A Piercing

A bloody needle lies abandoned on the table, a relic of the unceremonious removal from my finger.

In my panic I could not fathom how to unhitch the needle pinning my finger to the sewing machine. I called my daughter, playing two floors above with friends, to fetch a neighbor. 

My neighbor, fresh from her garden, takes in the scene, calls for a screwdriver, and then turns the sewing machine's wheel upward-- so simple and yet it did not occur to me to do this. I stop her from dialing, preferring to dole out the pain myself. 

Turning the wheel bit by bit, I release myself from the machine. Free at last is a premature thought as we stare at the needle still stuck through the middle finger of my left hand. My thoughts drift to stories of Indians pierced by arrows-- breaking off the arrows at the shaft so as not to lose blood and to continue their journey. I can't leave it in.

My neighbor positions my hand at the edge of the sewing table and presses along side of my injured finger, saying, "Pull straight up." I tug at the needle, feeling painful friction. She grasps the thread underneath my finger and pulls it free, "to reduce the resistance," she explains to my face a-grimace. She drops a blood tinged beige thread. 

We stare again at the needle still there piercing my finger. With no choice, but less resistance, I pull, slow and steady. The freed needle lays beside the machine. How long will it be before I return to sew? 

Trying to catch the edge of the bunny's ear, I had misjudged the distance between the needle and the seam. My corrected vision is more for general viewing, not close up work anymore. Time for those glasses that perch at the ends of so many middle aged noses. 

Holding firm pressure, my finger blanches and the pain lessens. My neighbor turns off the iron and covers the sewing machine for me. The abandoned needle reminds me that shortcuts are not a good idea and that precision has its merits. 

Later, my husband asks, "Did you take a picture?" A friend, still later, at a party laughs at my response, "Wasn't even a thought," reflecting the priority of suffering before art.

Spring Bling

Shorn blades of grass along the roadsides herald a change of seasons. The hillsides are daily greener with bursts of color from the purple haze of the red bud to the random patch of white dogwood. Flower beds around the house are popping with tulips. A friend points out that the deer won’t likely chomp my soon to be planted garden if they haven’t eaten their favorite garden flower snack.

Birds call and tweet their sweet tunes before the sun rises. Their gentle conversations accompany me as I string, restring, and string again beads. I am ever closer to the pattern I cannot visualize but sense is there. Inspired by my great grandmother's necklace made of graduated clear round balls with contrasting black accents, there are large clear crystals, as if from a chandelier, to contrast with smaller black ones. Crackled quartz tubes and tiny black crystals divide them. Like nature around me, I too am ready to show off. It's my version of spring bling.

The hills of Ohio offers many perks, but shopping is not one of them. I have a knack for selecting ties, likely due to a willingness to seek out and pay for beautiful silk. With the recent transition to civilian life, there is a tie deficit in my husband’s wardrobe. A birthday gift search led me to an Etsy shop in England. The morning of my husband’s recent birthday, I pulled a brown paper wrapped package out from hiding and asked him to open it as he was dressing for work. The tie popped with color and the silk shimmered. Handmade, it was exactly long enough. I left a note of appreciation for the shop.

The next day, avoiding the dreaded task of completing my continuing education hours for my nursing license, I scanned the email inbox and found this note:

Thank you ever so much! Your kind words couldn't have come at a better time...I went over to the silk mill today to place my very first order for silks woven exactly to my specifications, so I felt the confidence boost when I made the final decisions on the bus ride over.

With a happy spot brightening my heart, I turn to the morning tasks at hand. Seedling containers are schlepped outside to harden for the upcoming garden transfer, the newly planted ume tree watered, a load of laundry is hung in the sun, and the breakfast dishes are sorted into the dishwasher. As the way to my post-poned task begins to clear,  the doorbell chimes unexpectedly. I invite my neighbor inside. She asks, “What are you doing?” I reply, “Cleaning my kitchen.” Though scullery maid is a necessary part of having fresh real food on the table, I do for once wish I was able to say, “Working on my continuing education credits for my nursing license.”

Five miles later, I stumble along a trail sucking wind and lifting my feet just enough to skim over the top of sticks and rocks. My neighbor calls out the names of flowers and trees and gives me the lay of the land conversing with a steady even breathing pattern. I’m not oblivious to the signs of spring, but concentrating on the physical demands for which I am suddenly engaged.

When we return home, I tell her about the email in my morning inbox by way of saying that I’m a grateful she chose to ask me along this day. I finish half of the necessary license requirements and think, I can do this. It is nice to be bolstered in unexpected ways exactly when needed.

Spring Bling

Time Sucks & Vinaigrette

Time sucks? Here I mean the black holes that absorb hours of the day, where time goes somewhere else. I've got two. They are not pointless meetings, or folks who interrupt and talk off point too long, nor are they administrative tasks that accomplish nothing but cover tails, that used to be parts of my day at work.

Mine? Children and food, both of which require an inordinate amount of time-- not that I'm not willing to abandon either. However, I am open to better methods, approaches, or ideas for both. There are some things that take time and that all of us could benefit from, here I mean the food time suck.

An American friend in Japan impressed me with the number of creative adventures and activities she managed to combine with two children. She was involved in Girl Scouts, a theatrical production, she knitted prolifically, and she was writing a mystery novel. I was blown away with her productivity. While I struggled to knit yet another stockinette stitch scarf, she was turning out crazy critters full of color and whimsy with her yarn and needles. Thinking I was doing it wrong since she clearly managed to get so much more done, I asked her the question I most often want to ask everyone, "What do you cook for dinner?" Her answer? "Oh, I don't cook. We order out or eat frozen pizza." Her answer revealed two things for me. How she had time to participate in activities in the early evening and that though the option existed, I could not embrace not cooking as an answer to my own conundrum of creating more time.

I once lived on the cookings of others and relied on processed foods, but having been exposed to culinary delights in Europe, the Middle East, and Japan, I arrived at a fork in the road. I  either needed a chef or had to become the cook. I opted for cooking, and though I got into the game later in life, I'm a full-fledged junkie now. I cook, for better or worse, breakfast, lunch, and dinner at my house. Turning back is not an option.

Food that stirs my passions, gets me into the kitchen. I cook what interests me. Still there are shortcuts I could learn or recipes I might try, but food sits at the center of my day. I didn't inherit a repertoire of tricks and tips. My grandmothers both cooked for their families, but in their later years accepted the labor saving offerings at the grocery stores to some degree. They made their own pie dough, but sometimes used fillings from a can. They tried boxed mashed potatoes often enough that as a kid, I tried to avoid having to eat them. Salad dressing, pudding, and cereal were all national brands served at the table.

As a teenager in Spain, I was blown away by the taste of olive oil and vinegar. Why did we ever drift from homemade? I know! It's the time factor we save, but we fork over our tastebuds, health, and our connection to the food on our plate. There is no zest in a bottle of Italian dressing that compares to homemade, but some how we talk ourselves into it to loosen the grip of the kitchen on our lives.

Here is why you need the food time suck: taste, health, and environment. We save ourselves time and replace it with what? Meanwhile factories make our frozen pizzas, produce a bottle of dressing, and trucks deliver it, generating wastes or efficiencies? I think my grandmas and us were slipped a Mickey. We were duped out of the kitchen and its inherit labors for food that isn't good for us or the planet.

Cooking three meals a day is easier when you eat, say, rice or tortillas at every meal. I make my own pain by trying to mix it up. I want to try everything. I do rely on staples for simplicity. I don't regularly make my own pasta. I stash homemade gnocchi in the freezer from time to time. Sometimes we go out for lunch or order pizza. My kids don't always like what I cook. This week's avoiders included sushi cake, broccoli breadcrumb casserole, and about every soup I made besides miso. I could be meaner, strictor, or I could pack it in my husband's lunch or make smaller portions, which I do. I can't live on butter pasta and yogurt to the extent they are willing. The compromise? There is a pot of salted water boiling when I sit down to eat.

I'm always in search of recipes that interest me. Maybe some day I will exclusively eat my own soup stock, pasta, and granola like I do bread, but not yet. I aim to try to get there anyway, and maybe drag a few of you with me. Being the cook is a worthwhile pursuit for all of us and each of us-- better food on the table, healthier, fresher, food to eat, a cleaner planet, more local shopping, more local gardening, and perhaps even a barter economy of trading beer for jam or tofu for bread. Get to work, be the cook!

In the meantime, here's a recipe for a vinaigrette to stash in the fridge for at will salad dining.

Vinaigrette

Serves 4

It’s always a good idea to make more salad dressing than you need! I prefer to double this recipe. Change the herbs or leave them out as you like.

Ingredients

First Press Olive Oil, ½ cup

Organic Lemon, 1 (zest & juice), 3 Tbsp (use wine vinegar if you need more)

Garlic, 1 clove grated

Oregano, ½ tsp (fresh) or 1 tsp (dried)

Salt, 1 tsp

Pepper, 5-6 cranks

What to do

1. Whisk altogether and adjust to taste.
2. Place into bottle and serve over greens. 
3. Store in the fridge, but bring to room temperature before serving.

Get your own bottle & fill it :-)

A Valentine Treat: Cocoa Mix

In my quest to have a homemade life, I do sometimes file away things to make or do that I actually get around to doing, not many, but a few. Making cocoa mix from vanilla beans and chocolate bars seemed like a nice and useful Valentine treat. I found the recipe at Confections of a Foodie Bride, but I did slightly modify it for my own use. This recipe was easy to make and the resulting hot cocoa is delicious. Try it!

Homemade Hot Cocoa Mix

From: http://www.jasonandshawnda.com/foodiebride/archives/1046/

Makes ~6 jars (200 ml each)

Ingredients

Vanilla bean, 1

Granulated Sugar, 2 cups

Semi-sweet chocolate, 12 oz

Bittersweet chocolate, 4 oz

Dutch-process cocoa powder, 1 cup

Equipment

Food processor with a metal blade

Jars or bags for gift giving

Gift Tags

What to do

Split and scrape the vanilla bean into a jar with the sugar. Rub the vanilla seeds into the sugar with your fingers. Bury the pod near the bottom. Leave it to meld overnight (or months) at room temperature, covered. Remove the pod before using the sugar.

Use a food processor with a metal blade. Pulse the chocolate pieces until finely ground. Add the vanilla sugar and cocoa powder and blend until well combined.

Place into gift bag or jars with a gift tag. Store in an airtight container up to 6 months.

Stir heaping spoonful into warm milk and enjoy!

Ingredients for Cocoa Mix

Put the chocolate bar pieces into a food processor

Process until finely ground

Process all ingredients until finely ground and place into container

Stir a heaping spoonful into warm milk & enjoy!

Add a gift tag to share

A Bag for a Sensei

Today is the last day of piano lessons for my children. The sensei is a lovely cheerful person that has tolerated the lack of piano practice on my children's end with kindness and positive encouragement. She has made music and lessons fun. I can only hope that they always have such teachers.

This is the third tatami heri bag I have sewn. They are getting better, though, I will abstain from pointing out its flaws. I do, however, love how the color and pattern came together. I was also pleased with my seam folding and unfolding as I did it right this time despite the photo's less than stellar propping. This is only one of about eight I had hoped to sew before I leave. I think I'll be revamping that plan. No time! My sewing machine will leave me too soon.

Tatami-heri Bag

Sewing Tatami Heri Bags

It started with my friend, the bag lady, sporting a tatami heri bag she made after spotting one at a quilt show here in Japan. Experienced sewer, she stared at the Japanese pattern illiterately long enough to give it a whirl and managed to sew a beautiful bag. Once she began using the said bag she garnered attention. As the clamoring grew so did a sewing circle with a promise that we too, The Short Bus Sewing Circle, could learn how to make a tatami heri bag. I was dubious.

Tatami heri is the edging that comes in five, ten, twenty, and even forty meter rolls and lines the edges of tatami mats, a traditional Japanese flooring material made from rice straw. Some crafty Japanese ladies must have thought to use it to make purses? I know in this corner of the world, quite a few of us were intrigued. When my sewing teacher said it was time, I went at it half hearted. Maybe it was, in some way too, knowing that the end of our time was in sight.

I take full responsibility for making a lot of sewing errors on my own with my bags. I did not realize the implications of some of the steps until I did them and saw the result. I have to see, do, and redo many times to learn something. These are my initial baby steps at both the pattern construction and the using of the tatami edging material. I have plans to make a few more bags before I leave, but I'm not sure when I will find the time to fit the sewing into my cramped schedule. I depart Japan in twenty-two days.

The first one is on it's way to a birthday girl. The second one is awaiting the addition of my spiral copy of Recipes from a Gaijin for my cooking sensei. I loved constructing the bags and seeing how the pattern came together. Details like sewing straight stitches and getting all the flaps and folds in the right places were beyond my ability the first time around. I will try, try again. Now that I can see the importance of paying attention to the folds, I will be sure to check them. I was thrilled to have made the bottom insert it's own sleeve on the suggestion of another sewing friend and to finally learn how to put magnetic clasps into the bags, easy peasy.

Perfection they are not, but this is a beginning. It was a thrill to have them look mostly how they were supposed to look. I tend to dismiss directions, more of a bootstrapper really. Sometimes one should read the manual, but in this case it would require the ability to read Japanese sewing instructions. Many thanks to my more artistic friend for sharing her time and talent.

1st Tatami-heri Bag

2nd Tatami-heri bag

A Bit of Beauty

Japanese Mountain Lilly

A bit of summer beauty has emerged annually in my backyard. These Japanese Mountain Lillies may or may not survive the incoming typhoon later today. Doubt is a great motivator. I finally snapped a picture to remember them.

In his book Beauty: The Invisible Embrace, John O'Donohue writes, "In Greek the word for 'the beautiful' is to kalon. It is related to the word kalein which includes the notion of 'call'. When we experience beauty, we feel called. The Beautiful stirs passion and urgency in us and calls us forth from aloneness into the warmth and wonder if an eternal embrace. It unites us again with the neglected and forgotten grandeur of life.
from On Being with Krista Tippet: The Inner Landscape of Beauty 

Just in time for summer or at least typhoon season here in Japan, I made my first skirt for the Mule. She wanted it to be really long. Some how the kiddo already knows about Maxi length dresses. I talked her out of it being that long for practical reasons. There is also a matching pair of shorts under it! Woohoo, I felt so happy with myself that it fit, not that it was complicated, but that I did it.

If you have ever had an itch to do something like sewing or anything, do it now. Get a teacher, find class, but start. It is such a thrill to finally be able to create from nothing, a something. If I can do it, you can.

Sewed my first skirt

Recipes from a Gaijin is Published on Lulu.com

This is a collection of recipes that have sustained me the past five years in Japan when I longed for foods familiar to me or adapted new ones to my western tastes. I hope by sharing them, you might remember some of the tastes we shared, find something here to explore on your own, or, at least, find some amusement in my westernized or Japonified version of things.

I will soon depart Japan and head for the hills of Ohio. My time here has been punctuated by new tastes, new foods, and a whole lot of cooking.

Contemplating my own Sayonara Tomodachis (Goodbye Friends!), I decided to compile a cookbook with the recipes that reflect this five year period. There are old recipes, new recipes, and modified versions of recipes from others that I turn to regularly.

Here is the link to order Recipes from a Gaijin, a spiral bound cookbook for $9.99 + shipping from Lulu.com. There are 63 recipes.

Idatakimasu (I humbly receive),


Kim

Renovations

Making Changes

I have been revisiting old blog entries in attempt to unify photo sizes and edit out some of the more glaring errors and leaps of logic. It's enough to make a woman not want to write again, but there is some good stuff too.  Editing is time consuming, but this body of work of mine needs to be chiseled. Go back and read some of your favorite old posts. See if they still speak to you. Say more to you? Let me know. Like everything else, this is a work in progress. It's not finished, neither are you nor I.

When a friend recently said she liked my blog, I asked, "What do you like about it?" I wanted specifics. I thought by writing I would see the direction I needed to go- as if giant arrows pointing go here would appear. My friend said, "I like knowing I'm not alone." I imagine my various friends while I write, an audio clip playing along in the background of life. I get that, I'm not alone either. However, my ideas of writing had involved a story, maybe a novel, definitely a children's book, but I'm not feeling that. My husband encouraged me to keep at what I'm doing. I went in search of anyway.

Time Insights

In search of insight into my writing and the time I put into it, I meandered into Danielle LaPorte who talks about Tyrant Time (quantity) and Power Time (quality). She asks, "What sustains me? What exhausts me?" She tells us to "report on life" in clear truth. This resonated with me- it is where I've been trying to go for sometime. At least I'm at the base of the mountain I want to climb.

"The optimal concept here is passion coming before tasks." The real burner was when she asked, "How many mornings do we choose email over meditation?" "How habitually do we override the call from the interior of our being, the call to pray or listen or to just to be fully awake and noticing what is being said to us..." She is onto something in The Fire Starter Sessions.

Outputs

Funny thing is when you spend time searching the internet for inputs, there are no outputs. While I'm thinking about how others tackle their reports on life, I'm not writing my own.

Meanwhile, I have organized a huge amount of paperwork, taken some much needed walks on the beach, and completed a sewing project. It feels good. I almost want to skip on this page and dance a jig to celebrate my new filing system (a two hole punch, a box of paper fasteners, and some files). Last summer when my husband could not locate our car title, I knew I had to do something. It just took me a while to get to it.

My Fat Quarter Bag

My fat quarter bag is finally finished. It was the first sewing project that I started. The fabric was purchased at the Yokohama Quilt Show from one of the vendors. My arty friend got me back on track. The Mule said, "It's the best bag yet Mama." My seams do not perfectly match, what's new, but the colors are nice, and I did it! Woohoo!

I have also been pretending that I'm leaving Japan in June. Because I'm pretending, it doesn't have to be reality, but it serves to flesh out the things to do before I move. This way, if we get orders, I can move along more calmly.

I'm feeling the need to insert major doses of calmness into my life, but that burning question above struck a chord, I have been choosing email again and again. At night, when I go to bed, I think, Tomorrow, when I get up, I'm going to stretch and meditate. Where does that thought go in the morning? It flies out the door with me everyday and lurks. It comes back every night. My interior has been calling. And I think my husband was right, I need to stick with what works for me.

My Fat Quarter Bag, made with a little help from my friends

Zip it

A very thoughtful someone sent me a zipper foot. I finally got around to trying it out. I haven't exactly perfected the zipper installation process, but I'm learning.

I used a tutorial for a zippered pouch to come up with this purse which is to say, the kinks aren't worked out of the pattern because I didn't really have a pattern. Ms. Novice Sewer with Big Ideas that I am, I wanted to see if could make something more like what I wanted. I think I have mentioned I only cook what I like to eat? Well, I only sew what I like to use. This way, all rejects can be returned back to me.

I made my first zipper purse

Limbo Land & Bags

Limbo Land

It's spring break so my children are home. Since they are behind in the English reading, writing, and spelling, I have them working on it in the mornings. It takes a lot of time, but come August, I hope they will be happy they prepared for the transition to American school. As I write,  I have a growing sense of dread that those orders that we need to move are stuck in Limbo Land. Still, I must prepare my children when and while I can. Japanese school and schedules are demanding, leaving little time for English work. For now, little else is getting done beyond the laundry and breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I'm ready to take them to McDonalds except that I brain washed them and they don't like to eat at McDonalds. What was I thinking?

Advice for Parents

New parents take note, don't feed your children organic food and teach them about high fructose corn syrup and other processed food sundries or you will become a slave to your stove.

Sewing Projects

I did, however, work on two birthday projects. One has been delivered and one has not. I'll let the recipients remain anonymous, but I wanted to post the photos for my "Project Gallery." I really need to learn a new pattern. It surprised me that despite it being my fifth time to make the same bag, I'm still making mistakes. I rewrote my directions as part of the problem was my sloppy notes with arrows pointing here and there. I paid it forward by the way and taught another friend how to make it too.

I'm chomping at the bit to try some other styles. My Short Bus Sewing Circle, however, is about to go on spring break over at the American schools. It will be another week or two before we synchronize our schedules again. Our current project is a six block patchwork purse. My patches don't exactly match up. I undid my seam and did it again, and it still didn't match up. They say you learn from your mistakes so I think the problem is that I don't know what my mistake was. I left it the second time. Ripping seams is not my favorite activity. I did think I was rather clever to put the chickens on the black bag and they did match up! Maybe I learned something?

As the wind howls and the rain rages, I await our exodus from limbo land. Please, if you have any bag patterns, send them to me, teach me! Making bags is more fun than a hibernating spring and awaiting release.

Chickens, lots of Chickens- I should have made this one for my mom!

Strawberries & Lady Bugs

Retirement Calls

The Call
My mom called today her voice singing with happiness. She is officially retired! It was a recent decision not a long drawn out countdown. Three weeks ago she decided it was time. My guess is that my mom will be fine in her retirement but it may take some adjustment to new routines which will hopefully include more time to rest, exercise, cook, and play.

As she stands on the threshold of change her friends, family, and co-workers had a luncheon at McGuires for her. She told me about the people, the food, and the book they all signed and gave to her as a gift. She may have told me about the food first, she does that.

The Thought
She has worked hard and given much in her years at the office. She has much to be proud of and with her departure there is the makings of an end of an era, the "When Jeanette was here..." kind of thing. She was a by the book, knew the regulations, and no shortcuts to a good job kind of worker. They were lucky to have her.

I know I am. Happy retirement Mom!

My mom's retirement cake!

The Gift
I was hoping my bag would make it, but alas it did not. I held off posting a photo to surprise her, but it seems appropriate to post it here. For the record, I did look at the fabric twice before I cut it. I was really sure that the pattern could go either way. The Mule questioned my direction choice, but I'm sticking with dochi demo, either way is ok! I loved the fabric and liner combination and hope my mom does too. Now, I'll be counting down someone else's retirement and this one is a long drawn out affair! Beer will be the official drink for the next one in case anyone is wondering. A band might be in order too!

My mom's RETIRED bag! Ready for whatever she is!

Pizza & Bags

Friends over to Play & Eat

The half days have begun. It is the last week of Shogakko. There was no lunch today and so my children invited friends over for lunch. My approach to cooking for Japanese friends as well as children is to cook within my comfort range, not something they know better than me. I made pizza.

One youngster guest inquired in Japanese if I had made the pizza dough myself. My daughter translated back my answer of, "Yes, I did. Do you like it?" The long and the short of it was that she asked to take a pizza home to her family so they could eat it. Apparently neither her grandmother nor her mother makes pizza from scratch. I sent home four slices of pizza reluctant to send home a whole pizza when I had yet to eat my lunch--I was busy feeding the frenzied crowd.

The Japanese boys won my cooking mama heart today. They ate the pizza and ate the pizza pronouncing it oyshi while eating. Later one of the boys asked me for more pizza. I tried to explain that there was no more by pulling out my favorite phrase for the end of a book, oshimite! He understood. I had a counter offer for him and his eager response was perhaps also disbelief, "Nikuman? Nikuman?" I took that as a sign of interest and then the next thing I knew there were three boys eating last night's leftover nikuman (pork steam buns). They too were pronounced oyshi. They asked me if I made them myself. I understood the question better this time. I replied, "So, so, so."

I need to have Japanese children over more often. They make me think I am a reasonably good cook!

Meanwhile my husband was upstairs abstaining from food in preparation for a medical exam tomorrow. Later he joined us for tea and birthday wishes. Over the weekend the Moose had pointed out that though we celebrated his birthday and had cake, there were no birthday candles and thus no birthday wish. I conjured up a batch of brownies in time for his guest's mama to arrive for tea. She arrived bearing gifts as if it were the Moose's birthday in Japanese fashion. I was glad I had stopped my sewing project and made time to bake. The Mule had absconded with her friend the pizza lover but she is not one to like brownies anyway. Her friend would have liked the brownies, as they were sweet, gooey, and dense. I still don't know what the Moose wished for, as it should be I guess.

Sewing Projects

While the boys played, I sewed yet another bag I hope will be for my mother. This time I checked that the fabric print was in an appropriate direction before I cut it. However, I soon realized I had made other sorts of mistakes. I was too lazy to return to work on it after my wee ones went to bed. Well, the truth is I was distracted reading the web, Facebook, and searching online for I can't even remember in the comfort of my bed within range of the kerosene heater. Not so productive as finishing my bag but I guess I could chalk it up to searching for inspiration.

Early tomorrow I will drive my husband to the train station, feeling guilty that I am not accompanying him for his procedure. I then plan to take my children who have a Japanese holiday to my sewing circle which happens to be nearby the hospital where my husband will be so I can get a bit of the sewing wisdom to be imparted in hopes that I can work on the new project after I pick up my husband and return home.

I feel like a sewing addict already!

I have some bag photos to post as I'm sure you await with baited breath my upside down bird bag. Take a look.

My upside-down bird bag :-) 

This bag taught me the value of buying a larger piece of fabric- it was too small for the pattern

This was the leftovers from my bunny bag

How about that pizza dough recipe.

Pizza Dough

Bread flour, 3 1/4 cups or so, 1 cup at a time
Salt, 1 tsp
Yeast, 1 slight TBSP
Warm Water, 1 1/3 cups
Olive Oil, 1 TBSP

In a large bowl, whisk together 1 cup of flour, the salt, and the yeast. Add the warm water and oil. Whisk together 1-2 minutes until smooth. Then using a spatula to stir, add flour 1/2 cup at a time until the dough is not sticky which is usually about 3 1/4 cups but not always. Switch to using your hands to knead the dough about 5 minutes. Form into a smooth ball. Cover with plastic wrap and allow dough to raise until double in a warm draft free place, about 1 1/2 hours. Rub olive oil on your hands, deflate the dough, and divide into 3 balls. Cover with plastic wrap and Again allow dough to raise until double (if you have time), about 45 minutes. Heat oven to 200ºC. Oil down a pizza pan. Stretch a ball of dough out using your hands, pressing from the center outward with your thumbs, gently stretching it like they do at the pizza parlor, add toppings such as olive oil, salt, parmesan, mozzarella, salami, basil, and tomato sauce.

Bake at 425ºF (~200ºC) for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown. Makes 3 pizzas.

Idatakimas I humbly receive,
Kim

Bitten by the Bug

Flu Days

In Japan children don't get off from school for snow days as all of the children walk to school- there is no bus to worry about navigating snowy roads. However, they do get flu days off. When a certain threshold of children sick with the flu peaks, then the particular class is canceled. This results in part from the majority of the children not being immunized for the flu and kids being kids, they are the plague ship rats that spread the disease and take the rest of us out of commission.

The Moose's class had been canceled earlier for two days, but my children, being immunized, had managed to skate through flu season unscathed. Then I got bitten by some version of the bug. It took me down- I was falling asleep five hours before my usual bedtime. My husband arrived home several nights this week to a dinner table full of dishes and a sink full of pots while I was passed out in front of the kerosene heater, fully dressed and wearing my cooking apron. I have finally made the turn. I managed to clear the table and wash the dishes before he arrived home last night.

I didn't let a bug deter me from my sewing, however, and I did roust myself to get my now repaired camera lenses. I had to skip out on the Japanese Nail Party which I hope to go to when school resumes in the spring. I did also attend a luncheon with a guest speaker that discussed the pearl industry and how to buy pearls. Unfortunately with all of our money in our new old house it will be a few more years before I will be considering pearls. The pearls are lovely and because the Japanese control the industry, there is every kind of pearl here in Japan- the black Tahitian, the pink, the cream, the oddly shaped. I can only hope to find an excuse another time.

The End Nears

This week was the last of the full days of school. Next week there are only a few half days and then the current school years ends, only to resume at the beginning of April with everyone advanced to the next grade. I dread having the Moose start second grade as the amount of work will increase and though he has made vast strides in his Japanese, I have concerns that it will be tough, perhaps tougher on me since it bothers me more than him when he is not doing well. The Mule keeps flying through Japanese school life with ease. I swear this blonde blue eyed girl was born Japanese in another life or at least has an Asian heart, something.

A Zipper

My ever favorite bag lady taught me how to do a zipper. A zipper foot for my machine is on order from the States. When it comes, I will practice more. I learned a lot and of course made a lot of mistakes. I keep making mistakes, but it doesn't deter me. All of my fabric is from the remnant section at Swany so I do not feel any creative impediments to making things and making mistakes.

I worked very hard on a bag last night, still unfinished, only to realize I cut the patterned fabric upside down so as cute as it is, the design is upside down. The bag itself is made better than the first one I did and I managed to do it by myself. Win some, lose some. I was really making it for my mom so it will be a little longer before I can make her retirement gift. She retires at the end of the month so my time is running short.

I am loving the plastic or wax coated fabric from Swany. I made the small pouch with my first zipper with my Short Bus Sewing Circle, and then I made a small book bag on my own, no zipper of course.

Zipper bag with fabric from Swany 

Small book bag with fabric from Swany

The Bag Lady

Peevish calls her Artistic, but I call her The Bag Lady. Her current project is "7 bags in 7 Days." I'm not sure I'll get to that point in my sewing skills or with my time management unless I could ship my kiddos off to camp or grandparents or something like that. I'd love to spend a week sewing with her. She tried very hard to help me keep all of my bunnies in line and not clip off their ears. I tried very hard to follow her instructions and mostly succeeded. I am loving my new bag that I finished just in time to take to Nikko in the snow (those bunnies are on plastic coated fabric). The world may go to hell in a hand basket, but I'm opting for a plastic bunny bag with polka dots to keep me cheery.

My new bag inspired by Swany and The Bag Lady

Stitch by stitch, I am learning to sew and to rip. It is so fun to see a bag morphing into a new dimension. It would really help if we had instructions in English from Swany, but we are doing the best we can.

Allow me to enlighten you about Swany. It is the reason I bought a sewing machine. It is an inspiring and fabulous fabric store with a French feel to the look and design of the shop. By nearly every clump of fabric, there is a fabric sample made into a bag, apron, slipper, shirt, toilet paper roll holder, umbrella, or did I mention bag? Between the fabrics and the patterns, I was smitten, but I couldn't do it myself. My sewing machine sat for three years in the cupboard. I tried teaching myself, I asked if I could take a class at Swany, but I got nowhere. Then my friend, The Bag Lady, offered to help me. She opened a door to a whole new adventure for me. I am thrilled just standing at the threshold of discovery of what I can do with a bit of thread, a bolt of fabric, gentle instruction, and a willingness to plow headfirst.

I bought fabric during the February sale so that I wouldn't feel bad about using it or messing it up as a way to free myself from inhibitions about having to make something perfect. I chose prints and colors that I liked from the remnants section. Now I am matching fabrics, outsides and liners, together with patterns thus creating kits for future rainy day projects. I will post as I make progress.

I love bags so much that my children pull me away if my eyes begin to drift toward one, on orders from their father. For Christmas I was so good that Santa's Elves brought me a Coach bag! My children were impressed. My husband rolled his eyes. I say all this to explain my interest in making bags. All those fabric sample bags have a pattern number  on them and though the instructions are in Japanese, with a ten dollar expenditure in the shop (varies with the exchange rate) you can get the pattern for free. Translating and then sewing those patterns is another story, but the inspiration and the depth of my desire to make the bags, oh, I can't wait! I can make a lot of bags for the price of a Coach bag.

Today my sincere gratitude goes to The Bag Lady who helps me feel like I have control of at least one project in my life! Amen.

Making It

Making Stuff

Sometimes I barely keep it together. I get overwhelmed. I get frustrated. I wish I could go away. I never really understood those stories about women walking into oceans (The Piano), running away from their kids, but I get it now. Now that I'm a parent, now that I stay at home, and now that my life is a lot less about me. I don't run away, I don't drop off into the ocean despite the temptations, and part of what keeps me together is making stuff.

When my repertoire was small, baking, usually chocolate chip cookies, is what kept me sane. It was the sign that I had some small measure of control and creativity in me despite long hours at too many mindless tasks. As my cooking repertoire expanded, things like serving high tea, having dinner on the table, or making jars of jam do it for me, especially if I get to stare at jars put up on a shelf as if they were a fossil of productivity. Sometimes, I get really clever and make something exceptionally tasty and feel all happy with myself. A feeling of satisfaction, of something working, makes all of those tedious moments better.

When my husband shipped off to Iraq, I looked for something new to do and took up knitting. I managed to knit a few scarves which gave me a sense of accomplishment. With the demise of the knitting group, knitting fell to the wayside, but the joy of making stuff besides dinner, dessert, or tea emerged.

Lately I have been learning to sew. A few other Navy Wives have offered up their skills to help others interested sewing. I dusted off my sewing machine, placed it in the trunk of the car, and drove forty minutes to the base to get some help using it. There aren't many English speaking sewing teachers in my parts here in the wilds of Kamakura. I am just beginning.

Baking, creating, crafting, writing, art, what have you, keeps me from going bonkers. My husband comes home and I can see his eyes sweep the room noting the toys, the laundry racks, the dishes piled in the sink, the unkemptness of it all, but me, I'm delighted with my project. He's wise enough to praise my efforts or at least not say a word about the mess most days. We don't always live in a pigsty, but I have my piles. These projects give me great delight even if their results are so so in the eyes of others. My drive to do them is in part about enlivening some small part of me that must engage the world even in a small way. The act of creating is what keeps me from being that woman walking into the ocean.

Commitment to Process

Last year during lent, I committed to writing daily with the thought that I was either going to write or stop thinking about doing it. I found the surprise at where you go when writing is wonderful even if you stall sometimes and so I keep coming back. Getting feedback that someone read it is pretty nice, but in the end it is in the doing of writing that I find soulful satisfaction. Tapping the inner creative pool that has been building and building, lets off pressure and pain in a weird yet wonderful way. The output may be less than stellar- I could certainly benefit from editing, but the result is only part of the reason for doing it. My beginner mind finds it easier to stay with the process and trust that the results will come.

Creative Process

As I grapple with creative expression, I see my aims more clearly. I seek truths that are so universal that you can see them with me. I want to create things that sing in your mind and in your heart, but it might be a while before I get there. I am crafting with a sledgehammer and can only hope to become more graceful with it with practice.

But how are you to see into a virtuous Soul and know its loveliness? Withdraw into yourself and look. And if you do not find yourself beautiful yet, act as does the creator of a statue that is to be made beautiful: he cuts away here, he smooths there, he makes this line lighter, this other purer, until a lovely face has grown upon his work. So do you also: cut away all that is excessive, straighten all that is crooked, bring light to all that is overcast, labour to make all one glow of beauty and never cease chiseling your statue...

Plotinus, The Enneads

An awareness of outcomes has begun, and it stretches me toward experimenting, learning, and doing things again and again for the sake of doing, for the sake of expressing, and for the hope of making a thing of beauty. It is a wonderful feeling to create something beautiful, something wholesome, but working with a sledgehammer does have its learning curve.

Sewing with Help

Recently, I was privileged with the attention of a sewing teacher's help. Her attention helped me make something lovelier than I could have done by myself. I thought you might like a peek at my first "real purse" as I called it when we turned the bag's insides out for the unveiling. It was wonderful of her to take the time to spend with me. I'm saved for another week, I have a thing of beauty to show for it, and I am grateful for a new creative outlet to explore.

my first "real purse" sewing project

Inside view 

Getting Crafty: Luggage Tag

Cramming

The school year winds down here in Japan in March so mama friends are trying to cram every activity that has been put off, into the next few weeks. Yochien Mama friends and I recently went to the onsen. Sans kiddos we were able to get massages and indulge ourselves. I noted the crowd was mainly older so it must be a good thing to spend as much time as possible at the onsen or so I rationalize when I think of my kitchen sink full of breakfast dishes, my floor sprinkled with food offerings, and my racks of laundry- that work never goes away and a good mama must look after herself. As the afternoon wore on, I began to get more and more itchy and then I broke out in hives. I think some of the goop used was not for sensitive skin. Darn shame, I'd hate to have to skip the massage part.

At last, Reflexology

My friends were lounging in the warm rooms, I don't know what else to call them. It was quiet and kind of steamy in there plus we were wearing the spa issued polyester lounge wear, the unbreathing thick kind that sticks to your sweat. I was too squirrelly to rest so I wandered off. I found myself standing in front of the Shiatsu Massage Desk. The menu was entirely in Japanese, but I could read the numbers. I pointed to the item listed for twenty minutes and found myself the recipient of a foot massage. Turned out it was reflexology which I had never tried. The reflexologist commented, in Japanese, that I have cold feet. I nodded and smiled. I've heard that since childhood. I would have loved to have said, "And they have heat seeking devices implanted in them that can pin down a limb and rob it of any and all heat in mere seconds." Seriously, I could medal if it were a sport. Ah, the pains of the language divide. She was able to tell me in English where some of the target points were as she pressed on my feet. It was pretty fabulous so I didn't really care if it was for my stomach, my shoulder, etc. My feet were happy.

Story Time

I read stories to the Japanese first graders in English today. It went pretty well- same books, last of the four classes. The teacher's assistant was in the room while I was reading to the kids. She seemed impressed that I managed to get them enthralled even though I can't speak more than two words of Japanese at a time. Hey, I've been perfecting my guttural Japanese for five years now and body language helps. I cupped my hand to my ear and waited for the children's' responses. It works. I'm debating if I could do "The Three Little Pigs" or "The Gingerbread Boy" next term. I think I would lose the kids, but I so want to hear them in unison saying, "Little pig, little pig, let me come in!" and "No, no, no! Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin." Really I want to read "The Stinky Cheese Boy" so I can hear the children say, "You can't catch me! I'm the Stinky Cheese Man!" My friend told me that last week she read to the fifth graders on Valentine's Day so she read a love story. Sounded like you could have heard a pin drop. Thankfully, the first graders are full of noise and I had my fifteen minutes today to channel it. I skipped the meeting afterward, but I signed on to read through at least June.

Crafty Mama

I skipped the mama book meeting to go to a crafting group. I was the only one so I got lots of help. I made a bag! I am so psyched. I made a real bag. It looks nice, but I have to finish one side before I can post the picture. I had to leave to return to my mama duties. It is so much easier to make something when there are directions and someone who knows that they are doing. Over the weekend I made a bag with Japanese directions and no help. I will not be posting that photo. I did make a luggage tag from an internet pattern I found on Studio Kat Design, and I finally finished off the munster's bags. I seem to unsew as much as I sew, but at least I'm starting to get the drift of how things go together. Try the luggage tags, surely there is a sport bag, suitcase, or something that needs one around your house.

My stitching is not so great, but I was able to do it by myself

Luggage Tag- fits a business card- I cut the plastic from a stiff sheet protector

My favorite models sporting their new bags

Branching into Ikebana

Ikebana is a traditional Japanese art form that reflects the coming together of nature and humanity through flower arrangements. In Japan, there are many schools and types of Ikebana and within these schools there are various styles which emphasize shapes, lines, and forms differently. I have watched Ikebana demonstrations and wondered what ideas guided the master's work. I use the word master because passions and hobbies are studied and worked at for many years as a discipline like nothing I have observed in the West. I came away from a recent workshop through the Kamakura Chapter of Ikebana International with a glimpse of insight from an Ikebana master that helped guide my hand and eye as I arranged flowers that may help others to begin too. The sensei, Mikami Midori, belongs to the Ohara school of Ikebana.

The containers are generally flat and shallow of a neutral color so as not to detract from the flowers to be placed inside. My container was a half moon shape. A kenzan or spiky frog was placed inside. Water is poured into the container when you are ready to start to just above the kenzan's level so that the stems can absorb water.

"Which way do I place the stem?" I asked the Ikebana Sensei. "It's up to the branch," she said. I felt like I was, at last, on The Karate Kid movie set. Look at the branch and determine, "Is it an upright form or a slanting form?" Remove stems that detract from the line by clipping unnecessary stems and leaves to strengthen the line's flow. Cut stems at an angle. Insert stems straight down onto the kenzan or spiky frog and then push them to the side to prevent drooping. I went with the slanting form. We snipped, we pushed, we bent.

We studied the roses. Look at the flowers until they speak to you. She asked me, "Which is the strongest flower?" I knew what she meant. I pointed. She agreed. "This is your 'object' the power flower," she said. The pink rose was bold, strong, and it did show me the strength of nature which a day before I would have thought of as too sweet. "The object is one third the length of your branch." I snipped. "O-kyaku-sama, it wants us to look at it, to be our guest. Place it so it shows us it's strength" she instructed. She turned the rose down shaking her head and then she turned it up and gave it to me to place.

"The second flower is half the length of the branch," she continued. I fiddled, she plucked and tucked. So like life, it is up to the branch. I wondered why I waited so long to play with flowers as an adult. It takes a only a few items- a small dish, a pair of clippers, a kenzan or spiky frog, some flowers and branches that are in season, and a willingness to notice what the flowers are saying, what the branches are up to. Try it.

Ikebana arrangement made with these instructions