Z tagged me with a meme, and I always complete my meme responsibilities, even while on vacation! So here it goes!
a. Four places I go over and over again:
1) School. Getting kids to school in the morning and picking them up in the afternoon. Preschool requires a drive; elementary school requires a walk.
2) She-ra's house. She feeds me, she gives me wine, so why not?
3) Starbuckies. Bad habits can be oh so hard to break.
4) My garden. Some days I just go and pace, wander, walk. I just need my time out there.
Four people who mail me regularly:
This is sad. I don't have too many "personal" people I connect with with a special regularity.
1) She-ra. Yes, I know she lives only a mile away. Sometimes email works.
2) Freecycle group digest mails.
3) My students for one reason or another, and blog readers with comments on my blog.
4) Anu Garg, with her Word-a-Day digest.
Four of my favorite places to eat, (apart from home):
1) Arties. And family (Coastal Flats, Sweetwater Tavern, etc.)
2) CPK. Killer salads, love the Margarita Neapolitan pizza.
3) La Tolteca. Authentic Mexican by Mexicans, not Hondurans or Salvadoreans.
4) Bombay Bistro. Love my Indian food.
Four places I'd rather be now.
This is hard because I'm on vacation at my friend's house, but I'll speak in general terms:
1) Perú.
2) Sitting in an outdoor natural hot spring in volcanic mountainous central Japan.
3) With friends drinking wine or coffee or tea...depending on the time of day.
4) Skiing.
Four favorite TV shows:
I don't watch too much TV. But here it goes:
1) Gray's Anatomy. I really need my smut fix.
2) AFV. The kids LOVE the funny videos and I love sharing the laughter and joy they get out of others' misfortunes...!!
3) The Electric Company. Grew up with it, those shows were awesome.
4) Three's Company. I loved that show. The Ropers rocked. John Ritter was a talented man.
Four movies I would watch over and over again.
1) Fantasia. Only the original...the 2nd isn't as good.
2) Foreign films that I use in class, like Motorcycle Diaries, La historia oficial, etc.
3) Japanese films like Tampopo, Kappa, etc. No samurai flicks.
4) Other good foreign movies, I suppose, or things I can relate to like Lost in Translation, or that can evoke memories, like At Play in the Fields of the Lord.
Four people I would like to tag:
We all know how tough this is!!!
1) She-ra! (since she's been mentioned so much here!)
2) The Exception
3) Old Crone
4) Harrassed Single Mom
Have fun, y'all!
martes, 30 de diciembre de 2008
miércoles, 24 de diciembre de 2008
World Orgasm Day
...it came (a-hem)...
and went.
21 December, 2008, to be exact. And evidently I was just not In The Mood.
That is rare for me.
And I completely missed it.
Last year's ode to WOD will just have to suffice. Enjoy!
*---*
and went.
21 December, 2008, to be exact. And evidently I was just not In The Mood.
That is rare for me.
And I completely missed it.
Last year's ode to WOD will just have to suffice. Enjoy!
*---*
This caught my eye this morning. Of course, I read it in Spanish, but it appears that this Saturday, in conjunction with the Winter Solstice, has been named World Orgasm Day.
The purpose, one might ask? Besides being one hell of a stress relief, it is viewed that such action can generously contribute to various causes, among them being the fight for global peace, the fight against global warming and the fight for social justice and sexual equality.
"To achieve positive change in the electric field of the Earth through the best possible means of biological, mental and spiritual energy."
Yeah. I might have to agree on the global warming front.
The organizers (I have no idea who they are) are pleading that this day should not, however, promote the conception of more children due to an already overpopulated planet.
Ideally, one (or rather, two, I suppose...) should try to time things so as to climax right at the moment of the Winter Solstice, occuring at 7:28 a.m. That would make it 1:25 a.m. Eastern Standard Time USA.
Hmm.. yaaaaaaaawn
Maybe I'll have to pull a Meg Ryan in honor.
We'll just call it my little contribution to peace on Earth and good will toward all.
Okay, off to the gym....
lunes, 22 de diciembre de 2008
The Spatula Wars
He went out and bought a set of new spatulas.
Not just any spatulas, Le Creuset spatulas. (read: very very expensive)
I have a full set, with two that are a trite battered by a blender's blade but still completely usable. That is like 8 or 9 spatulas in reach of my stove, that fit perfectly into a little white holder so that I can pull one out and all of the rest don't come out due to lack of spersonal spatula space.
(sorry 'bout that...feeling sassy)
So I unload the dishwasher the other day and there are ten new spatulas in there, just washed. I had never seen them before. I have already all those utensils, most of which (like the baster brush) I never, ever use. I have had these now for six years, it is no secret I have them unless Somebody is just unaware that these spatulas, pasta spoons, slatted spoons, etc. actually exist in my kitchen.
And I don't have a lot of excess spatula space in my kitchen. My drawers are pretty full.
So I took the spatulas and put them out on his table where I put his mail, magazines and other items. Thinking that maybe, just maybe, he's starting to plan for his move out by purchasing for his own kitchen... (not that he can cook or even know what to use most of those utentils for besides stirring the OJ in the morning)
Well, the next morning my spatula jar is so filled with spatulas that I can no longer pull one out without the entire mess of them falling out of the damn jar. So, sputtering spatula explitives I remove his, cursing the fact that my kitchen wa has been upset, and return them to his table.
I see the receipt he laid out for some reason on the kitchen counter. $100 worth of spatulas.
I about, um...split a spatula in half reading that!
Dude. I could do a heluva lot more with $100...OH--excuse me. They were 20% off! That explains it. He saw the magic four-letter word: SALE. And just HAD to buy. (he's just like that) No matter if there is need, just buy for the purpose of buying...
...which runs so utterly contrary to who I am and how I run my finances. For me, managing our finances was nightmarish as I had to deal with a complete lack of discipline.
Okay, so I took those $80 worth of spatulas and returned them, yet again, to his side of the table.
The next day, there were three little spatula subversives sitting in the spatula jar.
I took them and, sputtering, hid them. I don't want them, I don't need them and I don't want to see them.
Then I was getting Christmas cookie frosting ready. In little cups, I had a rainbow assortment of frostings ready for a little plastic knife that I traditionally use as the spreaders...nothing heavier will balance in those little teacups I use. He comes in and says, "Oh, and there are these..." and his voice trails off in confusion when he goes over to the spatula jar and sees that his special spatulitas have suddenly disappeared.
I snickered...to myself.
I have made it clear that I NEED a thermometer, I NEED heavy winter socks and I would LIKE to have my bike serviced and my violin bows rehaired. Never once have I said a thing about needing new spatulas. But yeah, I'm not heard. I feel strongly about using until unusable. I bought new pans this month, stoneware, because the tin ones I had had rusted and were thus rendered, well, unusable. So I upgraded. But I know what it is I will use and what I will not. He does not do any cooking, he does not spend any productive time in the kitchen (except eating), and he will not stop misplacing items that I have had in the same place for six years in some crazy miscellaneous space that leaves me cursing and losing time and literally holding a scavenger hunt for kitchen shears or measuring spoons when they are not where I expect them to be.
Dude, he is so totally breaking my stride.
Yes, I am well aware of the hilarity of the situation. These are petty, minor specks of spatula spittle that hopefully brought a smile to your face, as it did mine putting it into words!
And with that I wish you a happy Christmas Eve-Eve!
Not just any spatulas, Le Creuset spatulas. (read: very very expensive)
I have a full set, with two that are a trite battered by a blender's blade but still completely usable. That is like 8 or 9 spatulas in reach of my stove, that fit perfectly into a little white holder so that I can pull one out and all of the rest don't come out due to lack of spersonal spatula space.
(sorry 'bout that...feeling sassy)
So I unload the dishwasher the other day and there are ten new spatulas in there, just washed. I had never seen them before. I have already all those utensils, most of which (like the baster brush) I never, ever use. I have had these now for six years, it is no secret I have them unless Somebody is just unaware that these spatulas, pasta spoons, slatted spoons, etc. actually exist in my kitchen.
And I don't have a lot of excess spatula space in my kitchen. My drawers are pretty full.
So I took the spatulas and put them out on his table where I put his mail, magazines and other items. Thinking that maybe, just maybe, he's starting to plan for his move out by purchasing for his own kitchen... (not that he can cook or even know what to use most of those utentils for besides stirring the OJ in the morning)
Well, the next morning my spatula jar is so filled with spatulas that I can no longer pull one out without the entire mess of them falling out of the damn jar. So, sputtering spatula explitives I remove his, cursing the fact that my kitchen wa has been upset, and return them to his table.
I see the receipt he laid out for some reason on the kitchen counter. $100 worth of spatulas.
I about, um...split a spatula in half reading that!
Dude. I could do a heluva lot more with $100...OH--excuse me. They were 20% off! That explains it. He saw the magic four-letter word: SALE. And just HAD to buy. (he's just like that) No matter if there is need, just buy for the purpose of buying...
...which runs so utterly contrary to who I am and how I run my finances. For me, managing our finances was nightmarish as I had to deal with a complete lack of discipline.
Okay, so I took those $80 worth of spatulas and returned them, yet again, to his side of the table.
The next day, there were three little spatula subversives sitting in the spatula jar.
I took them and, sputtering, hid them. I don't want them, I don't need them and I don't want to see them.
Then I was getting Christmas cookie frosting ready. In little cups, I had a rainbow assortment of frostings ready for a little plastic knife that I traditionally use as the spreaders...nothing heavier will balance in those little teacups I use. He comes in and says, "Oh, and there are these..." and his voice trails off in confusion when he goes over to the spatula jar and sees that his special spatulitas have suddenly disappeared.
I snickered...to myself.
I have made it clear that I NEED a thermometer, I NEED heavy winter socks and I would LIKE to have my bike serviced and my violin bows rehaired. Never once have I said a thing about needing new spatulas. But yeah, I'm not heard. I feel strongly about using until unusable. I bought new pans this month, stoneware, because the tin ones I had had rusted and were thus rendered, well, unusable. So I upgraded. But I know what it is I will use and what I will not. He does not do any cooking, he does not spend any productive time in the kitchen (except eating), and he will not stop misplacing items that I have had in the same place for six years in some crazy miscellaneous space that leaves me cursing and losing time and literally holding a scavenger hunt for kitchen shears or measuring spoons when they are not where I expect them to be.
Dude, he is so totally breaking my stride.
Yes, I am well aware of the hilarity of the situation. These are petty, minor specks of spatula spittle that hopefully brought a smile to your face, as it did mine putting it into words!
And with that I wish you a happy Christmas Eve-Eve!
sábado, 20 de diciembre de 2008
Great insights from Delilah
Is that how she spells her name?
You know, the one who has that radio show that plays on most commercial pop/easy listening stations on weeknights, who gets phone calls from listeners and either gives them advice or allows them to vent their issues.
Last night, while finishing the Christmas cookie cut-and-bake, I was tuning into her show as that is the programming on the local Christmas Tunes Radio Station on that particular Friday night. One caller said that she wanted to tell her husband how much she loved him. They have been married 5 years, known each other 11 total. Delilah then asked her one simple question:
What is the greatest thing that he has done for you?
Her answer?
He makes me feel that I am valuable. He loves me for who I am, he allows me to be me.
So, he makes you feel comfortable in your own skin?
Oh, yes.
Something very powerful hit me at that moment. I had never even considered this as one of my huge problems, although one of my most pressing questions of late has been what has happened to the me I used to be? My self-esteem is gone, I am NOT the self-confident, independent woman I once was.
What happened to me?
And a flood of images, of memories, of things said washed over me. How he would tell me after meetings or groups we were part of that I ought not talk so much, that I dominated, that I was a braggart or boastful. How I had to act a certain way at his professional (military) functions...fortunately I had been trained in the art of working a crowd back in the day so I could handle myself "appropriately" to his standards. How I was attacked verbally in front of five other couples during a Valentine's dinner party for helping to clean the dishes because "as guests we do not help clean up."
These are examples of many such censorships of my character and of who I am intrinsically...examples of how he has never made me feel comfortable to be me, or that I am just somehow "not good enough" for whatever his standards are.
Hence my destroyed self-esteem.
Damn him for doing this to me.
I can't believe I haven't seen this before. But I feel so empowered today in coming to see this; a first step in the rebuilding of Mama Llama, to the strong and independent Llama I once was...
...if not better!
You know, the one who has that radio show that plays on most commercial pop/easy listening stations on weeknights, who gets phone calls from listeners and either gives them advice or allows them to vent their issues.
Last night, while finishing the Christmas cookie cut-and-bake, I was tuning into her show as that is the programming on the local Christmas Tunes Radio Station on that particular Friday night. One caller said that she wanted to tell her husband how much she loved him. They have been married 5 years, known each other 11 total. Delilah then asked her one simple question:
What is the greatest thing that he has done for you?
Her answer?
He makes me feel that I am valuable. He loves me for who I am, he allows me to be me.
So, he makes you feel comfortable in your own skin?
Oh, yes.
Something very powerful hit me at that moment. I had never even considered this as one of my huge problems, although one of my most pressing questions of late has been what has happened to the me I used to be? My self-esteem is gone, I am NOT the self-confident, independent woman I once was.
What happened to me?
And a flood of images, of memories, of things said washed over me. How he would tell me after meetings or groups we were part of that I ought not talk so much, that I dominated, that I was a braggart or boastful. How I had to act a certain way at his professional (military) functions...fortunately I had been trained in the art of working a crowd back in the day so I could handle myself "appropriately" to his standards. How I was attacked verbally in front of five other couples during a Valentine's dinner party for helping to clean the dishes because "as guests we do not help clean up."
These are examples of many such censorships of my character and of who I am intrinsically...examples of how he has never made me feel comfortable to be me, or that I am just somehow "not good enough" for whatever his standards are.
Hence my destroyed self-esteem.
Damn him for doing this to me.
I can't believe I haven't seen this before. But I feel so empowered today in coming to see this; a first step in the rebuilding of Mama Llama, to the strong and independent Llama I once was...
...if not better!
viernes, 19 de diciembre de 2008
Flashback Friday
The Exception and I had a lovely lunch date today, to officially kick off our Christmas Vacations. One of our many topics of random, how-much-conversation-can-we-cram-into-only-4-hours-together dialogue focused on differences between languages that we speak, how certain things that we experience in one language cannot be expressed in another, and this inevitably led to how some countries/languages really can butcher the English language. I wrote on this precise theme last year; hence I present this week's Flashback Friday. Enjoy!
So, here we go. If you decide to try to actually utter some of the phrases, remember to keep the vowels constant (a=ah, i=ee, u=oo, e=eh and o=o). All consonant+vowel combinations create a single syllable; Japanese is really not as hard to pronounce as most other languages. So there is your first Japanese lesson and your first 5 letters of the Japanese alphabet to boot!
Food products:
-Pocari Sweat (gatorade-type drink often sold in vending machines)
-Creap (creamer you put in your coffee)
-bata (butter)
-furaido poteto (french fries) at Makudonarudozu (McDonald's), of course (that one took me three years to master)
Anything with the word "city" morphs as the "si" sound does not exist in Japanese...it becomes "shi-". So in an effort not to be profane on this site, please say the following out loud, using "shi-" in the place of "ci-":
1. New Yo-ku city
2. Citibank
3. Pure-zu sito down. (please sit down)
The differentiation between "l" and "r" is very hard for the Japanese to master. Translate the following:
1. Eric Crapton
2. Za erection ofu Puresidento Curinton (my era of being there, so dang appropriate)
3. Arufu (big TV star in Japan, one of the most popular shows along with #4)
4. Furu Hous-u
Logos:
Lets SPORTS yOUNG gAY CluB
Happy Time Card Dick (ATM card)
Other goodies:
1. amefuto (American Football)
2. apa-to (apartment)
3. baiku (motorcycle, NOT bicycle)
4. baikingu (smorgasbord) viking
5. basujjakku (bus-jacking, like a car-jacking)
6. bebika- (stroller-baby car)
7. cheriboi (a male virgin) cherry boy
8. pinchi (a pinch, a dangerous situation)
9. resutoran (restaurant)
10. sa-bisu (a freebie) service
11. suma-to (looking sharp) smart
My test to see that I had actually mastered sounding enough like a Japanese person perhaps occurred in my third year in Japan. I don't eat McDonald's hamburgers, but at the time I would travel miles and kilometers for a chocolate shake and fries. Which I did, driving all the way into the city of 渋川 Shibukawa for my heart's desire. Deciding this time to go through the drive-thru, I placed my order and made my way around the building to the pick-up window. There, the lady almost dropped my order when she saw I was a 外人 and she made a comment, something about how surprised she was.
I drove away, chokore-tto she-ki and furaido potetto in hand, most satisfied...in more ways than one.
和製英語 wa-sei eigo Japanese-made English
Any 外人 (remembering any of these characters yet? I told you there'd be a test later...) gaijin living in Japan, especially those from the English-speaking world, will at once have their sense of their own native language completely assaulted. I don't think there are many other ways I can comment on this phenomenon but by simply giving you a few good examples of true, living 和製英語 wa-sei eigo Japanese-made English. Some will make you roll with laughter, some will simply fill your head with "Huh?" The teacher in me says that perhaps I should make you match up the 和製英語 wa-sei eigo Japanese-made English phrase in Column A with the correct English equivalent in Column B. We'll see.So, here we go. If you decide to try to actually utter some of the phrases, remember to keep the vowels constant (a=ah, i=ee, u=oo, e=eh and o=o). All consonant+vowel combinations create a single syllable; Japanese is really not as hard to pronounce as most other languages. So there is your first Japanese lesson and your first 5 letters of the Japanese alphabet to boot!
Food products:
-Pocari Sweat (gatorade-type drink often sold in vending machines)
-Creap (creamer you put in your coffee)
-bata (butter)
-furaido poteto (french fries) at Makudonarudozu (McDonald's), of course (that one took me three years to master)
Anything with the word "city" morphs as the "si" sound does not exist in Japanese...it becomes "shi-". So in an effort not to be profane on this site, please say the following out loud, using "shi-" in the place of "ci-":
1. New Yo-ku city
2. Citibank
3. Pure-zu sito down. (please sit down)
The differentiation between "l" and "r" is very hard for the Japanese to master. Translate the following:
1. Eric Crapton
2. Za erection ofu Puresidento Curinton (my era of being there, so dang appropriate)
3. Arufu (big TV star in Japan, one of the most popular shows along with #4)
4. Furu Hous-u
Logos:
Lets SPORTS yOUNG gAY CluB
Happy Time Card Dick (ATM card)
Other goodies:
1. amefuto (American Football)
2. apa-to (apartment)
3. baiku (motorcycle, NOT bicycle)
4. baikingu (smorgasbord) viking
5. basujjakku (bus-jacking, like a car-jacking)
6. bebika- (stroller-baby car)
7. cheriboi (a male virgin) cherry boy
8. pinchi (a pinch, a dangerous situation)
9. resutoran (restaurant)
10. sa-bisu (a freebie) service
11. suma-to (looking sharp) smart
My test to see that I had actually mastered sounding enough like a Japanese person perhaps occurred in my third year in Japan. I don't eat McDonald's hamburgers, but at the time I would travel miles and kilometers for a chocolate shake and fries. Which I did, driving all the way into the city of 渋川 Shibukawa for my heart's desire. Deciding this time to go through the drive-thru, I placed my order and made my way around the building to the pick-up window. There, the lady almost dropped my order when she saw I was a 外人 and she made a comment, something about how surprised she was.
I drove away, chokore-tto she-ki and furaido potetto in hand, most satisfied...in more ways than one.
jueves, 18 de diciembre de 2008
mindless meanderings
Citizen of the World had been tagged in a certain "99 experiences" meme and I decided to follow suit. A little mindless memory scan wouldn't hurt at this point in the game, anyway.
And maybe, just maybe, I'll actually sleep tonight! I am to put into boldface those experiences had. I don't think I will elaborate...unless questioned about something...
1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland/world
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning.
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch-hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a marathon (I speed-walked one, not ran...?)
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice.
29. Seen a total eclipse.
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt.
43. Bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen.
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Gotten flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp (but have met various survivors, including Elie Wiesel)
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt (ha! right, me?)
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life (I once had to Heimlich my sister who was choking... Does that count? How does one know the life would have been lost otherwise??)
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit.
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
I can think of some other good ones, but it wasn't my meme. I guess I've done a lot...and there are things on that list you will NEVER read of me doing!
If interested, go on ahead and let me know! Feel free to elaborate as much or as little as you wish...Citizen elaborated and accented hers beautifully with some select photos!
And maybe, just maybe, I'll actually sleep tonight! I am to put into boldface those experiences had. I don't think I will elaborate...unless questioned about something...
1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland/world
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning.
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch-hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a marathon (I speed-walked one, not ran...?)
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice.
29. Seen a total eclipse.
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt.
43. Bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen.
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Gotten flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp (but have met various survivors, including Elie Wiesel)
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt (ha! right, me?)
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life (I once had to Heimlich my sister who was choking... Does that count? How does one know the life would have been lost otherwise??)
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit.
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
I can think of some other good ones, but it wasn't my meme. I guess I've done a lot...and there are things on that list you will NEVER read of me doing!
If interested, go on ahead and let me know! Feel free to elaborate as much or as little as you wish...Citizen elaborated and accented hers beautifully with some select photos!
miércoles, 17 de diciembre de 2008
at a loss
The always dreaded anniversary of Dad's death came and went. There are always lots of flashbacks, it's almost eerie how I feel that time-travel sensation going back to moments throughout the day, each year, of one of the worst days of my life.
But it passed. And rather well, so I thought.
Then the phone rang. Caller ID said it was my mother.
She never calls me, so I knew someone had died.
She had to put her cat to sleep today. Barely an adult, only a four year old cat, it had apparently been born with some disease whose name escapes me, but involves fluid collection around the lungs, and Mynnie couldn't fight any longer.
So, on the same day she had to pull the plug on her husband, nine years later, she had to hold her only life partner at this juncture as she died in my mother's arms.
When Mozee died, five years after Dad died, my mother was about destroyed. All involved were thrilled when, less than a month later, Mom found a new kitten to love and welcome into her home and her heart. Now Mom is stuck wondering why everything in her life turns bad.
I can tell her everything, how she gave that cat a better four years of life than most would have given her, that she did all she could, that Mynnie knew how loved she was...all things my mother knows but that make little difference in the pain that parts her heart right now.
And I can do nothing. I offered her a ticket here for Christmas; she declined saying she couldn't. I countered that she no longer had a cat to find care for; she said that they are expecting significant snow accumulations tomorrow (which, for Southern Oregon, is an event) and that she's not expecting the weather to be all that great. In fact, she's uncertain of her ability to make the 300 mile trek up the I-5 to see her brother during the Christmas holiday.
I sincerely hope she can make it. She needs a change of scenery.
So Princesita, Young Prince and I got onto the local florist in my hometown and sent her a bouquet of white tulips to hopefully brighten her home and her existence a bit tomorrow. I put the children to bed...
...and proceeded to just let the ache out. I thought my tears had been used up already this month, but I guess not yet.
I think we are all ready for December 2008 to be over.
But it passed. And rather well, so I thought.
Then the phone rang. Caller ID said it was my mother.
She never calls me, so I knew someone had died.
She had to put her cat to sleep today. Barely an adult, only a four year old cat, it had apparently been born with some disease whose name escapes me, but involves fluid collection around the lungs, and Mynnie couldn't fight any longer.
So, on the same day she had to pull the plug on her husband, nine years later, she had to hold her only life partner at this juncture as she died in my mother's arms.
When Mozee died, five years after Dad died, my mother was about destroyed. All involved were thrilled when, less than a month later, Mom found a new kitten to love and welcome into her home and her heart. Now Mom is stuck wondering why everything in her life turns bad.
I can tell her everything, how she gave that cat a better four years of life than most would have given her, that she did all she could, that Mynnie knew how loved she was...all things my mother knows but that make little difference in the pain that parts her heart right now.
And I can do nothing. I offered her a ticket here for Christmas; she declined saying she couldn't. I countered that she no longer had a cat to find care for; she said that they are expecting significant snow accumulations tomorrow (which, for Southern Oregon, is an event) and that she's not expecting the weather to be all that great. In fact, she's uncertain of her ability to make the 300 mile trek up the I-5 to see her brother during the Christmas holiday.
I sincerely hope she can make it. She needs a change of scenery.
So Princesita, Young Prince and I got onto the local florist in my hometown and sent her a bouquet of white tulips to hopefully brighten her home and her existence a bit tomorrow. I put the children to bed...
...and proceeded to just let the ache out. I thought my tears had been used up already this month, but I guess not yet.
I think we are all ready for December 2008 to be over.
lunes, 15 de diciembre de 2008
bursting with pride
I have yet to figure out how to handle these kinds of situations: a friend calls me to invite Princesita ice-skating. He won't answer the phone, ever. Or hardly ever, so he never gets the call or even hears the phone ring and hence never checks messages unless it is on his cell. And that is not foolproof, either. So although it is not my weekend with the children, I am asked if Princesita can go ice-skating with them.
I asked Him and he said yeah, do you want me to take them?
I suppose I should have said yes, but he won't get on skates and especially Young Prince is a bit dependent still on an adult's arm out on the ice. Knowing this, I said I'll take them and he was absolutely fine with that.
Difficult point in being under the same roof is trying to establish his-time vs. my-time. I felt bad for infringing upon his weekend with the kids. However, my time with them should not be the only one in which they have interruptions, friend activities, etc. I rather enjoy such interaction and, as they aren't really going a lot of places without me yet, it just gives me some adult time with another parent, which I always enjoy.
Perhaps I will just have to begin to tell people: They are with their father this weekend; here is his number. And let that be that.
I asked Him and he said yeah, do you want me to take them?
I suppose I should have said yes, but he won't get on skates and especially Young Prince is a bit dependent still on an adult's arm out on the ice. Knowing this, I said I'll take them and he was absolutely fine with that.
Difficult point in being under the same roof is trying to establish his-time vs. my-time. I felt bad for infringing upon his weekend with the kids. However, my time with them should not be the only one in which they have interruptions, friend activities, etc. I rather enjoy such interaction and, as they aren't really going a lot of places without me yet, it just gives me some adult time with another parent, which I always enjoy.
Perhaps I will just have to begin to tell people: They are with their father this weekend; here is his number. And let that be that.
*---*
Ice-skating with my children has become one of our greatest winter pleasures. Princesita is completely independent and can even spin around on her own and go backwards. She demonstrated yesterday, in the second half of the two-hour skate session, how at ease she feels on the blades.
She began to skate about 5 feet away from Young Prince, then would turn around and tell him to skate to her. He would, not touching anything, me behind him but not holding onto him at all, and would end in her arms, giving her a big hug. Parents all around were watching with smiles. I was beaming, so proud. Then she would skate a little further away and he, concentrating on her, would make his way over to her. This process repeated itself until Princesita was at one end and Young Prince at the other, and he made his way all the way over to her without falling or grabbing me.
She taught him how to skate.
She would pretend to fall and make silly faces to keep Young Prince giggling...which turned into a great motivation for him to continue. She made his learning fun, she knew what to do to keep his attention and not let him get frustrated when he would, in fact, slip and fall. He didn't even go anywhere near the wall the entire second half of the session, boasting a confidence that he had garnered from his big sister's amazing teaching style and support.
Princesita says she wants to be a teacher. I consistently see in her the natural ability to teach, the patience to explain, the creativity to find a way to make the material easy to learn, and the flexibility and sense of humor to maintain motivation and attention. Although I have seen this in her many times before, it was yesterday that it somehow became most apparent to me; she is a natural-born teacher.
She looked at me when I told her this yesterday and said, "But Mommy, I just did what you did for me when I was learning."
I don't remember what I did as she has come so far, but she knew what she had to do to make Young Prince take those first independent steps on ice. He trusted her and she didn't let him down.
I am so proud.
She began to skate about 5 feet away from Young Prince, then would turn around and tell him to skate to her. He would, not touching anything, me behind him but not holding onto him at all, and would end in her arms, giving her a big hug. Parents all around were watching with smiles. I was beaming, so proud. Then she would skate a little further away and he, concentrating on her, would make his way over to her. This process repeated itself until Princesita was at one end and Young Prince at the other, and he made his way all the way over to her without falling or grabbing me.
She taught him how to skate.
She would pretend to fall and make silly faces to keep Young Prince giggling...which turned into a great motivation for him to continue. She made his learning fun, she knew what to do to keep his attention and not let him get frustrated when he would, in fact, slip and fall. He didn't even go anywhere near the wall the entire second half of the session, boasting a confidence that he had garnered from his big sister's amazing teaching style and support.
Princesita says she wants to be a teacher. I consistently see in her the natural ability to teach, the patience to explain, the creativity to find a way to make the material easy to learn, and the flexibility and sense of humor to maintain motivation and attention. Although I have seen this in her many times before, it was yesterday that it somehow became most apparent to me; she is a natural-born teacher.
She looked at me when I told her this yesterday and said, "But Mommy, I just did what you did for me when I was learning."
I don't remember what I did as she has come so far, but she knew what she had to do to make Young Prince take those first independent steps on ice. He trusted her and she didn't let him down.
I am so proud.
sábado, 13 de diciembre de 2008
balance
I got up and out to the gym today, for the first time in two weeks due to being sick and/or it being my weekend with the monitos. If I don't feel well enough to go work out, I really don't feel well! I ran my 5 miles in 35 minutes flat, which felt good, and about killed myself on weights I hadn't lifted in a few weeks. All in an effort to release all that is lying so heavily atop my soul.
Physical health/strength/endurance--balance.
Did I succeed? I'm not sure. No, I don't think so. Only time heals wounds and I hurt too deeply right now to make much more than a superficial dent. But I, and all involved, are in communications to seek a balance. Balance for the time being. That is all that can be done, so it is a valid and worthwhile goal.
Presence/communication--balance.
I did my share of the Christmas Cards this morning; He can do his side. This is the first year I will not do his work. I am almost finished crocheting Princesita's new bedspread; Young Prince's is already done and hidden away. Santa will dress their rooms while they sleep on Christmas Eve--when they awaken on Christmas Day, that will be their big surprise.
Presents-spirit--balance.
I pampered myself just a bit with a hair cut yesterday; the Hair Butchery is less that for me as I have a "master beautician" there I always use and she even brings me food once in a while. Nobody notices I get my hair cut but I suppose the only one who needs to notice is myself. Anyway, my beautician/magician is Iranian, a grandmother and just such a caring soul. I love to feel her fingers caressing my scalp just as much as I love the pull of the layering scissors against my head.
Pleasure/pain--balance.
I received word from my uncle; it appears he has had a stroke and is going through some tests, etc. He's the only family I have left on my father's side. Under normal circumstances that news wouldn't phase me but in the just slightly fragile state I feel I am in right now that news just pushes me over tears' edge.
Season's joys and season's losses--balance.
There is a cookie exchange tonight. I have just created the most decadent rumballs I've ever tasted--forget the "nilla wafer" filler; I have a gluten-free/soy-free concoction that is pure chocolate, condensed milk, vanilla and rum. Then some powdered sugar and soy-free chocolate chips on the outside and voila! The monitos licked the pot clean...quite literally.
Bitter/sweet--balance.
'Tis the season. I could use some other balance in my life as well. Balance between the emotional and the physical--my lack of physical contact is creating in me a monster that feels a need for great release. I was mentioning to a friend the other day, I would just kill for a make-out session. With someone. Geez, with anyone. Just to have that feeling again. Nothing more. Just to feel passion again, to feel someone's lips devouring mine. But that will not happen; I will not let that happen.
Passion/self-control--balance.
Facebook encounters have been interesting of late. An old hot and heavy flame from high school is evidently sleepless in Seattle. He shoots me an email asking me if I "remember us at -- Park?" Of course I do...he and I perfected there the beginning steps of a great art, hidden by the bushes, after school as juniors/seniors. We had quite a variety of funspots--the U of O football stadium included. But That was Then. He is now married to a beautiful wife, a gal I knew in college, with three children...and should NOT be emailing me with flirtatious fun. Even if merely being flirtatious--that is cheating and he is wrong to do that to his wife. And that is that.
Past tense/present tense--balance.
Now to balance my caffeinated mocha with some nice decaf hot tea to warm my body and prepare myself for just a tiny bit of supplies shopping, and I leave you for now.
Physical health/strength/endurance--balance.
Did I succeed? I'm not sure. No, I don't think so. Only time heals wounds and I hurt too deeply right now to make much more than a superficial dent. But I, and all involved, are in communications to seek a balance. Balance for the time being. That is all that can be done, so it is a valid and worthwhile goal.
Presence/communication--balance.
I did my share of the Christmas Cards this morning; He can do his side. This is the first year I will not do his work. I am almost finished crocheting Princesita's new bedspread; Young Prince's is already done and hidden away. Santa will dress their rooms while they sleep on Christmas Eve--when they awaken on Christmas Day, that will be their big surprise.
Presents-spirit--balance.
I pampered myself just a bit with a hair cut yesterday; the Hair Butchery is less that for me as I have a "master beautician" there I always use and she even brings me food once in a while. Nobody notices I get my hair cut but I suppose the only one who needs to notice is myself. Anyway, my beautician/magician is Iranian, a grandmother and just such a caring soul. I love to feel her fingers caressing my scalp just as much as I love the pull of the layering scissors against my head.
Pleasure/pain--balance.
I received word from my uncle; it appears he has had a stroke and is going through some tests, etc. He's the only family I have left on my father's side. Under normal circumstances that news wouldn't phase me but in the just slightly fragile state I feel I am in right now that news just pushes me over tears' edge.
Season's joys and season's losses--balance.
There is a cookie exchange tonight. I have just created the most decadent rumballs I've ever tasted--forget the "nilla wafer" filler; I have a gluten-free/soy-free concoction that is pure chocolate, condensed milk, vanilla and rum. Then some powdered sugar and soy-free chocolate chips on the outside and voila! The monitos licked the pot clean...quite literally.
Bitter/sweet--balance.
'Tis the season. I could use some other balance in my life as well. Balance between the emotional and the physical--my lack of physical contact is creating in me a monster that feels a need for great release. I was mentioning to a friend the other day, I would just kill for a make-out session. With someone. Geez, with anyone. Just to have that feeling again. Nothing more. Just to feel passion again, to feel someone's lips devouring mine. But that will not happen; I will not let that happen.
Passion/self-control--balance.
Facebook encounters have been interesting of late. An old hot and heavy flame from high school is evidently sleepless in Seattle. He shoots me an email asking me if I "remember us at -- Park?" Of course I do...he and I perfected there the beginning steps of a great art, hidden by the bushes, after school as juniors/seniors. We had quite a variety of funspots--the U of O football stadium included. But That was Then. He is now married to a beautiful wife, a gal I knew in college, with three children...and should NOT be emailing me with flirtatious fun. Even if merely being flirtatious--that is cheating and he is wrong to do that to his wife. And that is that.
Past tense/present tense--balance.
Now to balance my caffeinated mocha with some nice decaf hot tea to warm my body and prepare myself for just a tiny bit of supplies shopping, and I leave you for now.
viernes, 12 de diciembre de 2008
Flashback Friday
This morning, while walking Young Prince to his preschool classroom, I was speaking with one of his teachers who happens to be Japanese. We were talking about Japan winters, and I related to her about my experiences there with some funky January traditions in Nakanojo, my beloved town. So that is today's Flashback Friday post. Enjoy!
中之条町 Nakanojo-machi in cold January
成人の日 (Seijin no hi) is a national holiday in Japan, the annual Coming of Age day. It is now observed the 2nd Monday of every January in order to create a convenient three-day weekend, but when I lived there it was always on January 15. This is the day that all young people who turned 20 years of age during the past year "officially" turn 20. They gather at a local Shinto shrine all dressed in formal attire, with women in kimono wearing white fur collars, and, all at once, ceremoiously become legal citizens of their country. This is the age these young people now can officially smoke, drink, and vote...priority given usually in that order.
The ceremonies are followed by parties (of course--this is Japan!). If you want to see beautiful native ceremonial dress, this is one festival day not to be missed.
Following 成人の日 comes the 鳥追い祭り Torioi Matsuri that brings dear Nakanojo some fame. This is an old festival dating back to Japan's early Edo period. All the celebrations begin before sunrise with the どんど焼き dondo yaki a huge bonfire into which the だるま daruma faces of the previous year are thrown and burned or bad luck with ensue. We also roast what appear to be big white marshmallows on tree limbs...but are in reality hard little balls of steamed rice, so if you're expecting to sink your teeth into a nice, hot, sweet, gooey marshmallow, you are in for a very sorry surprise. Instead, your teeth crunch through the tough outer shell that formed on the rice ball in the yaki and then you can barely chew the rice ball due to the
intense stickiness and thick texture. Perhaps these are leftovers from the New Year's もち mochi rice cakes that were pounded out of stick rice put in a wooden container by heavy (very heavy!) wooden mallets. Many actually choke and die on this もち during each New Year.
Okay, so the だるま are those funky little creatures that are said to bring good luck, and have two eyes that are to be colored in. The first eye is colored when one begins a new endeavor, and the other when that goal had been realized. You are not to keep that doll into the New Year, however, so they are burned in the superstition that all the hard work will be somehow undone.
Then we chase the rice balls with cups of 甘酒 amazaki a sweet sake drink that's warm and perhaps akin to our hot chocolate...no chocolate, and although they say the alcohol, when heated, burns out, that is just not true, having started all three of my 鳥追い祭り celebrations out with quite the buzz by only 6 a.m. Ay, those were the days...
Then the fun begins at about 11 in the morning. The BIG Edo-period 和太鼓 wadaiko drums are pulled through town by the local young people (late teens/early 20s) dressed in festival gear. They stop at various points on the main streets in town (all closed off for the day to any traffic) and are beaten. In order to beat the taiko drums, you have to engage your entire body in the swinging of the drumstick, thus requiring quite a workout.
The purpose, you may ask? To chase the bad birds and spirits away in order to ensure a fruitful harvest in the New Year. Nakanojo is located in a rural, agricultural area of Japan--rice paddies everywhere. The country's largest crops of cabbage were just up the road from me, in Tsumagoi. We didn't want any bad birds ruining the fruits of labor! Let me just say that the beating of those drums would scare just about anything away, while perhaps awakening the dead in the process.
The unarguably best, most fun aspect of this festival, however, is the みかん mikan clementine orange throw. At various established stations throughout the town, mikan are thrown in a mad frenzy to the crowd below. Having been both at the receiving end, with my big plastic bag wide open to catch all the mikan I could in hopes I got some with a good prize attached (some had town sponsors giving away prizes from their stores--the best I got was a rug for my cold kitchen floor) and enough mikan to sustain me for the next few weeks so I didn't have to buy any at the store (which were, of course, at rock bottom prices because there was no demand--everyone got their oranges at the festival throw for free!) and the throwing end, when I could peg current and ex-students and co-workers and not feel guilty in the least, I can honestly say I preferred being the peg-ger than the peg-ee.
This festival continues for 10 hours, until 9:00 at night, at which time the drums are brought back to their various neighborhood stations and parked until the 夏祭り, the summer festival, and then the partying ensues. I was adopted by one specific neighborhood in the town, so I would go with those guys to a big dinner, a lot of drinking (of course, having been drinking since 4 or 5 a.m., this was for the heartiest...as I have full recollection of all of this, this serves as a testament as to how I spent my early 20s) followed by karaoke and, for the strongest of souls, ラメン ramen at about 2 or so in the morning.
I cannot say I have experienced anything at all like this outside of Japan, and truly doubt I ever will. La tomatina de Buñol, Spain is certainly inviting, but as that is more of a free-for-all, it is very limited time-wise, and it is incomparable in that it lacks the ceremonious control and rules that create an omnipresent undercurrent in anything Japanese.
jueves, 11 de diciembre de 2008
When Life gives you lemons...
...and it's on a constant basis, you'd think a person would figure it out and stop making the same mistake over and over again.
Some of us are not so smart, evidently. Others of us take those lemons and squeeze out of them an unending supply of lemonade--the fresh, tart stuff that, while being a positive end to a less-than-perfect situation, leaves behind the reminiscent mouth-puckering taste as a constant reminder of what could have or should have been done differently.
I have been through the emotional ringer this year on a level nobody really knows about and I think I am through with it. I just don't think I can do it anymore. Christmas is nice and picks up my spirit this year...how on Earth do I keep myself up in January? February? Those cold, dark months that frighten me so, with an inane holiday smack in the middle that I have so deeply despised since my youth for either its senseless obligation or its deep, utter loneliness. One year I gave myself a vacation in January. It served as the perfect distraction, but is far from the ideal time to go as cancellations can always occur: catching the 'flu, being snowed in, absolutely any variety of possibilities can create a stressful anticipation of such a needed mid-winter break.
I am also trying to learn to let my idealism of my 20s go. I cannot change the world; the world needs to want to change. I can be lauded as this positive influence but yet I am tired of feeling the failure when the willingness to adopt new, healthier ways is shrugged off or ignored for any variety of excuses. I need to stop trying to change the world and just focus on molding my own touchable reality.
And that is the end of my insomniac insights and rants this night. I hope the rest of you are sleeping tight!
Some of us are not so smart, evidently. Others of us take those lemons and squeeze out of them an unending supply of lemonade--the fresh, tart stuff that, while being a positive end to a less-than-perfect situation, leaves behind the reminiscent mouth-puckering taste as a constant reminder of what could have or should have been done differently.
I have been through the emotional ringer this year on a level nobody really knows about and I think I am through with it. I just don't think I can do it anymore. Christmas is nice and picks up my spirit this year...how on Earth do I keep myself up in January? February? Those cold, dark months that frighten me so, with an inane holiday smack in the middle that I have so deeply despised since my youth for either its senseless obligation or its deep, utter loneliness. One year I gave myself a vacation in January. It served as the perfect distraction, but is far from the ideal time to go as cancellations can always occur: catching the 'flu, being snowed in, absolutely any variety of possibilities can create a stressful anticipation of such a needed mid-winter break.
I am also trying to learn to let my idealism of my 20s go. I cannot change the world; the world needs to want to change. I can be lauded as this positive influence but yet I am tired of feeling the failure when the willingness to adopt new, healthier ways is shrugged off or ignored for any variety of excuses. I need to stop trying to change the world and just focus on molding my own touchable reality.
And that is the end of my insomniac insights and rants this night. I hope the rest of you are sleeping tight!
martes, 9 de diciembre de 2008
My letter V
The Exception tagged me on a letter meme that has had my head a-spinning! This is, indeed, a challenge, but an incrediby fun exercise!
She bestowed upon me the letter v.
Now to think of ten things that I love that begin with the letter v. If you leave me a comment, I will give you a randomly chosen letter in turn.
So: on to v!
1. V is for my violin, my first true love, my first traveling companion. My violin took me to Japan my first time, to All State Orchestra, and accompanied me throughout a youth filled with learning and loving in the purest sense. My virgin mind wrote a poem extolling my violin when I was but in high school, as an instrument of my love, through which this love shone forth in both a physical manifestation and an emotional outlet. My violin taught me self-discipline; I was self-taught on the violin and am proud that all I accomplished on my violin was due to my own hard work. I miss my violin--my fingers have lost their training but my heart has not lost the love.
2. V is for my voyages. I am a traveler. I have been to, not counting mere airport layovers, twenty-four countries, twenty-three of which before I turned 30. I have lived (long enough to have to change my visa) in Europe, South America and Asia. I have learned to respect the beliefs and the ways of life of so many who live in such a different way than the over-indulgent way North Americans tend to live, which has created in me a desire for much more simplicity in my life. When I sit for too long without traveling, I become extremely restless; my voyages are good for my soul.
3. V is for vivacity. I am extremely attracted to that quality in people and try as hard as I can to maintain my vivacity of spirit even when I feel beaten down by Life.
4. V is for Vegas. And the only reason I love Vegas is because my sister and her family lives there (as well as an old college roomie) and I have grown to love and really look forward to our once yearly visits.
5. V is for violets. Apart from adoring the vibrancy of violet, my imperfect lawn is filled with violets in the springtime. What most would consider a terrible plague infecting their grass, I adore the deep blue, purple and white violets that come out as a sure sign of spring. My children pick them and make me bouquets with these violets, which I put into mini-vases and decorate our tabletop with these springtime treasures.
6. V is for Vienna. It is the name of my town, that which I now call home. It surprises me, to be honest, that this would pop into my mind as I meditate upon this exercise. I have grown to love Vienna because this is the home my children know, and because my dearest adult friends live here. However, Vienna has also permitted me to follow a dream I never considered possible, that of starting my own school and even writing my own textbook, and I think there are few places where there would actually be an active market for what I do that is not already saturated by community college or other community outreach classes.
7. V is for vanilla, my most preferred candle scent and a most necessary ingredient in most Holiday baking recipes. I find the smell of vanilla intoxicating; it fills me with memories and warmth.
8. V is for variety. I become quickly bored with routine, and even if not capable of getting myself out of the daily routine, I seek out people who can grace my life with variety in some fashion--be it an impromptu coffee once in a while, a spontaneous drop-in at the house, or just a telephone conversation that makes me interrupt my norm/rut.
9. V is for velvet. I find the sensous feeling of that particular fabric glorious against my skin. My favorite dress is black velvet with a Chinese collar; unfortunately, I never have ocassion to wear it as I never go out! Velvet makes me feel like royalty. I love to feel like a queen.
10. V is for vicuña…after all, that is what I am. Even my latin name (Lama vicugna) tells you--I am Mama Llama, domesticated version of the wild vicuña that roam the Andean highlands and that give us such versatile wools to weave into sweaters or scarves, that keeps us so warm. They are sturdy, hearty, strong creatures that can handle the hardships of life on the altiplano and that give such comfort through their wool to others.
Funny, now that the floodgates have been opened, I can think of a variety of v variants that command my attentions.
She bestowed upon me the letter v.
Now to think of ten things that I love that begin with the letter v. If you leave me a comment, I will give you a randomly chosen letter in turn.
So: on to v!
1. V is for my violin, my first true love, my first traveling companion. My violin took me to Japan my first time, to All State Orchestra, and accompanied me throughout a youth filled with learning and loving in the purest sense. My virgin mind wrote a poem extolling my violin when I was but in high school, as an instrument of my love, through which this love shone forth in both a physical manifestation and an emotional outlet. My violin taught me self-discipline; I was self-taught on the violin and am proud that all I accomplished on my violin was due to my own hard work. I miss my violin--my fingers have lost their training but my heart has not lost the love.
2. V is for my voyages. I am a traveler. I have been to, not counting mere airport layovers, twenty-four countries, twenty-three of which before I turned 30. I have lived (long enough to have to change my visa) in Europe, South America and Asia. I have learned to respect the beliefs and the ways of life of so many who live in such a different way than the over-indulgent way North Americans tend to live, which has created in me a desire for much more simplicity in my life. When I sit for too long without traveling, I become extremely restless; my voyages are good for my soul.
3. V is for vivacity. I am extremely attracted to that quality in people and try as hard as I can to maintain my vivacity of spirit even when I feel beaten down by Life.
4. V is for Vegas. And the only reason I love Vegas is because my sister and her family lives there (as well as an old college roomie) and I have grown to love and really look forward to our once yearly visits.
5. V is for violets. Apart from adoring the vibrancy of violet, my imperfect lawn is filled with violets in the springtime. What most would consider a terrible plague infecting their grass, I adore the deep blue, purple and white violets that come out as a sure sign of spring. My children pick them and make me bouquets with these violets, which I put into mini-vases and decorate our tabletop with these springtime treasures.
6. V is for Vienna. It is the name of my town, that which I now call home. It surprises me, to be honest, that this would pop into my mind as I meditate upon this exercise. I have grown to love Vienna because this is the home my children know, and because my dearest adult friends live here. However, Vienna has also permitted me to follow a dream I never considered possible, that of starting my own school and even writing my own textbook, and I think there are few places where there would actually be an active market for what I do that is not already saturated by community college or other community outreach classes.
7. V is for vanilla, my most preferred candle scent and a most necessary ingredient in most Holiday baking recipes. I find the smell of vanilla intoxicating; it fills me with memories and warmth.
8. V is for variety. I become quickly bored with routine, and even if not capable of getting myself out of the daily routine, I seek out people who can grace my life with variety in some fashion--be it an impromptu coffee once in a while, a spontaneous drop-in at the house, or just a telephone conversation that makes me interrupt my norm/rut.
9. V is for velvet. I find the sensous feeling of that particular fabric glorious against my skin. My favorite dress is black velvet with a Chinese collar; unfortunately, I never have ocassion to wear it as I never go out! Velvet makes me feel like royalty. I love to feel like a queen.
10. V is for vicuña…after all, that is what I am. Even my latin name (Lama vicugna) tells you--I am Mama Llama, domesticated version of the wild vicuña that roam the Andean highlands and that give us such versatile wools to weave into sweaters or scarves, that keeps us so warm. They are sturdy, hearty, strong creatures that can handle the hardships of life on the altiplano and that give such comfort through their wool to others.
Funny, now that the floodgates have been opened, I can think of a variety of v variants that command my attentions.
lunes, 8 de diciembre de 2008
The Reindeer Quiz
Evidently, I have once done a private dance for Santa...
Was that the year my poly-sci prof dressed as Santa? Ugh...my past life is coming back to truly haunt me...
| You Are Dancer |
 Carefree and fun, you always find reasons to do a happy dance. Why You're Naughty: That dark stint you had as Santa's private dancer. Why You're Nice: You're friendly. Very friendly. |
Was that the year my poly-sci prof dressed as Santa? Ugh...my past life is coming back to truly haunt me...
A cinnamon spiced latte
The snow fell on Saturday evening.
It was a shower at best, but as whatever did fall has stuck around until today, it counts as the first official snowfall of the season. Following a day filled with a strange mix of charity, commercialism and the arts, Princesita, Young Prince and I decided to don our Santa hats, bundle up warm, and walk a mile downtown to the noodle restaurant for dinner.
The experience was glorious.
The air was cold, but hearts were warm as we held hands, sang songs and marvelled at the fact that we were the only ones perhaps crazy enough to be out walking in the cold, wintry night. Heated by the purest warmth of the company of those we love most, even my four year old never once complained of the two mile round-trip distance in the chill.
*---*
A pipe has broken on my street. There is a consequential calm on what is normally a known shortcut from one major street to another as Town workers are braving the sub-freezing temperatures to fix the problem. The water is frozen all over the street a few houses down.
What cracks me up, though, is that there are these two huge flourescent orange signs blocking off the street entrance, which actually state that the street is closed to traffic. You would not believe the number of cars that enter on the opposite lane of traffic, choosing to ignore the signs strategically placed right in their lane to (futilely) attempt to stop them from entering the street in the first place, then having to “lose time” by actually turning around and leaving the way they came in--right in front of my house.
I could sit and watch that all day. I wonder what it is that makes people not see big orange signs? Just coming down the street because they saw someone enter who happens to live on the street and thus has permission to come down the street? The mentality of “Well, if s/he can break the rules, so can I” (when, in reality, those of us living on this street are not breaking any rules)? The idea that, “But I’m different…I have to get to work and this is the only way I ever go, so why should I let a water main break my stride”?
What makes people around here feel above the rules? Or is this a universal truth that I only see as being so blatantly obvious here? Do we feel invincible, that whatever danger is posed can’t in any way hurt us? Then, if we do get into an accident from the ice covering the street, we can turn around and sue the Town…even if they had signs and road blocks up telling us to stay off the street?
Human nature can be so fun to ponder sometimes.
*---*
He is gone for a week for hearings regarding the Alaskan fishing boat disaster of a month ago. I feel so calm when I am alone here, much less lonely than when I am feeling forced into my solitude. He’ll be back for his weekend with the children, which is fine as I have other plans for the weekend. It is funny to me to think that, in all the Christmases had together, I feel more empowered in this one merely because I no longer feel like I’m doing everything alone as I had always felt before. I feel that I am teaching the children about the spirit of the season in a very holistic fashion, and am working hard to keep negative feelings away. This is already one of the most fulfilling Christmas seasons I have had in a decade simply because I am not caving to anyone else’s expectations nor fulfilling gift obligations for a side of the family that I hardly even know.
The resulting stress release is unparalleled!
I’ll get to the Christmas cards when I get to them. I will get my family’s gifts sent out sometime this week. It will be a simpler Christmas for my children with fewer gifts in quantity but the quality will be noted. The gift of the Nutcracker Ballet this past Saturday was the talk out of my children’s mouths all day on Sunday, when we graciously received another gift of food, warmth, laughter and company at a friend’s home for the afternoon. My children are learning about the magic of gifts that are not the touchable, playable type. Of course my children will receive some toys. But I want them to receive so much more--the traditions and the memories that we are establishing together are what cannot be bought by point-and-click shopping…
…and on these gifts, the shipping is always free.
It was a shower at best, but as whatever did fall has stuck around until today, it counts as the first official snowfall of the season. Following a day filled with a strange mix of charity, commercialism and the arts, Princesita, Young Prince and I decided to don our Santa hats, bundle up warm, and walk a mile downtown to the noodle restaurant for dinner.
The experience was glorious.
The air was cold, but hearts were warm as we held hands, sang songs and marvelled at the fact that we were the only ones perhaps crazy enough to be out walking in the cold, wintry night. Heated by the purest warmth of the company of those we love most, even my four year old never once complained of the two mile round-trip distance in the chill.
*---*
A pipe has broken on my street. There is a consequential calm on what is normally a known shortcut from one major street to another as Town workers are braving the sub-freezing temperatures to fix the problem. The water is frozen all over the street a few houses down.
What cracks me up, though, is that there are these two huge flourescent orange signs blocking off the street entrance, which actually state that the street is closed to traffic. You would not believe the number of cars that enter on the opposite lane of traffic, choosing to ignore the signs strategically placed right in their lane to (futilely) attempt to stop them from entering the street in the first place, then having to “lose time” by actually turning around and leaving the way they came in--right in front of my house.
I could sit and watch that all day. I wonder what it is that makes people not see big orange signs? Just coming down the street because they saw someone enter who happens to live on the street and thus has permission to come down the street? The mentality of “Well, if s/he can break the rules, so can I” (when, in reality, those of us living on this street are not breaking any rules)? The idea that, “But I’m different…I have to get to work and this is the only way I ever go, so why should I let a water main break my stride”?
What makes people around here feel above the rules? Or is this a universal truth that I only see as being so blatantly obvious here? Do we feel invincible, that whatever danger is posed can’t in any way hurt us? Then, if we do get into an accident from the ice covering the street, we can turn around and sue the Town…even if they had signs and road blocks up telling us to stay off the street?
Human nature can be so fun to ponder sometimes.
*---*
He is gone for a week for hearings regarding the Alaskan fishing boat disaster of a month ago. I feel so calm when I am alone here, much less lonely than when I am feeling forced into my solitude. He’ll be back for his weekend with the children, which is fine as I have other plans for the weekend. It is funny to me to think that, in all the Christmases had together, I feel more empowered in this one merely because I no longer feel like I’m doing everything alone as I had always felt before. I feel that I am teaching the children about the spirit of the season in a very holistic fashion, and am working hard to keep negative feelings away. This is already one of the most fulfilling Christmas seasons I have had in a decade simply because I am not caving to anyone else’s expectations nor fulfilling gift obligations for a side of the family that I hardly even know.
The resulting stress release is unparalleled!
I’ll get to the Christmas cards when I get to them. I will get my family’s gifts sent out sometime this week. It will be a simpler Christmas for my children with fewer gifts in quantity but the quality will be noted. The gift of the Nutcracker Ballet this past Saturday was the talk out of my children’s mouths all day on Sunday, when we graciously received another gift of food, warmth, laughter and company at a friend’s home for the afternoon. My children are learning about the magic of gifts that are not the touchable, playable type. Of course my children will receive some toys. But I want them to receive so much more--the traditions and the memories that we are establishing together are what cannot be bought by point-and-click shopping…
…and on these gifts, the shipping is always free.
viernes, 5 de diciembre de 2008
not much to say...
I know, write THAT in the record books. (grin)
I actually have a lot to say, but can't find the words right now. December is a hard month for me, made this year a bit more bitter with Ryan's death. It is hard for me to believe that, come the 17th, it will have been 9 years that Dad died--what seems like yesterday and yet still a lifetime ago. And the 15th makes 7 years that Ko-chan died. And the 30th makes 11 years that my surrogate grandmother died (she lived next door all my childhood life and thus filled that role in my life).
I focus on the lights on the tree, the music, the lights in my children's eyes and try not to let myself think about all I feel I have lost in December.
I try not to feel so cold, but that is hard for me right now. I take my moments of joy and cherish them, and they carry me through my moments of sadness and grief.
I miss hugs. Sometimes you just need someone to hold you, nothing more, and I haven't had that in a very, very long time. I pretend I'm just holding my children but I never really let them know that it is instead them holding me...it is not fair to them to know that kind of pressure at their young ages.
And that is that.
I actually have a lot to say, but can't find the words right now. December is a hard month for me, made this year a bit more bitter with Ryan's death. It is hard for me to believe that, come the 17th, it will have been 9 years that Dad died--what seems like yesterday and yet still a lifetime ago. And the 15th makes 7 years that Ko-chan died. And the 30th makes 11 years that my surrogate grandmother died (she lived next door all my childhood life and thus filled that role in my life).
I focus on the lights on the tree, the music, the lights in my children's eyes and try not to let myself think about all I feel I have lost in December.
I try not to feel so cold, but that is hard for me right now. I take my moments of joy and cherish them, and they carry me through my moments of sadness and grief.
I miss hugs. Sometimes you just need someone to hold you, nothing more, and I haven't had that in a very, very long time. I pretend I'm just holding my children but I never really let them know that it is instead them holding me...it is not fair to them to know that kind of pressure at their young ages.
And that is that.
miércoles, 3 de diciembre de 2008
Malawi, revisited yet again
Malawi has taken yet another friend.
He was a lifelong friend, one I went to school with from kindergarten all the way through graduation from high school. His father and my father taught together in the same school and educated each others' children.
Although I have many memories, one in particular stands out from Home Ec class in the 7th grade. He was the only of the testosterone set in the class and not only were we sewing machine partners (which was good as I was hopeless at threading the darned thing--he came to my rescue more than once!) but also cooking partners. He always teased me about how much syrup I needed to douse my geometrically-shaped pancakes in because they weren't otherwise edible!
We had fun.
Last I saw him was our 10 year reunion. He came right up to me and we stepped aside, apart from the rest of the group and had a wonderful talk, for a good 45 minutes or so, about life, travel and, most impressive, the fact that he was a missionary in Africa. I am personally not a missionary-minded person but have great respect for those who have such faith that go forth and spread word and, most importantly, good will to all in the world.
He and his family--a wife with three young girls aged 8, 6 and 3--were in Malawi. He was returning after delivering maize with a friend and was in an accident yesterday. He was killed in that accident. He was my age--36.
Today is a sad day. My soul aches for a world that has lost such a good man who had the will and the courage to spread so much love and goodness to places that so desperately need such gifts. Each tear I shed is filled with sadness for his family and yet with hope that his good deeds and example will be remembered and emulated by all who knew him.
He was a lifelong friend, one I went to school with from kindergarten all the way through graduation from high school. His father and my father taught together in the same school and educated each others' children.
Although I have many memories, one in particular stands out from Home Ec class in the 7th grade. He was the only of the testosterone set in the class and not only were we sewing machine partners (which was good as I was hopeless at threading the darned thing--he came to my rescue more than once!) but also cooking partners. He always teased me about how much syrup I needed to douse my geometrically-shaped pancakes in because they weren't otherwise edible!
We had fun.
Last I saw him was our 10 year reunion. He came right up to me and we stepped aside, apart from the rest of the group and had a wonderful talk, for a good 45 minutes or so, about life, travel and, most impressive, the fact that he was a missionary in Africa. I am personally not a missionary-minded person but have great respect for those who have such faith that go forth and spread word and, most importantly, good will to all in the world.
He and his family--a wife with three young girls aged 8, 6 and 3--were in Malawi. He was returning after delivering maize with a friend and was in an accident yesterday. He was killed in that accident. He was my age--36.
Today is a sad day. My soul aches for a world that has lost such a good man who had the will and the courage to spread so much love and goodness to places that so desperately need such gifts. Each tear I shed is filled with sadness for his family and yet with hope that his good deeds and example will be remembered and emulated by all who knew him.
lunes, 1 de diciembre de 2008
flirting
Dad's House wrote today on flirting and challenged us all to a "A Flirt A Day" contest.
Doesn't that sound like so much fun? Perhaps just the thing to draw us out of our winter hibernations, light a fire in our souls and bring some spontaneity and spark to our spirits.
To be honest, nothing makes me want to crawl deeper into my little cave even more.
I used to flirt, I used to have fun and enjoy my company with others, friends and strangers alike. Now, with a mortal fear that someone might read too much into a look, a word, a touch, I find it easier to live my life in my little contactless circle where I don't have to worry about having anything else further complicating my life.
There are external circumstances, of course, that affect these words. I have a hard time in December, I have a sore throat and am not feeling well (which doesn't happen often), the winter chill and short days affect me each year, and I have recently had a hard disagreement with a close friend that has yet to be resolved; these all create in me a great degree of insecurity and my self-confidence is just low right now.
So low that, reading Dad's post, I found myself in tears, wondering what in the world has happened to ME...the ME I used to be. My strength is gone and my resolve accounts for almost nothing.
*---*
Last night I read a Hans Christian Anderson tale I had never before read to my children. It was called "The Fir Tree". The gist of the story is that the fir tree in the forest was never content with how his life was while surrounded by the beauty of nature in the forest; he always wanted something more. It wasn't until he was chopped down, decorated, promptly discarded and chopped and burned that he realized how he had wished his life away. The last paragraph describing how each pop of his trunk in the fire was actually a sigh as he remembered various glorious scenes from his life that he never appreciated until it was all over.
My kids didn't understand why I cried at the end of the story. And I actually, for the first time, didn't feel like talking about it.
Doesn't that sound like so much fun? Perhaps just the thing to draw us out of our winter hibernations, light a fire in our souls and bring some spontaneity and spark to our spirits.
To be honest, nothing makes me want to crawl deeper into my little cave even more.
I used to flirt, I used to have fun and enjoy my company with others, friends and strangers alike. Now, with a mortal fear that someone might read too much into a look, a word, a touch, I find it easier to live my life in my little contactless circle where I don't have to worry about having anything else further complicating my life.
There are external circumstances, of course, that affect these words. I have a hard time in December, I have a sore throat and am not feeling well (which doesn't happen often), the winter chill and short days affect me each year, and I have recently had a hard disagreement with a close friend that has yet to be resolved; these all create in me a great degree of insecurity and my self-confidence is just low right now.
So low that, reading Dad's post, I found myself in tears, wondering what in the world has happened to ME...the ME I used to be. My strength is gone and my resolve accounts for almost nothing.
*---*
Last night I read a Hans Christian Anderson tale I had never before read to my children. It was called "The Fir Tree". The gist of the story is that the fir tree in the forest was never content with how his life was while surrounded by the beauty of nature in the forest; he always wanted something more. It wasn't until he was chopped down, decorated, promptly discarded and chopped and burned that he realized how he had wished his life away. The last paragraph describing how each pop of his trunk in the fire was actually a sigh as he remembered various glorious scenes from his life that he never appreciated until it was all over.
My kids didn't understand why I cried at the end of the story. And I actually, for the first time, didn't feel like talking about it.
December
The lights and tree went up this weekend, as I scurried about in my one and only chance to actually decorate for the Christmas holiday. It was this weekend or three days before Christmas, according to my calendar of events.
I have had some sort of upper-respiratory bug eating at me for a couple of weeks; Young Prince seems to be coming out of his but Princesita is just going into it, and I seem destined to have to somehow suffer through both.
*---*
This week had Him at the house more than I am accustomed to, which had me either out of the house more as a result or hidden back in my room/cave. As I managed to finish crocheting the Young Prince's new bedspread, all was not lost. However, my time just in earshot gave me some enlightening insights into my children's relationship with their father.
1. He has to have the radio up so loud in the kitchen that it drowns out the kids' voices. True, I like to have the radio on as well, but keep it down to background music, especially when the kids want to speak. If there are NPR stories I would like to hear, I leave the room to listen rather than tell the kids to shush so that I can prioritize a faceless digital box over my own children's developing self-expression.
2. He tells me that the kids disrespect him when they talk to him and accuses me of fostering that attitude. However, stepping back and listening to them banter in the morning, I hear them talking to him in the same way he speaks to them. My children do not talk to me the way they talk to their father, and I wouldn't allow it if they did. However, that is not my battle to be waged; it is his as long as he ceases to involve me through accusations.
3. He no longer sleeps in his own bedroom but instead out in the t.v. room downstairs. This results in an echoing of his dreadful snoring throughout the house...another huge reason we could never, in the history of our marriage, sleep in the same room. I would merely close my door if I weren't in charge of taking care of the kids during the night (thus requiring open doors). Perhaps he's starting to realize his room stinks because he refuses to ever open a window for fresh air when it is nice outside. Or perhaps it's drafty because he hasn't put down his storm windows. He needs to learn how to complete these simple menial tasks. I am not going to be his mother anymore.
December is again upon us and I am disappointed in myself that I haven't made greater strides in this separation, which was something I resolved to do this year. I suppose I have made positive steps; just not as big as I had ideally imagined. As of this month I only have one more year of "probation" to wait out as well with CPS, so perhaps next year I will feel much less trapped by my own circumstances.
I hate December. I love Christmas in all that I can teach my children regarding the joys of giving and receiving and thanksgiving, but I despise December. I don't like January much, either, but December comes and I can feel my heart being ripped from my chest and wrung out like a wet towel every year.
So I must find the Joy. Somehow.
I have had some sort of upper-respiratory bug eating at me for a couple of weeks; Young Prince seems to be coming out of his but Princesita is just going into it, and I seem destined to have to somehow suffer through both.
*---*
This week had Him at the house more than I am accustomed to, which had me either out of the house more as a result or hidden back in my room/cave. As I managed to finish crocheting the Young Prince's new bedspread, all was not lost. However, my time just in earshot gave me some enlightening insights into my children's relationship with their father.
1. He has to have the radio up so loud in the kitchen that it drowns out the kids' voices. True, I like to have the radio on as well, but keep it down to background music, especially when the kids want to speak. If there are NPR stories I would like to hear, I leave the room to listen rather than tell the kids to shush so that I can prioritize a faceless digital box over my own children's developing self-expression.
2. He tells me that the kids disrespect him when they talk to him and accuses me of fostering that attitude. However, stepping back and listening to them banter in the morning, I hear them talking to him in the same way he speaks to them. My children do not talk to me the way they talk to their father, and I wouldn't allow it if they did. However, that is not my battle to be waged; it is his as long as he ceases to involve me through accusations.
3. He no longer sleeps in his own bedroom but instead out in the t.v. room downstairs. This results in an echoing of his dreadful snoring throughout the house...another huge reason we could never, in the history of our marriage, sleep in the same room. I would merely close my door if I weren't in charge of taking care of the kids during the night (thus requiring open doors). Perhaps he's starting to realize his room stinks because he refuses to ever open a window for fresh air when it is nice outside. Or perhaps it's drafty because he hasn't put down his storm windows. He needs to learn how to complete these simple menial tasks. I am not going to be his mother anymore.
December is again upon us and I am disappointed in myself that I haven't made greater strides in this separation, which was something I resolved to do this year. I suppose I have made positive steps; just not as big as I had ideally imagined. As of this month I only have one more year of "probation" to wait out as well with CPS, so perhaps next year I will feel much less trapped by my own circumstances.
I hate December. I love Christmas in all that I can teach my children regarding the joys of giving and receiving and thanksgiving, but I despise December. I don't like January much, either, but December comes and I can feel my heart being ripped from my chest and wrung out like a wet towel every year.
So I must find the Joy. Somehow.
jueves, 27 de noviembre de 2008
Thankfulness, revisited.
In no particular order, I am thankful for:
My long legs. They help me get things done a lot quicker than if my legs were shorter... okay, there are other reasons why I'm thankful for my long legs.
Strawberries in-season. And once in a while out-of-season.
Same with raspberries, blueberries and blackberries.
Candles with nice, subtle scents.
Fleece.
Warm, cozy blankets.
Orgasms--when they actually exist in my life.
My ability to remember numbers.
My toenails.
My flexibility.
My determination.
My mirror, because I am vain.
My Sonicare toothbrush that keeps me cavity-free.
Warm socks.
My morning MamaLlama-bucks (iced mocha).
Hot tea.
My microwave oven.
Wireless internet.
Text messaging.
My friends who watch out for me and take care of me.
Red wine.
A decent recycling program in my Town.
Being able to drive a manual.
The fact that I don't have to wear much makeup.
The wonderful memories of experiences had.
Christmas lights...DURING the Christmas season.
Airplanes.
The fact that "high-heeled comfort" is not necessarily oxymoronic.
Perennial plants.
The fact that black goes with pretty much anything.
That I don't believe in shopping on Black Friday.
Facials and pedicures.
Dates with any of my girlfriends.
Happy Thanksgiving!
My long legs. They help me get things done a lot quicker than if my legs were shorter... okay, there are other reasons why I'm thankful for my long legs.
Strawberries in-season. And once in a while out-of-season.
Same with raspberries, blueberries and blackberries.
Candles with nice, subtle scents.
Fleece.
Warm, cozy blankets.
Orgasms--when they actually exist in my life.
My ability to remember numbers.
My toenails.
My flexibility.
My determination.
My mirror, because I am vain.
My Sonicare toothbrush that keeps me cavity-free.
Warm socks.
My morning MamaLlama-bucks (iced mocha).
Hot tea.
My microwave oven.
Wireless internet.
Text messaging.
My friends who watch out for me and take care of me.
Red wine.
A decent recycling program in my Town.
Being able to drive a manual.
The fact that I don't have to wear much makeup.
The wonderful memories of experiences had.
Christmas lights...DURING the Christmas season.
Airplanes.
The fact that "high-heeled comfort" is not necessarily oxymoronic.
Perennial plants.
The fact that black goes with pretty much anything.
That I don't believe in shopping on Black Friday.
Facials and pedicures.
Dates with any of my girlfriends.
Happy Thanksgiving!
domingo, 23 de noviembre de 2008
In Thanksgiving
This week we in the United States, as well as our citizens scattered throughout the world, celebrate Thanksgiving. Tradition calls for the turkey, cranberries, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie and a plethora of fattening delicacies that, as tradition also mandates, we are to enjoy guilt-free regardless of how we might later pay for such indulgences.
Albeit something I ought to practice more readily in my life, I also find myself forced to slow down and reflect on all I have to be thankful for. This is a hard time of year for me in that blood-line family is located so far away that it is pretty much impossible for holidays to be spent together. The cold, dark weather always draws me into hibernation mode. Heartache that is inevitable with the dark memories surrounding my father's death at Christmastime also seeks me out no matter how hard I might try to hide from it. Two close friends both have their fathers critically hospitalized right now, both as of this week; it seems that others are starting to catch up and, although I want to be able to do what I so needed from others when my father died, I am finding it emotionally impossible for me to do anything but pray for the well-being of all involved.
Perhaps selfish, but I just cannot put myself through the wrenching emotions it all causes deep in my soul. At least their fathers got to know their grandchildren, have relationships with them and see them grow into beautiful young people while developing adult relationships with their own children. Much like me and both my grandfathers, my children never knew their grandfather. He was days away from receiving his first retirement check when he died. The two fathers now hospitalized are much older and have lived a much more complete life. Yes, it is sad but they have also come much closer to living our socially-defined full cycle of life. Yes, I think it's unfair, because I am selfish. But I also recognize Life is unfair and there isn't anything I can do about that. It all just hits too close to home for me still. So I stay my distance.
Funny how strong we can convince ourselves we are, but when said strength is tried our weaknesses shine forth with greater force.
*---*
I spent the weekend completely engaged with the little monkeys! As my weekends are currently running a Friday-Saturday schedule with Sunday-Thursday students, I do the best I can to maximize our time together on Friday evening as soon as Princesita is home from school. This time spent together made me reflect actively on the deep gratitude I feel for so much in my life. This will be my serious list, due to the tone of the post. In a couple of days I will then post my not-so-serious Thanksgiving list when I have a bit less work and a bit more cranberries and stuffing on my mind.
What am I thankful for? No elaboration needed:
My beautiful children
My God
My friends
My garden
My family
My health
My home
My business
My students
My talents to make this happen for me
My opportunities
My cat
The food on my table
Enough money to live on
Warmth
Music
Love
Peace
My emotions
All of you, some who come and go and others who stay and 'virtually' complete my life
The most sincere of Thanksgiving wishes, warmth, blessings and love, from Mama Llama to YOU!
Albeit something I ought to practice more readily in my life, I also find myself forced to slow down and reflect on all I have to be thankful for. This is a hard time of year for me in that blood-line family is located so far away that it is pretty much impossible for holidays to be spent together. The cold, dark weather always draws me into hibernation mode. Heartache that is inevitable with the dark memories surrounding my father's death at Christmastime also seeks me out no matter how hard I might try to hide from it. Two close friends both have their fathers critically hospitalized right now, both as of this week; it seems that others are starting to catch up and, although I want to be able to do what I so needed from others when my father died, I am finding it emotionally impossible for me to do anything but pray for the well-being of all involved.
Perhaps selfish, but I just cannot put myself through the wrenching emotions it all causes deep in my soul. At least their fathers got to know their grandchildren, have relationships with them and see them grow into beautiful young people while developing adult relationships with their own children. Much like me and both my grandfathers, my children never knew their grandfather. He was days away from receiving his first retirement check when he died. The two fathers now hospitalized are much older and have lived a much more complete life. Yes, it is sad but they have also come much closer to living our socially-defined full cycle of life. Yes, I think it's unfair, because I am selfish. But I also recognize Life is unfair and there isn't anything I can do about that. It all just hits too close to home for me still. So I stay my distance.
Funny how strong we can convince ourselves we are, but when said strength is tried our weaknesses shine forth with greater force.
*---*
I spent the weekend completely engaged with the little monkeys! As my weekends are currently running a Friday-Saturday schedule with Sunday-Thursday students, I do the best I can to maximize our time together on Friday evening as soon as Princesita is home from school. This time spent together made me reflect actively on the deep gratitude I feel for so much in my life. This will be my serious list, due to the tone of the post. In a couple of days I will then post my not-so-serious Thanksgiving list when I have a bit less work and a bit more cranberries and stuffing on my mind.
What am I thankful for? No elaboration needed:
My beautiful children
My God
My friends
My garden
My family
My health
My home
My business
My students
My talents to make this happen for me
My opportunities
My cat
The food on my table
Enough money to live on
Warmth
Music
Love
Peace
My emotions
All of you, some who come and go and others who stay and 'virtually' complete my life
The most sincere of Thanksgiving wishes, warmth, blessings and love, from Mama Llama to YOU!
viernes, 21 de noviembre de 2008
Flashback Friday
Next Friday Thanksgiving will be behind us, our interiors filled with food and fun and the warmth that comes from time spent with people we love--family in the blood sense and in the metaphoric sense. Last year I remembered my first Thanksgiving in Japan, a holiday (obviously) not celebrated there. It was not the first time I had lived in a foreign country during a major United States holiday, but in Ecuador a small gringo community gathered for a lovely turkey feast, which made that First Time much easier to bear.
感謝祭の日 Thanksgiving Day in Japan
感謝祭の日 Kanshasai no hi Thanksgiving Day was a very special day in Japan for me, my first being one of the first true demonstrations of how gracious and generous the Japanese can be, once you pierce their formal exterior.
I had an 英会話 eikaiwa English conversation class on Monday nights that I taught each of my three years in 中之条. As the autumn season of 1994 progressed, I was coming to realize that, for the first time in my life, I would not be experiencing Thanksgiving in a way that I had always known through tradition: gathering of family or friends, plethora of food, recounting stories already million times told but yearned for yet again so as to fulfill the requirement of tradition. Even in Guayaquil in 1992 I had a Thanksgiving dinner, along with my North American classmates, at the house of Bostonian ex-pat who had connections and could get a turkey. However in Japan, and much more so in rural 群馬県 Gunma-ken, it was extremely difficult to find a turkey, although the word for turkey, 七面鳥 shichimenchou, does exist in their vernacular.
My 英会話 class pooled together what must have been a great sum of money and imported a Thanksgiving turkey for me. They disclosed this gift two weeks before Thanksgiving, and I put together a list of other foods and recipes for those who would like to try preparing some other "traditions" that I was familiar with, such as sweet potatoes with marshmallows and cranberries and pumpkin pie. The next week we passed around a sign-up sheet and corresponding recipes for the next week's Thanksgiving Potluck Dinner...a first annual event for this 英会話 class.
This was a joyous occasion. We talked about the idea of thankfulness and how our different cultures celebrate and recognize this idea. We had an immense amount of food and the turkey was delicious. It was an enjoyable event, that we reproduced in other forms the other two years of my tenure.
At the end of the night, the group's leader presented the rest of the turkey and the leftovers to me and told me to have the rest on Thanksgiving night, and to invite my other friends who probably would not have any Thanksgiving turkey that year.
So, to my residence came my North American friends Mike, Chris, Laraine and Ted, and our Australian "bug-catcher" cohort John and together we reheated the turkey and spooned out all the side dishes and had a wonderful, memory-filled evening, giving thanks for all that we had and the fact that we had each other to lean on in the middle of our little individual pieces of rented Japanese heaven
jueves, 20 de noviembre de 2008
Back to Izzy...
Okay. Izzy.
Now I think I see it. It is how we always, when alone, go back in our minds to what we know, what we were, finding comfort in memory so as not to have to deal with the fear of being alone. We try to go on with Life, go to work, play, meet people, learn, love...and then return to the quiet, the alone.
Why are we so afraid of quiet? Of being alone? Are we so accustomed to constant action, constant noise, constant mind-engagement that, when we cannot be externally stimulated we will go to great lengths--like bringing back the dead to fulfill a an active role, or at least a role of more than merely a memory in our lives, for example--to not have to be alone with our own thoughts and feelings? Are we that scared?
Interesting thoughts provoked tonight...
Now I think I see it. It is how we always, when alone, go back in our minds to what we know, what we were, finding comfort in memory so as not to have to deal with the fear of being alone. We try to go on with Life, go to work, play, meet people, learn, love...and then return to the quiet, the alone.
Why are we so afraid of quiet? Of being alone? Are we so accustomed to constant action, constant noise, constant mind-engagement that, when we cannot be externally stimulated we will go to great lengths--like bringing back the dead to fulfill a an active role, or at least a role of more than merely a memory in our lives, for example--to not have to be alone with our own thoughts and feelings? Are we that scared?
Interesting thoughts provoked tonight...
martes, 18 de noviembre de 2008
blustery beauty
Saturday was a balmy yet blustery day.
A strong cold front was blowing in from the northwest, ahead of which we had temperatures reaching the mid-70s. The warmth brought people out from all corners wearing shorts and t-shirts, attempting to capture what many acertained were the last of the vitamin D-bearing sunrays of the calendar year.
It was glorious!
I awoke feeling an inexplicable energy. Hearing the gara-gara of my bedroom windows all night, I had evidence of Mother Nature's power and sensed it was a day to take full advantage. Although I vow to never drive to the gym, I decided to couple my trip to workout with a trip to the grocer only around the corner, and my shopping spree demanded items much too heavy to lug all the way home on my slight frame. So I brought my clothes with, intending to shower and change at the gym.
Great workout, ran 5 miles in 33:05 (YIPPEE!) on the elliptical and showered. Forgot my comb of all things, so I pulled my long wet locks back into a pseudo-bun, a little eyeliner, a little lipstick and voila! done. Walked out and, working out right in front of me was a looker.
And he looked. And said, "Hel-LO!"
Damned my shyness, I smiled and lowered my eyes and barely audibly uttered a 'hello' back, and continued walking...but with my head high and feeling GREAT. Attractive. Noticed. Sexy. And with my presence validated.
Sometimes that is ALL I need. I am demanding, but my needs are few.
Off to the store, dropped the goods off at home, a couple of phone calls then off to be out and enjoy the morning. All the news reports warned of rapid changes at a later point in the afternoon, with plummeting temperatures ushered in with the wild wind, so I knew I could get away with single-layer jeans (no tights) and a sweater with no jacket for only so long.
I saw people I had not seen in a long time, I met a nice young waitress at CPK, recently graduated from high school, who wants to be a pastry chef and has been accepted into the CIA, I bought new tights in preparation for the cold week (always need footless tights and heavy socks), went to My Store (White House Black Market, if you're wondering) and actually found a sweater I could afford, and sat out in an open air square, eyes closed and just taking it all in--the air, the wind, the energy, the good moods...
...then the rain began.
As I am a wicked witch llama that melts when wet, I ran to my car as quickly as my clogs would allow me and drove the seven miles back to my home, where my children had spent the entire glorious morning downstairs watching cartoons with their father.
(sigh)
I soon realized my cell phone was gone and, after making some key telephone calls to establishments visited, I decided it was gone for good. But no big deal--I was feeling great! Off again to another store, it was still relatively warm and windy with more storm clouds in the distance. With my iTunes "mood mix" playing at a volume louder than I would permit had my children been in the backseat, I enjoyed my ride out, did my shopping and rushed back out to my car in another windy rainfall.
As I arrived home, the sun broke through the confused sky and behold, a strong rainbow arched through the sky welcoming me back.
My pot of gold? A day of feeling free, accomplishing tasks and knowing I could go out and do all of this all by myself, and carrying this wonderful liberating feeling with me all this week! The warmth in my heart helps blanket me through the sporadic snow showers we expect this week.
A strong cold front was blowing in from the northwest, ahead of which we had temperatures reaching the mid-70s. The warmth brought people out from all corners wearing shorts and t-shirts, attempting to capture what many acertained were the last of the vitamin D-bearing sunrays of the calendar year.
It was glorious!
I awoke feeling an inexplicable energy. Hearing the gara-gara of my bedroom windows all night, I had evidence of Mother Nature's power and sensed it was a day to take full advantage. Although I vow to never drive to the gym, I decided to couple my trip to workout with a trip to the grocer only around the corner, and my shopping spree demanded items much too heavy to lug all the way home on my slight frame. So I brought my clothes with, intending to shower and change at the gym.
Great workout, ran 5 miles in 33:05 (YIPPEE!) on the elliptical and showered. Forgot my comb of all things, so I pulled my long wet locks back into a pseudo-bun, a little eyeliner, a little lipstick and voila! done. Walked out and, working out right in front of me was a looker.
And he looked. And said, "Hel-LO!"
Damned my shyness, I smiled and lowered my eyes and barely audibly uttered a 'hello' back, and continued walking...but with my head high and feeling GREAT. Attractive. Noticed. Sexy. And with my presence validated.
Sometimes that is ALL I need. I am demanding, but my needs are few.
Off to the store, dropped the goods off at home, a couple of phone calls then off to be out and enjoy the morning. All the news reports warned of rapid changes at a later point in the afternoon, with plummeting temperatures ushered in with the wild wind, so I knew I could get away with single-layer jeans (no tights) and a sweater with no jacket for only so long.
I saw people I had not seen in a long time, I met a nice young waitress at CPK, recently graduated from high school, who wants to be a pastry chef and has been accepted into the CIA, I bought new tights in preparation for the cold week (always need footless tights and heavy socks), went to My Store (White House Black Market, if you're wondering) and actually found a sweater I could afford, and sat out in an open air square, eyes closed and just taking it all in--the air, the wind, the energy, the good moods...
...then the rain began.
As I am a wicked witch llama that melts when wet, I ran to my car as quickly as my clogs would allow me and drove the seven miles back to my home, where my children had spent the entire glorious morning downstairs watching cartoons with their father.
(sigh)
I soon realized my cell phone was gone and, after making some key telephone calls to establishments visited, I decided it was gone for good. But no big deal--I was feeling great! Off again to another store, it was still relatively warm and windy with more storm clouds in the distance. With my iTunes "mood mix" playing at a volume louder than I would permit had my children been in the backseat, I enjoyed my ride out, did my shopping and rushed back out to my car in another windy rainfall.
As I arrived home, the sun broke through the confused sky and behold, a strong rainbow arched through the sky welcoming me back.
My pot of gold? A day of feeling free, accomplishing tasks and knowing I could go out and do all of this all by myself, and carrying this wonderful liberating feeling with me all this week! The warmth in my heart helps blanket me through the sporadic snow showers we expect this week.
sábado, 15 de noviembre de 2008
The Izzy Factor
I am a fan of Grey's Anatomy. I consider it my "smut fix". However, in this week's show there were some occurances surrounding some conflict in the life of one of the principal characters that have remained vividly fixed in my mind.
The great love of Izzy's life died a few seasons ago when a heart transplant did not come through for him. The Great Love--meaning she was ready to marry him and have his children, and this was reciprocal. His "apparition" is now watching over her and has, as of the last episode, convinced Izzy that he is real--thus not permitting her to go on with her life.
The imagery was strong--he had her take her hand and place it on his chest and, in the moment I was expecting her hand to go right through him it of course did not, it touched a real person...or what Izzy believed to be real.
How do we reconcile our ghosts? These could be past loves, or those whom we love reciprocally but cannot be together due to current circumstances. Or those who have actually died. Are these people real? Do/Did these relationships exist? How would one bring realities together that would otherwise not coincide?
Current technology permits so much that was not previously possible. Webcams, live voice chats, cell phones and text messaging is worldwide, breaching any distance; lovers on two different continents can maintain great levels of communication, with quasi eye-to-eye contact in real time. I see that with my friend whose husband has 50 more days left in Afghanistan--I even get to chat with him every so often when visiting her house, a possibility unheard of in previous global conflicts.
However, the questions in my mind that the Izzy Factor poses are: How much does all of this enable the development of a complete fantasy, something that is true but yet is not as physical presence is mythical rather than real? (I am not speaking of seeing loves that have left this world. If that is the case, some sort of professional help is required in my opinion.) If physical presence of the other is truth for a short time say, every few months, how is that reconciled against a reality of distance, no matter how rich and deep communication lines run? When two people who live under the same roof cannot communicate as well as two who are forced to do so by circumstance, does that transcend the relationship level to a degree?
I suppose that would have a lot to do with the will of both individuals involved; the will to maintain something good and true even against all odds, the will to maintain the spark and to learn new ways of keeping magic alive that could easily die out if lacking a two-sided deep investment, the will to risk not being comprehended by those physically present just to keep something good alive, the will to believe that truth can sometimes not be touched.
Or perhaps I read way too much into the Izzy Factor.
The great love of Izzy's life died a few seasons ago when a heart transplant did not come through for him. The Great Love--meaning she was ready to marry him and have his children, and this was reciprocal. His "apparition" is now watching over her and has, as of the last episode, convinced Izzy that he is real--thus not permitting her to go on with her life.
The imagery was strong--he had her take her hand and place it on his chest and, in the moment I was expecting her hand to go right through him it of course did not, it touched a real person...or what Izzy believed to be real.
How do we reconcile our ghosts? These could be past loves, or those whom we love reciprocally but cannot be together due to current circumstances. Or those who have actually died. Are these people real? Do/Did these relationships exist? How would one bring realities together that would otherwise not coincide?
Current technology permits so much that was not previously possible. Webcams, live voice chats, cell phones and text messaging is worldwide, breaching any distance; lovers on two different continents can maintain great levels of communication, with quasi eye-to-eye contact in real time. I see that with my friend whose husband has 50 more days left in Afghanistan--I even get to chat with him every so often when visiting her house, a possibility unheard of in previous global conflicts.
However, the questions in my mind that the Izzy Factor poses are: How much does all of this enable the development of a complete fantasy, something that is true but yet is not as physical presence is mythical rather than real? (I am not speaking of seeing loves that have left this world. If that is the case, some sort of professional help is required in my opinion.) If physical presence of the other is truth for a short time say, every few months, how is that reconciled against a reality of distance, no matter how rich and deep communication lines run? When two people who live under the same roof cannot communicate as well as two who are forced to do so by circumstance, does that transcend the relationship level to a degree?
I suppose that would have a lot to do with the will of both individuals involved; the will to maintain something good and true even against all odds, the will to maintain the spark and to learn new ways of keeping magic alive that could easily die out if lacking a two-sided deep investment, the will to risk not being comprehended by those physically present just to keep something good alive, the will to believe that truth can sometimes not be touched.
Or perhaps I read way too much into the Izzy Factor.
viernes, 14 de noviembre de 2008
Flashback Friday
Another coffee date this morning with The Exception was, well, exceptional. I feel inspired to write, but will have to wait until the latest headache passes. Plus, with two four year olds in the house I think that my energies are meant to be spent elsewhere today. Never a dull moment!
Today's Flashback takes us back to Japan and a pot-pourri of topics...well, you'll understand the pun upon further reading.
pot-pourri
Huh?
So, how on earth do I use this?
My host mother and eldest sister came to my rescue, trying desperately not to laugh as my host mother hiked up her long skirt to demonstrade the "straddle and squat"...a position that, after three years of perfecting, really does wonders for the thigh muscles (now millions of blog readers will go and install Japanese-style toilets in their homes just to tone, I know...).
Trick is: when there is plumbing, face the plumbing.
When there isn't, just try not to lose your slipper down the toilet. It happens to every 外人 at least once. Poor John from Perth was blessed with a non-potable hole in the ground benjou at his residence and lost so many slippers down that thing that the sewer sucker-dude who came by every few weeks for taking care of the benjou waste would just, reportedly, laugh.
My episode occurred at the Nakanojo 文化会館, the bunka kaikan, the local cultural center, at an important event. No matter what you wear, you change into slippers three sizes too small for your feet upon entrance. Another story for another day. One of mine plopped into the plumbed fixture by accident. Oops. That was fun to try to remedy.
My parents came to Japan in March 1997 to visit. I took them touring through Tokyo, Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Kyoto, and back up to Nakanojo before we met up with my sister, who had already visited me a year and a half before, and hit China and Hong Kong together. Feeling rather punchy following the longest plane ride of their lives, followed by a 2 hour commute back into Tokyo to their hotel and the experience of passing through customs...it was their first international travel--it would be my father's last and the first of many for my mother--we settled into our rooms. I stayed in Tokyo with them, as Nakanojo was just less than 4 hours away by train, and a good friend's father, a hotel entrepreneur, arranged special deals for all of us throughout our stays.
My phone rang. It was my mother. She sounded relieved to be able to figure out how to pick up the phone and ring my room.
"Can you come over here for a sec?" she asked.
"Sure, what's up?"
"Um...the toilet doesn't seem to work. I can't figure out how to flush this thing!"
"I'll be right over."
The toilets in many nice Western-style hotels are western-style. However, in saying "western-style" this is to mean "decked out to the max." You have next to your hipline an array of buttons you can push for a variety of cool effects: everything from the sounds of rushing water to bells ringing, a bidet feature, a fan feature (to dry you off, of course) are all expertly displayed with lights and little kanji characters that describe, to the trained eye, exactly what each button will do.
But none of them seemed to make the toilet flush.
I couldn't imagine how many of these buttons my mother must have pushed before she called me. But from her uncontrolled giggling I guessed that her efforts must have involved most of them.
"Here, Mom." I pointed to the side of the toilet, where the flush knob is on pretty much any toilet we in the Western World has ever used. This, of course, made her laugh even harder. "They put so many buttons here in plain sight, you'd think one of these would do it!" she roared.
Yeah. That would be too easy.
My little house had a western-style toilet. Pink. Cute. In an itsy-bitsy tiny little bathroom about the size of a 3' by 6' rectangle. It had two manual flush cycles...小 and 大 (little and big)...depending on the purpose of the flush (I will refrain from further illustration). The only other "extra" my little pink piece of ceramic heaven had was a heated seat function. In July, when first arriving, I had to admit to not having any idea as to why in the hell Toto (yes, that was the name of the brand. I heard the music group "Toto" got their name after having been in Japan. All I could think about for three years, every time I went to the bathroom, was "Toto too? Yes, Toto too.") would make toilet seats that would heat, especially being a person who prefers to philosophize in a nice big rocking chair as opposed to "on the pot."
Then came winter.
Wow. Heated toilet seats. What a GREAT invention! At least one part of my body can be warm...
Today's Flashback takes us back to Japan and a pot-pourri of topics...well, you'll understand the pun upon further reading.
pot-pourri
In the course of my travels, I have beheld my fair share of toilets.
Some are decked out, all the bells and whistles (quite literally). Others, as those on the isle of Taquile of Lake Titicaca in Perú, are simple, guarded in the middle of the night by a cow just waiting to scare the living s**t out of you before you make it to the hole in the ground. In Thailand we had to flush the toilets with buckets of water; at least there was running water from which we could fill the buckets and we did not have to hike all the way to the nearest waterfall to fulfill this purpose.
My first time in Japan, the most adventurous excretory experiences I had ever had usually involved cutting down Christmas trees in the woods in Oregon, where sometimes we had the chance to create "yellow snow" and sometimes not, depending on the year. Heavily jet-lagged after a fourteen-hour flight from Oregon to Narita, the first day in my new environs found me at Nikko National Park, a park renowned for being the center of the Tokugawa shogunate.
Of course, nature will call following a ramen lunch during which I learned that slurping one's noodles is, indeed, art form in that it is almost impossible to not get the juicy soup all over one's face or clothing in the noisy act. We hiked up the hill to the トイレ--toire (toilet) and I was greeted with a sight never before beheld...an oblong, slightly ovalesque shaped piece of porcelain inbedded in the floor.
Huh?So, how on earth do I use this?
My host mother and eldest sister came to my rescue, trying desperately not to laugh as my host mother hiked up her long skirt to demonstrade the "straddle and squat"...a position that, after three years of perfecting, really does wonders for the thigh muscles (now millions of blog readers will go and install Japanese-style toilets in their homes just to tone, I know...).
Trick is: when there is plumbing, face the plumbing.
When there isn't, just try not to lose your slipper down the toilet. It happens to every 外人 at least once. Poor John from Perth was blessed with a non-potable hole in the ground benjou at his residence and lost so many slippers down that thing that the sewer sucker-dude who came by every few weeks for taking care of the benjou waste would just, reportedly, laugh.
My episode occurred at the Nakanojo 文化会館, the bunka kaikan, the local cultural center, at an important event. No matter what you wear, you change into slippers three sizes too small for your feet upon entrance. Another story for another day. One of mine plopped into the plumbed fixture by accident. Oops. That was fun to try to remedy.
My parents came to Japan in March 1997 to visit. I took them touring through Tokyo, Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Kyoto, and back up to Nakanojo before we met up with my sister, who had already visited me a year and a half before, and hit China and Hong Kong together. Feeling rather punchy following the longest plane ride of their lives, followed by a 2 hour commute back into Tokyo to their hotel and the experience of passing through customs...it was their first international travel--it would be my father's last and the first of many for my mother--we settled into our rooms. I stayed in Tokyo with them, as Nakanojo was just less than 4 hours away by train, and a good friend's father, a hotel entrepreneur, arranged special deals for all of us throughout our stays.
My phone rang. It was my mother. She sounded relieved to be able to figure out how to pick up the phone and ring my room.
"Can you come over here for a sec?" she asked.
"Sure, what's up?"
"Um...the toilet doesn't seem to work. I can't figure out how to flush this thing!"
"I'll be right over."
The toilets in many nice Western-style hotels are western-style. However, in saying "western-style" this is to mean "decked out to the max." You have next to your hipline an array of buttons you can push for a variety of cool effects: everything from the sounds of rushing water to bells ringing, a bidet feature, a fan feature (to dry you off, of course) are all expertly displayed with lights and little kanji characters that describe, to the trained eye, exactly what each button will do.
But none of them seemed to make the toilet flush.
I couldn't imagine how many of these buttons my mother must have pushed before she called me. But from her uncontrolled giggling I guessed that her efforts must have involved most of them.
"Here, Mom." I pointed to the side of the toilet, where the flush knob is on pretty much any toilet we in the Western World has ever used. This, of course, made her laugh even harder. "They put so many buttons here in plain sight, you'd think one of these would do it!" she roared.
Yeah. That would be too easy.
My little house had a western-style toilet. Pink. Cute. In an itsy-bitsy tiny little bathroom about the size of a 3' by 6' rectangle. It had two manual flush cycles...小 and 大 (little and big)...depending on the purpose of the flush (I will refrain from further illustration). The only other "extra" my little pink piece of ceramic heaven had was a heated seat function. In July, when first arriving, I had to admit to not having any idea as to why in the hell Toto (yes, that was the name of the brand. I heard the music group "Toto" got their name after having been in Japan. All I could think about for three years, every time I went to the bathroom, was "Toto too? Yes, Toto too.") would make toilet seats that would heat, especially being a person who prefers to philosophize in a nice big rocking chair as opposed to "on the pot."
Then came winter.
Wow. Heated toilet seats. What a GREAT invention! At least one part of my body can be warm...
jueves, 13 de noviembre de 2008
update on hair!
Well, the entire first grade was checked today, and report had it that some of her friends were sent home...but Princesita was in the clear. Whew! However, had I not been through her hair with a fine-tooth comb last night, I am not certain that would have been the case today.
Please, oh please, let us get through this with no live bugs. I can handle eggs. Not bugs.
Just to respond to comments...
Yes, I hear your ews and icks. And Dads, your ever-so-generous benefit of the doubt on the "deep love" theme post was an angle I honestly did not consider when writing.
(sigh) One more student. Then my weekend begins.
Please, oh please, let us get through this with no live bugs. I can handle eggs. Not bugs.
Just to respond to comments...
Yes, I hear your ews and icks. And Dads, your ever-so-generous benefit of the doubt on the "deep love" theme post was an angle I honestly did not consider when writing.
(sigh) One more student. Then my weekend begins.
miércoles, 12 de noviembre de 2008
good intentions
Some road is proverbially paved with these, isn't it?
Perhaps it is just All of The Elements' ways of telling me that I am, in fact, NOT to write on this week's topic. Not only am I having an incredibly hard time crafting the words to the post on learning to love deeply, but everything seems to be coming UP in Life right now.
A youngster in La Princesita's class was sent home with lice today. Upon inspection this evening, I believe I found three nits in my Princesita's hair. So tonight, instead of taking the night to relax and write a bit, I am washing pillows, clothing and towels like a madwoman; vacuuming carpets and furniture; and quarantining stuffed animals and unwashables in huge plastic garbage bags. Both children have donned plastic shower caps over their olive-oiled heads and will sleep in such fashion overnight...three nits is all I found, but I will take NO CHANCES!!! And I will do the same tonight, as my entire body feels like it is crawling with little lice legs.
eeeeeeeeewww
At least we will have really well-conditioned hair tomorrow.
If I were in a better mood, I would take a picture for posterity's sake.
Perhaps it is just All of The Elements' ways of telling me that I am, in fact, NOT to write on this week's topic. Not only am I having an incredibly hard time crafting the words to the post on learning to love deeply, but everything seems to be coming UP in Life right now.
A youngster in La Princesita's class was sent home with lice today. Upon inspection this evening, I believe I found three nits in my Princesita's hair. So tonight, instead of taking the night to relax and write a bit, I am washing pillows, clothing and towels like a madwoman; vacuuming carpets and furniture; and quarantining stuffed animals and unwashables in huge plastic garbage bags. Both children have donned plastic shower caps over their olive-oiled heads and will sleep in such fashion overnight...three nits is all I found, but I will take NO CHANCES!!! And I will do the same tonight, as my entire body feels like it is crawling with little lice legs.
eeeeeeeeewww
At least we will have really well-conditioned hair tomorrow.
If I were in a better mood, I would take a picture for posterity's sake.
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