I can't believe . . .

this is it. Our last month in Japan. Holy crap.

I should be boxing more books to sell, using up this mountain of scrapbooking paper, sorting clothes, bagging up plastics and non-burnables for their respective pick-up days. But the weather has been so disgustingly beautiful that Hannah and I have taken to spending entire days at the park. Can you blame us?

I'm keeping a mental list of the things I'll miss, some of which cause a pain so deep I can't say them out loud. Can't admit that they'll be gone from my life, possibly forever. Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we begin to truly love and appreciate a place when it's time to say goodbye? I'm torn. Between homes. Between lifestyles. Between the people and things I love. Between families. Between continents.

I'll spend this month savoring. Capturing. Thanking. I know it'll never be enough. My offerings never are, but the essence of this culture is humble gratitude. As I soak up one more month of the Rising Sun and bow my head to this beautiful land and its people, I hope I might also absorb the values I had hoped for Hannah to learn here. Japan wasn't in the plan. None of this was. But I'm glad it happened.

Shameless Plug

Meet Jeff. I met Jeff when I was a junior in high school band and a nice, quiet freshman dude bumped me to 3rd chair in the trombone section. Jeff likes music. Jeff likes music I like. Aside from introducing me to heart-melting bands like "you, you're awesome," Jeff also reminded me that Animal Collective's new EP is coming out in December (HELLO?!?! Where have I been?! OH. Japan). That's all I want for Christmas. No really. I can't carry anything else in my luggage. Anyway, you should check out Jeff's music blog. He posts something incredible just about every day, which is why you should check out Jeff's blog.

Please check out Jeff's blog.

Done.

Momiji

Miwako said the particular type of maple outside our house is called "baby's hand." I like that.

Still here

Just not HERE. I'm decompressing after the whirlwind that was our Thanksgiving party. 15 adults and 5 children - the most people I've ever hosted. I'm told I kept my cool pretty well, but to be honest I hardly remember a thing. It was like there was some gooey glaze over my perception and awareness. I don't know if I was completely present. I've been feeling this a lot lately - a sense of absenteeism and infinite sleepiness. The days following the party have been one big nap after another, broken up by reading and leftover-pie breaks. I tell myself it's temporary - that I've earned the right to indulge. Why do I feel so guilty then?

I packed a big box of books to take to the meeting tomorrow. Time to start selling off the junk. I can't believe Kansas is a little more than a month away.

I'll be back.

Blahg

I've have writer's blogk. Not even the blogs I've been planning to write (coffee, rocks and Docs) are coming to me. Nothing. I just had the most intense nap EVER, and I've been trying to wake up these past 2 hours. No amount of coffee and Hannah demanding to be firmly planted on my hip while I make her lunch has shaken me out of it, which makes me think I might be getting sick again. Perfect.

I could use some inspiration right about now. What would YOU like me to write? Give me anything. Any writing assignment. I'll do it. I work better under pressure.

In the mean time I'll read Clash of Kings while you enjoy these.

Semi-sweet

It's cold in my house. Let me rephrase that. It's the same temperature inside my house as it is outside my house. Now, I know I've lamented Japan winters on my blog before, but hear me out. It's see your breath when you wake up in the morning cold. It's shower gel too viscous to use cold. It's don't bother putting the milk away and don't defrost that turkey in your kitchen because it'll just stay frozen cold. I'm typing with fingerless gloves on my hands. If I weren't, I'd be typing with fingerless hands, and instead of hearing me bitch about the cold (again) you'd be reading dxzdjkeb .;zx iex aa,mj nxmn,aw qp9834 aldokiewjker89n 4lrekj 0984ndn 2, which now that I think of it might not be a bad alternative. I think you catch my draft. Sorry. Couldn't resist.

Thanksgiving is coming, and with it another gathering of teachers desperate for a small taste of home. Cranberries, pumpkin pie and a turkey. That's all we want. I'm conflicted by the small fortune and gallons of fuel this meal will cost, but I'm setting aside my "ethics" and politics for something I believe is more important - love. I've seen a lot of people despair in this foreign environment. Some are no longer with us, but a few are still here, and during the holidays especially I want them to feel as comfortable and at-home as possible. I want them to know that Japan can be a good experience if you put in a little effort and optimism. This country has taught me creativity and resourcefulness in cooking, gardening, traveling and raising my child. So what if there are no SweetTarts or Tostitos in Japan? I'm better off without them. I realize the irony of this message after my rant about the cold and my implied distaste for Japan's non-insulated houses. After almost 3 years I'm still not above whining about my own discomfort. But I've had it pretty good here, and I owe that to the optimistic people in my life - Megumi, Miwako, Hans. They've not only helped me survive my first overseas living experience, they've helped me thrive. I've traveled all of Shikoku, eaten hand-picked strawberries, sung in concerts, moved into a house with a piano, and created the most beautiful brown-eyed curly-locked souvenir a woman could ask for. Yeah, I've had it pretty good. I have much to be thankful for, and much to give to others. I don't care if my paying-it-forward goes unrecognized (and most of it does). Giving is as much a selfish act as it is altruistic. I love to give, and I give to love.

But I digress. Before I'd woken up and discovered just how cold it had turned in this house, Hans in his infinite optimism already had the kerosene heater puttering away downstairs. Strangely the smell of gasoline in the living room didn't propel me into battle with homesickness like I thought it would. In fact it brought back some rather warm memories of moving into this house with the help of our friends Courtney and Chris - the guys retrieving furniture from our outgrown apartment while Courtney and I fired up the heater and donned an extra pair of socks before diving into the labyrinthine piles of boxes scattered in the kitchen. Memories of Katie, Travis, Kasen and Kayla visiting from Korea and sleeping like sardines in our futon-bedecked tatami room. Memories of Hannah crawling across these ice-cold wooden floors in her snowsuit. Memories of her taking her first few steps to the enthusiastic praise and encouragement of her cousins. In our frenzied preparations for returning to the states it occurs to me that Japan is Hannah's home, and Kansas is foreign to her. So are frozen dinners, Chuck E Cheese, Saturday morning cartoons and the ubiquitous pop-icon Hannah Montana (ask me if my daughter is named after her and see what it gets you). A part of me kind of wishes it would stay that way, for her sake. But now, of all times, I need my home. And no amount of foreign import stores will change that. The goodbyes have already begun. They began when this season's first bag of rice was harvested. I don't really know how to feel about that right now. I don't think I'll know for a long, long time.

It's open all the curtains to let the sunshine heat your house cold.

What a bittersweet life this is turning out to be. I'm truly thankful for it all.

Sick baby, sick mama: A Tough Alliance