Some weeks ago Toothpaste Maniac showed me a flier for a concert her friend would be singing in. It was a choir concert, and they'd be performing some Renaissance pieces. At one time in the past, this choir was selected to receive an hour of instruction from a particular famous choir director. I was mildly amused. "Ooo, a whole hour!"
A couple of days later it clicked, and I e-mailed TM to ask when and where the concert would be held. Unfortunately, I'd already made a commitment for that day and time in another town, so I wouldn't have been able to attend. I was hoping to hear them, hear how they sound, find out what kind of music they tend to perform (is Renaissance indicative of the norm, or is it an exception?).
Last week, after finding out she wouldn't be attending the concert either, I asked TM if she'd be able to do me a favor. "Could you ask your friend if that choir is looking for new members?"
She shook her head as though she didn't have the answer. "I don't know."
"I know. You'll have to ask your friend. That's why it's a favor. Onegaishimasu (please)," I bowed.
She said she would, so I added, "I sing soprano... but most choirs don't need more sopranos." And then I felt awkward, so I thanked her again and ran off. Which wasn't so strange a reaction as it might otherwise have been, since I was running around the track field after school, and she was keeping time for some students in the track & field club.
An hour later I asked her if she knew what kind of music the choir usually performs. She said she didn't know, then paused. "Most of the choir members are music teachers, or they've sung in choirs for a long time, and they're very good."
"Mmm.... I don't read music so well."
"They can."
Well, this was good news and bad news. Good, cos this sounds like the kind of choir I want to join. Bad, cos this sounds like the kind of choir that might not want me to join. But in case TM thought I'd lost interest, I took a chance and bragged a bit.
"The city of Syracuse has an orchestra, the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra. They have a choir that sings with them at concerts, and I sang in that choir for a year."
Soooo... yeah. I hope it works out.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
A Valuable Lesson
If you tried recently to reach my blog and were greeted with a 404: Page not found, or by a list of Japanese websites and little else, that's because I accidentally deleted my blog on Monday afternoon.
Oh, the humiliation! But more than that, I'd lost two and a half years of public journal in under 2.5 seconds. In a panic, I wrote to Blogger support. It took a few days, but they were able to restore everything, and even return to me my original URL, which had been snagged by a spammer in the interim.
So now the next time I need to change some blog settings from my computer at the Board of Education, I'll remember this:
Oh, the humiliation! But more than that, I'd lost two and a half years of public journal in under 2.5 seconds. In a panic, I wrote to Blogger support. It took a few days, but they were able to restore everything, and even return to me my original URL, which had been snagged by a spammer in the interim.
So now the next time I need to change some blog settings from my computer at the Board of Education, I'll remember this:
Monday, May 15, 2006
Happy Mother's Day
Today I visited Ai Kindergarten. Last year there were only 12 students. I visited the school several times, and it took a while for the kids to warm up to me. This year there are maybe 20, and they're all "supah genki" and warmed up to me during my first visit two weeks ago. They're great, I love them. They ask me crazy questions like if I'm going back to America tonight, and how to say 'butt' and 'poo' in English (I said "bottom" for the first, and one of the teachers interrupted before I could answer the second). They're also nuts. It's really theraputic to be able to speak English fluently. As long as I keep my tone cheerful, I can say whatever I want, and the kids are none the wiser:
"I'm pretending I don't know that you're asking me to push you on the swings, cos I've already been pushing you for the last five minutes. I'm going to go over here, okay?"
"And your face is buried in my butt. How 'bout we stop doing that.
"I'm a jungle gym!"
"You guys are insane."
But I can't get by without a little Japanese:
"Itai!" ("Ouch!" This one's really useful.)
"Dame!" ("No good!" A common reproof, like, "Don't do that.")
"Yada, yo!" ("I don't want to!" I get this from the kids all the time.)
"[Japanese word]? Wakaranai. Gomen, ne." ("I don't understand [Japanese word]. Sorry 'bout that.")
Today I had a short break in the morning, and I took the opportunity to call Mom while it was still Sunday in New York. The kids were all outside, so I snuck into the large play room to talk to her. It wasn't long before five-year old Minami found me. She was like, You're speaking English? I said, "It's my mom." Oh, cool. Are you a big sister? she asked me. Yes, I'm a big sister. After a little while, she was like, Why are you speaking English? Why aren't you speaking Japanese? I said, "My mother doesn't understand Japanese." She made the cutest little scowl and stamped her foot. Mom was absolutely tickled. "'Why doesn't your mother speak Japanese?' I love kindergarteners; they're so concrete at that age." A few minutes later, two of Minami's friends joined her, and she filled them in. "Emily-sensei's talking to her mom. Emily is a big sister." So they were all intrigued, and I passed the phone to one of them. "Say 'Konnichiwa,'" I said. With a bit of prompting, she did. Then we passed the phone around between the three of them, and they all had a turn saying "Konnichiwa," and hearing Mom say "Konnichiwa" back to them. Then all the kids came running into the big play room, and Sayuri, one of the teachers, escorted me to the balcony where I could talk in peace.
After lunch, I told Sayuri that the three girls had talked to my mom. "Which girls?" When I pointed them out, she told me to write about it in their report books to their parents. The teachers exchange notes with the parents through a notebook each student has. Whenever I visit, I write a short note in English (Sayuri proofs it to make sure it's simple enough) to explain what I did that day. So today it was, "Today [student] learned animal names. We played an animal game." And for the three girls, I added, "[Minami] talked to my mother in New York on the phone. [Minami] said, 「こんにちは！」 My mother enjoyed it very much. ^_^ "
"I'm pretending I don't know that you're asking me to push you on the swings, cos I've already been pushing you for the last five minutes. I'm going to go over here, okay?"
"And your face is buried in my butt. How 'bout we stop doing that.
"I'm a jungle gym!"
"You guys are insane."
But I can't get by without a little Japanese:
"Itai!" ("Ouch!" This one's really useful.)
"Dame!" ("No good!" A common reproof, like, "Don't do that.")
"Yada, yo!" ("I don't want to!" I get this from the kids all the time.)
"[Japanese word]? Wakaranai. Gomen, ne." ("I don't understand [Japanese word]. Sorry 'bout that.")
Today I had a short break in the morning, and I took the opportunity to call Mom while it was still Sunday in New York. The kids were all outside, so I snuck into the large play room to talk to her. It wasn't long before five-year old Minami found me. She was like, You're speaking English? I said, "It's my mom." Oh, cool. Are you a big sister? she asked me. Yes, I'm a big sister. After a little while, she was like, Why are you speaking English? Why aren't you speaking Japanese? I said, "My mother doesn't understand Japanese." She made the cutest little scowl and stamped her foot. Mom was absolutely tickled. "'Why doesn't your mother speak Japanese?' I love kindergarteners; they're so concrete at that age." A few minutes later, two of Minami's friends joined her, and she filled them in. "Emily-sensei's talking to her mom. Emily is a big sister." So they were all intrigued, and I passed the phone to one of them. "Say 'Konnichiwa,'" I said. With a bit of prompting, she did. Then we passed the phone around between the three of them, and they all had a turn saying "Konnichiwa," and hearing Mom say "Konnichiwa" back to them. Then all the kids came running into the big play room, and Sayuri, one of the teachers, escorted me to the balcony where I could talk in peace.
After lunch, I told Sayuri that the three girls had talked to my mom. "Which girls?" When I pointed them out, she told me to write about it in their report books to their parents. The teachers exchange notes with the parents through a notebook each student has. Whenever I visit, I write a short note in English (Sayuri proofs it to make sure it's simple enough) to explain what I did that day. So today it was, "Today [student] learned animal names. We played an animal game." And for the three girls, I added, "[Minami] talked to my mother in New York on the phone. [Minami] said, 「こんにちは！」 My mother enjoyed it very much. ^_^ "
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Oh!
I've gone an entire month without writing anything!
Well, that's not entirely true. A couple of weeks ago, I started another post, but got bored and moved on to something else—this makes three unfinished posts I need to publish. I'll see what I can do today while I'm at the Board of Education. No school visits scheduled for the day, so if I don't get distracted by something else on the internet, I just might post something of substance up here.
But in the meantime, I am well.
Well, that's not entirely true. A couple of weeks ago, I started another post, but got bored and moved on to something else—this makes three unfinished posts I need to publish. I'll see what I can do today while I'm at the Board of Education. No school visits scheduled for the day, so if I don't get distracted by something else on the internet, I just might post something of substance up here.
But in the meantime, I am well.
Monday, April 24, 2006
The Trouble with Blogging
The trouble with blogging, at least for me, is that I'm usually far from my computer when something happens or I remember something that seems blogworthy. And then a few hours (or days) later, when I find myself both within proximity of an available internet-connected computer and with enough time to write something, either I can't remember what I was going to write, or I decide (often rightfully so) that it really wasn't interesting enough to publish.
But now I have both motive and opportunity, so let's go.
I rented a car for the first time when I went home for spring break. That was fun. A toast to being older than 24! The car was expensive, not extortionate. Also, a toast to unlimited mileage: I drove that car from Poughkeepsie to Syracuse, to Niagara Falls, to Syracuse, to Delaware, to Syracuse, and back to Poughkeepsie. I was really nervous at first about driving on the right again, since the vast majority of my driving experience has been in Japan, but it wasn't as hard to become reacclimated to driving on the right as it was getting used to driving on the left in the first place. And not hard at all when I returned to Japan and had to drive on the left again, except for the couple of times I threw the windshield wipers instead of the turn signal.
I had three Sundays to split between two churches, and in retrospect I should've spent more time at the church where I knew more people. The only reason why I go to Poughkeepsie at all is to see Mom and Kreg and the cats, but I can't really see any of them while I'm at church. Mom and Kreg are busy working, running around; I can't have them to myself. And the cats, well, they just don't feel they're being fed at that church. ("We need milk and solid food," Bapes told me while I was there, "and those communion wafers aren't cutting it.") There are plenty of familiar faces at Faith, but for the most part, that's all they are: familiar faces. In contrast, I only spent one Sunday at Rez, and that wasn't enough time to catch up with anyone, really. It didn't help that I forgot to set my clock ahead and missed Sunday School. D'oh.
I met up with some of my students in Niagara Falls, Ontario. I knew that they'd be traveling to Canada during spring break, and I found out from James "The Canadian Guy in My Town" that they'd be eating lunch at the Planet Hollywood at 1:30pm the day after they arrived, so I drove out there with Uncle Jonathan (who was bored as a Thruway tollbooth attendant in Pembroke), and surprised them. Well, James knew I was coming, but the students didn't. That was cool. They all ordered nearly identical burgers, and then had to figure out how to fit them into their mouths; they've probably never seen a burger larger than a BigMac.
And since Toothpaste Maniac had written to me, expressing her jealousy of the book she'd lent me who was enjoying herself in America while TM had to work, I brought the book with me and took a photo (well, several, to get the shot right) in front of Horseshoe Falls.
Work's over at the BoE, and it's time to clean up. Since the Blogger interface on this computer is all in Japanese, I'm gonna hit one of the buttons below this field, and it's either going to save this post or publish it. Which one will it be?
But now I have both motive and opportunity, so let's go.
I rented a car for the first time when I went home for spring break. That was fun. A toast to being older than 24! The car was expensive, not extortionate. Also, a toast to unlimited mileage: I drove that car from Poughkeepsie to Syracuse, to Niagara Falls, to Syracuse, to Delaware, to Syracuse, and back to Poughkeepsie. I was really nervous at first about driving on the right again, since the vast majority of my driving experience has been in Japan, but it wasn't as hard to become reacclimated to driving on the right as it was getting used to driving on the left in the first place. And not hard at all when I returned to Japan and had to drive on the left again, except for the couple of times I threw the windshield wipers instead of the turn signal.
I had three Sundays to split between two churches, and in retrospect I should've spent more time at the church where I knew more people. The only reason why I go to Poughkeepsie at all is to see Mom and Kreg and the cats, but I can't really see any of them while I'm at church. Mom and Kreg are busy working, running around; I can't have them to myself. And the cats, well, they just don't feel they're being fed at that church. ("We need milk and solid food," Bapes told me while I was there, "and those communion wafers aren't cutting it.") There are plenty of familiar faces at Faith, but for the most part, that's all they are: familiar faces. In contrast, I only spent one Sunday at Rez, and that wasn't enough time to catch up with anyone, really. It didn't help that I forgot to set my clock ahead and missed Sunday School. D'oh.
I met up with some of my students in Niagara Falls, Ontario. I knew that they'd be traveling to Canada during spring break, and I found out from James "The Canadian Guy in My Town" that they'd be eating lunch at the Planet Hollywood at 1:30pm the day after they arrived, so I drove out there with Uncle Jonathan (who was bored as a Thruway tollbooth attendant in Pembroke), and surprised them. Well, James knew I was coming, but the students didn't. That was cool. They all ordered nearly identical burgers, and then had to figure out how to fit them into their mouths; they've probably never seen a burger larger than a BigMac.
And since Toothpaste Maniac had written to me, expressing her jealousy of the book she'd lent me who was enjoying herself in America while TM had to work, I brought the book with me and took a photo (well, several, to get the shot right) in front of Horseshoe Falls.
Work's over at the BoE, and it's time to clean up. Since the Blogger interface on this computer is all in Japanese, I'm gonna hit one of the buttons below this field, and it's either going to save this post or publish it. Which one will it be?
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Yukon
When I flew over Japan, grey fields filled in the valleys of the green mountains, and I could be sure that there were many, many people below me.
When I flew over the Yukon, the winding rivers and oxbow lakes ran through the white mountains, the snow, in the pale purple-orange sunrise, everything was snow, and I wondered if there were a soul out there.
When I flew over the Yukon, the winding rivers and oxbow lakes ran through the white mountains, the snow, in the pale purple-orange sunrise, everything was snow, and I wondered if there were a soul out there.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Wrestled
Today I arm-wrestled my JTE. In class. We taught comparative sentences. "Who is stronger, Ms. Chipmunk or Emily?"
And we went at it. For real. A classroom full of 14-year olds watching, our personal pride was at stake. We were well matched; it took almost a minute of precious class time before the victor emerged, but boy did those kids learn a valuable lesson:
"Ms. Chipmunk is stronger than Emily."
"Ms. Chipmunk is stronger than Emily," they repeated.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Contemplate the infinite while doing a No. 2
http://www.tenpla.net/atp/indexE.html
And from today's Daily Yomiuri:
http://www.yomiuri.co.jp/dy/national/20060224TDY03004.htm
"In your toilet we'd like you to feel the vastness of the universe and realize that men and the Earth exist as part of the universe."
I actually own one of these. I got it five months ago from the little science museum on Mt. Sanbe. If I were sure I could get some more, I might start taking orders, but I still have unfulfilled Hello Kitty TP orders to mail yet. (>_<)
And from today's Daily Yomiuri:
http://www.yomiuri.co.jp/dy/national/20060224TDY03004.htm
"In your toilet we'd like you to feel the vastness of the universe and realize that men and the Earth exist as part of the universe."
I actually own one of these. I got it five months ago from the little science museum on Mt. Sanbe. If I were sure I could get some more, I might start taking orders, but I still have unfulfilled Hello Kitty TP orders to mail yet. (>_<)
Friday, February 17, 2006
Breaker switch
For the last few weeks, the souji (cleaning time) music at Yokota JHS has been a CD of string quartet arrangements of Beatles songs. I got really tired of this music really fast. I mean, the Beatles are fine, and string quartets are fine, but this combination is like the worst of both worlds. I can't rock to it, and I can't relax to it either cos the lyrics keep playing in my head (and, when I don't know the lyrics, I find it distracting to know that there should be lyrics and to wonder what they are). It's too "pop-y" and in general doesn't feel right.
So after souji a couple of days ago, I said to Toothpaste Maniac, "If I make a CD of English music, do you think they'll play it during souji in—" Here I cut myself off from saying "instead of that terrible music they're playing now." I knew she liked the Beatles and that she'd find this bastardization as distasteful as I, but the breaker threw in my tongue, and I stopped short of making any comment about the current souji music.
TM said the music was chosen in advance and played for several weeks at a time. "There is music for souji, music for going home, music for the beginning of homeroom," she said referring to the various songs they play throughout the day. (Beginning of homeroom is Elton John's "Your Song;" don't ask me why.) "But they will change it again in April."
I repressed another urge to comment on the muzak, and instead asked, "Who chose this music?"
"I did!" she sang.
"Oh!" I said, trying hard to make my look of surprise melt into a look of mild pleasure.
I'm glad to know I haven't lost all sense of propriety.
I have a couple of old posts-in-process that I haven't gotten around to putting up. I'll get those out of the way, and then I have something to get off my chest.
So after souji a couple of days ago, I said to Toothpaste Maniac, "If I make a CD of English music, do you think they'll play it during souji in—" Here I cut myself off from saying "instead of that terrible music they're playing now." I knew she liked the Beatles and that she'd find this bastardization as distasteful as I, but the breaker threw in my tongue, and I stopped short of making any comment about the current souji music.
TM said the music was chosen in advance and played for several weeks at a time. "There is music for souji, music for going home, music for the beginning of homeroom," she said referring to the various songs they play throughout the day. (Beginning of homeroom is Elton John's "Your Song;" don't ask me why.) "But they will change it again in April."
I repressed another urge to comment on the muzak, and instead asked, "Who chose this music?"
"I did!" she sang.
"Oh!" I said, trying hard to make my look of surprise melt into a look of mild pleasure.
I'm glad to know I haven't lost all sense of propriety.
I have a couple of old posts-in-process that I haven't gotten around to putting up. I'll get those out of the way, and then I have something to get off my chest.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
I heart Guthrie, OK
Was doing a bit of research tonight on Guthrie, Oklahoma on Wikipedia.org when I came across this gem:
Guthrie, is also known as the bed and breakfast capitol of the U.S.A. and I believe it !! There are many to choose from , old victorian homes renovated, just like the one I am in now writing this to you.I don't know enough about Guthrie, Oklahoma to feel justified in editing this myself, but I'd sure appreciate it if someone else would.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Friday, January 27, 2006
A sprinkling of news.
I'm really coming to like the new "web clips" that Gmail's been using lately instead of the traditional Google ads. I almost never clicked on the ads, but more and more I find myself intrigued by the web clips' headlines. Like today, I found this:
Mexico scraps plan to give maps to migrants
Like, wow.
Mexico scraps plan to give maps to migrants
Like, wow.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Gary the Bird: in memoriam
Gary the Bird died on Wednesday, January 11, 2006 from unknown causes. He is survived by Susan the Bird.
Gary was always the noisy one. When I came home and turned on the lights that day, I was a little surprised I hadn't heard from him; usually the sound of the front door sets him off. I set down my bags and turned toward the cage, where I saw them sitting together at the back of the cage. Except Gary wasn't sitting, he was lying down with his eyes half open, and Susan was huddled up behind him, just like she stayed close to him a year ago when he hurt his wing and I thought he was going to die then.
TM suggested I take him to the top of one of the mountains in town and bury him there. I thought it was a little silly then, but now I wish I had.
It's taken her a while, but Susan's gotten a little chirpy again. She liked the Vaughan Williams I played last night. I tried to find her a mirror, but the pet sections of the home supply stores I've been to don't have any. One of them sold a strange plastic parakeet bobble head—just the head—but that was just too depressing for words. I mean, it was purple; even if Susan wouldn't have known the difference, I would have. And probably even Susan wouldn't have been fooled. So I just play music sometimes. We both like that.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Another reason why my electronic dictionary is awesome
It has the the ranking of all the poker hands.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Correction: Glass
I was just looking over some old posts when I realized that I'd learned some new information about something I'd written a few months ago.
A couple of weeks after the "grass in the soup" incident, I was at Ai Kindergarten. Sayuri, who speaks some English and is the only kindergarten teacher who invites me to her kindergarten, said to me, "Did you hear about the problem with the school lunch before?" Yes, I told her. "Yes, it was serious," she said. "There was glass in the soup."
Glass?! It was glass in the soup? Geez, now I understand what all the fuss had been about. Stupid R-L ambiguity. My JTE had tried to tell me "glass," but I heard "grass." Sayuri continued: one of the cooks in the lunch preparation center was trying to get the last bit of spice out of a glass jar. She knocked the jar against the side of the pot, and the jar broke.
But there was a considerable time delay involved; we weren't told until most of the students were more than halfway through their meal. My guess is that the woman thought she'd picked out all the glass, and didn't tell anyone about it until some time had passed. Then someone above her (correctly) decided that no one could be certain if all of the glass had been removed, so it would be better to scrap the whole dish.
The lunch preparation center is adjacent to Nita JHS, but they prepare lunches for all of the elementary schools and kindergartens in Nita as well. That's how Sayuri knew about it.
That is all.
A couple of weeks after the "grass in the soup" incident, I was at Ai Kindergarten. Sayuri, who speaks some English and is the only kindergarten teacher who invites me to her kindergarten, said to me, "Did you hear about the problem with the school lunch before?" Yes, I told her. "Yes, it was serious," she said. "There was glass in the soup."
Glass?! It was glass in the soup? Geez, now I understand what all the fuss had been about. Stupid R-L ambiguity. My JTE had tried to tell me "glass," but I heard "grass." Sayuri continued: one of the cooks in the lunch preparation center was trying to get the last bit of spice out of a glass jar. She knocked the jar against the side of the pot, and the jar broke.
But there was a considerable time delay involved; we weren't told until most of the students were more than halfway through their meal. My guess is that the woman thought she'd picked out all the glass, and didn't tell anyone about it until some time had passed. Then someone above her (correctly) decided that no one could be certain if all of the glass had been removed, so it would be better to scrap the whole dish.
The lunch preparation center is adjacent to Nita JHS, but they prepare lunches for all of the elementary schools and kindergartens in Nita as well. That's how Sayuri knew about it.
That is all.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Well-rounded
Judging from the response to my last post, I should write more about digging dead cells from various bodily orifices more often. But I'm not so much in the mood for that right now. What we all need right now is a well-rounded update. Yes, all of us.
Grammy's Christmas present arrived last Wednesday. My doorbell rang at about 5:30pm, and it was the mailman carrying a large box for me. The mailman. Not Mr. UPS, not Mr. Leading Postal Service, but the mailman. Oh, I am so going to miss Japan Post. He had me sign the sheet, and then he was on his way. I'd asked Grammy for another afghan and a couple of small throw pillows for the back of my car; Dad wrote to me on the day she mailed everything and said she couldn't find a suitable afghan, so she bought me a quilt instead. When I got the package, I saw that everything was individually wrapped in Christmas paper, and that she'd also included a pair of socks and a fifth mystery package. I call it a mystery package, cos it wasn't listed on the customs form, but really I think it's an afghan. Cos the paper is torn a little bit. But shhh! I already opened the socks (I guessed correctly that they were in the smallest package), cos I need all the warm socks I can get, but everything else I'm saving until Christmas Day. It makes me happy to see a small pile of presents in Christmas wrap in my apartment.
Also, two or three of the presents came doubly wrapped in a white drawstring garbage bag, which I took great pains to untape without damaging it. Can you believe it?! That garbage bag came from America, that magical place! But seriously, I'm saving that thing.
Häagen-Dazs has a berry custard pie parfait.
I have not received a newspaper since last Saturday, and I'm missing a couple from before then. Actually, the only newspaper I've gotten this entire month was on Saturday, December 3rd. I subscribed to the Daily Yomiuri over a year ago, and have enjoyed reading it. Every once in a while, for whatever reason, I won't get the paper for a day or two (sometimes because of a "media holiday" which happens across the country, sometimes I don't know why), but I tend to ignore it. But last Thursday when I'd only received one newspaper in a week, I wrote to the Daily Yomiuri via their website.
To make matters worse, I still haven't received any newspapers. So I wrote to them again today.
But This Just In (seriously, like, 90 seconds ago)
Häagen-Dazs' berry custard pie parfait is delicious.
I have plans for Christmas Day! Yea! James "the Canadian" is having a Christmas party at his house in Yokota. Turkey, pies, brownies, potatoes, gingerbread houses, and other tasty vittles. Oh yeah... it'll be so good.... Especially the turkey; it's not so easy to get turkey in Japan. He's had to order most of this stuff online.
Next week will be the Christmas party for my English conversation class. We'll be making plans tonight, so I don't know what all will happen yet, but it was good times last year. I taught everyone a song I'd written about Oninoshitaburui, and we played pass-the-parcel with the gift exchange gifts while singing the Oninoshitaburui song. Good times, it was.
I have to leave for conversation class tonight in about half an hour, so I'm going to sit under the kotatsu until then and warm my toes. 又ね。
Grammy's Christmas present arrived last Wednesday. My doorbell rang at about 5:30pm, and it was the mailman carrying a large box for me. The mailman. Not Mr. UPS, not Mr. Leading Postal Service, but the mailman. Oh, I am so going to miss Japan Post. He had me sign the sheet, and then he was on his way. I'd asked Grammy for another afghan and a couple of small throw pillows for the back of my car; Dad wrote to me on the day she mailed everything and said she couldn't find a suitable afghan, so she bought me a quilt instead. When I got the package, I saw that everything was individually wrapped in Christmas paper, and that she'd also included a pair of socks and a fifth mystery package. I call it a mystery package, cos it wasn't listed on the customs form, but really I think it's an afghan. Cos the paper is torn a little bit. But shhh! I already opened the socks (I guessed correctly that they were in the smallest package), cos I need all the warm socks I can get, but everything else I'm saving until Christmas Day. It makes me happy to see a small pile of presents in Christmas wrap in my apartment.
Also, two or three of the presents came doubly wrapped in a white drawstring garbage bag, which I took great pains to untape without damaging it. Can you believe it?! That garbage bag came from America, that magical place! But seriously, I'm saving that thing.
Häagen-Dazs has a berry custard pie parfait.
I have not received a newspaper since last Saturday, and I'm missing a couple from before then. Actually, the only newspaper I've gotten this entire month was on Saturday, December 3rd. I subscribed to the Daily Yomiuri over a year ago, and have enjoyed reading it. Every once in a while, for whatever reason, I won't get the paper for a day or two (sometimes because of a "media holiday" which happens across the country, sometimes I don't know why), but I tend to ignore it. But last Thursday when I'd only received one newspaper in a week, I wrote to the Daily Yomiuri via their website.
I have not received any newspapers since last week. My apologies for this electronic message， but I don't know who to contact in my area. The weather has recently been poor， but I'm missing some newspapers from before the weather turned. I didn't receive any papers last Thursday or Friday (12/1 & 12/2). I may have received one Wednesday (11/30)， but I don't remember right now， and I'm not at home to check. I received a paper on Saturday (12/3)， but none since then. Is it possible for me to receive the back newspapers that were not delivered?Came the answer the following day,
Regarding your recent inquiry, we asked your local agent to restart delivering to your address and also to deliver the back newspapers that you could not receive.Huh? I didn't want to end my subscription. I didn't tell anyone I wanted to end my subscription. I didn't even have a conversation with anyone about the Daily Yomiuri in the last couple of months. What's going on?
According to your local agent, they received the phone call from a person like your Japanese colleague and he/she asked them to end your subscription.
However, we appreciate your reading The Daily Yomiuri again.
[My local agent's phone number included at the end.]
To make matters worse, I still haven't received any newspapers. So I wrote to them again today.
I'm very surprised to hear that someone cancelled my subscription on my behalf. I signed up for the Daily Yomiuri on the English website, and I assume that when I finally leave Japan and end my subscription, I will do so again through the website. I do not want to end my subscription now, nor have I said anything to any Japanese colleagues about the Daily Yomiuri that might have been misconstrued as my dissatisfaction with the paper or its delivery. This is a complete mystery to me.The "Shimbun-san" (Mr./Ms. Newspaper) comment isn't (intended to be) as sarcastic as it may sound. The guy who owns Daido, the book/music/sports equipment store in town, is sometimes called Daido-san (though his name isn't Daido); sometimes people address others by their workplace if they don't know their real name. Even some foreigners are called Gaijin-san (Mr./Ms. Foreigner). The latter might be another kettle of fish, but what I mean to say is that that sort of thing does happen, though I suspect it's not terribly formal.
More mysterious is that delivery of the Daily Yomiuri still has not resumed. I have checked my old newspapers and confirmed that I received the paper for Wednesday, November 30. But since that date, I have only received the paper for Saturday, December 3; I have received no other newspapers in December, neither new nor back papers.
I thank you for providing me with the phone number of my local agent. Could you also provide me with his or her name? I don't know that addressing him or her as Shimbun-san will set the right tone for future communcations.
But This Just In (seriously, like, 90 seconds ago)
We are very sorry about this.I wait with bated breath.
We have contacted to your agency at the moment.
They will deliver the newspaper tomorrow. and also, reply to us about what is going on.
After that we will give the email to you.
Häagen-Dazs' berry custard pie parfait is delicious.
I have plans for Christmas Day! Yea! James "the Canadian" is having a Christmas party at his house in Yokota. Turkey, pies, brownies, potatoes, gingerbread houses, and other tasty vittles. Oh yeah... it'll be so good.... Especially the turkey; it's not so easy to get turkey in Japan. He's had to order most of this stuff online.
Next week will be the Christmas party for my English conversation class. We'll be making plans tonight, so I don't know what all will happen yet, but it was good times last year. I taught everyone a song I'd written about Oninoshitaburui, and we played pass-the-parcel with the gift exchange gifts while singing the Oninoshitaburui song. Good times, it was.
I have to leave for conversation class tonight in about half an hour, so I'm going to sit under the kotatsu until then and warm my toes. 又ね。
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Live from Nita JHS
or Things You Wish You'd Never Read
I just finished removing two very large clots of wax from my ears (and I highly recommend having long hair if you want to attempt this activity in public). Seriously, these things must weigh a gram or two each, and they're dark, dark brown, almost black. Yes, that's nasty, and you're lucky my phone makes a loud noise whenever I take a photo (a sound that I can change but can't turn off), else you'd have more than a written description.
I've been told by a couple of doctors in recent years that I had a lot of wax in my ears, but neither offered to irrigate them for me (once because I was in the beginning stages of a dizzy spell, and the other time I don't know why not). My fingernails are the longest they've been in months, and in a fit of boredom here in the staff room, well, my fingers got itchy, found something soft, and started digging.
And I really can hear better. Like when I move my head, I can hear my hair moving across my corduroy jacket. At the moment, I can hear my good friend Peter Gabriel very well. I think my left ear might still be a little plugged, unless the teachers to my right are just shuffling their papers really loudly.
Sorry. I'll post something more sane soon.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Shio ame?! (and the kids)
I think it's about time for another edition of Funny Things My Students Have Written. It's been a while since my last (and only) edition, and the summertime essays have yielded a healthy crop.
But first, while I've still got it in my mouth, there is such a thing as salt candy. Cheeky Supervisor gave me a piece, insisting it was delicious. It's sweet, and kinda salty. I don't know how else to describe it, except that it reminds me of gargling with warm salt water, and that reminds me of yuck.
He gave me a piece of molasses candy a couple of weeks ago, in an attempt to make up for the Werther's he'd swiped from me, but I don't like molasses. He asked me what kind of candy I do like.
"Um... Werther's."
He still hasn't replaced it.
But back to the students. Here's something I've had sitting in my notebook for months now. I think the assignment was to write about their favorite part of the school day. Most kids, naturally, wrote about their free time between lunch and fifth period, and some about their club activities. This one, though, was a little different:
These last two are from 2nensei at Nita JHS writing about their summer vacations.
The next one is my favorite:
But first, while I've still got it in my mouth, there is such a thing as salt candy. Cheeky Supervisor gave me a piece, insisting it was delicious. It's sweet, and kinda salty. I don't know how else to describe it, except that it reminds me of gargling with warm salt water, and that reminds me of yuck.
He gave me a piece of molasses candy a couple of weeks ago, in an attempt to make up for the Werther's he'd swiped from me, but I don't like molasses. He asked me what kind of candy I do like.
"Um... Werther's."
He still hasn't replaced it.
But back to the students. Here's something I've had sitting in my notebook for months now. I think the assignment was to write about their favorite part of the school day. Most kids, naturally, wrote about their free time between lunch and fifth period, and some about their club activities. This one, though, was a little different:
My school has a end finish time.The next one is one of the poems the 3nensei students have to write, which featured prominently in my last edition.
Because Thank God!
We can go home at last.
TiredAccording to my JTEs at Yokota JHS, this poem was written by a boy who "always writes like this." I was really at a loss as to how to grade it. On one hand, he only used three words. On the other hand, it made me laugh, and I think that was intentional; he effectively communicated something. I gave him a B+.
I'm tired
I'm very tired
I'm very very tired
tired
These last two are from 2nensei at Nita JHS writing about their summer vacations.
Tuesday, August 16It's funny that she seems to be defending herself.
I was sleepy.!!
I was tired. [sweat drops]
I was sleepy!!
I went to bed at ten.
The next one is my favorite:
I went to a flea market last Sunday.Whoa, what a plot twist! Did anyone see that coming? This kid's got a future in Hollywood. On second thought, maybe Japan needs good scriptwriters more than the US does.
There CD and books and clothes.
There were lots of people.
They were lost in the forest.
It was terrible.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
My relatively tidy apartment
It's pretty small.
From the bottom of the photo, it's about six feet (two meters) to the wall and balcony behind me. You can see the front door at the end of the hallway/kitchen. Out of view to the right of the hallway are the toilet room and bathroom (they're kept separate from each other in most Japanese domiciles).
The low table in the foreground is the kotatsu. The tabletop lifts up, and you drape a thick blanket over it and replace the top. Attached underneath is an electric heater. Plug it in, turn it on, and it's an immensely cozy place to sit and read (or play Game Boy) for an afternoon. You're not supposed to sleep under it (something about catching a cold), but Shhh....
The ceiling (not shown) is really high, as are the door frames. I'm about 5'7 (170cm), and when I stand in the doorway between the main room and the hallway, I can just reach the top of the frame with the heel of my hand. The sliding glass doors (double-paned!) to the balcony are two meters tall. I think this is more typical of modern apartments. And modern cars; they've got tons of head room.
I'm standing on one of the three tatami mats that make up my sleeping space. A foam mattress on tatami seems to be the perfect thing for my back. Offscreen to the right are the TV, DVD player, and Super Nintendo, all infrequently used, all sitting on the floor. I need to do something with that corner, especially since I know that the day I get this apartment just the way I like it is the day my supervisor will find a bigger, nicer one for me. Might as well hurry the process along.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Cheeky Supervisor
Since my desk at the BoE has been changed, I now sit next to Cheeky Supervisor. Cheeky Supervisor discovered my small candy stash several months ago, when one day my large desk drawer was open as he walked by. Location of candy duly noted, he reached down and helped himself to a Werther's Original (yes, they sell them here). I'd been just about to offer him one, so I said sarcastically, "Dozo" (please, help yourself). I'm not sure he got it. This happened at least one more time, when he helped himself to two Werther's.
Of course the candy horking increased significantly when my desk changed a month ago. He was right there when I was organizing the drawers, and helped himself then. Actually, I think he just looked at it, and read the front of the bag like he didn't know what was inside, so of course I offered him some. Last week he tried to tell me something—I think it was that he'd been horking my candy while I was away from my desk, and that he'd replace it. But between his English and my Japanese, I couldn't be sure.
Today, about ten minutes ago, I opened up the drawer to get something. Remembering the candy stashed at the back, and Cheeky Supervisor sitting next to me, I pulled the drawer all the way open. "Dozo," I said, gesturing to the bag.
But the bag was empty. Yep, he'd already eaten it all. This time he really promised to replace the candy. "Yes, the same kind, please." I'm not entirely sure why I bought it in the first place, as I rarely eat it myself; I think I bought that bag last year. So it's not the fact that my candy is gone that gets me, it's the fact that he snuck it out of my desk.
You can probably guess why I call him Cheeky Supervisor.
A few months ago, when I was checking out new apartments, CS and I drove out to Yakawa on a warm June day. Getting into my car, he promptly closed the windows, turned the air conditioner on high, and aimed all the fans on himself. The temperature was maybe 28C (82F), and Yakawa is five minutes away, so it seemed excessive.
Cheeky Supervisor helped me move apartments, which was very kind of him. He, with Stimulant Man (that's the best name I've got for him now; I'll talk about him sometime else) did most of the heavy lifting. They drove the big truck to Yokota, while I drove my car, and my (real) supervisor and another office lady drove separately. CS and SM got to the Yokota apartment a few minutes ahead of the other women and me, and had already started to unload the truck when we arrived. It wasn't until everything had been moved in and everyone else had left that I realized someone had used my toilet (No. 1), and the water had not yet been turned on. This was a Friday, and the water was not due to be turned on till Monday. As it was, it wasn't turned on until Tuesday or Wednesday, and after then it took three days of ventilation fan and incense cones to clear out the smell. I have no real proof of which guy it was who used the WC, but I know who my money's on.
For a few days this summer I wore a new pair of sandals someone had gifted me: wooden soles painted with butterflies, and thin straps with purple sequins. I probably wouldn't have bought them myself, but since they were a gift, I thought I'd give them a try. At five o'clock one one of these days at the BoE, the chime sounded and we all got to work sweeping the floor. Cheeky Supervisor was sweeping near me, and noticed my shoes.
"Pretty," he said.
"Thank you," I smiled. So far, so good.
He paused, then asked where I got them. "Juntendo?"
I glared at him. Juntendo is the local hardware and home supply store, sort of like Home Depot. Fair enough for him to think I'd gotten them someplace local, but even Kuraichi, the supermarket next to Juntendo, has a decent shoe section; that might have been the better guess. In truth, the shoes had come from Shoes AiLand in Matsue.
So all this might make it sound like the guy drives me nuts, but really I like him. He's funny, he talks to me, and he helps me with car stuff. And he looks over to see what I'm doing on the computer every once in a while.
Of course the candy horking increased significantly when my desk changed a month ago. He was right there when I was organizing the drawers, and helped himself then. Actually, I think he just looked at it, and read the front of the bag like he didn't know what was inside, so of course I offered him some. Last week he tried to tell me something—I think it was that he'd been horking my candy while I was away from my desk, and that he'd replace it. But between his English and my Japanese, I couldn't be sure.
Today, about ten minutes ago, I opened up the drawer to get something. Remembering the candy stashed at the back, and Cheeky Supervisor sitting next to me, I pulled the drawer all the way open. "Dozo," I said, gesturing to the bag.
But the bag was empty. Yep, he'd already eaten it all. This time he really promised to replace the candy. "Yes, the same kind, please." I'm not entirely sure why I bought it in the first place, as I rarely eat it myself; I think I bought that bag last year. So it's not the fact that my candy is gone that gets me, it's the fact that he snuck it out of my desk.
You can probably guess why I call him Cheeky Supervisor.
A few months ago, when I was checking out new apartments, CS and I drove out to Yakawa on a warm June day. Getting into my car, he promptly closed the windows, turned the air conditioner on high, and aimed all the fans on himself. The temperature was maybe 28C (82F), and Yakawa is five minutes away, so it seemed excessive.
Cheeky Supervisor helped me move apartments, which was very kind of him. He, with Stimulant Man (that's the best name I've got for him now; I'll talk about him sometime else) did most of the heavy lifting. They drove the big truck to Yokota, while I drove my car, and my (real) supervisor and another office lady drove separately. CS and SM got to the Yokota apartment a few minutes ahead of the other women and me, and had already started to unload the truck when we arrived. It wasn't until everything had been moved in and everyone else had left that I realized someone had used my toilet (No. 1), and the water had not yet been turned on. This was a Friday, and the water was not due to be turned on till Monday. As it was, it wasn't turned on until Tuesday or Wednesday, and after then it took three days of ventilation fan and incense cones to clear out the smell. I have no real proof of which guy it was who used the WC, but I know who my money's on.
For a few days this summer I wore a new pair of sandals someone had gifted me: wooden soles painted with butterflies, and thin straps with purple sequins. I probably wouldn't have bought them myself, but since they were a gift, I thought I'd give them a try. At five o'clock one one of these days at the BoE, the chime sounded and we all got to work sweeping the floor. Cheeky Supervisor was sweeping near me, and noticed my shoes.
"Pretty," he said.
"Thank you," I smiled. So far, so good.
He paused, then asked where I got them. "Juntendo?"
I glared at him. Juntendo is the local hardware and home supply store, sort of like Home Depot. Fair enough for him to think I'd gotten them someplace local, but even Kuraichi, the supermarket next to Juntendo, has a decent shoe section; that might have been the better guess. In truth, the shoes had come from Shoes AiLand in Matsue.
So all this might make it sound like the guy drives me nuts, but really I like him. He's funny, he talks to me, and he helps me with car stuff. And he looks over to see what I'm doing on the computer every once in a while.
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