Bacon

I know this is a touchy subject. People get crazy about bacon - Anthony Bourdain suggests that people cook bacon around their vegetarian friends all the time because it's a "gateway protein." I get it! Bacon smells fantastic.

Still, I just can't eat the stuff. I've tried a couple times in the past few years. The smell entices me, but I don't dig on the texture, and it's not like I'm missing out on a necessary nutrient or anything. Unless you're from the South.

So Josh and I occasionally buy turkey bacon as a treat. It's not the same, of course, but that works for me. It tastes good and the texture is pleasant - if it's cooked properly. The oven or the stovetop works fine. THE MICROWAVE DOES NOT. Josh tried to cut corners the other day and cooked it in the micro for our bacon cheese veggie burgers. It tasted like Beggin' Strips. That's okay, lesson learned.

The unfortunate side effect of this is that now our microwave smells like bacon. Which has given me a possibly great, possibly terrible idea, which I would copyright if it didn't already exist: bacon coffee.

Feast or famine

Hoo, y'all. I mean, hoo boy. It's rough around here.

I don't want to get into the details, but let's just say that we're stressed out. Josh is working really hard in the band and on his master's degree, and I think I can say without compromising operational security that he'll be going on a ship for the first time soon. Living in Japan in a military environment is much more difficult than either of us anticipated, and that fact has been coming to a head lately.

See, my husband is stressed to the max. There is absolutely nothing I can do to help him, not unless he figures out what I can do, that is, so I'm stressed too from watching helplessly while he deals with it all. I love this man so much, and it's incredibly hard to sit on my hands while he keeps slogging through this tough time. Plus I'm planning a trip to the States very soon (the states of California, South Carolina, and Washington, to be exact) but traveling Space-A by myself and leaving our house empty is scary.

So where's the feast? All around us. I mean, we have plenty of money in this terrible economy and our health care is acceptable and free. Our house has a view of the ocean, we get to call our parents and grandparents for free from Japan, and our friends and family are amazing. We've got some friends here, and a decent little community to keep us sane when things get this crazy. Oh, and I get to go home for a while, albeit without my husband. And, you'll never believe what I just got in the mail.

I'm sorry the pictures are so dark, especially since the colors are much prettier than that, but I was in a rush. See, this package came yesterday from Irish, who is working hard to settle into life in the Pacific Northwest. Since she was my first knitting student (and a total natural) I gave her the needles I learned on before she left Japan. This scarf, the Irish Hiking Scarf (named after the country, not my friend, but how cool!), was her second project. See how beautiful those cables are? And how even her tension? HER SECOND PROJECT. Like I said, a natural.

I am so blown away by her generosity, and I'm still amazed that I've found a handful of kindred spirits here on the other side of the world. My life is much more feast, much more beautiful and kind and warm than it ever is scary and cold. And yet, this winter, the chill keeps creeping in.

WHAT?!

Why didn't anyone tell me that Brad and Angelina and family are in my neighborhood?! I'M NOT READY!

Two dreams

Two nightmares really, but I wanted you to keep reading.

#1 woke me up in the middle of the night. It was one of those really vivid, detailed dreams that comes out of nowhere: I was working in an office where everyone logs onto the computers via jump drive. I had to borrow three of them from other workers so I could get them rights to a project or something, and while I had them our office was attacked by terrorists. Who wanted the jump drives and stole them out of my pocket while I was distracted by the terrorism. (I know).

So I decided to tell the people whose identities were on those drives, and one of them freaked out and started screaming in my face and her eyes were all pupil and she tried to strangle me and throw us both out a window. Jeezus. I woke up with my heart racing, freaking out, and then realized that it was two a.m. and went back to sleep, only to face this nightmare:

I was a member of George W. Bush's personal staff.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

It was true in the dream though. I really like being on a person's staff: a campaign, or, I imagine, a politician's office in D.C., or working for the head of an organization I support. I like traveling, event management, and managing the head honcho at public gatherings. That's for people I SUPPORT and LIKE, not certain torture-approving, women's-health-denigrating ex-Presidents.

But there you have it. I was on his staff and we were closing up shop before heading back to Texas, and the NSA had decided he could have a Blackberry like President Obama's. But of course Bush couldn't work it, so they gave it to me to learn its functions and input the staff's contact information. They'd already uploaded and bookmarked a couple things they knew the ex-President couldn't live without:

I Can Has Cheezburger and I Has a Hotdog.

Y'all, I woke up laughing. Literally: I managed to crack myself up while unconscious.

Talk amongst yourselves

It has been strange around here. Quiet, mostly, but busy with Josh's schoolwork and cooking and cleaning and yucky weather. So to amuse yourself while I don't write, go read whatever June's up to at Bye Bye, Pie. Because, to quote her own self, man Polly, quit cryin', I'm tired and she's funny.

Ku-ree-nee-n-guOH MY GOD LOOK OUT!

Remember how I'm learning katakana? One of the three Japanese alphabets? Well, by Jove, I think I've got it. I've been practicing a lot on the web and reading as much as I can in the stores - and I'm getting really good! Reading another alphabet is incredibly addicting; it's like breaking a code every day. Soooo...

I read while I drive.

I know! It's not safe, especially since I'm so slow. But while I'm driving slowly or at a stoplight, it's impossible not to try to sound out the "English" words written in kana. It's also virtually impossible, that's virtually impossible, to avoid getting into an accident. Add to that the fact that I like to take pictures of the things I pass, and well, it's a wonder I haven't crashed.

So let's make this post a purge of my bad habits, and I'll just get it out of my system and never do it again. It's hard to resist though: the other day when I was driving to Nadine's house, I saw this on my right:Tell me: could you resist snapping a quick photo of a ROBOT if you drove past one? A robot clenching its fist and stomping on a child's car? I didn't think so.

The next one, I have no excuse for, baby baby. It's very common in Japan, but I kept forgetting to snap a picture.Many Japanese people still sleep on a futon on tatami, rather than a Western-style bed. But tatamis wick moisture out of the air during humid months, and release it during the dry months - so combine that with normal sweat and sleep, and the futons need to be aired out. If the weather is dry, they're hanging all over the country with those big hooky clips.

So that's it! No more taking pictures while driving (unless the robots move!) and no ignoring traffic to read in a foreign language. The title of this post, before the OMG, means "cleaning."

No wonder the Swedes are so slender

Seriously. Have you been to Ikea? It's an endurance trial - like a marathon, but with Swedish meatballs halfway through instead of Gatorate and tepid water.

And yet, who can resist the particle board (but classy!) furniture, the exciting and inexpensive kitchen gadgets, the names like Haarfyurlunch and Beetleguese and Appelfahrt? I can't, and neither can my friends. Even though the tolls cost $30. My love for Ikea is previously documented - and no, I don't know why there's a question mark (Anchorman-style) at the end of the first paragraph.

So on Friday, I picked Nadine and Justine up at their house and we headed over to Dorothy's to meet her and her two adorable girls for the trip. I need to take this opportunity to right a wrong on this blog: I've only mentioned Dorothy twice, and by different names. She had Nadine and me over for lunch back in September, and she and her husband (their real names are Beth and Alex - I was calling her Dorothy because she wants to go home) were our sponsors when we first arrived. They lent us their bikes, took us out, had us to their house for dinner, received and held on to the packages we shipped ahead, and were generally really great. And we have been so remiss in returning their kindness! More on that later.

DoroBeth made us yummy sandwiches for lunch, and the six ladies ate before piling into the Ivy Van for the trip. Check out these adorable little girls.

What a crew! The girls were really great in the car for the 45 minute ride north to Yokohama, and Beth drove. So nice.

When we got to Ikea, the mamas strapped their littlest babies to their fronts and I carried Hannah, the three year old, into the store. (Mothers of two are like ninjas. Notice how the non-mama ended up carrying the heaviest child? :) All the girls were great throughout the store, even though we took hours to wind our way through. Hannah, who I love to bits, got a little chilly in the warehouse portion and snuggled up with her antie Em's coat.

On the ride home we squeezed three adults, three children, and two big heavy boxes full of furniture parts into that van, and Beth drove once again. I picked up a couple new throw pillows, some new bowls and spoons for our kitchen, and other little things for the house, while Nadine and Beth each got new toy-corralling furniture. What a day! Poor Justine cried all the way home (also poor us) but for good reason - FIRST TOOTH! FIRST TOOTH! Ah, so exciting.

Back to our rudeness to Beth and Alex: we finally, finally had them over for dinner the next night. I'd been really worried about kid-proofing our house, which it turns out we didn't really do anyway despite our efforts - toddlers can crawl into tiny hidden places and find, say, the icky lost flyswatter under the couch. Ech. But we ate Nadine's smoked salmon cheese ball for an appetizer, and then sat down to dinner. Aren't they a beautiful family?
The girls had gotten word that they had to eat dinner if they wanted dessert, and this led to a little problem. See, Hannah is a very polite little girl, and she wanted dessert and wanted to eat dinner, but she just. didn't. like. it. I made a black bean chili with unsweetened chocolate - one of our favorites, and not spicy, but kind of an adult flavor. Faith, who is 18 months, loved it, but Hannah simply did not. She kept trying to eat it and I kept trying not to laugh or cry as she'd put a big bite into her mouth and then make a terribly pitiful face, as though she'd just seen someone throw up. The poor thing! Eventually we relented and gave her PB&J, and she still got her dessert.

For the rest of the night the ladies played Nintendo while the fellas talked about work, politics, and religion - what a lighthearted pair! We can't wait to have them over again.