

Cancer weakened her.  Complications of pneumonia is what claimed her in her sleep.

This whole ordeal has made me uneasy with certain family members.  Death does funny things to me, makes me want to punch people.  Those people usually being family members.

When my grandmother passed I slugged my, still breastfeeding sister.  She was not being breastfed, to clarify she had just had her 4th child and was feeding it.

I always blamed her for the decline in my grandmother’s health leading up to her death.  But over the years I have come to realize that my grandmother had lived far beyond what any doctor had ever thought she would.

She walked after her stroke when she was told she would live out the rest of her short days in a wheelchair.  We are fighters I suppose.  She lived on for two decades and walked!

These days I am pissed off at my sister.  Not the one mentioned above… a different one.  I shall refer to her as my tactless sister.  When my grandmother died, she was quite tactless with the whole situation.

When my aunt passed I was pleased that my phone call to come home was much kinder than the one I got when my grandmother passed.  However, as information came to me, I became more and more angry.

I’m still fucking pissed.  But, with age, the spice I once had is something I can control now.  And by control I mean internalize and by internalize I feel like I have been in a figure 4 headlock for about a month.  My shoulders fucking hurt and the back of my neck feels like it will break if I lift my eyes to the sky.

Honestly I should just punch someone and get it over with.

I have so many reasons but I will delude myself with the thought that everyone deals with family stress, illness and death differently.  Then again some people are just fuck all selfish!

  1. Once my aunt became bedridden and unable to do things around my sister’s house, my sister urged her to move back to her own home.  I don’t know if I mentioned this but for my aunt’s delicate condition she moved in with my sister.  She owns a home and lives alone.  A perfect place for someone with low immunity that is ill and needs rest.  However, my sister used her as a maid.  To cook and clean for her!  And when she was of no use suggested she go back home.
  2. During this time my sister said she was considering moving out of the area and if I would be interested in renting her house.  I asked about my aunt and she said she was going back home.  I didn’t know my sister sent her back home.  I advised my sister that it was probably best for my aunt to stay where she was until she “got better”.  We both knew she wasn’t getting better but it was a good place for her to be.
  3. The night my aunt passed, my uncle wanted to stay with my aunt.  When he was around she felt comfortable and rested easier.  My aunt and uncle never married and have grown up together and lived in the same home since they were children.  Why tear siblings apart especially during their times of need?  Because my sister needs her privacy and wants to walk around HER house in her underwear!
  4. That night she heard my aunt praying.  She never thought to get out of bed and join her in prayer (my family is religious… I am not but I would have gone to her side).  I jump out of bed when I hear my family in distress to find out if there is anything I can do to help.  The mister has terrible dreams since his assault, I always try to comfort him.  My aunt was praying, alone and ill…. she could have used some comfort.  The kind she gave us all when we were sick as kids.  She was the one that stayed up late with us when we were sick.  A little reciprocation is too much to ask for I guess.

The laundry list goes on but I am going to stop.  Before I paint her as a total villain, I know there are two sides to the story.  Maybe her behavior was her way of handling things.  I just see it as a little selfish.

What really shits me is the ocean of sympathy cards my sister got telling her kind and gracious she was for taking care of my aunt.  She did nothing of the sort.  She provided a bed and roof over her head but she used her as her personal maid.  And even when my aunt had become to sick to do the house chores, my uncle stepped in to do them.  No once did my sister actually help.  She made it seem like such a burden to her to have her after she was of no use to her!

I am not known for biting my tongue but I am trying not to relive a mistake twice with two sisters.  It has taken until a few years ago to even get back to speaking terms with my sister that I struck after grandma died.  I don’t need that type of repeat incident happening.  But I do need to find a release… something to unwind.




Had an interesting conversation with our exchange student last night.  It started off with some of the best GWB quotes, trailed off into education and culminating with food.

So my student from Germany is staying with us for a full academic year.  He has agreed to have Andy as his roommate, which I think is pretty cool.  Originally we started off as his Welcome Family, if he decided our family was a good fit for him, he could choose to stay for the full year.  He chose to stay.

Last night when we touched on the subject of food, he told us that he thinks he is very lucky to have been placed in our home.  He feared he would gain weight during his year abroad because he was under the impression that Americans typically eat fast-food (and that they are all obese).

He is glad that we cook.  And he even enjoys what we cook!  It made me feel happy that our dietary efforts are acknowledged and appreciated.  Andy has yet to appreciate the effort we go through to keep him fed, in a healthy manner.

Which brings me to his latest shenanigans…  This school year has started off quite poorly for Andy.  He got his first referral to the principal for stealing.  This is something he has had issues with since he came to live with us.

It hasn’t stopped.  The lying continues.  And now he is using his disability as his scapegoat.  He has used the following excuses with his teacher to explain away his poor behavior and under performance:

  • It’s because I have autism.
  • My mom made me this way.
  • Because I didn’t take my medication today.

He is doing a fantastic job of manipulating those around him.  It’s been working and if he had not been caught stealing we would never have been the wiser that anything was amiss at school.  See, his teacher is not as helpful with Andy as his previous teachers.

In the past, we have caught Andy lying and weaseling his way out of homework, we worked with the teachers to make sure we got an email with the assignments so he couldn’t just lie about not having homework.  Joey contacted the teacher because we started noticing a ‘no homework today’ pattern.  The teacher did not take Joey’s email and basically said, “He gets a weekly packet.  He does one page a day, at the end of the week you review it, sign it and Andrew turns it in.”

He is in 6th grade and the homework packets are simply busy work.  Not homework, not improving or teaching him new skills.  It is busy work that you do on a long flight or while waiting in a doctors office.  Crossword puzzles, work searches or a page to read and another to answer questions about the passage he read.  None of this is preparing him for junior high or the real world.

As I see it, the teacher is more concerned with collecting a check than his pupils.  My only assumption is that based off of Andy’s behavior he assumes since we don’t care, so why should he?  Andy makes us look like bad parents.  We aren’t.  We really do try very hard to get him to get his shit together.  He has made vast improvements, he really has.  But we have years of damage we are trying to repair.

I feel like he is getting a better education at home during the summer months than at school.  I give him school work to help bring him up to the proper academic level.  I make him learn cursive, which is no longer taught in his school.  I have him read to grow his vocabulary and comprehension.  The child was Mowgli when he first came to live with us.  He needs all the practice he can get.

I don’t want to be a step-parent anymore.  I don’t want to have to be the one that helps Joey with his child.  I know people keep telling us that in the long run Andy will thank us for all our efforts.  But right now, I envision his future spent on the streets or behind bars.  We can’t send him back to his mother because that would guarantee a shit future for him.

We are lucky Justus is with us for the year.  We are lucky that he has taken to Andy.  Andy is lucky.  Justus is the first exchange student that has shown true interest in Andy.  I am hoping that having someone closer to Andy’s age for him to look up to will rub off on Andy.  Andy is still a little terror, he is a pre-teen (God save us!) but I can see tiny bits of improvements.

Last week we had a conference with the teacher Andy stole from, the principal, Joey, Andy and myself.  I brought the school up to speed on the stealing, lying, manipulation techniques Andy likes to employ.  Their eyes are wide open now and Andy was not happy that I was so forthcoming with the information.

As it turns out, his regular teacher had a chat with Andy’s resource teacher.  It turns out Andy has not turned in a single homework packet.  We are 6 weeks into school and the teacher has not once made mention that Andy has not been doing his work.  When the teacher finally returned Joey’s call, he never once mentioned that Andy was not doing his homework.

I am hoping to have Andy put in a different class, with a teacher that will work with us.  I hate feeling like a helicopter-psycho-soccer mom.  But I we need a little help on the school side so we can make sure Andy is doing what he should be.  I requested a meeting with the principal but have yet to hear back.

Joey on the other hand, has gotten an email from Andy’s resource teacher.  We are to have another conference but with the slacker teacher involved this time.  I plan to stand my ground and request a class move.  Joey doesn’t back me up on this. He says he doesn’t want to get the teacher in trouble or make waves.  I dunno, I just feel like his teacher may not be willing to put effort into helping us help himself and Andy.  His resource teacher is awesome, his regular teacher… not so awesome.

I know Andy, he sees that his teacher as someone he can manipulate.  Someone that doesn’t appear too interested in his lack of effort.  Andy is playing it.  He will get away with as much as you will let him.  And thus far, this school year…. he has gotten away with quite a lot.


So it’s been a while since I have posted anything.  Summer time is usually busy time for me at work and home.  As you all guessed, I did host another exchange student this summer.  Now before it sounds like it was an awful experience, it wasn’t awful but at the same time it was not great.

Usually my rants are about Andy being a picky eater or flooding the bathroom with my tampons or even worse eating my exchange student’s gift chocolates.  This time Andy was quite the model host brother.  He was his normal pesty self.  This time my woes came from my exchange student.

Last year the mister wanted to host a student from Russia but that did not pan out.  This year we ended up with a Russian student.  And I kid you not this boy was THE pickiest person under the sun.  I had asked him before he arrived what foods he enjoyed and did not enjoy.  Enjoys: meat and potatoes.  Does not enjoy: fruits and vegetables.  Oh and he has an allergy to all nuts.  I thought maybe he was making a broad generalization.  No, he was not joking.

Burrito: ripped open, poked at with fork, pushed it around on the plate and did not eat it.
Salad as a side with dinner: untouched.
Anything with bacon in it was also turned down, not for religious reasons either!

I did manage to have him eat chorrizo and egg burritos, pasta with ground meats and pierogi casserole.  The latter I had never attempted but figured it would work since the kiddo likes potatoes.  Honest to god this is the very short list of fruits/veggies the kid ate:  potato, garlic, apple juice on rare occasions.  How was he not dead of malnutrition?!

That was just the tip of the iceberg, it did get worse.  Mind you the kid was never really a “bad” kid.  Part of hosting an exchange student is the exchange.  An exchange of culture, food, ideas but our student would come straight home and hide in the bedroom.  He would hide in there on his phone with his other friends.  Having a conversation with the child was like pulling teeth.  I finally relented and left him to his own devices, if he didn’t want to talk, I wasn’t going to force him.

Anytime we offered to go out or do anything he had to first check with his friend.  His friend happened to be hosted by a kind man that was also hosting 2 other teenage boys.  I can understand why my kid wanted to be with them all the time.  But it wasn’t fair to pawn him off on the other host parent.  And it bordered on rude that he would pretty much just take off with the other host parent.  There were a few times we had to have a talk with our kid to explain that he can’t just impose on others and it was out of line to take off without letting us know or even asking.

But again the kid was not bad.  He just was very interested in hanging out with the other Russian boy, shopping or hiding out.  I really think he did a huge disservice to himself.  His English did not improve because he was always pairing up to hang out with his friend.  And he missed out on our culture because he was not open-minded enough to try new things.

I really hope the best for him and I hope he can continue to travel and experience the world.  I think a little maturity will help him… or not.  Some people are just set in their ways.

Moral of the story:  I will not host kids that are not diverse eaters.  You can’t live off of meat and potatoes!  Well you can but still….

Stay tuned for the update on our new exchange kid.


It may not have been suddenly that I just kept running.

But I have just been running for a while now.

I had the best run I have had in…. probably forever.


It’s the farthest run, but not the first time I have taken this long route.

Once when I was in my teens, angst driven, unafraid and amidst familial turmoil.  Back then I walked off from Guadalupe in the direction of Santa Maria.  Tears streaming, voice hoarse from shouting into the dark void of night.  About a mile from Santa Maria, I knew (or rather felt) my mother would take the long road into town to search for me.  So I deviated into broccoli fields.  Broccoli fields that had been already tilled and soggy with the good ole rains that used to grace the Central Coast.  Muddy fields that stole my left shoe, suede Vans with an Asian inspired pattern.  One solid yank, my foot was free but not before I could salvage my shoe from the encapsulating mud.  For some reason it felt like that moment won.  That moment summed up how life was and was going to continue to be for me, my whole life.  Silly little girl, silly naive little girl.  If only she had known that life has much more to offer in terms of trials and tribulations than her precious Vans lost in the mud.

I sat down in the middle of that tilled row into a muddy pile of molding broccoli; to cry.  To cry for me, to cry because, just to cry because I had lost all energy to be upset.  I had begun to feel sorry for myself and acquiesced.  I did try to pry my shoe out of the mud.  Not because I valued the shoe.  I just realized what a fool I was.  I realized I was in the middle of a field, missing a shoe, missing protection.  I walked a mile and a half without a shoe, eventually losing my sock to the muddy mess; to a pay phone.  I called home; I told my mother where I was.  No scolding, no anger, just a silent ride home where I crawled into bed, defeated, dirty and ashamed for acting as I had.

It’s funny to think back at the stupid things I did and the idiot things that mattered to me then.

Today was a beautiful crisp morning filled with thoughts, release, enlightenment and a yearning.  A yearning for more, long, lonely time.  I am worn the fuck out.  I am tired.  My life feels like a movie that I am watching but in the middle of; but have not enough control to make it worth watching.

My husband just left with his son to see an ex girlfriend.  And I am not jealous, I can’t even say I am concerned.  That time has passed… maybe a year ago I would have cared.  Maybe a year ago I would have objected even?  Probably not.  He lives in a time that I was not a part of or care to be a part of.  And I live in a separate time, but we have similar somethings that keep us attached.  I don’t live in the past, I live inside my head.  I don’t really know what’s worse.  I would like to tell myself that my own reality is far better than living in the past.  But we all want to believe we are far better than we really are don’t we?

After a glorious run to my grandmother’s house, I ate crepes.  Crepes that my mother cooked, that she has vowed never to cook again, as of the last time; two times ago.  She wants to pass on the torch and I am not sure what else she said because as I sat there, hearing, I wasn’t listening.  I just was simply not there.  I can honestly say I lost about an hour of conversation to nods and smiles that I was not really in control of.  Yeah, I am sure reading this it sounds like I am mentally falling apart but I will have to say, no.  I am sure there are people, day in and day out, that feel like I do too.  Or walk around wearing the suit of a person but not in control of that suit, even if it is theirs.

I have reached an impasse.  I want the auto-pilot to take over so I may find solace inside; so I may smile and nod but live in my mind.  I also want to live outwardly; where the rest of the world pretends to live.  I want to walk among the foreigners.

Well, they’re back.  I suppose I should plaster my smile and nod face on again.  My dog seems a tad worried but I think it’s because I am failing to let him have human food which he is not allowed.

In other related news, in another couple weeks, I will be running misanthropic half-marathons before moving on to longer runs.  I really feel like I may have to segue into ultra marathon running; just to enjoy my own private Idaho.


A house divided against itself cannot stand”
I suppose you can attribute that one to Lincoln or Mark depending on what your persuasion is.

All of this cancer stuff has really started to take a toll on my family.  And it has caused a division among us all.  And I am kind of tired of it all.

I don’t want to stay away from my family but I have found myself “busy” more often than not these days.  Yeah, I am in the midst of planning my vacation later this year.  But I am actually avoiding going to my mom’s house.  It’s not intentional but I noticed it has been well over two weeks.

I am kind of tired of hearing all the fighting, side taking and people just talking with out taking action.

This coming weekend my sister and I are taking my other sister, mom and aunt to a Motown the Musical down at the Pantages.  I love hanging out with my sisters, my mom and aunt but I really hate the prospect of small talk to avoid the elephant in the room.

And I don’t want it to turn into a several hour drive to and from filled with shop talk.  I would much prefer silence than whining about work or small talk.  Am I being mean?  Probably.

I just want life to go back to the way it was.  I want my sandbox to put my head in.

Invariably the conversation will turn back to the “Negative Nancy” and her drama.  Maybe I will just zone out, drive and not contribute to any of the conversations at all.  I am gonna come off as a jerk.

I can’t fake it, I am tired and unwilling to fake it.

Eh who am I kidding, I am gonna sit there, fake it and have small talk.  I’m the queen of fake happy, I already know.  It’s just so tiring and I just want to be elbow deep in clay, hiking or in my pyjamas watching a K-Drama.

At this moment in life my HUGE family, which is small by demographic standards is smothering me.

Stage 4

So as it turns out things are a little worse than what the doctors originally thought.  Turns out when cancers metastasize to or around the brain or spinal cord; you are stage 4 (terminal if you want to be negative about it).

This is my first time dealing with or being around someone with cancer.  As far as I can tell my aunt seems just fine.  But I can’t tell what is going on inside of her body, let alone her thoughts or feelings.

I have an inkling that maybe her outward show of being positive and optimistic is to help us stay that way too.  Yesterday morning I had a chat with my mom and she mentioned that my aunt has been talking about returning to Mexico.

While my grandmother was alive my aunt was the one that went on several occasions to Mexico.  She is the only one that has kept contact with family from Mexico.

My mom knows my sister and I plan to travel later this year and felt it would be difficult to ask us to contribute money to send my aunt home one more time.  I refuse to say last time, but if it would be, then why not send her right?

My thought was for each family member to pitch in $100 and that would more than suffice for return flights for both my ailing aunt and her brother, my uncle (not the one married to the twat thief).

I mentioned it to my sister, the one I travel with, she says she has to check her funds.  At the end of this month we will be buying our plane tickets and JR Pass.  I think after that, we will both have a good idea of what we have left and what we can give.

So for my travel partner and I, we can contribute… for myself I can contribute more than the $100.  Two of my siblings work and live at home with mom, they can afford it; will they care to is another question.  One lives with my aunt and is planning a trip herself, I am sure she could afford to chip in to send off my aunt to the homeland.  My last sibling seems to always fret over money and is a homeowner… but with her spending habits I know she is good for it.

Should I bring it up to the rest of my siblings?  I think my mom has gotten quite pensive regarding the future of our family; her only sister.  She also made mention of kicking her non-rent paying kids out of the house and renting the house out.  She is considering retiring to Hawaii with my uncle and aunt.  She has 2 years left before she calls it quits at work.

If she rents it will be to me or my traveling sister because she knows we are good for it and won’t stiff her like the rest of my siblings have.  Being an adult and watching age, disease and ultimately death take its toll is much more cumbersome and thought provoking with age.  Watching my grandparents transition was much different, so many things I didn’t have to worry about.

All of this is forcing me to think of my own mother’s life and my own mortality.  Life can be too sobering at times.


Okay so I am not going to pretend I am little Miss Positive Pollyana, I know full well I can be a Debbie Downer.  But there are a few things that you just don’t do.  You don’t tell a person who is diagnosed with cancer that they will ‘just die’…. repeatedly.  It’s not nice and though there may be truth to that, there is also truth behind the power of positive thinking.

My family is a family of fighters.  We all know and realize that we will not live forever.  But we also know that as shitty as things may be it’s better to be in the world of the living than the eternal slumber.  I saw my grandparent’s transition, my uncle was also very close… but we are all fighters.  My uncle is still around because he didn’t just lay back and take the restful road.

This uncle is the same man who is married to the Negative Nancy I am alluding to.  This woman, who lives with my aunt that was just diagnosed with cancer, is there because my aunt opened up her home to her and my uncle.  When they lost their place to live my aunt had them move in to keep them and their 2 dogs off the streets.

Yet this woman who I will just refer to as Nancy has taken it to tell my aunt continually that she is going to die.  My aunt puts up a strong face, like I said this is the same woman I have only ever seen cry twice.  When my aunt was talking to my mom about Nancy’s ill treatment, my aunt had tears in her eyes.  A blink could have set them spilling out over the edge

You DON’T make the woman who raised me cry; EVER!  Not without consequences.  Yeah I am one of those ‘an eye for an eye’ people when it comes down to what I value.

My aunt has only asked us to stay positive and to continue on with our lives.  She says that she will undergo whatever treatment (she started radiation Friday) the doctor prescribes but she wants us all to stay positive.  I can do that.  My siblings have all agreed to do that; hell she was as big a part of our lives than anyone else.  Shit we were raised calling her Mommy Tia.

Nancy can not.  And no one has told Nancy to shut her fucking pie hole.  No one will either it seems.  One of my sisters says that God will take care of it and to keep the peace.

1.) I don’t believe in God.
2.) I am a ball of rage.

If Nancy was not a take in, I wouldn’t care so much.  If she wasn’t an abusive thief, I wouldn’t care so much.  Yeah, I said thief.  Turns out the week we took my mom and aunt on their cruise to Mexico, Nancy was taking paper goods, food, laundry detergent and who knows what else from my aunt’s house and giving it to her worthless gangster son.  Because “he was in need” and she will do ” anything” for family.

Uh, her kid didn’t take her in when she became homeless… MY family did.  And this is the thanks she gives them.  “You’re gonna die” and thieving shit for her worthless brood.

I won’t do “anything” for my family but she better steer clear if she knows what’s good for her because I have words.  And I don’t care if my uncle is hurt at this point.  She is a toxic person.  She has him wrapped around her little finger and she knows it.  And I suppose there comes a time in some peoples lives that being with someone, anyone, is better than being alone.  She is that anyone.

I could go on about the things she has said and done that have put a sour taste in my mouth but telling my aunt she is going to die, in her face, repeatedly, when she is a unwelcome guest in the house just puts me over the edge.

Trying to stay calm for my aunt.  TRYING is the operative word.

Do or do not; there is no try.

Also my travel persona on Facebook: Saila Journey
Not very clever, I know but it’s all I could come up with at the time.

The saga continues…

What started out as a well meaning idea from my hubs to his cousin has turned into something rather strange and bitter tasting.  Well, I at least have a bitter taste in my mouth.

When I had decided to travel to Japan and South Korea I made mention of it to both my husband’s cousin and his wife; the same folks the hubs went to visit this last summer.  I usually send them a postcard from any of the places I visit.

My well meaning hubs mentioned to his cousin that both my sister and I would be in the Sapporo area and it would be nice for us to meet and possibly visit them at their place.

Hubs never got a response back from his cousin regarding a potential meetup.

My intent to visit Sapporo was more for the Beer Museum, Odori Park and a few other interests of my own.  IF, big IF there, I did meet hubby’s extended family I would prefer it to fit with my travel schedule.

A few days after the Facebook fiasco regarding bad photos being posted taken with lovely GoPro angles, I got a message on the only social media outlet I use, Instagram.  (Travel FB is currently under construction; name reveal will be coming soon.)

The message was from the wife of the cousin basically stating:

I can’t invite you to my house. We raise 3 kids, busy and cost money to keep this family going.  [My hubs] was always talking about visit Japan so we accepted last time, but you are just his wife, but not our friend so we don’t wanna force ourself to arrange our schedule to invite you or your sister over to our home especially out of vacation time.

Well, that was unexpected!  Honestly spending time in rural Japan with a stay at home mom of 3 doesn’t sound like a vacation to me.  It actually sounds like torture, as it is I have a hard time living in the house I do with the one kid.

I politely explained that, I, under no circumstances had any plans to stay at her house.  I was traveling to South Korea and Japan to sight-see and did not know Joey was trying to plan a meet up in Sapporo (well meaning guy that he is).

And she went on to send me a copy of a message where I told her husband I would be visiting Japan and South Korea…. I assume she read that as, “Hey guys I am going to Japan, specifically your house.”  I could chalk it up to language barrier but I know full well that is not the case.  Bipolar?

All of this really doesn’t bother me as much as it hurt the hubs feelings.  This is his favorite cousin we are talking about.  And the wife was friends with my hubby and he helped introduce the two!

It seemed like things were fun for the hubs and his cousin while visiting but from the message I was sent it seems that they let him visit out of pity.  Which quite frankly I find in poor taste.  They could have saved themselves the trouble and us the money by saying NO.

Sometimes I really don’t understand people.

Incidentally, hubs has never heard back from his cousin after the photo fiasco; regarding photo removal OR a potential meetup.  I am kinda glad for that since I don’t really feel the need to be The Griswolds.

All of this sudden animosity over pictures posted almost a year ago?  There has to be more to it.



For the love of Christ on a pogo stick!  I tossed the sodding thing a long time ago but the drama just never seems to end with it.

So yesterday my non-Facebook family was worried that our family would hear the cancer news online vs. straight from my aunt.  I had to explain to my mom that Facebook is not something I do so they didn’t need to worry about me finding out online.

And then my husband ends up with his bit of Facebook drama.  A family member of his is upset that he posted their pictures from when he went on vacation with them.  He posted them almost a full year ago and even made them administrators of the album.  But only now are complaints being made.

Since the person upset is an administrator they could very easily remove the photos.

I’m not really sure what all is going on; if it is an image issue because the person doesn’t think the picture to be flattering or if it is a privacy concern?  I am not really sure but I don’t understand why these things can be such an issue.

Remember when mom had the family photo album on the coffee table for everyone to see: the priest, your creepy uncle, the smelly vacuum salesman, the Avon lady… everyone could pick it up, thumb through it.  They could see your missing tooth smile circa 1985, your bare ass in the bathtub circa 1982, everything that the photo processing tech at the place she had the photos developed long before they ended up in the album.

Now with social media you have to be so careful of what or who you photograph and sometimes go through the trouble of having to ask permission for every photo you intend to post.

I understand the privacy issue.  I really do but why are these things never an issue until well after the fact?

I almost wonder if I should start blurring street names, license plates and covering faces with emoticons on my Instagram feed and blog posts.

Ultimately once a photo touches a computer/phone… chances that they can become public go up.  So really unless you want to take up Polaroid and hide them under your bed… pics get out.

Don’t even get me started on the second complaint stemming from Facebook.  The vague status update whose only purpose is to cause curiosity.

Status update:  “So bummed out… 😦 Keep me in your prayers everyone.”

Why??? What is the point of this aside from people posting to your update with questions:
What happened?
What’s wrong?

Starved for attention??? I think yes.

I had considered taking up a Facebook account again to add fellow travelers that I meet on my wanderings.  I might just save myself the trouble and not do it.  Sounds like a hassle and I am scared that people I am acquainted with in the real world will be pissy if I don’t friend them in a virtual world when I don’t friend then in my real one anyway.