Random observations about Japan

Right now I am sitting at Starbucks (pronounced Starbuksu) enjoying a green tea frapiccino, and I want to share a few things I have noticed so far.


* The Japanese have customer service down to an art form. While in line for the aforementioned frapiccino, the clerk came out from behind the counter and with elegance of an accomplished dancer, presented us with the day’s menu. In other restaurants the waitresses kneel down as they place fine bone china in front of you.

* Japanese love good food. One sign of this is that a vast majority of their game and morning shows consist of people being shown food and eating it. I’m not talking about Fear Factor grossness. The contestants, usually TV personalities, compete in order to be able to partake in the delectables. And if they do not win, they put on quite the melodrama about the torture of watching the others eat.

* Recycling is paramount. When you live on an island nation, there is not a lot of room for landfill. So you must be very careful where you put your trash. It would be OK if there were pictures at the trash receptacles with a can or paper, but no they are marked in Japanese with images that look like squatting men with their hands in front of their eyes. I usually slip my garbage in My Sweet’s pocket and let him deal with it. When I was waiting for customs, I saw a young man being lead to an imposing looking back room. I bet it was because he threw his empty sake bottle in the wrong can!

* I got to ride the infamous Bullet Train. The take off was so smooth that it was like gliding through butter. Because of this lack of friction, you never know how fast you are going.

* Everything is a lush green, a huge benefit of the tropical humidity. And also every bit space is compactly used. Even the nooks and crannies are usually filled with a plant, which is good given that most people have no yard.

* I constantly feel like everything is just an inch or two too short – chairs, bus seats, sinks, etc. My thighs ache the first few days here because they are stretched when my knees are higher than usual (and often jammed against the seat in front of me).

* This high tech country has public telephones that talk. And not “Please deposit 60 cents,” but it actually thanks you for using it. My mother-in-law has one that calls out “You have a call” while it is ringing, which I think is a bit redundant. Now if it said, “You have a call coming in, and it is not from a telemarketer but from that cute guy you met at the market,” that would be pretty darn amazing. And I saw on TV that they have a stove that will talk to you. It reminds you that it is still on, or that something is about to burn. Pretty cool, especially considering my ability to get distracted during dinner prep.

What’ll they think of next? A milk carton that warns when it's expired?
Pens that signal a siren when it is about to leak or run out of ink? Who knows.


Joie de Vivre ~ A Hearty Joy of Living!

Where the streets have no name

My Sweet and I have just finished over 14 hours of sitting in very cramped places. California to Japan. My body is saying, "Hey I need to move" while my brain is saying, "I am so fricking tired that I think I am going to stop telling the legs how to move."


During the 2 hour bus ride from the Tokyo airport to his sister's place, My Sweet kept saying things like, "I used to hang out there with my college mates," or "This is a new building." I said things like, "Oh really?" when I wanted to say, "Hey, I am sleeping here!"

I have just a few impressions of Japan (note that I have been here for about 3 hours and as subtly implied before - very sleepy). Everything is so much smaller here; My Sweet keeps saying, "My word, I don't remember things being this small."

And as for the title of this column. The streets often are the size of alleyways, and they usually do not have any posting of their name. So even people who are Japanese literate can get lost. And as a side note, it is very disconcerting to be in a place where not only do you not speak much of the language, but you can not even sound out the words. In other countries I have traveled, I could usually have someone write down the address and I was able to figure out the signs. But here, I can not even use a dictionary! Aarrgghh!!

If this seems to ramble incoherently, it is because I am about to fall asleep, but my husband is chatting with an old boss. So I am entertaining myself with the laptop instead of insisting they translate everything. Aren't I an understanding wife!

Joie de Vivre ~ A Hearty Joy of Living!

Happy Birthday To You

Yesterday my sister and I threw a party or my Dear Sweet Mother's 60th birthday.

It was a bit of a surprise for her - not the date or the guest list, both of which she had controlling voice in. The surprise was where - at the local bowling alley! Yes sir ee bub - we had a grand time knocking down some of the tenpins. What surprised most of the guests, who hadn't been in a bowling alley for a couple of decades, was the electronic board, which not only told you which pins you had standing, but also gave hints on how to throw your next ball, knew if you were right or left handed, and kept score. I loved that - no more having to remember how many extra points to add on for a strike or for a spare. The down side is that you can't cheat on your score.


The most enjoyable part for me as co-host was the "Who knows Rose best" trivia game. (Those were my questions, Mom even though Kris and I collaborated on narrowing down my original list of 60.) What made it especially fun was telling all her friends what Grandpa's versions of the answers had been. Here are a few examples:

Me: Question 10 - How old were you when you had your first kiss?
Grandpa: 14
Mom: I was probably 16. Who was there to kiss in Montana?

Me: Question 17: How many car accidents were you the cause of as a teenager?
Mom: 2
Grandpa: Yes, and it was the same car. And it had to be a Cadillac.

(OK, if it doesn't sound so funny, trust me, in my head it is hilarious!)

And of course this is a bit sappy, the truly best thing was to see how many people were willing to come out to honor an amazingly wonderful woman who taught me everything about strength, love and faith. Happy birthday Mom.


P.S. My Sweet and I are heading out bright and early tomorrow to visit his mother in Japan. So, for the next two weeks my postings may be even more sporadic than usual. Until then, Sayonara Baby.

Joie de Vivre ~ A Hearty Joy of Living!

ye ol' blogge

Whan that aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of march hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;

English geeks unite! What English major didn’t have to, sorry get, to memorize this part of Chaucer’s prologue. If that is not enough, then check out his blog! (Thanks Dot) Yes you can check out what he thinks about life today. (His today is our yesteryear, so there may be some time/space continuum issues here.) You can check out glossaries, biographies of the time, and you get to know little known rumors such as his secret life as a pirate – complete with a parrot and an eye patch. (I thought you’d like that doodah!)


Speaking of writers who have spent time in the United Kingdom, Bill Bryson has royally pissed me off! I love his stuff – he has a wonderful perspective on quintessential life. So I figured that a book about a road trip to find out about small town life would be a perfect read. The only reason I have not put this book down (other than a quirky inability to not finish a book I have invested in reading 10 or more pages) is that I keep hoping that at some point he will stop talking like an angst ridden Goth teen. Every place he goes is a major disappointment for him, too touristy and tacky or boring. DUH! Tacky and touristy is a big part of small town life. However, it is jsut the surface stuff. Everyone knows that the real value of American small towns is getting to know the people. How in the name of Aunt Millie is he going to do that by spending less than 3 hours in any one place! You Euro snob! And the kicker that got me today was when I read that he found the Giant Sequoias ugly and boring! Whaaaaaaaaaaaat? If he had bothered to, oh I don’t know, maybe walk a little bit away from the parking lot, he might have found what he wanted - the tree that you could drive through. Plus the regal beauty of the trees. Or if he went on a ranger lead walk. Oh but wait, that would require actually spending time there. Sorry, he just really really irritated me today. I will now have to renew my joy by reading some of his later – and way more insightful books like this one or this.

However, there was a great line in one chapter where he exclaimed: “(The town) had been eaten by strip malls.”


Joie de Vivre ~ A Hearty Joy of Living!

Sorry I have been away

I know, I should have called, or at least let people know that I was going to be out for a while. I will never do it again. Cross my heart and hope to live.

This week My Sweet and I went to my favorite camping spot among the Giant Sequoia trees. As you look at this picture, keep in mind that I am almost six feet tall and not of a slender build. So these trees are enormous. "The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness," John Muir.


Back in the day pieces of the trees were sent to the World's Fair, but no one believed that trees this big, stumps big enough to use as dance floors, were real. They called them the California Hoax. All I can say is that J.R.R. Tolken had never seen them, or they would have been King of the Ents. If Peter Jackson could take creative liberties and have the elves come to Helms Deep to assist in battle, then he could have done a greater service and created some Giant Sequoia as Ents.

This has been a bit of the process for replenishing the reservoir of my soul.



Joie de Vivre ~ A Hearty Joy of Living!

Where I am From

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion.And medicine, law, business, engineering - these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love - these are what we stay alive for.”

This is one of my favorite quotes from the film The Dead Poets Society. I especially used it when my engineering major friends would wonder why the university even had an English major.


One of my fellow writers showed me this exercise that focuses on tangible things from our past. It is really quite easy when you follow the form. In doing the exercise, however, we discovered that life is too big to put into one poem. You have things from your childhood, the emotional teen years, college, Mom's side of the family, Dad's influence, and what not. Every day new memories and ideas come up. So, I think I may have to put the date in the title because they are the images that impressed me on that particular day. This weekend I took a stab a writing my own focusing on the pre high school years.

I challenge you to write your own Where I Am From poem and post it (you can put it as a comment). It is easy when you use this template

Where I Am From in Early July, 2006

I am from easy listening and beach music,
NPR and Paul Harvey’s The Rest of the Story;
From refrigerator muffins and Chef Boyardee’s Stuffed Raviolis;
From neighborhood games of snipe hunts and midnight hide and seek;
And from riding bikes all over town.

I am from Howdy Doodie and the Electric Company,
From M*A*S*H and Mork and Mindy;
I am from milk and Pepsi, rainbow suspenders and hiding from Sleestaks and Tyrannosaurus Rex;
And I am from all manifestations of William Shatner -
Star Trek, TJ Hooker and Rescue 911.

I am from the raspberries in Grandma’s garden,
Sweet firm cherries from the roadside stands,
And from frosted cakes with jellybean eggs and coconut dyed to look like Easter Basket grass.

I am from telling the same family stories over and over,
From “Do you remember the time when your brother pissed off your sister and she cut off his hair?”
And “Mom, that’s my story and you’re telling it wrong!”
And from “If your sister tells The Licorice Story again, I am going to puke.”

From the “Clean up your plate because people are starving in Africa,”
and “Don’t worry, things can be replaced but people can’t.”

I am from grounded in the Bible, saved by grace, liturgical Lutherans
From communion wafers, hymnals and the eternal flame.

I am from good Midwestern stock, Norwegians and Oakes,
From the mother who was willing to pick up Crazy Karen at the train station at four in the morning in another town,
The sister who stole your licorice yet made sure you got your handmade clock from Grandpa,
And from parents willing to drive three hours to pick you up at the air port even though you forgot to write some of the minor details like the arrival time, airline, and city of departure.

I am from pioneers and sea travelers,
A grandma who took off across the West to find a better life,
And another who hopped a train to California to marry the man she loved,
From people leaving for somewhere new, yet always remembering that
Home is always the place where you can always be yourself.

Joie de Vivre ~ A Hearty Joy of Living!

Playing

A friend of mine mentioned in her blog that she has a hard time knowing how to play. This set me to some serious thinking about what it means to play. So much of our childhood games have origins that were very purposeful. Think of Mother May I or Simon Says, teaching children manners of asking permission and doing what they are told. Sports are training for endurance, good for hunting and battle. And lets not forget playing house and Easybake Ovens for preparing for the running of a house and capture the flag are great for developing strategies. I am not sure what hide and seek or the Hokie Pokie do, but if I thought about it long enough I could figure it out.


So if playing is really training, what it the difference between work and play? In Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer, there is the famous scene where Sawyer gets his friends to do the chore of white washing the fence by convincing then that it is fun. Sawyer then makes a mental note that "Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do. Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do." Obligation, makes me think of duty and judgment.

Things we enjoy - cooking, painting, carpentry, can be work or fun - attitude is the thing. Play is freedom to make mistakes and messes. Play is not worrying about the purpose. Let spirit or imagination run amuck. Look goofy, have game night, splash on the beach. Playing means not having to look good, but it is also ok to have winners and successes.

Wow, what a bit of philosophizing. Sorry about that. I am now off to find out what the Hokie Pokie is all about.


Joie de Vivre ~ A Hearty Joy of Living!

Shock and Awe

Being home during the day has given me plenty of opportunity to be shocked by things in the media. This isn't including the sparks between Star Jones and the View. It does, however include Martha Stewart. I was toggling between The View and Martha's show when I hit the "Ask Martha" - you know, when studio audience members can ask her questions and glean pearls of wisdom. Now if it were me, I'd ask her how it felt to be a scapegoat sacrificed to get the media's focus off of more powerful men. But it wasn’t me, so someone asked her what her least favorite household chore was. Cleaning gunk out of the oven? Getting rid of nasty soap scum? Organically killing garden slugs by hand? No, it was delegating jobs to others! What the heck?!? She would rather clean the grease bunnies from under the fridge herself instead of kicking back and playing Dance Dance Revolution? She is either a big fat liar or a maniacal control freak. Either way she has a serious problem and needs to come over to my house and learn how to relax a bit. (Or if she has an uncontrollable need to clean my house, I will willingly delegate any job she is compelled to do.)


The other shock I has this week was more of a personal revalation. I was listening to NPR on Sunday, experiencing a driveway moment, when I discovered some hardness in my heart. The piece was on an amazing support orginization for released sex offenders that has radically reduced recidivism (70% lower repeat offences). In Ontario a group of Mennonites have taken seriously God's command to love the unlovable. Their motto is restorative justice, and they truly live out the Christian belief of unconditional love and forgiveness—tempered with foreboding. In the Gospels Jesus shocked and offended people of the church by hanging out with the untouchables of the day - hookers and organized criminals. Sex offenders are untouchables in my mind. My heart says these people have destroyed the lives of innocents at such a deep level that nothing less than castration and separation from society is what should happen to them. But these Mennonnites are living out God's word and helping there to be fewer victims as well as reaching out to people who need God. They do this by instead of pushing the men away from society; they hook them up with an accountability group that will monitor where he is as well as how he is doing so he refrains from situations where he may be tempted. Please check out this web cite to read about this Courageous Community: Circles of Support and Accountability


On a lighter note, I was shocked by how much I enjoyed the movie Cars. I am in love with Mater the Tow Truck - as in Tow-Mater. Grab a kid and enjoy a fun afternoon with Pixar.

Joie de Vivre ~ A Hearty Joy of Living!

hoping for a summer draft

I am sitting outside on a bright summer morning enjoying my lovely yet scatterbrained garden - at 6:30 AM on a day when I do not have to go in for work (and the only kid I have at this point is my 36 year old husband who is totally capable of getting his own breakfast). And why, you may ask. Because this will be the only time before 11:00 PM when it will be less than a bazillion degrees outside. So if I have any hope of breathing fresh air it will have to be now.


Sometimes I have these random thoughts run through my head - like why does our society deify entertainers? Is it because we have no royalty and therefore have to create our own? Or who gets to decide what fashion trend is happing for the coming year; I mean really who has all that power and why is it them. Don't they have anything more real to do other than to decide that this year teal is the new black? And who was the first person to figure out that artichokes are delicious to eat, I mean they are not particularly easy to figure out. But did you know that they are the buds of a fine, purple flower? I found this out when I forgot one that I had picked. Even though it was left at the bottom of a bag, it found nourishment somewhere to bloom before totally dried out.

Finally, I truly hope this heat goes down soon. My Sweet and I are quickly going through the list of places that have both free Wi-Fi and air-conditioning. And the thermometer is creeping up, so I need to go inside now.

Find The Theme If You Can

Today I have a lot of random things I have going through my mind to put down on paper (so to speak). I do not know if there will be any big connecting point, but by the end of this column, who knows.

I have been carpooling to a conference with a bunch of people I didn’t really know, and they fascinating. I have gotten to know a man who calls himself a Left-wing Bible Thumper. LWTB prefers to wear organic cotton, peppers his speech with Yiddish or Greek mythological vocabulary, and rides his bike the 20 miles to work rain or shine. He is one of those rare people who is a critical thinker, who does his research, has strong opinions that he is willing to share, however he is never pushy and actually has two way discussions. He has also published several books, one of which is said to, “resonate with theological mischief, moral depth, and literary joie de vivre,” (I had to look it up, and it means a hearty joy of living – I love this and must find a way to incorporate it even more in my life!)

When I was camping with My Sweet, we had nightly campfires, usually fueled by downed pinecones. Usually they got so hot the tips got so hot they were white. In the deeper crevices were canyons of creamy crimson. It made me think, “The people who made those fake frosted trees back in the 60’s, this is what they should have been going for.” There is something innately beautiful about contained danger., immense passion. To me this is what Christmas is about, immense passion contained and beautiful.

Summer Solstice: Week my Grandpa and his Honey came out from Arkansas to visit, so we were all together and telling family folklore. However, I can not tell you any of these because we, my sister Lucy Van Pelt and I, are going to use some of them in my Dear Sweet Mother’s birthday game, so you will have to wait until next month.

Well, that is all I have time to say right now. Well, actually I have the time, but my butt is asleep so it is time for me to go.