Fears

In an attempt to both improve my knowledge of grammar and to finesse my writing, I am reading, "At last!" my dear readers may think, The Elements of Style by Strunk & White. It is concise and bold as E. B. White speaks of its original form by Professor Strunk, but it also packed so tightly that I fear I will not be able to remember it all- too many kernels without the popcorn. The book is on my "diet book list"- to be read in bits. I want my words to sing with imagery and to bring you into my world, but I am busy making lists of items to purchase for a bathroom and running to the American Embassy for passport renewals. Meaning, I publish before I have thoroughly spell checked and reread my essays. I am posting my "shitty first drafts" as one writing teacher (Bird by Bird) calls them. I aim to get words on the page. I publish and then revise, but I see no other way. Perfectionism is a wonderful standard, but if I held myself up to that bar, I could not write. It is in letting go of any pretense, accepting that errors will be made, that I can post what I have written. To write, one must write. The feedback I need is in the act of writing. Ideas emerge on the pages that were unknown to me before I was present at the keyboard, like the hostess awaiting her guests, there is no party without the guests, there is no storybook without the writer.

Death and party do not go together. I know you are thinking, "What about wakes?" A friend with Irish relatives shared this story. "I went back to Ireland for a death in the family. My uncles were all at the Pub- sitting there, telling story after story, pint after pint. I sat down and a pint was ordered for me. About three in the morning, I fell out of my chair, passed out on the floor. When I woke up hours later, they were still carrying on, with nary a glance they ordered me a pint and kept going. They were there (in the Pub) for three days."

In one night I spied a kabuto mushi beetle, a spider, and a giant cockroach. My husband is optimistic that the roach will visit the hotel we set up. The spider, a medium sized one, was hanging about in the bathroom. Every time I checked, the spider was there. Recently the Mule banned the Moose from taking a bath with her- he attacked her with the back scrubber, read "sword" in his mind, and left a bruise which is how the Moose came to take a bath with the spider in full view in my bathroom while the Mule floated peacefully in the munsters's bathtub (ode to Strunk & White- I'm learning lesson #1). Despite the Mule saying, "Mama, you have dirty feet," I refused to take a bath with the spider in view. My son- clean, in his pajamas, and tucked into bed said, "I faced my fears." I turned out the light and said, "Yes, you did."

I actually thought accolades were in order for not screaming bloody hell at the sight of all these critters creeping about my house! Finally, my husband, home, trapped the beetle and placed it in a mushi box saying, "Just to show the munsters in the morning." I guess it is better than having it crawl across the ceiling. We're hoping that the giant spider which hasn't been sighted for a few days, finds the roach living downstairs. The medium sized spider went missing, my husband drew my bath, and I marveled at the wisdom of a six year old as I attempt to face one fear, but not another.

Tea and Snacks for Carpenters

Dumpster in our yard as viewed from the front porch- bet the neighbors are thrilled

I went to a new onsen yesterday. The usual one had some kind of fire and is closed for repairs. The new onsen offered up a few novel experiences- hot floor tiles in warm sauna rooms; hot tiles with onsen water flowing at a constant rate, a cold room with air conditioning blasting, a sauna with a big bowl of salt to rub into your skin, and other lounging rooms with TVs. In Japan there is a lot more laying on the floor than in the States. The TV news station showed a newscaster reporting the news along with a panel that asks questions about the stories as they are reported. A different format than I have seen in the States- kind of like Wolf Blitzer reporting the news with the ladies from The View talking and asking questions.

I went with two of my favorite mama friends. We chatted about my house renovation. My friends' concern was, "Who will take the carpenters drinks and snacks? Who will visit the work site for you?" In Japan the tradition is that the owners take tea and snacks daily to the carpenters building the house. This way the owners and the carpenters are together daily on the work site. From my observations here in Kamakura, the carpenters, once they start, are fast. The daily ritual of tea and snacks lasts for only one or two months. I told them we don't do that in America either, that and the onsen.

The daily update from the home site is that the demolition is progressing as you can see by the filling of the dumpster (above). The house was originally built by a couple without children so it had only two bedrooms upstairs with a sun porch across the back. The second floor was later renovated, but the back bedroom was merely the enclosed sun porch; it was eight feet wide and twenty-five feet long and without a closet. We wanted a more traditional layout which requires walls to be moved and to add an extra bathroom in addition to closets. The picture below is of the bathroom which was removed- it was inset at the top of the stairs and without a window. After twenty years of living here and there, we wanted a window in our bathroom, really light entering into the house as much as possible. We also wanted to push the bathroom back away from the landing to return the upstairs back to its original design, has more chi or flow that way.

2nd floor bathroom- gone

I asked the Builder what his crew would think of the owners bringing tea and snacks daily, he said, "They'd love it." I am sorry I can't do it, but I am glad I'm not living in the house at the moment.

Click Click Black Bananas

Every morning I hear her, a woman walking by in heels, click, click, scuff, late for a train, late for a bus? The windows are open, it is fall, but even when the windows are closed sounds carry and penetrate, they are single pane. Why does she wear heels if she is always in a hurry? It is an uncounsious ackknowledgement of morning like seeing the sun's light beginning to fill the curtains or hearing the birds trying out their morning chirps- I must get up; it is really a new day. Click, click, scuff she hurries.

I've been thinking about hurrying. I am too often in a hurry, hustling to get this and that done- put clothes in the washer, make breakfast, wash dishes, take out the recycling/trash (weekdays), clothes out of the washer, next basket into the washer, hang up the clothes, sweep the floor while thinking of what to do next. I throw a ball into the air with one hand using the momentary space to make a shopping list for dinner; it goes on through my day- too many things to do and no way to get them all done. My children consume a lot of my time; they need a lot of support. They are extremely distractible and have trouble staying on task. Old school, they would have been left alone to flail and fail or perhaps to receive a few whuppins. I didn't find that very helpful so I am navigating another route- focusing on routine, not time, focusing on self-awareness, not fear. I don't have much to report from the front-lines other than it's heavy fire out there.

In the mornings my children are a delight of energy, swarming this way and that way, "Let's sword fight," says the Moose daily. "Mama come and get me," calls the Mule. They are everywhere and no where. I make breakfast, the minutes tick by, I am waiting for them to calm down. They do calm down, when the medication hits. Finally, they can focus on eating, walk to school with an awareness of cars passing nearby. Here, children walking to and from school share the one lane roads with bicyclist, mopeds, motorcyclist, cars, and trucks- traffic awareness is essential. At the school day's end, they return, amping upward to their combined frenetic distrations. I repeat and repeat, "When you are finished with this, put it away," and, "No, do not get out another thing until you put that away first." There is a trail of stuff in their wake none-the-less.

Today I was greeted with an outstretched hand of semi-wilted flowers and a "Mama, I picked these for you." The Moose is the essence of sweetness, picking flowers in route to home, oblivious of course to the concept of time where a twenty minute walk takes an hour. He also had a few rocks in his school bag. He wants to make a tool, a rock tied to a stick with a chiseled edge. He saw one such tool in a book. He explained, "You need to help me Mama. You have to use a knife to chisel the edge." I replied, "That sounds more like a Dada project to me. I like making cakes and bread. Is there something like that we could do?" The Moose replied, "I want to pound something with my hammer you know?" I thought a moment and said, "We could pound some sunflower seeds (they are all over the road at the moment) and see if any oil comes out." We walked home from piano lessons. The Mule had run ahead; she was waiting on the front steps for us.

Autopilot is what I was hoping for at this stage- the kids would have a routine and, well, just do it. It doesn't happen that way, not at my house. Worried about kids getting fat? I hear that you should not let them sit in front of the TV and eat dinner. At my house, if the TV is on, you can't get my children to eat period. I cajole, I threaten, and still they barely remember to take a bite. Someday I hope my husband will be around more to help on this front. He is exhausted by his job that never ends; me too. Dinner sounds like this, "Oooh, grab the spoon." "Are you sitting at the table?" "Did you finish your rice?"

I asked the munsters, "What do you want for dinner?" The Mule said, "Rice and fried potatoes." It might be her favorite dinner- she eats a lot of it anyway. I made stir fry so she had to eat some of the chicken and asparagus. She mostly eats vegetarian but from time to time she will eat a bite or two of chicken which is more than I can say of the asparagus. To paraphrase Sick Boy in Trainspotting, "For a vegetarian, you don't eat many vegetables." The Moose likes stir fry. I have two variations of stir fry sauce: ginger, garlic, dried red chilli pepper, soy sauce, and hoisin sauce OR ginger, garlic, soy sauce, and tobanjan. I'm in the market for Thai green curry paste. New recipes for dinner enter into my repertoire slowly, over years. However, new recipes for baking lure me, call me, regularly.

The Cookbook

I did finally do something with my black bananas. The Mule even helped. The Moose was busy making a loincloth for his Lego Indian Cheif. The recipe called for mashing the bananas with lime juice- it is a banana bread with chocolate chunks and walnuts. Its called banana loaf, but its more of light cake made heartier with the addition of walnuts and dark chocolate- works with milky coffee or cold glasses of milk. I keep contemplating the recipes from this cookbook because I really like cake or treats worthy of tea, and there are a lot of tea worthy recipes in it.

recipe from Warm Bread and Honey Cake by Gaitri Pagrach-Chandra
Banana Loaf
Mash 2 bananas with 2 tsp of lime or lemon juice. Set aside. Preheat the oven to 325ºF/160ºC. Grease then line a loaf pan with parchment paper (I used a 6" round because I like tea things to be in the form of a cake). Sift into a bowl: 1 1/3 cups of flour + 2 tsp baking powder + 1/4 tsp of salt + 1/4 tsp of nutmeg. Cream: 1 stick butter, softened, + 1/2 cup of packed brown sugar until lightened in color. Mix 1 egg + 1 tsp vanilla extract and then add to the creamed butter mix. Then add the banana mix, adding the flour mix in 3 batches using a balloon whisk (though I had to use a silicone spatula). Blend gently. Fold in 1/4 cup of chopped walnuts + 1/2 cup of dark chocolate pieces. Transfer into the prepared pan. Bake x 60 minutes or until a tooth pick comes out clean from the center. Remove from pan onto wire rack. Remove the parchment paper and leave to cool completely. Enjoy.

Bad Mama

Friends tell me it's the salt water that got into the trees from the typhoon

A week ago I was a mere puddle of melting humanity, but with the sudden arrival of fall weather I have congealed. I am in search of my sweaters. The tree leaves in Kamakura look as if they took a mighty blow, they are brown and dry, even on the hillsides. As they hang onto their branches, let's hope the leaves will attempt to delight us with their colors anyway.


A Bad Mama
We realized the Moose had in his pursuit of Aztec and Mayan links on Youtube found movie clips from Apocalypto the 2006 Mel Gibson film depicting Mayan civilization and human sacrifices. I thought he was watching Lego clips or listening to songs until he told me he had watched something he should not have. He said, "I can't get it out of my head." When I asked him, "Do you want to talk about it?" He said, "No, because it makes me think of it." Sigh, I am a very bad mama. This morning I told him, "I watched the Youtube clips on the Mayans last night. That was pretty scary. You know it was from a movie? The first time I watched it I was really scared too. That isn't something you should watch- it's not for kids. I am really sorry that you watched that." He got this big smile on his face kind of like when someone is embarrassed and yet is glad to get something off their chest. "Next time you come across something like that, maybe you should ask Mama or Dada about it first," I said. I also asked him, "How many times did you watch it?" He sheepishly grinned and said, "Two times." "Really, only two times?" I asked. "Ok, five or six," he said.

I removed the Youtube App from the iPad realizing that without ratings this can happen. I told the munsters, "I took the Youtube button off of the iPad." The Mule said, "What? Now what do we do when we want to listen to our songs?" I told them, "When I can supervise." I like that they can find songs on their own, but usually the songs are not easily found for sale like her hula routine song. When I can find them, I buy them. We'll see how this goes.

I feel bad about not keeping a better eye on the video watching. The Moose kept asking to take the iPad upstairs to watch Youtube. I thought it was to play with his Playmobil guys or to inspire a costume. I was out duped by a six year old; it feels ridiculous. Truth is I was happy to have been left alone to cook or clean or read or whatever I was doing instead of keeping an eye on him.  My husband was really the one who watched the Youtube clips- I don't have the stomach to do it again, I saw the  movie when it came out, but to watch those clips again and again? If I wasn't married to a shrink, I might be seeing one to get through the Moose's childhood.

Hummingbird Cake

After having spent my entire Saturday at Undokai, I have a pile of stuff to do, but with children home for a school holiday it is hard to focus on any one thing for long. I can see why we don't do these all day weekend festivals in the States. The children get a lot out of the event- working for weeks on their dances, learning songs, building bonds with one another, and learning about competition in a healthy, but realistic way. I asked the Moose, "How does it feel to win Undokai in first grade?" Sounding like an adult, he said to me with some annoyance, "We're all winners Mama- because we all did it." I have  moments of grave concern for that son of mine, but then he pulls out a jewel or two. Though neither of my children won their running heat, they both were proud of their efforts at all of the tasks and of their team winning- go Yellow. They finally demoed a few of their dance steps which had been verboten before Undokai.

With the school holiday, I had the unusual need to provide lunch at home today. I remembered to feed my children and to shop for food, mostly because I was hungry too. I now have a bread machine which is known as a "home bakery" in Japan; a birthday present from my husband. The problem is that all of the buttons and instructions are in Japanese. It is a bit more complicated than I expected. I might get the gist of a conversation in Japanese if it is about something I am familiar with, but hiragana, katakana, and kanji hieroglyphics along with any electronic gizmo are more like a trip to outer space. I am floating in the dark mass of space just looking at the machine and the manual. I intended to make bread today.

After hula class the Mule asked me, "Why are you making pie Mama? I thought you were going to make bread." I nodded and thought, "because I know how to make pie." Really it was quiche. I made quiche because I had fifteen eggs in the fridge along with a chunk of Swiss cheese, asparagus, and ham. I can't resist quiche made with all of that. I gave her some of the extra pie dough to roll out for applesauce turnovers while I made a few with pineapple jam. The munsters prefer apples and cinnamon to my pineapple obsession.

I have a lot of pineapple jam. I need to make another pineapple cake, but first I have to make a banana cake as I have three black bananas awaiting transformation. Perhaps I could combine them into pineapple banana cake? Reminds me, I made a Hummingbird Cake from my mother's Southern Living Cookbooks when I was a pre-teen with pineapple, bananas, and walnuts. It was frosted with cream cheese frosting. I think that is when I fell in love with cream cheese frosting. It is a sweet, rich cake, not the kind I make much anymore. I should try Japonifying it to see if I can get it a bit lighter and less sweet. I don't like the heavy, sweetness of American desserts now, but I love tea and cake. I am not sure who will eat it with me, but it might be very tasty. Perhaps I can trade tea and cake for Japanese bread machine lessons?

Hummingbird Loaf- my variant uses pineapple jam

Mrs. Wiggins' recipe [1978] 

"Hummingbird cake
3 cups all-pupose flour
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
3 eggs, beaten
1 1/2 cups salad oil
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 (8 ounce) can crushed pineapple, undrained
2 cups chopped pecans or walnuts, divided
2 cups chopped bananas
Cream cheese frosting (recipe follows)
Combine dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl; add eggs and salad oil, stirring until dry ingredients are moistened. Do not beat. Stir in vanilla, pineapple, 1 cup chopped pecans, and bananas. Spoon batter into 3 well-greased and floured 9-inch cakepans. Bake at 350 degrees F. For 25 to 30 minutes; remove from pans, and cool immediately. Spread frosting between layers and on top and sides of cake. Sprinkle with 1 cup chopped pecans. Yield: one 9-inch layer cake.Cream Cheese Frosting
2 (8-ounce) packages cream cheese, softened
1 cup butter or margarine, softened
2 (16 ounce) packages powdered sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Combine cream cheese and butter; cream until smooth. Add powdered sugar, beating until light and fluffy. Stir in vanilla. Yield: enough for a 3 layer cake.--Mrs. L.H. Wiggins, Greesnboro, North Carolina"
---"Making the most of bananas," Southern Living, February 1978 (p. 206)

Girl Talk

On a recent afternoon I had tried calling a girl friend in hopes of finding someone to talk pencil drawings with me. She was out. I was at the Starbucks awaiting an oil change to my car. I sorted through my list and wondered what to do. Just before lunch my car was ready. I picked it up and headed to my husband's office. He was awaiting a lunch date previously scheduled. I was invited to join of course, but as we were heading out the Base gate my friend came along pushing her bicycle. I immediately ditched the boys and asked her if she had time for a chat. I told her, "I need to talk to a girl." Plus I knew with two boys at lunch, there would be no discussion of tile, layouts, or flow.

My friend sat through my bewildering explanation of the drawings and thoughts for our renovation, asking relevant and design provoking questions. I felt concerned and weighted down as I left her house. What to do? She made me realize that I did not have enough information about what we were adding or doing to make the best decisions. Plus a long chat was in order with my husband about house stuff- not what he is interested in doing after a long day at the office.

In an attempt to understand the layout of the addition, I got out the whiteout to see what would happen if I did this or that to the pencil drawings. Turned out the whiteout was really superglue. I ended up with superglue and paper stuck to my fingers for about a day. My husband was more amused by my paper endowed fingers than by the layouts presented. He refused, conveniently, to talk about layoutst until we had actual measurements from the builder. It made sense, but it wasn't helping my anxiety at spending money on a home renovation.

Finally, some where between obentos, undokai, and the weekend, my husband and I received the measurements from the builder and sorted through the myriad list of options for the renovation. Then, with grumbling from a reluctant husband who really just wanted to play his guitar, we were able to mark off the rooms on the floor. This was helpful for considering different layouts. I also forced him through a few photos of bathrooms to insure his compliance with color schemes and styles. There is more to do and more choices, but it is good to find common ground. The vagueness of the renovation had take up too much space within me. In cleaning up the confusion of the layout, I feel back to a more spacious place within me. You don't always realize what is taking over your life until you get another perspective.

Sports Day

Undokai is a kind of sports/field day in which the entire school participates. The school is divided into three teams: red, blue, & yellow. The Munsters were on Team Yellow this year. Each grade performs a dance and participates in a particular event. Everyone runs and a select few are chosen to run the relay for their color team. It is a day meant to enjoy sports and to participate. My friend said that when she was a child growing up in Tokyo that there were more exercises and formal drills with entering and exiting the field. She told her kids, "If the Blue team wins, you can have yaki onigiri (grilled rice balls) for dinner, but if you loose,  you get nato and gohan (fermented soy beans and rice)." The Blue Team came in second place so she let them have yaki onigiri!

It started at 9:00 am and finished about 3:30 pm but by then I had lost track of the time. The weather was free of humidity, the air was cool, and the Yellow Team won! Here are a few photo highlights from our perspective:

1st Graders Dance (the Moose is the only authorized sunglass wearer at school)

2nd Graders Event (the Mule)

2nd Graders Dance

Tug of War

Final Score- YELLOW WINS!

#1

Easy Living

To die for waffles, ice cream, and carmel- oyshi!

Living Right
The Buddhist speak of right livlihood. Today I was living right. We rushed to our favorite udon shop (eight of us) hoping to get lucky as our friends had just over one hour to eat before catching the train back to Narita. We got eight seats which feels like a coup in any restaurant along Komachidori. Afterward, we went to the waffle shop for dessert and coffee and got the last table which happened to be for six which again felt like living right since we were by then only six. It is so nice when life works out, without effort, without planning.

William Burroughs wrote a short story called "The Now" alluding to this concept which was referred to as "do easy." Rarely does my life work this way. Ah, faith restored, I could do with more do easy in my life.

A Typhoon, Creatures, & a Weightloss Plan

Typhoon
The Dai Ichi Mama network was galvanized into action at 5:30 a.m. yesterday morning with an email that school was cancelled due to the incoming typhoon. There was no sitting around the radio awaiting the news bulletins as back in my days of elementary school. Typhoon Roke came in fast and furious. In four years of living in Japan, it was the roughest typhoon yet. Today's sunshine and blue sky highlighted the debris created by the storm. The Moose proudly dragged branches and sticks from all parts of the yard to add to his (stick) collection which is so tightly packed and interwoven that it moved nary a hair from it's place of depository. Apparently the electric went out in the local area and many dads were trapped in Tokyo because the trains weren't running. One friend's husband drank at a bar in Shinagawa train station for several hours awaiting the trains; he got home at 1:30 a.m.. Another friend's husband waited four hours for a taxi cab and then paid $250 to get home; he got home at 8:30 p.m. I laughed and asked my first friend about the bar bill- maybe that taxi ride wasn't so expensive after all.

At home, we blissfully rode out the storm playing computer games (musters), searching the internet for bathroom ideas (me), and working at the office (my husband). The view from my desk on the second story was a bit nerve wracking as all of the tree tops bent and swayed with the gusts of wind. At a friend's house today, she pointed out awnings that were ripped off of patios, three in a row. I noted yard work being attended to by many.


A Bug Thing
The biggest spider yet has made an appearance tonight. You hear it first. Creeping across the ceiling it makes a kind of tapping sound- I guess I would too if I had eight legs and walked upside down. I feel sick. I really do not like things that crawl especially the kind that are crunchy and black- no, we did not kill it, but we tried. We have had a giant roach hanging about of late as well. It has made an untimely appearance or two. On a recent afternoon the roach decided to come out during the day and was spotted by the Mule's friend who was standing in the doorway to inquire if the Mule could come and play. That was the day I decided to add "buy a roach trap" to my shopping list.

Japanese Roach Hotel

The "bug thing" goes so far as to prevent me from assembling a roach trap. I saved this duty for my husband. The roaches in Japan are big. The American roach traps aren't big enough so don't waste your money at the base buying them. You have to get the ones available out in town. Having purchased the roach trap, I had to wait until I could get five minutes with my husband (who works way too much- all tax payers should be delighted to know) to ask him to please assemble them. He was impressed with the roach "hotel" and brought it over to me for closer inspection- it has a "welcome" mat and a picture of a cute roach inviting the roaches to come in. He insisted that it is cleverly designed. Of this I don't doubt- the Japanese have great design instincts that highlight function and efficiency in my experience. I will have to ask the mamas about these giant spiders. I am not sure I can sleep with a spider running about my bedroom that is bigger than my hand. If I hear that thing crawling across the ceiling in my sleep... God help me, I am going to need something seriously strong to keep me from coming unglued.


A Weight Loss Program
My husband commented on my "honey bunny weight loss plan" tonight. I was trying to engage him in a discussion of house plans. I think I can sum up his thoughts with this, "Honey bunny, you don't know if we can do that. You worry about this and you worry about that. Wait until you have the measurements. You are like Prancer (our dead cat), she used to sit there and worry, worry. You are burning up all this energy and you don't even know what the actual measurements are of the room. No wonder you look so skinny. We just need to buy a house honey and you loose weight- you could market it- 'the honey bunny weight loss plan.' You look great though, really." I think I can add a sigh here. That boy (my husband) isn't much different from our son- I start off on one agenda and end up on another planet. I think they start demolition on our house on Monday. I hear the yard looks great. I guess I won't worry much, we'll figure it out eventually and besides I already spent my two thousand calories on it today.

From Pencil Drawings

The preliminary drawings for our house arrived last night. The renovation is to improve the structure, foundation, and layout as well as an addition to the master bedroom. We have a list of details we'd like to incorporate, but the total is expensive. Thoughts of having a bathroom that both my husband and I can stand in at the same moment without getting in the other's way compete with my mind's eye thinking of how fabulous marble octagon tiles would look shining on the floor. I can see my husband's eye roll now, but, hey, it would be from across the bathroom floor and all of the light bouncing around and off of that marble floor might distract him. Bare with me, I didn't sleep well.

I tried not to think about the house, the drawings, or the renovations most of the night. I woke up happy realizing that I had slept and thought, "Is it morning yet?" With the sun beginning to light the sky, I could finally give into my intrusive thoughts about colors and textures. Now that my brain has a reasonable layout on which to pounce, it wants to fill in the pencil drawings and make them into colorful magazine shots. Problem is all of those structural layout issues are absorbing the cash flow. The sparkly details may have to wait a while. If you come for a visit and there is a hole where the six burner gas stove is supposed to go, you'll know we ran out of cash, but we planned for the future.

That's my dilemma: do you plan for what you want or what you can afford? I don't mean to say that you plan for stuff you can't afford, but do you do it in stages so you can make it the way you want or do you do the whole thing but compromise on the materials you want? I am torn. If you do the whole thing wrong, you waste your money. If you plan for stuff, you have gaps awaiting to be filled in the indefinite future. Things have a way of working themselves out, but in the moment at hand I want it all. I have a feeling my husband will make me compromise; he always does. He has these logical explanations, probing questions, or insightful assessments that take the thrill out of the day's wants. We always end up in a good place, but the road there can get bumpy.

Kimochi

"Kimochi," says a Japanese woman nearby. Lying on a lawn chair savoring the cool breeze, my body and my mind are adrift in nothingness. The heat, the day, all is forgotten. The ritual of bathing, soaking, along with a prolonged cool down on a lawn chair, caste off awareness. Her comment though brings me back to myself; thoughts begin.

Courtesy of the Graphic Fairy

A favorite childhood picture book was Disney's Peter Pan. I relished the Mermaid Cove page- the mermaids, their giant sea shells, their beautiful hair, their treasures. As I sat in the lawn chair overlooking Tokyo Bay, tankers, ships, yachts, and row boats drifted by. They are too far away to make out any faces so they just appears as boats. Though Peter Pan is not flying about looking for the Indian Princess that Captain Hook has kidnapped, the ships and the nakedness of the women at the onsen remind me of Mermaid Cove. It is pleasant to lie there thinking of us all as mermaids.

After four years, my daughter is an expert soaker. I can finally drift off in my thoughts for minutes at a time. I am unconcerned with the nudity and the small towels at the onsen. It is a place of relaxation. With the kiss of air upon my skin, I understand as if in English, the woman next to me when she says, "It feels good." My mind comes back to me as I think, "It does."

Japanese Mamahood

Homesickness
Recently, my husband and I came to an impasse about our time in Japan. He is upset that I want to return to the States seeing it as leaving him to fend for himself. He is obligated by the U.S. Navy to finish another year of service. I, however, am not. He was shocked that I both had and wanted to exercise the option to leave Japan. We have finally settled on a halfway point that we are both happy with. For me, it was never about leaving him, but about the rigors of Japanese Mamahood.


Being a Japanese Mama is Harder than you Think
Everyone seems to think I have it easy and besides I chose to do this immersion thing. However, I never expected to do it for more than three years (I'm working on year five), and being a Japanese mama is harder than you think.

We settled in Kamakura, where I had been assured by the base housing office we did not want to live- it was too far. We promptly enrolled our children into yochien Japanese preschool. Their ages (2 & 3 at the time) were perfect for language immersion, and if they could do it, so could I. My can-do attitude came in handy with the many road blocks that came our way: illiteracy being paramount, paperwork translation, communicating at mama and teacher meetings, bureaucratic paperwork obstacles, and differing cultural perspectives.

Adopted by various mamas and schooled in the ways of Japanese yochien mamahood as much as a gaijin mama could muster, they appreciated me for simply showing up. I, at times, liberated them from the straight and narrow roles usually expected- no group could ever function as a normal mama group with me in it from using a phone tree to creating a skit which was a yearly necessity at yochien. The annual skit in and of itself resulted in numerous meetings and at least one grand mama night out that lasted until four in the morning as well as a variety of ways to incorporate the lone American speaker into the event- twice a year for three years (two kids). I fumbled and learned the basics. I was never expected to fully get it right and was given kudos for continuously trying except by my own children who put the blame squarely on me when they were wearing the wrong uniform, eating the wrong kind of obento, or missing some necessary school supply.

The Weather Factor
It's mid September now, but it is hot and humid here. My son has heat rash because it is miserably humid and hot and because there is no central air conditioner in our house or at their school. Over eight hundred children attend their elementary school and there is no air conditioning in it. In Japanese life, you are exposed to the elements- I get frost bite on my toes, in my house, in winter. Things like weather exposure was not something I factored into my lifestyle choice when I opted to live off of the reservation.


Being the Transportation
Japanese mamas generally get around by bicycle or on foot. There are many a "paper driver's license" out there among my mama friends. This means they have a paper to drive, but they do not drive. You bike. Have two kids? Two bicycle seats, one on the front and one on the back of mama's bicycle with no helmets on anyone. Three kids? Add a back pack on mama for the youngest. As you might imagine, the mamas encourage bicycling early in their children.

Japanese Mama- kid on the front, kid on the back

My husband and I marveled at the two year olds trotting down the road while along Komachidori, the shopping street, and yet small dogs can be seen being pushed in strollers. Being the transportation is part of the job of a Japanese mama. You think driving an air conditioned car is tiring? Try bicycling yourself, your kids, and all of the gear you can pack onto your bike and pedaling under the sweltering sun in a hundred percent humidity. How about riding your bike with twenty pounds of food in the basket- wobblier than I expected. It rains in June, all month. I want the car option.

The Dog Stroller

Laundry Pains
Over summer break I reveled in the ease of washing and drying clothes in machines in the States. My sister-in-law told me the Mule had marveled at the fresh from the dryer towel she was offered noting "it's so warm!" and "so soft" especially when compared to the air dried ones we have at home which some days take several days to actually dry.

Hot water is not attached to washing machines and there are no dryers here in Japan. Stains and spots are scrubbed out at the kitchen sink with a brush by hand. All laundry is hung up to dry which sounds fabulous if you live on a Kansas prairie, but in rainy, humid, ever green Japan, this is difficult. Keep an eye on the laundry pile or you won't have enough space to hang it. School children bring their gym clothes, inside shoes, cooking wear, and various bags, hand towels, and handkerchiefs home every Friday. I always feel an inward groan on these afternoons as the house suddenly erupts with laundry, backpacks, art projects, and piles everywhere. To insure that everything has time to dry by Monday morning, you have to do the laundry by Saturday and sometimes that isn't long enough.


Making Meals
Mamas are the first up to start the rice, to make obentos for lunch, and to make breakfast. Backpacks must be checked- children bring all of their school things home each day. Even in first grade there is a daily schedule of which books and supplies to bring. A thermos of ice and mugicha is prepared daily as well. After everyone is off, then it is time to hang laundry, clean, and get the days supplies.


The Dad Part
The dads aren't slackers, don't get me wrong. They commute by train often to Tokyo or Yokohama traveling two to three hours a day. The work hours are long resulting in late night returns. I don't see drunken dads coming home like I expected after hearing tales of "platform pizzas" and other sordid details, but the dads I see have tired faces and the desire to see and spend time with their families though they are absent much of the week. After school activities can require a great deal of commuting on the mother's part but generally it seems after first grade the students are on their own- walking to swimming, riding their bikes to practice, etc. The second shift is dinner when the dads return- heat up dinner, chat a bit, and then clean up once again.

Shibu Inu (Dog) in a backpack

Mama Jobs
Some of the mothers have part-time jobs, a few full-time, but I rarely see much of these mamas. Even with mothers of younger children, I realize I most likely will not do much with those mamas as they simply don't have the time to cross paths unless with other mothers of young children and the same agendas. There are no babysitters regularly employed beyond help from grandmothers. The Japanese mamas get their break when the children start into yochien and more fully when elementary school starts from first grade- the children gradually assume more independence and have school lunch. No obentos are allowed in elementary school here so don't think your picky eater is going to survive on peanut butter and fruit rollups.


The Easy Life Calls
It gets lonely. The work is monotonous. But the mamas don't seem to grumble as much as plan for a bit of fun when they can. I respect that, and I have been the recipient of some great invitations for hikes, lunches, onsen trips, cultural experiences, and for coffee/tea, as a result. I don't want to leave Japan to get away from the culture, my friends, or my husband, but I could do with a whole lot less of the grinding sweat shop aspect of mamahood here. I also have the added pressure of having limited ability to help my children with their school work, the need to teach them English in their and my free time, and my weekly meeting with the translator to review school papers. As these little things time consumers add up, that house in Ohio beckons. It is not about Japan, but about an easier life, I admit it!

Reitaisai Annual Festival Dancing

I resist taking the Moose and Mule out in the evening- they get squirrelly and difficult to manage as the night progresses. Though I had committed to going to the Reitaisai annual festival at the 800 year old Tsurugaoka Hachimangu, I debated internally as to the sanity of my decision. The plan was to watch an evening dance presentation of Nihon Buyo. However, my doubts were short-lived with the thrill of being out in the evening, seeing the sensei and other classmates, and having the opportunity to take photos. We arrived early so the munsters ran up the steps to the shrine to say their prayers and then settled down to await the start. The Moose's classmate, Rui, and his classmate's mother, Kato-san, were to perform.

The event was fantastic. The music was recorded though I did wonder what it would have been like to see this dance with live music with its discordant vocals and the plucky Japanese instrumentation- eerie and yet moving even in a recording. My camera work does not do justice to the mood, music, color, and feel of the evening. It's in these moments that I forgive Japan for it's few faults- the crowds, the swarms, the small spaces for which too many of us have to fit. Here, the beauty of color and the painstaking dedication to movement and subtlety reign as well as the preservation of the cultural inheritance that roots modern life in Japan. See my Youtube videos of their performances at the bottom.

Kato san explained that the Japanese dance is called Nihon Buyo. Her performance is titled Yudachi "Rain Shower" which is based on a true story of a girl, a maid, dancing in the rain who falls in love with a man of higher status, the lord. Their relationship is prohibited, and she is sorrowful.

The Moose's first grade classmate performs on stage

Sensei and classmates awaiting the performance start- hear the drums?

Coming off stage- note the big smile!

His mother backstage awaiting her performance

A view of the stage at the base of Hachimangu

The finale performance

Advice, Ambivalence, & Apologies

Advice
The worst thing about advice is that it is never particular to all of the nuances of your case. It's too hard to explain everything, but you know when you hear it that it doesn't fully apply. Now food for thought like a good question or an illuminating story is something you can mull over later until it becomes something else, perhaps even useful.  I am not sure what the difference is between advice and food for thought, but I can feel it. "Here's something to think about..." or "Have you considered..." might work or simply saying nothing. When people say nothing, I notice. It makes me think more about what I said- searching for the flaws in my logic. "Do this..." or "You really need..." doesn't feel as good as a story from life.

Legos, Legos, everywhere

Patience Training
I fail daily at being nice to my family. It is harder to be nice to the ones you are around everyday. Invariably I get short tempered when yet again the toys are everywhere, the dirty clothes are on the floor, the water is all over the bathroom, when I have to remind and ask over and over again for others to come to the table, to eat, to clear their dishes, etc. At different moments in the day I swear I am going to say things only once, that I am going to silently endure, but I have yet to manage this. It is part of my patience training program- I should graduate about the time my children go to college and my husband gets out of the Navy. Both feel like they will never happen. Of course these events will come, and I will feel terrible that I was so difficult along the way. I really must try harder.


A Rant List
I have been crabby of late so I wrote a list of what I was angry about for my husband.  He was sleeping so I emailed it to him so he would have it first thing. Problem is starting your day with someone's rant list is not exactly pleasant. I share this because I think there is a lesson in that voicing anger feels great, I mean consider all the reasons you have to be mad about this and that, you do indeed have reasons, but it is destructive. Expressing negative feelings, labeling it honesty, and creating anger for the other to manage results in defense mode. I am not after defense mode. I am after some understanding that I am frustrated, that I am compromising, and that I would like a bit of support- compassion if you will.

Managing negative feelings is like the advice thing- different things work for different people. But there is a need to manage negative feelings and not to just express negative feelings. I really hate when people pollute the environment and that includes negative energy. It is dumping. You dump and then what? Someone else has to manage all of that. I know, I know, I dumped which is why I am thinking about it.


The Need for Control
It helps to talk about frustrations, to describe our feelings, but there is also a need to accept a certain amount of ambivalence in life. We are not entitled to a life without strife, without bad, without chaos.  Life without chaos or dissent strikes a chord with the robotic subservient Stepford Wives. It seems false to say there is nothing negative- I do not believe the truth is spoken (to themselves or me) when someone cites only the positives. The real gift is to see how someone stumbles and resumes, to hear their story of failure and lessons learned. Shouting, "I am frustrated!" is getting me no where fast. For tolerating the wait- I need some pointers- anyone have a weedwhacker I can borrow? There is a difference between eating your pain and dumping your pain, but finding a balance is the trick.

Apologies go a long way toward repairing feelings, along with being nice. I have an apology to email. I'll keep working on the being nice part. If you see me attacking the jungle a.k.a my yard just know I am merely trying to control something in my life that can't complain, and it might even look better for my effort.

The Peanut Butter Club

Time for Friends

"I have Peanut Butter Club that day," I overheard my mother-in-law saying into the phone. When she got off, I had to ask, "What's the Peanut Butter Club?" She explained, "My friends and I want to meet and talk without making it a big deal so we each bring a sandwich, usually peanut butter. We started calling our meetings the Peanut Butter Club." By blocking off the time, they keep it for each other. I loved that, and I do like peanut butter.

Having made time for lunch with a friend, I recalled the Peanut Butter Club. With my desire to talk about books and writing, I seek others to discuss writing and exchange ideas on writing whether from direct experience or from helpful books. Perhaps the Peanut Butter Club has nothing to do with writing, but it represents making time to connect and focus on mutual interests. I want to start a writing group; comment if you are interested (you have to be in Japan). A friend gave me several reading suggestions from a writing class she took over the summer. If nothing else, I'll be reading those books for inspiration.

Road Blocks

Inspiration. There is a thought. What pushes me out? Truth or even the hint of truth. If I think something is there hiding I want to get at it even if I only scratch at the surface. Internal defenses and poor vocabulary can block exploration of internal canyons. "How much crap have I done because I thought I should?" Stuff like, "eat your vegetables so you'll grow tall" or "take this class because it's useful" not that these aren't worthy goals, but I wasn't inspired to do them from within. I want to know what inspires me and others from the inside. I want to turn off the voice of "you should do this" and instead see what comes to me in a quiet moment minus thoughts on how beneficial something will be. What is inside us is way more interesting than Paris.

How you see Paris is interesting and revealing. Do you think, "Ew, this place is gross. I can't believe this is the epitome of fashion and culture! Why is it so dirty?" Or do you think, "Gasp. Who thought to build that. Oh, look at that. Wow! Did you taste this? Mm, check this out!" marveling in the sensory overload? Or do you just get overwhelmed and go home and never draw again? Or do you think nothing because your brain can't think? That's me. I didn't know what to do with Paris. It's still clanking around in my head. I've heard some of those other comments somewhere along the way, but none of them fit my experience.

My then boy friend and I are walking uphill in Montparnasse, an historically arty area of Paris. There is moonlight; it's Christmas Eve 1994. White lights are twinkling everywhere. It's cold in a pleasant sort of way and the snow begins to fall. We find our way into restaurant that is quiet, comfortable and simmering in romance- to a young woman who read too many Vogue magazines anyway. The setting is perfect. This is when I have my Paris moment: I will have to wait for this man to figure out that I am the little slice of heaven he needs to marry.

Paris may scream romance to most of mankind, but it was really several "Hello Kim!"'s on the U.S.S. Dwight D. Eisenhower that finally motivated him to ask me about marriage. Thanks to all those aviators I knew from Pensacola and all the girl friends of mine they had dated, I knew a few fellows on that ship. In the end, it wasn't about the place, it was about the heart. His heart was inspired to open up on a giant floating steel contraption built for war.  I still give him grief about Paris, but then it's not about where you are or what you eat; it's about recognizing what's inside you, being inspired to make a change, and spending time together.

It Matters

In reflecting on 9/11 most of us thought of where we were, what we were doing. A friend’s FaceBook post about telling her children “why?” caught me eye. She said it was hard- I had not even tried to explain it to mine. However, the thought lingered: how to talk meaningfully about 9/11, not just about 9/11. This lead me to the thought that choices matter- through choices we make, we change the world which is a conversation to have with a child.

Collectively there is pain and suffering in the world. Sadly, some with blackened souls painted with religious overtones think grave acts of madness will cure their pain and others’ pain. Alas it has never been so, but every act of hate, selfishness, and even ignorance collects somewhere, festering. Part of 9/11 was about festering wounds- how about the Western powers dividing the Middle East in a meeting after World War I? How about tolerating haves and haves not? How about supporting oil strong men but not helping women and children with nutrition, health, or education? I think we forget a lot. I think we think it has nothing to do with us. But the Middle East and even problems in Africa do have to do with us who use energy resources and have so much. We spend our money on oil, diamonds, you know those goods that come from the earth somewhere creating wealth for a few strong men who control the fate of many who have little- little food, little power, little knowledge. 

We do bear responsibility for shaping the world far away from us just as much as in our home- choices have consequences, create feelings. No one deserves hate, pain, or ignorance, and neither we nor anyone else deserves violence and destruction.  Let us raise our awareness to the need for non-violence and voices by what we think, what we do, what we watch, what we read- it matters. Someone has to speak up for what is fair to all, to speak the truth even when it is difficult, to practice non-violence as a form of protest, to raise a hand to help those different from ourselves, to create a sustainable world, and to find ways to be the peace- to act in ways that need to be modeled; it might as well be you and me.


This TED Talk has been bouncing around in my head about the role we have in watching the news: 

Due to a recent typhoon and perhaps that not so distant tsunami there seems to be many things washing up on the beach. Sunday, a plastic bag came floating by while I was wading into the water to cool off. Inspired, I collected trash instead of shells as I wandered back and forth along the shoreline watching my husband and the munsters boggieboarding. It isn't about cleaning the beach, but about doing something helpful. What we do everyday matters to someone, somewhere even if we don't know it.

Tsukimi 月見 Moon Viewing

Sunlight on Mt. Fuji

Hiking Mt. Fuji last year was a memorable experience, and one I do not plan to repeat. Visualizing plodding elephant legs as I slightly lifted my booted foot forward, just skimming the ground,  got me to the top. Last year I was thinking of sunrises, this year I am thinking of the moon and light.

A full moon is coming: 12 September 2011

There will be a full moon tonight. It is my friend's daughter's birthday so I asked my friend if there were any associations with full moons in Japanese culture. Turns out there is a long history of moon viewing in Japan, Tsukimi 月見 - it seems no opportunity is missed to admire nature here. Westerners may think of Tokyo, city life, as Japan, but I am guessing that the city dwellers in Tokyo pay more attention to the rhythms of nature than New Yorkers.

What to do to honor the full moon besides watching it? Why cooking of course. My friend said she will make dango a pounded rice dumpling made from rice flour. The balls look like a full moon. The tastiest thing to do is have you watch "Cooking with Dog" on Youtube. They will show you how. These are a variation as they have tofu in them but it just makes them healthier and no less tastier.

Boil dango until they float then be ready with skewers and toppings!

I also couldn't pass up this poem, The Word, by Tony Hoagland about sunshine which was posted via The Writer's Almanac:

Down near the bottom

of the crossed-out list
of things you have to do today,
between "green thread"
and "broccoli," you find
that you have penciled "sunlight."
Resting on the page, the word
is beautiful. It touches you
as if you had a friend
and sunlight were a present
he had sent from someplace distant
as this morning—to cheer you up,
and to remind you that,
among your duties, pleasure
is a thing
that also needs accomplishing.
Do you remember?
that time and light are kinds
of love, and love
is no less practical
than a coffee grinder
or a safe spare tire?
Tomorrow you may be utterly
without a clue,
but today you get a telegram
from the heart in exile,
proclaiming that the kingdom
still exists,
the king and queen alive,
still speaking to their children,
—to any one among them
who can find the time
to sit out in the sun and listen.

"The Word" by Tony Hoagland, from Sweet Ruin. © University of Wisconsin Press, 1992. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

A Tempura Bar in Ginza

“Caw, caw, caw,” I hear. It is the first sound of morning. Followed soon after by the hum of cicadas so loud that I am sure a plague is imminent. The heat of summer lingers here, plants creep closer, thicker; I suspect it was once a wild jungle. If we all disappeared, the people, it would be wild within a year. Life lives; I hear it. 

Early morning hours are artistic hours. I rarely have these hours to try my hand. My time is usually carved at day’s end. To awaken from slumber and tread down the hallway seems so selfish, but today is my birthday. It is what I ask of myself- to let down barriers which aren’t up this early in the morning and to let truth find me if even for the moment. 

The morning assault interests me- so much comes at us- an assault on our senses. I awaken aware of my consciousness, thoughts begin percolating and forming from where they left off the day before. As the other household members awaken, there are the intrusive thoughts of others. Click on the media outlet of choice and scream, “Incoming!” Or is that just the paper, the television, or you clicking on the email? Still, they are projectiles from somewhere else, incoming into your being. Now breakfast, perhaps medicine, incoming. You are officially awake and where you were yesterday. 

Yesterday, I learned that like Sushi Bars there are Tempura Bars in Japan. An exquisite experience: you take time to enjoy each sampling of tempura cooked before you. The chef was friendly, spoke a bit of English, the setting was aesthetically pleasing, and the food was hot, crunchy, and ever so light. I will not be able to eat tempura in America- no one makes it this light. We drank beer in the afternoon, we drank sake, and we drank with friends. Thank you Fu and Nobu for these delights. We watched. We admired the cooking, the tastes. A good moment to return to, take a look:

Tempura Bar in Ginza

The entrance

The menu in kanji- the Chef speaks English so no worries

Tempura eggplant with crab and a sesame tofu type of dish

Tempura pots- electric range

Okra with tempura- so light, so crunchy

For the love of pots- I had a great seat for watching too

Tempura over rice- donburi I think it is called

Thank you my friends!

A delicious birthday surprise

Walking in Ginza- they close the streets off on weekends

"Please be careful not to lean against the person sitting next to you should you fall asleep" Sign in the train station. Truth is after that beautiful two hour lunch with beer and sake, we all snoozed a few minutes like this- felt great!

Okaen- A Recycle Shop

Okaen is an electic shop with parts from old Japanese houses- lots of doors, windows, and wood, along with a few other finds. My friend purchased wood at the shop and had a dinning room table made from it. There were other fun things that caught my eye such as an old tool for caring for a thatched roof- more of a relic now and lots of traditional field backpack baskets from the agrarian days. My favorite piece was the barrel stove with all of the tea pots, but I think they were using that to make their lunch. There were a few garden pieces as well as bric-a-brac and lots of old pots that were lined with metal. My friend explained that hot ashes were kept in these pots and a tea kettle was then kept over the hot ashes throughout the day to keep tea hot and at the ready. They are decorated because they were kept in the living room. Now you more often see the electric hot pot in the kitchen which keeps water at the ready. Take a look.

"Open from 10 until Sunset"

Table made from the recycled wood

Okaen- lots of wood from torn down buildings

Tool for cleaning your thatched roof

My favorite item- the barrel stove & tea pot

More pots- looks like cooking for lunch

I loved this 5 tier stone lantern

There were lots of these pots- ashes kept in the bowls (lined with metal) kept the teapot warm