Post no. 58

Springtime Walking

Post no. 57

Spare Room

The sun came in the front door this morning, went down the hall and met me coming out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand. ” Look outside,” she said. The winter sun is more about illumination than warmth. Who does not love the winter sun in a blue sky coaxing the deep shadows from the snow cover. The ...

Post no. 56

Knees Up Mother Brown

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Post no. 55

Five Things About My Day

1. Oscar woke up with a smile on his face and sweetly asked for some donuts. We had granola bars dipped in peanut butter instead, but I see a morning donut pilgrimage in our future. There is a place not to far away called Delicious Donuts that opens at 5 am and is sold out by 10 am. It is also next to a Plaid Pantry, so we can pick up a two-liter of mountain dew and a pack of w…

Post no. 54

The Road Less Traveled

How many times do I have to threaten to do something before I just do it? I have learned this lesson with Oscar. When he is compulsively disobeying my requests to stop doing whatever it is that I find unacceptable, it isn’t until I actually put him in his room that he starts to take my threats seriously. When it comes to my own inner dialogue, it is hard to be as strict with mys…

Post no. 53

Before I Wash The Dishes

Miss Lola has tagged me for an ‘Eight Things About ME!’ chain-blog-post. Seems to be the easiest way to churn out a post. If anybody else has a blog and wants to participate, consider yourself tagged. Here we go.

1. When I am walking Olive around the park at dusk and happen upon a pick-up soccer game, I size up each player and decide whether…

Post no. 52

Pomp and Circumstance

Last October, when I dropped Oscar off at his first day of school, I cried a little on my solo walk home. Not because he couldn’t have cared less that I was leaving him there alone, but for the simple reason that he was old enough to be there and ready for the new challenge. Such crying episodes are a parental prerequisite, it’s hard not get weepy when the teacher takes hold o…

Post no. 51

June First Happenings

It has been a goal of mine to record a day in photos for some time. It is not as easy an endeavor as it sounds, maybe it will become more fluid with practice. Most of my images turned out to be of my offspring. Which may be boring to some and a dream come true for my father.

A few site updates for all two of my readers. Comments work again, and starting Monday, I am going t…

Post no. 50

Little Engine

After a long hiatus, I am finding I am in the mood to write again…but now I am at a loss for the time to do it. This little website has turned into the rusty old truck parked in the backyard. I tromp through the overgrown weeds to get to it and put the key in the ignition every once in awhile to see if she still runs. The engine turns over, but there are cobwebs in the tape deck and the heater whines when it is on. Summer is approaching though, bringing with it the possibility that the truck will be pulled out for trips to the market and the lake…right? That is what we are shooting for anyway.

Post no. 49

Monday Notes

Opened my eyes this morning and watched a small spider slink down the window sill and then slink back up. Nice to have my focus brought to that small part of the room, because waking from a deep morning slumber is like stepping out into an open meadow and having no idea how to get back to the city.

Post no. 48

March Forth

t appears all my creativity has been sucked into my womb, there is nothing left when it comes to words. I don’t know how long I am going to have to stare at this computer screen to make peace with that fact. I alternately look out to the window at the tangled treetops around our apartment, willing them their buds to sprout into leaves. Futility, no?

Post no. 47

Birth Story Birthday

One of the things a first time mama is pointed towards as she rounds the corner to birth is her own mother’s experience in that arena. As a woman planning a homebirth, I had a great example. Both my brother and I were born at home, and that simple fact seemed to pave the way for my own journey. When I was growing up, the stories were handed down like a tradition, though they always centered on the birth instead of the labor.

Post no. 46

It Does A Body Good

If I were to pile up all the food Oscar has eaten in the last week on a single plate, I don’t think it would even constitute a full meal. The lad has been battling with a stomach bug since last week, and though the vomiting and shitting appear to be on the retreat, his appetite still seems to be a hostage. It is very sad to have him refuse dinner and go to bed with an empty stomach, but I am trying to replace that sadness with hope that his belly is using this down time to do some healing.

Post no. 45

Spot To Spark

The dryer is whirring two floors down and I can hear the loud knocking of a hammer hitting wood at the construction site next door. I find these sounds quite comforting. It’s raining, but it is coming down in a light mist, so it seems almost magical. Cars sped past on the busy street a block away and the recycling truck is clanging with bottles and cans, but somewhere there must be a sleeping beauty waiting to be woken up by prince charming.

Post no. 44

Sweet Like Morning Breath

In the five years we have been living together as a family, we have always occupied apartments. Two on the ground floor and two on the top. My memories of each residence are bound up in smell. Rarely are they good smells. It’s strange to be living among so many people, most of them remaining strangers for the duration of our stay, and having such an intimate olfactory connection.

Post no. 43

Pass Go, Collect $200

It certainly is odd, this living in the United States business. Writing is harder for me here and there is no certain reason for it. In Japan, I felt everything so crisply, depression and happiness. When I try to chalk it up to something specific about that country, I am at a loss. It seems that once I boarded that plane in Osaka, with a one-way ticket in my hands, I began to f…

Post no. 42

Go West

Tonight, as I prepared for my last community English class, Justin stood at the kitchen counter, chopping carrots and musing about our last days of living in this apartment. We are all remarkably at ease.

Post no. 41

Everyday People

Every time I sit down to type at the kitchen table, my gaze wonders over to our sliding glass doors and the rice fields growing just beyond them. On rainy days, they are cradled in the mist of the nearby hills and on sunny days, they are doted with flocks of white cranes, intermittingly fleeing one green square for another. It is a perfect playground for a distracted mind; I skip from one thought to the next and before long I am not interested in writing anything. It seems I am still nurturing the quiet that was born out of the events of this last year.

Post no. 40

The Endless Colored Ways

The onset of warm weather inevitably inspires a bit of manic behavior on my part, it’s especially apparent after a cold spring. Projects are bountiful and my inspiration revived, but this year there is something else too. As we embark on our final two months in Japan, I feel my attachment to this place rooting deeper, when I should be preparing for flight. It’s an odd feeling, like having cotton batting torn away from all my senses.

Post no. 39

Silent All These Years

Last Thursday, we three set out for the train station under a drizzling sky. As we walked through the rice paddies, Justin asked me if I was nervous and I surrendered a shrug. Words seemed to be too weighted as of late and I was cautious, just in case fate could be tempted by my admission of fear. The sun began to break free from the clouds as we arrived at the platform and just across the tracks, an old man started up the engine to his tractor and began plowing the mud.

Post no. 38

Fragile

Lessons are being thrown in my direction and I feel like they are too big for me to handle on my own. I want to circle the wagons, but my horse has veered off course and I’m trying to find my way back. We’re taking it slow, because we like to graze in verdant pastures.

Post no. 37

I Fell and It Was Swell

The next three weeks are neatly wrapped up in engagements and deadlines and to start it all off, I slept in late. Shuffling into the kitchen, I noted the carving board dotted with crumbs and the cereal bowl in the sink and felt a bit guilty. Justin leaves for work early on Tuesdays and Thursdays and I’ve fallen out of the habit of waking up with him.

Post no. 36

Step Left Then Right

When we returned from our U.S. tour, I started teaching a new adult English class for a pack of hospitality workers in the great city of Toba. I had been teaching conversational English to a small group of folks at our local community center since August, so I went into the situation feeling mildly confident about my abilities. In the local class, I bring in a snack, we play games…there is laughter and the occasional dubbed Iron Chef episode to eat up the two-hour session.

Post no. 35

Comes A Time

In the winter, water collects on the inside of our windows and doors, and filters the morning light so that it feels soft. Slipping out of my dreams and into the day feels like a gift, and I linger over the minutes. The room that gets the most decadent morning light is also the coldest room in the apartment. Last year, this was nothing to rejoice about, but having borrowed the proper bedding for a furnace-less Japanese winter, I have acquired a taste for this kind of living.

Post no. 34

10,000 Maniacs Singing

There is a lifecycle for bloggers and apparently I am on step five. So, I am extending my July internet sabbatical into August. There are great plans for my return however; the unveiling of a new site design, a new domain, and of course, the inspired musings of a well-rested family living abroad. Things should be back in action by September.

Post no. 33

If I Had Words to Make a Day For You

It’s a quarter past six, Oscar is still sleeping…this bit of quiet alone time in the morning makes me very happy. Sometimes I almost ruin it by trying to estimate how many golden minutes I have left, which spins into lists of things I should be doing. But sitting here at the kitchen table, alternatively typing and staring out at the rice paddies across the way is what wins out. The only thing that would make this scene more perfect would be a pot of coffee…

Post no. 32

Running for the Shelter of a Mother’s Little Helper

Already now, it is the middle of June and I am at a loss as to where to begin, so I thought, why not a poem. This particular one so completes the gaps between my thoughts that I am tempted to just leave it at that…but suddenly I find I have something to write. An attempt to transform a sort of tired boredom, which has me shuffling through the apartment with eyes half closed.

Post no. 31

Bring Me Zee Bucket

Most days Justin and I go to bed discussing breakfast. We talk about elaborate feasts, the likes of which require ingredients and tools that we do not have in the house. Our bellies are a bit rumbly by this point in the evening, so our decadent imaginary buffet is slightly torturous as much as it is fun. Justin will inevitably start off the meal with a plate of fresh doughnuts with a nice variety.

Post no. 30

This Little Light of Mine

There is a calm cadence to our daily routine that is not at all conducive to writing. I sit in front of the computer and am stuck in those lovely clichés of the good country life with the crickets chirping and the orange sun setting. This month has been the most fabulous we have experienced since we stepped foot in Japan. The weather is perfect and all the brown that made this little town so dismal a few months ago, has exploded into green.

Post no. 29

‘Tis the Season

It was Christmas time and a customer at the café I was working at, offered to lend me one of his spare vehicles so that I could drive home to Willow. Justin and I had been dating for a couple weeks and I insisted on dropping Justin off in Fort Wayne on my way. It started out a great road trip, I was singing Justin some Patsy Cline, we were holding hands and then we hit a snowstorm. That in combination with my fuzzy skills at the clutch made for a 15 mph head on collision with a truck.

Post no. 28

Long and Winding Road

During my days as a midwestern hippie, Oregon was my Mecca. I was not alone. In my circle, we would pass around passionate tales of the great Northwest and all sigh in recognition. We had a vision of the big rock candy mountain , only our version had lakes of vegetarian chili and bees that were buzzin’ on a different kind of cigarette.

Post no. 27

Teach Your Children Well

I have started several drafts for this blog entry and I am pleased that this last one has progressed out of its morose beginnings, fueled by my ‘woe is me’ shtick. As we prepared to leave Japan for the States, I had an inkling that the whole trip would spin me around quite giddy, what I didn’t expect was to be so utterly depressed when it was time to return. Imagine a toddler let loose in a candy shop, the joy and giggling…the sugar-induced euphoria.

Post no. 26

Up the Water Spout

It’s Sunday afternoon; allow me to set the stage. Justin is napping on the floor, Oscar is reading books and eating rice with olive oil, and I am sitting on a pile of unfolded laundry and scattered train tracks. Just a moment ago, Oscar ran to the refrigerator and pulled out Justin’s lone beer can and placed it beside Justin’s sleeping head. Obviously pleased with himself, he then returned to his book and lunch.

Post no. 25

Inside Five

Part of the load of presents in my parents’ suitcases, was a funky little notebook of paper specimens. Our family friend, Butte of Goode, picked it up at a trade show for designers who are hip to the subtle nuances inherent in the blank page. If your vocation in life begins as an inspiration drawn on a piece of paper, there is a lot to consider…the smoothness of the fiber, the acid content of the page, the weight, etc.

Post no. 24

Hopping Through the Forest

Yesterday was spent in semi-hibernation, with the wind blowing cold and wet and our immune systems struggling to regain some sort of balance. Oscar is coughing with a runny nose and consequently also engaged in his own version of a hunger strike. Unless there are peanuts coated in rice crackers around…but those don’t offer the kind of nutrition I’m after.

Post no. 23

Nothing on My Tongue but Hallelujah

Waiting at the gate at Kansai Airport on Thursday, the veil between what I knew as real and what I only imagined was so thin. Somewhere between the sliding glass door and my spot on the white tile, my parents were walking towards me. It was a lot like a labor and delivery waiting room. There was a large group of us there, pacing the room, slurping coffee and eating donuts, waiting to see if a plane birthed our relatives. I am now the proud daughter of one healthy pair of parents, a bit exhausted by the journey but pinking up quite nicely.

Post no. 22

Oh I’m Still Alive

When I was growing up I always wished we lived in town rather than out in the country. The benefits seemed rather obvious to me; that’s where the pool was, the roads were paved and not gravel (which is very important in matters of rollerblading), and it seemed just by virtue of having a house inside the city limits, a kid was granted a certain kind of hedonistic freedom that is completely lost on adults. It’s what directors like Ron Howard make sappy movies about…

Post no. 21

Sleepin’ on the Job

Today is warm and raining. I am going to take Oscar outside to splash in some puddles after he wakes up from his nap if the rain holds off for a bit. I am happy he has settled down for a snooze. So far this morning, we have made two paper mache shells, which he has dismantled three times. He was good about helping me put the sodden newspaper strips around the distended balloons, but couldn’t handle the idea that they had to be let alone to dry.

Post no. 20

Lulls Lukewarm Lullabies

There days I find it quite easy to become lost in various longings. For things that are already past and wondering how I can integrate them into this present. It makes me need a cigarette. We have a pouch of Drum Tobacco that I roll into thin cigarettes and I smoke one every now and then when it is quiet and I am alone. I like the smell of the smoke; it reminds me of being a freshman innocent in my dorm room.

Post no. 19

Playing the God in Me

Last night I had a wonderful dream, it involved cherry blossoms. All other details of that dream have faded, except for the image of a lone tree. Stark and then suddenly exploding with soft pink buds, it’s heavy boughs almost touching the ground. It was absolutely magical. In my dream-state, I then had to call my parents and tell them that it was okay to come visit now. They didn’t have to wait until March after all, the blossoms had already arrived.

Post no. 18

To be Wrinkly…Utterly Wrinkly

My high school biology teacher and I used to have these lovely debates during class. He had a way of baiting me on a subject I was passionate about and then he would proceed to argue the opposite point. I would get all red faced and righteous and he would start laughing and say, “Calm down, you put too much emotion into these discussions.” I always took pride in him noticing; after all, how can a person care about something without exposing some raw emotion.

Post no. 17

Kicking Up Snakes

This entry keeps getting more drawn out. I don’t want to delete anything, but I can’t help but look at what I have written and get a little disgusted. Oh well, it’s for posterity. Now is the time to just get it all out so I can move on to more pressing matters…the thank you notes for our reception being the top priority. Man, those thank you notes hang like a dark cloud over my head…the extreme tardiness inducing guilt and I just keep digging the hole deeper.

Post no. 16

A Breath of Fresh L.A.

Waking up in our hotel room was like Christmas Morning, only the adults were the ones who woke up early and Oscar slept in. It was an enchanting way to be introduced to a place. Arriving under the cover of darkness and then being gently pulled out of sleep by the sounds of tropical birds, rushing water, and a stampede of squeaking tennis shoes running down the hallway.

Post no. 15

Beaming As I Focused In

We are returned from our Thailand odyssey. It was a crazy trip…beautiful, stressful, and all that jazz. The morning we left, I went for a run along the paths in between the harvested rice fields and I remember imagining this moment. Right now, when Thailand has been tasted, touched, heard and all the other senses satisfied and I am back in Japan writing about it. I wondered then how I would feel about our home of five months.

Post no. 14

Crown and Anchor Me

At this very moment, I can peer over my right shoulder and spy Justin and Oscar snoozing in the living room. Oscar has on a fuzzy fleece suit and he looks like a teddy bear, sleeping in the child’s pose with his butt in the air. The quiet is intoxicating. Sitting here with a glass of tea, I want to say that I have been here before. Perhaps last time I was contemplating how early I needed to get up to open the café instead of what snack I should make for playgroup.

Post no. 13

Your Bird Can Sing

It is late evening on Thanksgiving Day here in Japan. For the first time in my twenty-three years, my belly is not taut as a result of ingesting mass amounts of mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie. It’s not such a sad thing. Of course, it helps being in this country thousands of miles away…today was just another day. I almost forgot about what we were missing out on, until I saw our neighbor, Ruth, at the grocery store and she made the joke, “Are you here to pick up your turkey?”

Post no. 12

Everybody Loves the Sunshine

These days I am loving Chicago Public Radio, more so than I did when we were in Chicago. Here I tune in over the Internet and listen to my favorite shows when I am cooking dinner. I am a fan of This American Life—that Ira Glass and his stories—takes chopping vegetables to a whole new level. When I am feeling especially nostalgic though, I go for the morning news shows and it’s the traffic reports that I find most comforting.

Post no. 11

Inconceivable…I Do Not Think It Means What You Think It Means

You know the part in The Princess Bride, where Westley is catching up to Vizzini and his crew, and all Vizzini could say was, inconceivable. Well, that’s what I was thinking about Bush being in office another four years. But maybe what is inconceivable is the idea that the Republican party can continue to his reign of terror unscathed…that the United States can continue to pretend that it’s 294,684,855 citizens have nothing to do with the other 6,105,315,145 folks living on this planet.

Post no. 10

The JB Stomp

Last Monday, I decided that I didn’t really have the desire to learn the Japanese language anymore. It had been two weeks since my last lesson and I hadn’t picked up my worksheets once to review my previous assignment. Oh, the guilt of not doing your homework, I had forgotten. Given the nature of one on one tutoring, there’s nobody to hide behind in class either, nobody to step in when I don’t know the answer.

Post no. 9

Season’s Change

Almost imperceptibly, autumn has settled in around us. It was beastly hot, then suddenly a typhoon, with the moaning wind and torrential rain, and now I’m wearing tights and cursing that rash decision I made to leave behind that comfy gray sweater. The one that wasn’t terribly attractive, inspiring the thought, “If I’m moving to another country I might as well look good.”

Post no. 8

Belly of the Beast

It’s hard to believe that a mere six months ago, we were regularly sitting down to a freshly dehydrated meal of ‘neatballs’, with a side of raw cauliflower mash and a dollop of young coconut gravy on top. We hopped on the raw bandwagon with great gusto, but truth be told, sometimes eating that way required a little pep talk, like, “this food is pure, unadulterated goodness and it will make my body lithe and nimble.”

Post no. 7

Mules and Their Masters

Once upon springtime in Chicago, I had called up a naturopath in our neighborhood to help Oscar and I kick a nasty case of Candida, which had focused into an ugly bout with thrush. The guy answered the phone and started asking me questions like, “Do you know what the definition of health is?” And I would stumble my words into an answer, and then he would yell into the receiver, “Wrong!”

Post no. 6

Feel the Beat of the Tambourine

The first time fate had me sitting in a beat up automobile, listening to a tape of ABBA, I had just finished my junior year of high school. My friend and I, gossiping about our part-time jobs and which pasture was to host the next kegger, were on our way to watch the latest summer blockbuster, while in the background “Dancing Queen” came to a ear splitting crescendo.

Post no. 5

There Ain’t Nobody Here But Us Chickens

To the authorities holding up the package that my parents sent over three weeks ago: please cease tormenting me. Mail is the most sacred of gifts in this foreign land and this blatant disrespect will not be tolerated. I promise you that the dried herbs in the Ziploc bags are for tea purposes only. Please enjoy a pot and send the parcel on its way!

Post no. 4

Trackin’ Machine

We’ve had a busy week. Friday found us in Nagoya, one of the largest cities in Japan. Some of the day’s highlights included the trip to the Immigration Bureau where we picked up our re-entry permits. While Justin filled out our forms, Oscar and I retreated to the padded children’s cubicle. He bounded willy nilly with a couple little girls for a while and then a pack of Japanese teenagers descended upon the scene, and commenced a cellphone photo shoot with the lad.

Post no. 3

I Like To Oat, Oat, Oat, Opples and Bononos

The first meal he served me was a creamy green soup made with collards and shitake mushrooms. Then we had a pomegranate for dessert. The meals my previous suitors prepared usually involved Tostitos Queso and a microwaved potato. What a relief to have a man who knew how to cook! Since we moved in together, the kitchen has been my domain.

Post no. 2

Stepping Into Tomorrow

In the two weeks before we left the United States, I had gotten into the habit of beginning or ending whatever I said with, “we’re moving to Japan”, and in turn every conversation had an exotic spark. No one was spared my exciting news, I hit up the mamas on the playground, the farmers at the market…I even sneaked it into my refusals to solicitors.

Post no. 1

A Bit About Us

Folks say that Justin Rhoades and Gemma Metzger met for the fourth time at a co-op market and deli in Bloomington, Indiana. He snagged her with the line, “Do you remember me? We had a class together two years ago.” To which she replied, “Perhaps your hectic schedule will grant you some reprieve in the near future… do you require a satchel for your groceries?”