Well, FINALLY. Spring is here! The sun is warm, the breeze is gentle, large insects are moving into my apartment, and last night I kept the windows open all night. I didn't freeze, but I did wake up all sneezy.

Man, I can't wait for autumn.

Off to the Sasaki's in a few hours for some well-earned pampering. (Stop snickering. I do so deserve pampering.) I have no real plans while I'm there other than a vague notion of going into Tokyo one day for book shopping. Today is the start of a 9 day holiday for many people...I hope the shinkansen isn't crazy crowded.

Who's less exciting than road kill? Me!

It was my last class, and everyone was settling down to do their ten minutes of writing before starting the lesson. I freely admit I had my back turned on them...I was getting the flashcards we needed. But this is a group of nine year old girls....fairly giggly, but old enough that they don't need constant supervision. Or so I thought. It turns out Yuka had spotted a dead cat on the side of the road on her way to school, and they all thought it would be a good idea to go check it out. Not, of course, bothering to ask me first. Those kids move like greased lightning...they were out the door almost before I'd even realized they weren't in the classroom anymore. What makes it worse is that Maho was sitting RIGHT BY THE DOOR, chatting to one of our older students (a woman whose lifestyle I covet...every other month she's popping off to Europe or New Zealand or somewhere else equally fun), and didn't stop them.

Me: "Um, where did our students go?"
Maho: "I dunno. They just ran out, saying they'd be back soon."
Me: "Ah. Perhaps, in the future, it would be best if we did not let them leave the building once class has started?"

So, I went outside, herded them back in (listening all the while to stories of the grisly dead cat..."And it had STUFF coming out of its mouth!") and told them all that they had to stay an extra five minutes to make up for the time they'd just wasted. As punishments go, though, I'm not sure how much of a deterrent this was...it was mostly greeted with "Ok", "Yeah, that's fair", and even one "Woo hoo!".

I never know what to write on baby cards after "Congratulations!" I'm not one for flowery sentiments, and "better you than me!", while true, probably wouldn't go over so well.

I went to visit mom and new baby after work today...the clinic has some sort of draconian no-holding policy, so all I could do was hover over him for a bit before he was bundled off to the nursery. (I guess I understand the policy as it applies to me, but it seems a bit hard on Stu. Only moms and nurses are allowed to even touch the babies.) I feel a pronoun breakdown coming on..."Is him a handsome baby? Yes him is! Is hims sleepy? Hmm? Is hims sleepy?" Somebody slap me.

They are both doing well. I gather Masami's labour was relatively easy, so yay for that.

And to pre-empt the question most people are probably about to ask...no, it doesn't make me want one of my own. I definitely want to cuddle Liam and spout gibberish at his poor defenseless self, but I. Do. Not. Want. A. Baby. I think I'm more cut out for aunthood.

I'd stick a picture up, but I'm not really sure on the ethics of posting pictures of other people's kids. This is just a small friends and family site with barely (read: no) traffic, but still...I know Andrea had some fairly firm ideas about that, and she's a mom, so I think I'll err on the side of caution. If anyone wants photos of squishy Liam goodness, email me.

Liam is here! He was born at 1:14 this afternoon and weighs an incredible 3746 grams (8.2 freaking pounds), so I suspect that the first thing I will say to Masami when I see her is "Damn."

I'm hoping to go visit them tomorrow, if Masami feels up to company.

So, facials. On the one hand, I can't believe I paid someone to wash my face for me. On the other hand, I very badly want that someone to come to my home every single night and repeat the procedure. Oh man. Because face massages? Nice.

The Matsui's are in town, so of course we went out to dinner. We went to an "Italian" restaurant (anyone who has been to an Italian restaurant in Japan will understand the use of quotation marks there) slash brewery. They brew three different kinds of beer, and you can choose to drink one in a normal size glass or all three in wee little baby glasses. Why drink just one beer when you can try three, I say. But they brought all three at once, and I ended up feeling a bit like an alcoholic in denial. ("What? So I have three glasses of beer at once. They're TINY. They don't count as actual drinks." Well, they don't. Hush.)

Mmm. Beer.

If this online thingy (I hate the word "blog". It is ugly and I refuse to use it anymore, but am too lazy to actually think of an alternative word, so "online thingy" it is) were the kind of online thingy that had titles over every entry, this one would be called "Where Have All The Graham Wafers Gone?" Because, seriously, where have all the graham wafers gone? I have been to all the stores that usually sell graham wafers, only to find...nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. Has there been a ban on graham wafers? Are they a seasonal cracker, only available during winter? What am I supposed to snack on now???

If anybody feels the urge to send me something that is kind of bulky and crumbles easily, please! Take this as your cue!

In another "argh" moment today, I started a new book only to discover it has writing all through it. (New-to-me, you understand. From the secondhand shop.) I noticed the writing when I first glanced through it at the shop, but assumed someone had either been writing an essay on it or else using it to practice their English. Sometimes this happens, and you just learn to read around the notes. But this? This is commentary. By someone who obviously didn't like the book. I've come across a few "trites", a "please!", and an "Oh Christ". It's kind of entertaining, but also distracting. If you hate the book that much, stop reading it. Don't scribble eye-rolls in the margins.

In weather news, I had to wear a toque today. A TOQUE, PEOPLE. IN APRIL. What the hell? I mean, I guess I should be grateful it's not snowing, but this is ridiculous! I wanted a smoothie with lunch today, but had to turn on my kotatsu and don a sweater before I could sit down and enjoy the tasty frozen strawberry-bananaesque smoothiness. I would like to have at least one week of comfortable tshirt weather before summer hits. Is that so much to ask?

If there's anything worse than constant rain, it would have to be unexpected rain. The kind that catches you at the grocery store all umbrellaless. At this rate, no one's gonna be able to tell when rainy season actually begins. (Except the meteoroligists. [Wait, is that the right word? Meh, I'm too lazy to look it up. Meteorologists it is.] They're all about pinpointing the exact start of rainy season, which always confuses me. How is yesterday's rain not rainy season rain? I suspect they're just making it up.)

Not much happening here. Mostly we're waiting for Liam to be born...his due date is tomorrow, but I don't know how punctual he's gonna be. Of course, now when I don't hear from Masami for a long stretch at a time, I get all excited and wonder if she's in labour, but no. Not yet. Although, come to think of it, I haven't talked to her yet today....hmmm. (But since she was emailing Michiko about worky stuff earlier, I'm guessing not.)

I honestly have no idea how she's gonna get him out. I know that, technically, the female body is designed specifically for this kind of thing...but it still strikes me as unnatural.

Handbags are a mysterious thing. No matter how many you have, it's never enough. Or rather, there's always room for one more. Same goes for sandals.

Yup, I went shopping. But it's good shopping. Masami's friend Satoe owns the shop. So now I feel all smug and righteous, knowing that I am helping Small Businesses Stay Open. And, really, she needs all the help she can get. It's the tiniest shop ever, and it's located really out of the way in Iwata. And it's only open on Saturday, because it is basically a hobby and an excuse to go to Vietnam, Thailand, or Bali every few months to look for new goods.

Now, let's see if I can link the photos from her website, because what is the use of showing off your new stuff if you can't actually show it off?

Hello, Japan? Vancouver called. They want their weather back.

I mean, if I wanted to spend my April huddling under a chilly grey sky that far too often opens up and showers us with rain, I'd never have left Canada. (Although my mother tells me it's snowing up in Vanderhoof, so I guess it could be worse. Also, hah!)

I'm feeling very decadent and lazy this Saturday afternoon. Usually I have a private lesson downtown at noon, but yesterday she called to cancel. Something came up and she's gonna be busy for the next few months. So I decided to celebrate last night by staying up late and watching a movie and then, oops, it was 330. And then today I slept until 1230. Again, oops. Not that I have anything planned, but I have this vague notion in my head that Saturdays should be at least mildly productive, with Sundays being the day of sloth.

I bought the granniest bathing suit ever yesterday. I had 1500 yen worth of coupons to use at Tipness' boutique, and they were having a sale, and, well....shopping happened. Oddly enough, swimsuits come in quite large sizes here. Well, a certain kind of swimsuit. You won't find bikinis in XXXL, but since I wouldn't be caught dead in a bikini, that's ok. I think it's because swimming (or at least walking up and down the length of the pool) is popular with eldery ladies, and they are all suffering from middle-aged spread. Anyhow, here is the suit...it ended up costing me only 3000 yen.



I particularly like the zip-up vest format of the top...no more struggling into/out of bathing suit tops! Just zip up and away I go.

Anyhow, it's nearly 2pm, and I should go shower. Perhaps start laundry. I think today I'll go to Big Fuji. It's the weirdest grocery store....only open on the weekends. Everything comes in bulk, so I don't shop there much (there's only so much fresh veggies one girl can use up before they become mold), but I haven't been in a while. My personal favourite feature, however, is the fact that there are no aisles. There's only one path, winding its way through the store. This makes it difficult to backtrack if you forget something or decide you don't really need 6 chicken breasts at once, because you then have to fight against the tides of people wending their way to the cashiers.

Now it really is 2pm. Off I go!

It was windy on Saturday. Now, add about 600 "very's" in front of "windy", and you might have an idea of exactly how windy it was. A couple of times it slammed into me from the side, which caused me to stumble sideways in a comical fashion. I haven't watched the news lately, but I would not be at all surprised to learn that many families are frantically searching for grandma, last seen heading to the supermarket on Saturday morning.

Masami and I were supposed to go for a walk on Saturday night in an effort to convince Liam to just be born already, but when I finally fought my way over to her place, she informed me that no way were we going out in that. I figured we'd be ok, what with her being 9 months pregnant and me being all morbidly obese and all, but she just reacted to that with "la la la la, I can't hear you!" So we scuttled the walking plan and just ate pizza instead.

Turns out it was a sand storm all the way from China. Thanks, China.

Yesterday I got to teach the phrase "I like to whack moles." The last five minutes of the kids classes are spent looking at a picture of a very busy park indeed, and the kids make up various sentences based on the pictures. This was a 5 year old class, so the sentences were fairly basic..."I like to" and "I can". This one kid pointed to the picture of the happy mole poking his head out of the ground, and after a few attempts to figure out what he meant ("You like to dig holes?"), he indicated that he likes to hit them on the head with a blunt instrument. After a slightly shocked silence on my part, I figured out he meant the game (Whack-a-mole?). Thinking about it, I guess I should have taught "I like to play whack-a-mole", but eh. He's five and has the attention span of a poodle. He's not gonna remember, so I can fix that next week.

Other phrases I like include "I can eat ice cream" (really? Wow, that's quite the party trick! [note: sarcasm is wasted on four year olds]) and "I like to pet squirrels" (you've SEEN a squirrel?).

Wow, this is quite long. I'll be quiet now.

Four! Severed! Heads!

Everytime I start thinking about canceling my satellite subscription (on the grounds that I mostly watch dvds now, when I'm not actively glued to the computer), I get sucked back in. Today I was having a lazy Sunday afternoon, so I just put the Discovery Channel on and was immediately greeted by a show called, you guessed it, Four Severed Heads. If I cancelled my satellite, I wouldn't be able to watch this kind of quality programming.

Anyhow, I have been asked to make my posts more attention deficit friendly (should there be hyphens in there?), so with that in mind, here is my day...

Getting up at 8 am on a Sunday...BAD. VERY, VERY BAD.
Cherry trees...pretty.
Ice cream...yummy.
Amateur outdoor karaoke...bad.

I am obese.

I know this, because a machine told me so. And machines, as we all know, don't lie. Today is a beautiful sunny day, so I had no excuse to lay about all morning and not go to the gym. So, off to the gym I went. Because it was my first day, they (the gym people) felt the need to measure and weigh me. (I also had to wear a bright orange tag around my wrist. Presumably this alerts the employees that here is a new person, who might conceivably drop a barbell on her toes. Or get mangled in the treadmill.) There is this really neat machine that measures absolutely everything about you...height, weight, how much of your weight is fat and how much muscle, how much water is in your body at various points, even your nutritional state. And all you have to do is stand there. Like I said, neat. And you can even get your printout in English.

I even got a little graph. See? The red star is where I'm at. Like I said, obese!



Of course, the machine also says that my ideal weight is 55kg (121 pounds), to which I say ha, ha, and again, ha! (Although to be fair, the machine doesn't say that I wouldn't look like a famine-ridden hag at that weight. It just says it's what I want.)

Now, while I certainly don't want to die an early, obesity-related death, I also don't want to give up food, which is what would have to happen in order for that 55kg thing to happen. Hmm. Vive la obesity!

Yours truly, Alisa Fattybum McFatpants

Mmm. Photastic.

I like pho. It's both tasty AND fun to say.

Pho. Ppho. Ppppphhhhhhhhhho!

I think next time my lunch will be a plate of fresh spring rolls and dorian ice-cream. That's healthy, right? You've got your veggies, and your...er...fruity calcium. AND you've got sauce for dipping. Everything tastes better with sauce.

Hmmph.

It's raining. This means I can't go to the gym, because I'm not dedicated enough to my health to trudge through puddles for 10 minutes, gym bag slung over shoulder, just in order to hop onto a treadmill.

I am, however, dedicated enough to my lunch to trudge through puddles for 10 minutes in order to try lunch at the new (new? previously unnoticed?) Definately A Restaurant, Not At All A Sleazy Hostess Club Vietnamese place up the road and over a bit.

Tam biet.

Snakes on a plane!

Sorry. I was IMing with Erika earlier today and she introduced me to this movie, or at least the title. I haven't been able to get it out of my head all day, but I shall attempt to talk about things that are neither snake nor plane-related.

Ahem.

So, turns out my Japanese linguistic abilities allow me to join gyms. This is quite exciting, although probably not tremendously useful, as I don't really plan on joining all that many gyms. Especially not at these prices...

New gym is all fancy. It has an esthe room (beauty salon) and a massage room and even a boutique. None of which I really need, and all of which I plan on sniffily dismissing as being all princessy and overly luxurious (AFTER I use up the coupons I got when I joined, of course). I do admit the pool looks good, though. It's 25 meters and has 7 lanes. Fun's pool was only 18 meters long and had only 3 lanes, one of which was devoted to elderly people walking up and down the pool. (Japanese pools don't seem to have deep ends. It's fairly disconcerting.) When I first joined Fun, I got many a headache from bashing into the pool walls before adjusting to the bizarre length.

Tomorrow I shall go and attempt to figure out all the different machines. If you don't hear from me again, I likely got mangled in a treadmill.

Sakura!

Saturday was not as cold as I'd feared. It wasn't warm, either, but at least nobody was chopping down the sakura trees for firewood.



Plenty of people were out in Sumpu-koen. The Shizuoka festival was on as well, so there were lots of food stands and the distant sound of taiko could occasionally be heard, in the lapses between the random loudspeaker noise and the 50's style rock music being played at a nearby stage. Sakura boogie woogie, anyone?

And what traditional Japanese festival delicacies did I indulge in? The donar kebab, actually. Which is not so much traditional or Japanese as it is Turkish. But, oh. So good. And only available during festival times in Shizuoka, much to the dismay of (to judge by the amount of business it was doing) everyone in the city. Mmm. Kebabs.

Here's your ume-chu, Chevy. Mmm mmm good.


Blossoms at night.



Today was pissing rain, which was fairly tragic. I'd really, really, REALLY wanted to go back to Sumpu-koen and get another kebab for lunch, but eating outdoors in a downpour never goes well. Stuff gets soggy. Liz and co went strawberry picking (by which I mean they paid an astronomical fee to go into a large greenhouse and pick a bunch of strawberries that they had to eat on the spot. You're not allowed to take them away with you) and I just came home.

And now my house smells of pumpkin soup, which, as far as house smells go, is pretty yummy.