And so this is Christmas... 2018 in Japan

I was too embarrassed at the time to share on Facebook about me and two of the kids California trip that wasn't last month. All set to go tickets bought two days before heading to the airport my wife noticed what I'd failed to when checking and double checking my visa and reentry permit expiration dates in my passport.  They were fine, my passport not so much.  It was expired! And so I tell this now because... 

Well when ya run a mom and pop English school in Nippon canceling a week's worth of classes for a trip to Cali means ya gotta make up for it another time like on Christmas day. Thus I ended up donning a Santa suit for morning classes at a nursery school and teaching a couple kids classes in the afternoon. Working on Christmas day.  Dang!  But now it's done and it all worked out just fine with me still managing to get in some Christmas and just wrapped it up in important traditional style of watching Christmas Vacation.  Work again tomorrow then a few classes Thursday then  the big holiday time and days off start in these parts, but today...

Well it started in gratitude and is ending in gratitude. I think that's the key, or so it proved to be when I caught myself, or my wife caught me, starting to bitch and moan about having to work on Christmas day.  

The gratitude at the start hit while eating a bowl of Grape Nuts with bananas--a favorite breakfast I don't often get to eat around here. I can't get GrapeNuts here but lo and behold there was a box in a package that arrived the other day.  When I thought I was headed to California my mom and dad asked what I'd like to eat. "GrapeNuts for breakfast" I said!  When the trip fell through I assumed that was just one of many things I lost out on thanks to not realizing the expired passport but not a word of it.  Mom and dad are still looking out for their absent minded 52 year old son--they done sent me my breakfast, which is off the charts awesome on their part if I don't say so myself. Thus the Christmas morning gratitude. 

  We didn't do much for presents we're trying to get away from buy buy buy buy but kids each got one small gift and some snacks in their stockings, and the boys found cash in the last couple unopened days of the Advent Calendar (their awesome mom's idea), Then of course there was seeing the little girl be way excited about everything from a room extension for her Sylvania house (which she somehow knew I made because "elves didn't make it it's made with sticks" (wood)) excited with everything from that to her new octopus kite to... OMG Peanut M&M's in the stocking it's a Christmas miracle!  The cat got food, the guinea pig got carrots and the parakeet got a new bell that he's more scared of than he is the cat! Everyone's healthy and the house smells like turkey soup which's been slow cooking since last night and was our Christmas dinner. 

And so...

This is enough.  

This is more than enough.  

And so what if I had to work. It's not like I hate my job. Hell there are still times I trip out on getting paid to do what I do.  That's especially true of days like today and I couldn't help but laugh at the irony. 

There I was donning a red suit thunk up by some 20th century American to portray legendary 4th century Turkish bishop or 3rd century Greek monk—Sinterklaas or Saint Nicholas depending on the Santa legend—doing all this on the day the world celebrates the birth of Jesus even though he was not actually born anywhere near December 25th and more than a fair share of pagan ritual has worked its way into celebrating Christ’s birth—indeed the changing of his DOB only came about after Constantine's conversion so it would displace Saturnalia, the pagan Roman winter solstice festival. So I’m musing on this history of the Christmas child while dressed in a suit of another Christmas character all the while I’m at a nursery school adjacent to a Buddhist temple and run by Buddhists and…

"Good lord we humans are crazy complicated and just delightfully interesting, imaginative, quirky creatures though ain't we!” 

  And so I laughed and got caught up in the kid energy, still full of gratitude for parents who love me so much as to mail a box of their youngest son's favorite breakfast cereal halfway around the world to him, and then more gratitude kicked in around dinnertime while sharing life with the family that's grown up around me here. 

Looking back on this Christmas day now with less than an hour of it to go I’m re-realizing it's an inside thing, all this Christmas business is. It's something to do about love and gratitude. The rest is all decoration.

Merry Christmas wherever you are. 

Full Service

The guy half leaning on the pump shot to attention to guide our little white like-a-car only smaller transportation unit alongside the pump when we pulled into the station.

I'd been joking with the kids on the way. The last little gas blip had been blipping for many a kilometer.  I'd pushed it lower so knew we'd make it, we could've made it to the big self service station another few kilometers away on Nekkan Road even, but I like going to the tiny corner full service mom and pop gas stand now and then.  I know I'm paying more for gas but the good feeling that comes with giving business to local folks is worth it. And man talk about service!

Two guys are at the car by the time I got it shut off. One hurries over to the driver's side window. "Sen en bun kudasai" I say, "give me 1,000 yen's worth please"  "Hai" he responds while darting off towards the pump.  The other guy's already started in on cleaning the windshield. I'd think a mere thousand yen worth of gas--not quite 7 liters--would merit the fuss and hustle but this of course is getting gas in Japan, the service country par excellence, so I just sit back and enjoy it. "Look at those guys go" I say to my two youngest kids in the backseat. The kids watch as the squeegee wets the window then removes it on a lightning quick second pass and in comes the rag to catch the streaks.  I've been there enough times for them to know me, thus they no longer ask if I'd like them to empty my ash tray. If by chance I have a candy wrapper or empty coke can or the like all I've gotta do is hand it to them.  Same goes if I need a clean most rag to clean the dash.

Six point something liters of gas pumps quick so this time it's just windows.  The two guys have them all clean as new in Indy 500 pit stop speed and the guys' back at the driver's side window before I know it. I hand him a thousand yen note and bow as low as possible without hitting my head on the steering wheel.  I want to show my appreciation as much as possible for the excellent service.  The guy at the pump bows deeply with an "Arigato Gozaimasu" formal thank you as we pull away from the pump. The other is already out at the road gesture questioning at me to find out which way I'm headed.  I point north, he looks south down the road and holds his hand out for me to stop.  His stop gesture moves into a forward motioning one after a car comes around the corner and passes.  His southward pointing finger moves in  broad sweep till it's pointing in the direction we're headed. "All clear".  It's Yubisashi Kosho 指差呼称  Point and call out you'd say in English I think. It's a Japanese awareness method for avoiding mistakes. Train conductors make it look like an art form. After so many years here I try to do it myself nowadays. It felt goofy at first but I've come to like it. It's amazing how such a small practice can bring you more in tune with the present moment and surroundings.

 "Arigato gozaimashita" I shout as I pull away. Arigatou Gozaimashita" he echos back with a deep bow. I love watching them in the rear view mirror as I pull away.  As always he remains standing there till he appears the size of an ant way back in the distance.  Three blips of gas now I know we'll make it to the 100 yen shop and back no problem. And man just look at those windows!

Getting gas in Japan. Until someone creates a time machine to go back to USA circa 1971 I think it's the closest I'll come to what getting gas was like back home when I was a kid.  

Satire is the new reality: Apostles' Creed Edition

I stopped trying to keep track of the off the charts surreal lunacy of  it all months ago but this one....  I'm telling ya you just can't make stranger shit up! I've gotta take note of this.

There they were--all of the living former presidents and FLOTUSes along with president stupid and his 3rd trophy wife.  There they were in the cathedral to pay respects to 41.  Important to the context is the fact that the guy who's playing president now--the guy who all the other presidents clearly can't fucking stand to put it mildly, that guy has received a higher percentage of support from American Evangelicals than any other US president.  So of course that guy is the one who is not reciting the Apostles' Creed because duh! We're living in satirical times now people. 

Then there's the guy Trump supporters call Muslim--the guy who they remain convinced is not an American citizen without a shred of credible evidence--there he is reciting the Apostles' creed by heart as much as he's reading it.  The Clintons who they claim to be the devil itself if not worse, they're reading it as well. As is President Carter but hey,  he's by far the most Christ-like POTUS our country has ever known so no surprise there.  The guy has cancer yet still he picks up his hammer and builds homes for the poor.  Apparently that kind of emulating Jesus stuff is heresy in American Christianism 2018 though since Evangelical Republicans can still hardly bring themselves to say a nice word about Carter. 

But boy howdy do they love Trump. And there he is, seemingly unaware of the importance of reciting this creed for those who profess the Christian faith.  I'd be willing to guess he doesn't even hear it and wouldn't know what it is if he did.  I'm guessing the self-obsessed voices in his head drowned it all out or at least reduced this core to the Christian faith prayer to mumbling background noise.  

And so toss this one more little footnote piece of straw onto the camel and keep watching because sooner or later, and I'm guessing we're nearing sooner, that poor beast's back is gonna break.  It's just too surreal though ain't it. I still can't look at this photo or read  news of this without laughing myself silly.  

But yeah Trump was chosen by god.  Riiiiiight.  I swear believing as much makes god look more and more like a raving mad lunatic with each passing second of this supposed presidency.

It's been a while since I publicly rebuked the idiot-in-chief and know that some have taken offense to my doing so; therefore, just for the record I have heavenly ordained righteous authority to judge in this case.  How's that you say?  Well there's the fact that I've spent countless hours over the past decade and a half enmeshed in an intensive lay study of early Christianity, which of course has included researching the hell out of the history of the Nicene creed and Apostles' Creed and all of the synods and debates over the nature of Christ, reading the works of Irenaeus and Justin Martyr and Origen along with all the works unearthed at Nag Hammadi and on and on.  So there's that and the fact that, although it was a short-lived gig that ended in early Japan gaijin wedding preacher retirement, technically I am a man of the cloth. See!  

Thus as one who's conducted wedding services in both Japanese and English I hereby assert my right to criticize the dumb ass so-called president who can't even bring himself to read a few lines of a prayer in English at the funeral of a real American President.  

How anyone can continue to support that clown is beyond me.  God have mercy on whatever's left of their decency and intellect. 

Passport Please

My wife was pulling into the parking lot as I walked out the lobby of the company where I teach an ESL class every morning. Dang what did I forget this time? She always texts before coming so I looked to see but no, no text. 

“Doshita?” What’s up?” I asked as I got up to the driver’s side window. 

She had a strange look on her face. Oh shit one of the kids? Parent fear. First thought is always the kids. 

She held up something in her hand. My passport? Still it didn’t click. She pointed it out to me.  No way! 

She told me. What the hell! No way! 

My heart sunk. How could I…? Immediate self-disgust. How could anyone miss something like that! How could I not know my passport’s expired two days before the flight! God what a dumb ass! I was just getting started. Nobody can beat the hell out of me like I can. 

The self-condemnation continued all the way home―embarrassment with the thought of telling everyone why we didn’t go; disgust for such dumbshit oversight; heartsickness with the thought of telling my younger son.  He had a days left to the trip countdown paper taped to the kitchen counter. He’d been peeling off  a page with each passing day.

I ran through excuses in my head. Every day is so damned busy! Upwards to eight classes to prep for and teach, raising three kids and all that goes with that, buying the house this year and busy with reinforcing it for earthquakes. On and on I built the list but knew deep down it’s the kind of mistake only absent minded pros like myself make.

The shock and self-admonishment grew into depression as I went online to cancel the flight and file a claim to refund airfare. I was feeling lower’n snail turds by the time the boy returned from school.  The sound of the door was followed by his happy call. “Tadaima” (I’m home!) then “Daddy?” My heart sunk even deeper as I walked downstairs to tell him.

I told him.

“Nan-de? Nan-de!” (Why? Why!!)

His eyes filled with tears.

Buddy I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.

“Yada! Yada! Daddy dai kirai! Yada”

(NOOO! I hate daddy!)

He stormed out the door with tears rolling down his cheeks. I couldn’t blame him.  Dad’s aren’t supposed to blow it that bad. I went to the door and half-called out in a defeated voice. “Dude I’m sorry” He kept walking. The depression grew even deeper. 

I know it’s life. I know it’s “shoganai” as they say in Japanese. I know this too shall pass. Everything always does. Inochi Mujo. Life is transience. I even know the reason for the depression this time around.  That’s not always the case. At times it’s come out of nowhere and knocked me on my ass. Those who’ve had to battle the depression demons will understand. 

I learned that alcohol fixes depression way back in high school. It seemed to fix it at least. Whichever the case it stopped working years before I stopped trying it. I’m grateful that alcohol isn’t my solution any more. Not that I’ve anything against drinking. Booze is great stuff. If not an alcoholic I’d still be treating the slightest bit of blues by drinking like a champ. Alas that’s a luxury I can no longer afford. It got way too damned painful, damn near fatal even. So now? I disconnect. Put away the phone, avoid or deactivate Facebook, talk about it when ready and till then just sit and feel it, go for a long bike ride or walk in the nearby hills and feel it. It’s the feeling it that I’m grateful to be able to do most. Go through it sober. Feel it for all its worth. That's something I couldn't do for the longest time.

I heard others tell of going through far worse experiences than forgetting to renew a passport and not drinking over it. It took some years of try and fail before getting to the point where I can do it myself. I can now say with certainty that it is in fact possible to be embarrassed, to make huge dumbass mistakes, to feel like shit, and yet stay sober.  Experience has taught me as much. I’m grateful for that too.

The boy’s fine now. He’d been hounding me for a Nintendo Switch for months on end. “All of my friends have one”  Good for your friends. You don’t. He does now. Good parenting or not I could care less. He got screwed out of a trip to California because of my dumbass mistake. Not checking the expiration date. I swear there are times I’m amazed I haven’t won a Darwin award! But all’s well now. Early Christmas present in hand he’s happy as ever with how things turned out.

The little girl child was far easier to break the bad news to and console. When I told her it’ll be a few months instead of days till we go to America she was distressed for all of thirty seconds till getting distracted. Four year olds are easy to distract. “Squirrel!”

And me? Well I actually laughed about it this morning. My wife’s seen me go through it 100 times. For reasons I’ll never know she stuck it out with me after I returned to life from the relapse to end all relapses some 5,169 days ago. She has her own way of dealing with me that seems to work. After 15 years of marriage she seems to know when I’m coming out of a funk before I do even. She must’ve sensed it this morning. She made some wise crack about me not being able to go to the store because my passport’s expired. I told her I was gonna kick her ass. We’re good. 

The appointment is made I’m off to the US Embassy in Tokyo to renew the passport next week. I’m still not much looking forward to telling all my students about the trip that wasn’t but know deep down it’ll be good for keeping my overactive ego down to its right size. And California? Well it’s been four and a half years since I was last there so guess a few more months won’t kill me.  I’ll show up sober and probably even happy with a valid passport in hand. I wonder if my brother will still be waiting to pick me up at the airport? 

Brother finger NOooooooo!

Do you know the finger family?  

They've got a hit song it's all over the YouTubes.  Go give it a listen but beware! You'll have it stuck in your head for days to come. 

I've been teaching the finger family song to Japanese kindergarten kids the past couple of weeks. I use homemade vocabulary picture cards to go over the words first.

Daddy
Mommy
Brother
Sister
Baby

The kids all know "baby" already, so it's just four new vocabulary words.  Most have them memorized lickity-split.  Then we get to the song.  It's really good for English intonation and rhythm, as well for learning the phrases:
 "Where are you" 
and 
"Here I am"

I drew pictures on my fingers before going to the kindergarten.  Once we start singing I hold up my hand palm facing the kids and wiggle my thumb as the song begins;
"Daddy finger daddy finger where are you"
The kids laugh. I love hearing the kids laugh. It's golden. 

The kids mimic me too. They hold up their hands and wiggle their thumbs, then forefinger, and on down the line just as I'm doing. 

For whatever reason last week I did something different in one class though.  It was a smaller group of kids at a private nursery school that we provide English instruction for.  All of the bigger schools have class sizes ranging from a dozen to over two dozen kids per class, so I'm constantly standing and on the move. There are only four to eight or ten kids per class at this one nursery school though, so I usually sit at the little kid sized table as I teach. 

I must've been reaching in my bag for something when the song began to play or what I don't know, but for some reason instead of holding my hand palm facing the kids I started singing with my hand up palm facing my own face.  I didn't even realize it at first as we all sat there singing;  

"Daddy finger daddy finger where are you?
Here I am, Here I am,How do you do

Mommy finger mommy finger where are you?
Here I am, Here I am, How do you do.

Brother finger brother finger where are you?
Here I am, Here I ...

Holy Sh%@!!!

There I sat with eight three and four year old  kids around the table.
All in song and a'smiling. 
All flipping me off!

I about busted something trying to hold in the laughter.  

Note to self. Keep all fingers extended and palm facing outward. 
Especially when you get to brother finger! 

Ah the joy of teaching little kids. 
 It never, ever, ever gets old. 

This is it.

End of a workday at the end of a workweek, Friday night sitting at the computer not really feeling much like getting up and moving when a pink pajama-clad kid bounces up the stairs “Daddy train!”. She’d been asking since before dinnertime. Not feeling much like pulling the big plastic box full of her brothers' old train set out of the closet I was hoping she’d forget. 
She didn’t forget.
The self-imposed rule is say “Yes” unless absolutely impossible to do so. Times like tonight it’s not always the most enthusiastic “yes” but I say it and act accordingly just the same; I stand to follow her to the boys’ room. Leading the way she stops to get down in sprinter start pose:
"Yoi Don!" (Ready go!) 
She takes off down the hall in big bouncing steps. She beats me there, breaks into dance and starts sing song’n away. I move the stuff off the big plastic train box and pull it out of the closet. I stop and watch.
All I could do then is stand there and smile.
Breath in. Breath out.
Be present.
Bliss.
Some time later imaginary people are driving cars and trains jabbering away at each other in a little girl’s voice behind me. A boy steps into the room: “Daddy tuck tuck”. Every night that I'm home he asks without fail. Every night without fail I stop what I’m doing and heed the tuck tuck call. It may be in its final year if not months. I refuse to miss a tuck tuck. His big brother never asks anymore, but sometimes I give him one anyway. It’s a big win for me when he allows it ever since he passed the big 13.
Watching the sing song dancing girl. Tucking the giggly overly ticklish boy.
This is it.
The longer I do this Life thing, the more of it I experience, the more I realize this is it.
Everything points to Here. It all points to Now. 
This moment.
This is it.

School Cleaning Japan Style

There were still a few open parking places when I pulled into my little girl’s public kindergarten at nine to 8 a.m. this morning.  I’d dropped off my oldest boy and two of his friends at their jr. high for tennis practice on the way.  The drive there with three 7th graders in the car left me in a great mood. The two kids in the back kept giggling and saying “wakaranai” (I don’t understand) every time I said something. The oldest boy riding shotgun understood everything of course, but he said “wakaranai” too. Gotta fit in. I get that. I peppered my English with Japanese so I knew they did in fact understand some. I overcorrected a few turns on the curvy country road making the two in the back seat lean into each other. They laughed themselves silly. Three year old or thirteen makes no difference to me, kid laughter is the best.  Thus the good mood when I arrived at the kindergarten.

Car parked towel in hand I walked with the other arriving parents to the kindergarten grounds behind the school. Once gathered you had to find your kid’s name on the back door. The names were written on pieces of tape and separated by classroom names. I found はな and stuck it on my shirt. 

At exactly, and I mean exactly, 8:00 a.m., the schoolmaster greeted us all―a half circle of parents facing her―about 20 or so dads standing on one side and 30 or so moms on the other. I instinctively took my place on the dad side. I’m the only American, indeed the only non-Japanese, so do my best to do as the Romans do.

“Ohayo gozaimasu” We were greeted with a good morning and a bow. “Thank you for coming. You’re all busy. Thank you. Thank you. A few more words mixed in with a few more thank yous then the mic is passed off to one of the dads. 

I understand 100% of what’s being said in contexts like these. That’s not always the case in Japan. There’s still so much I miss and never will understand. So goes being a stranger in a strange land. But I get it all at kindergarten clean up day. That pleases me. 

Another good morning, another bow, another thanks and few more words then another mic pass to one of the teachers. 

Another good morning, more bowing, more thanks we know you’re all busy along with a promise we’ll try to finish up in a couple hours. 

It's parents clean the public kindergarten day!

I get a kick out of people watching as we all stand around for morning greetings. All Japanese sans me but a wide mix of kinds of people really―men and women of all shades and stripes, blue collar and white collar, country looking folk and city looking folk, one younger dad showing up late in a baggy, shiny sweatsuit with baseball hat on crooked and three sparkly silver earrings in one ear. The rough looking dad who’s always covered in clothing mid neck to the ends of wrists and ankles even at hot summer events is there. I’m 99% sure he’s tatted up from head to toe yakuza style.  I smile and give him my gruffest “ohayo gozaimasu “good morning”. He doesn’t say much but I bet we could share some similar tales of drinking or fighting or the like since I don’t quite have a choir boy background either.  

Then there’s the high fashion moms, the matching sweats clad dad with his rubber boots and cleaning rag in a fancy shopping bag, a dad wearing high dollar rubber boots and coveralls with brand new pruning sheers in hand, a few other dads in older clothes with pruning sheers or saws they brought from home, fat dads and skinny dads, chatty moms and quiet moms, most all but me have gloves in hand. Gloves and helmets are big for any kind of work in Japan. I have neither. I’m American dang it! Badges? We don’t need no stinking badges! I mean gloves. 

Starting speeches and greetings finished we all go to our respective groups. There are two other dads and me along with a lot of moms in Megumi sensei’s group. She’s my little girl’s teacher. She’s a black belt in karate. I like that. I actually trained in the same dojo with her when I first arrived in Japan. She’s freak’n tough! Her “Kiai!” alone is enough to make most wet themselves before turning tail and running. Attackers entering schools are almost nonexistent in Japan. Gun wielding attackers are non existent. I like that too. Still there’s no shortage of nutcases and psychopaths here either so I’m glad my little girl’s teacher is a bad ass karate lady.  

She gives us our jobs. Other groups are out pruning trees, cleaning the big covered rain gutters around the perimeter of the school and grounds, pulling weeds and the like. Our group was on window duty.

Everyone had a zoukin cleaning rag in hand. Everyone brought their own as I guess was written somewhere. Everyone but me that is. Doh! I borrowed one from the school and worked extra hard to make up for the zoukin fail. 

Two low pressure hoses and four buckets, two brushes and two small step ladders we all get to cleaning cobwebs off the screens, scrubbing and washing windows. We’re told just to leave the screens on.  I start to become critical. You’re doing it all wrong! You need to take the screens off dang it! You need to use dry rags after washing otherwise the windows will look like hell. I caught myself midway through my mental criticizing.  It’s cleaning the school, yeah, but it’s so much more than that. 

I’ve joined in on kindergarten and elementary school cleaning for all three of our kids and will go clean the middle school in time I’m sure. I’ve gone to the elementary school a number of times and once so far to the junior high before work to stand out front and greet kids as they arrive for school in the morning. Cleaning the schools, greetings kids at the schools, most if not all parents take part in things like this. We see each other. We say a few words. We get to know who is whose mom or dad. We sometimes realize “Oh our kids are friends”. It’s not about cleaning and greeting so much as it is about community. I know this so I don’t jump in and try to improve their purely substandard cleaning method (by my expert cleaner American standards).  

We’re not even close to being finished by my expert cleaner standards. Look at those cobwebs up there! Look at that screen there’s still all kinds of dust in the corner. No. We’re done. We’ve all cleaned together. We’ve talked. We’ve all glanced around at name tags and all have a bit better idea of who is whose dad or mom. We gather around in a half circle again.  

In her closing speech the schoolmaster said “Okage sama”.  It’s one of my favorite phrases in Japanese. My favorite poet Mitsuo Aida, or Tim Jenson the translator of many of his poems rather, translates it to “Our debt to others.”. I love that. Nobody does it alone. No I did not build this. I did not clean this. I did not make this. I did not achieve this. Not alone. Absolutely nothing is possible in this life without the help of others. Like it or not we’re all indebted to one another. The game is rigged. It’s best that way. The sooner we come to accept it the sooner we find real peace and joy. Or so has been my experience at least. 

Stepping stones

Daisen-san 大仙山 is the name of a mountain nearby.

Fumi ishi 踏み石 is Japanese for "Stepping stone"

This is about the joy of making myself move

I've lost count of how many times I've climbed it since my wife and I moved back to Kannami with our two boys some going on seven years ago now.  I first climed Daisen-san--Mt. Daisen--with the boys shortly after we moved to the Hirai area of Kannami. I'm guessing it's been a good seventy years or better since someone put in the road going partway up it, built the stone pagoda and shrine, huge roofed structure with the freak'n huge brass bell, made the hiking course with benches along the way and such on the mountain.  There's still an old weathered sign on the side of the narrow residential road points to the trailhead. The trailhead is a small paved road, if you can still call it "paved".  No upkeep's been done for years if not decades--not on the hiking course, the huge buddha and 12 Chinese zodiac animals carved and cemented into the giant stone side of the mountain facing the valley, none of it. 

 I remember that first climb well because my older boy yelled "Dad snake!" just in time for me to grab his little brother to keep him from stepping on a mamushi--a Japanese pit viper! A rattlesnake's rattle-less asian cousin. All the hiking paths have long been reclaimed by the mountain so I keep a keen eye out for those things ever since that first pit viper run in.  It's the suzumebachi giant "yak killer" hornets that I look out for the most though. They're the biggest hornets on earth.  Good gosh I hate coming across those things.  

In fall and winter the chances of getting swarmed with giant black and white striped mosquitos that'll leave you with a welt the size of a quarter or crossing paths with suzumebachi giant hornets or mamushi pit vipers are slim to none. Thus I tend to climb it a lot more when the weather turns colder; days like yesterday and today for example.

Home from teaching the sole morning business class of the day yesterday with no kindergarten classes or private adult lessons scheduled I was free till afternoon classes save for printing out lesson plans. What a great chance to read a bit more of Sapiens that I'd picked up in Tokyo I thought.  Alas reading soon became napping. I woke to a dream of swimming way out at sea in Suruga Bay.  I was swimming towards the Western Izu shore. Who was that guy on the raft that I swam by? I felt lazy as I lie there contemplating the dream... 

Dang I've gotta do something! A line from a Mitsuo Aida poem came to mind.  

"It's simply a matter of making yourself move"

I've gotta move! 

Get up and get out the door. On the bike and peddling the next thing I know I'm huffing and puffing up the billy goat steep used to be a road on Mt. Daisen.  I get to the place that once was a small parking lot, slosh through the mud careful not to peddle over any little frogs, peddle around the chain across the even worse path that once was covered in concrete and huff and puff some more till I can't peddle any further.  Lean the bike against a tree then slow jog the last few hundred meters up the twisty turny mossy decomposing leaves and sticks covered path.  Whoa a whole tree! That wasn't here last time. Finally at the flat area near the top where the dilapidated old shrine and bell still stand.

 Kata! "A pure heart is a dojo". Mt. Daisen is my dojo. Not a soul around, still huffing and puffing from the ride and hike/run I go through the five Heian kata then do the Bassai kata a few times.  Ringing the bell and taking a few moments to stop and breath is mandatory before heading back down.  

Two or three years ago a mudslide relocated a tree to the middle of the last turn of the used to be a road.  The stone retaining wall near there has more recently given way to the forces of nature. Some rocks have tumbled down onto the used to be a road and more will be coming soon. Two huge stones are giving way to gravity--to the pressure of steep earth and huge stone behind them.  It was while passing by that that the thought hit...

Fumi ishi!

Yes, the perfect stepping stone. I'd only taken my iPhone and wallet but threw them in my backpack by habit.  It's my smaller daypack but I bet it's big enough to carry that one stone in, and as luck would have it it was!

Home with the stone I felt way better for having made myself move.  

I had far less time between classes today but after putting that stone down I got to thinking "I bet that other big piece broke off of this one".  Back on the bike two km later of huffing and puffing then the final few hundred meter run climb again and there they are.  Not just one piece but three! And two smaller ones I bet they all fit together.  They're all still covered with spots of lichens what an awesome giant stone to sink into place where the lawn never grows next to the deck in our yard!  I'd taken the old, much larger backpack so picked up the pieces, happy they all fit in then went to put it on my back and Ugh! Rocks are heavy you know it! 

But doable methinks.  Quick run over to ring the bell, breath in, breath out. Okay grab the pack let's try this.

The descent was slow and careful and still I about slipped and went down hard a couple times on the wet moss and decomposing leaves covered used to be a road path back to my bike but made it just the same.  Back on the bike I put all my weight back as far as I could, locked up the back disc brake and kept the front brake clinched tight to slowly and safely as possible cruise down to the bottom. Back on the residential road then just a short mile home and done! I just had to weigh myself then weigh again holding the backpack full of stones before taking them out of the pack.  22.2 KG! Holy cow that's almost 50 lbs! No wonder it felt haevy! 

Stones out of the pack puzzle time--fit the pieces together and hey! This is perfect!  

And so goes the tale of my gift from Mt. Daisen, and no cheap gift either mind you.  Call me a tightwad but I'd much rather have an adventure getting my stepping stones than pay 2,000 to 3,000 yen for big ones still not even half this size at the home centers here.  

And so I'll file this one under "The joy of making myself move"

Hole in the ceiling!

We moved into this house in Kannami in Spring of 2011.  The house was just shy of 20 years old then. We were renters then. We're not renters anymore. We bought the house in January of this year. 

We liked everything about the house the first day we saw it with the realtor, or almost everything. We liked everything sans the fact that  it was slanted!  We got used to living in a slanted house after a while, but that was the first project after buying so the house isn't slanted anymore. We noticed another problem, or my wife noticed it rather, before they were even done working on the foundation though. She noticed a hole in the living room ceiling. She noticed it after I pointed it out to her. It was a hole just big enough for a person to crawl through. This is the story about that hole.  This is a picture story.
It's a confession of sorts too.  I made the hole! 

The hole shortly after my wife noticed it sometime in July. There's a boy stuck in it in this picture.

 I made the hole so I could see if turning the flat ceiling into an open beam one was possible. After poking my head up there I decided it in fact was, so one September afternoon a month or so after getting the foundation work done I sent my wife a text asking if it would be okay to make a bigger hole in the ceiling. (I'd already made it so was hoping she'd say "Yes" and as luck would have it she did say "Yes", or "ii desu yo" rather, which is like yes and made me so happy that I took a screen shot of our conversation to mark the beginning of my living room remodel occasion. Names and top secret family info and has been redacted for security)

But back to the ceiling.

Here's the hole she came home to that day (left) right there next to the lunch I was eating while texting her, then the hole again a day or two later.  It grew and grew over the next few days till there was no more ceiling for a hole to be in. 

The hole grew

and grew

and grew...

and grew some more

I used pieces of sheetrock, a cereal box and box, etc., to block off the gaping hole leading under the upstairs floor since we were still running the AC at the time. 

After getting a good chunk of the ceiling sheetrock removed I got to work on the southwest corner.  It's engineered for no post in the corner with 4x12 beams running the length of each wall but still, I wanted a post! I'd have had to tear out stucco and part of the bay window if I took out the whole post so I opted for cutting it back as far as I could, notching top and bottom, bolting the new piece of post in, adding straps for good measure, bracing and blocking it all to high heaven and sheeting it with 1/2" plywood.

Close-up of the post-less corner (top half before notching)

After notching

Notching the bottom was a royal pain in the keister and then some!  I'd have never been able to do it if not for having great parental units kind enough to send me my Porter Cable keyless chuck sawzall. Shopping around for sawzalls here left me wanting my old Porter Cable all the more.  Ya just can't beat Porter Cable Tiger Saw for remodels. 

Above is my trusty Porter Cable Tiger sawzall with the notched 4x4 (top) I could've never made without it in the background. I should mention somewhere too that 4x4 is true 4" by 4" posts in this land -- 105x105mm. 

After cutting and notching I marked the hole I really didn't want to have to replace the entire top at the pop out window here so cut it just a little oversize and put trim around it to hide the gap after ceiling was all finished and job almost done as seen below.

I still need to stain over the nails again but here it is after trim

And the top. You can see the cut wallpaper, which is where I had to cut the hole on top about 6" away from the post so it'd slide in. I replaced that piece of plywood, put a 4x4 block over the top of it up in the wall and re-glued the wallpaper after all was said and done.

The piece I had to cut out in order to have enough room to slide the post in before being replaced/nailed is happy as I prepare to return it to its original position and nail it to the bottom of the 4x4 block at the post. 

I started feeling good about progress being made once a lot of the sheetrock was off so just had to pose for a timer cam shot.  Cheese! Japanese dropped ceilings are built with 1 1/2" x 1 1/8" lumber.  Joists are about 12" on center and tied off every few feet. It's surprisingly strong for such small dimension lumber and more than adequate for supporting the wieght of the ceiling. 

Anyhow so look at me look at me fun hanging from the ceiling like a monkey but much work still to be done so...  
 back to work!

 Here's a shot of the post all notched and ready to be installed in the corner with trusty sawzall in foreground. I got it in on the second try, the post was cut perfectly (measure 10x cut once!) but the bottom notch needed some cleaning up before it'd slide in just so. 

Extra bracing--good medicine for my if not when mega quake anxiety.

Side note on all the 4x4 blocking. When the foundation fortifying company was here pumping a few foundations worth of concrete under the house they used 4x4 braces to brace up the concrete drainage canal behind our house so the pressure wouldn't push the  retaining wall out. When they were cleaning up I asked if they were going to haul all the pieces to the dump. They answered yes so I said "NOOOO!" They were happy to not have to take it to the dump and I was happy to have tons of solid blocking material. Win Win!

  Putting in the first section of new ceiling: I decided to try to keep most of it intact, use rope to hang it from floor joists above, cut it loose with the sawzall, push it up and nail it in at its new height. It worked okay but not as quick as I thought it would so when I got to the next little ceiling bay I removed everything and built anew.

Side note on this part of the job was learning a new Japanese term. Our oldest boy asked me "Dad kubi tsuri?" The boy's always saying stuff I can't understand. I knew "kubi" is neck and "tsuri" is fishing but together? "Ah-ha! No boy I'm not going to do that!" Kubi tsuri is a hanging! He asked if I was going to hang myself when he saw the rope (top right in photo above) that I used to keep the ceiling from crashing down when I cut it loose. In the above shot you can see the one ceiling is framed in at the new height and the other side is still at original height. I also traded the good living room light with the easier to put up and take down one from our bedroom. 

This shot is jumping forward a bit but I also had to use a rope to tie off the AC unit before I ended up deciding to just take it all out.  When working alone one must improvise to keep things from crashing to the floor! Hanging in the background it's tied off to a horizontal 45 degree steal corner brace. I had to sheet the far wall before I could nail up the ceiling ledger.

And I took this one one day when the wife of the house was lying on the sofa as I worked above. Man talk about a hottie it was all I could do to keep my mind on my work! 

This corner of the house before removing the AC unit and taking out the ventilation fan which I really never liked in the first place. I ended up moving the outlets and making a new hole so we can move new AC (per wife's wishes) to where the fan is.

Same corner, ventilation fan and AC unit removed, ready to be blocked and sheeted. Note the diagonal brace in the wall--well over 60 degrees it'd never pass code in California!

Same corner wall after sheeting. One problem I realized after starting was what to do with all the sheetrock I was taking off. Japan being an island country and all it costs ya to take stuff to the dump and it's not like you can just throw out a bunch of sheetrock in the trash. (trash rules are very strict in this land) so I tacked it down on top of ceiling joists and between the studs to keep moisture out and reduce upstairs and/or outside noise. 

Below is me bolting in one of the 45 braces.

The next three shots below is of prepping the 45 braces like I'm putting in in the shot above. It took some time measuring to get notches and bolts right position. Things went much faster after the first one. I cut a 45 angle on a piece of scrap to use as a jig to get the angle right. After notching I put the square washer in to mark for drilling, held it up in place to be sure all fit well and marked for drilling post and beam then put the lug screws in while it was still down on the floor then picked it up and held it up in place again and tightened it down all nice and snug. 

Oh yes, and it was around this time of tightening down lug screws that I found someone (like a little 4 year old girl of the house) had figured out that one yen coins fit perfectly in the socket I was using. I thought I was going batty when I tried to tighten one down and the dang socket wouldn't go on all the way. Finally I looked to see what the heck was going on and Ah-HAA! Remodels and kids. Funny combination! 

Like with any remodel there were little surprises and hurdles to be... err... hurdled, here and there, but day by day progress was slowly made.

Using the around 100 year old chalkline my grandpa used to use when building houses in central California

Checking a 45 degree 4x4 earthquake brace for size and position

Ceiling boards going in, wall sheeted, 45 degree soffit built

One of many recurring trips to Jumbo Encho, D2 or Cainz Home to pick up needful things--bolts and straps, stain and plywood, nails and screws and sandpaper, etc. Oh yeah, and a new drill bit and set of chisels. Woot! 

This is a loft over the barn-like structure of the carpenter who built our home. He's a friend of our neighbor who I decided to go see after pricing the big pieces of cypress lumber that I needed at the home stores and YIKES! It'd have been around 50,000 yen or more ($500) for lumber alone not counting wood to do the ceiling with. So I went to see Mizota san. Super cool guy I placed my order he delivered it along with 4 old dusty boxes of ceiling boards. He gave it to me free; it'd been up there for a few decades and he wasn't going to use it. Alas after nailing in a bunch I opend the third box and Doh! Different color and width. So the shot above this one is me and the younger boy child returning two  boxes for two that matched. We found a match close enough (beggars can't be choosers) all in all the free ceiling boards likely saved me another $300. Oh yeah, and his price for the other lumber was under $150. 

Take that ya overpriced home center bitches! 

My Esse truck! This shot explains why six or eight guys who happened to be in the Jumbo Encho (home center) parking lot at the time I was trying to load two sheets of 3'x6' plywood into my like a car only smaller Japanese transportation unit think Americans are nuts.  HAA!  Two guys came to help, one shaking his head looking at me like I was crazy and another'n tried telling me I couldn't do it. Dude, I'm an American I can do anything! One guy offered to help. I'd measured and knew it could be done heck it's not like it's real 4'x8' sheets of plywood they're Japanese size here, 3'x6'. I was glad for his help in the end though since he helped me get them positioned so I could see out both side windows and the rear view mirror. Still he kept asking "dai jobu?" (no problem?) I wished I could invite him to my country where people haul refrigerators on tops of Ford Pintos and the like! 

So that's the materials gathering report, now back to the remodel...

I noticed the dead space inside the roof over the bay window 

There's room enough for a little cubby I thought!

So now we've got the perfect place for the Hello Kitty newlyweds, Totoro and the Cat Bus, Pepper, Susie and George and God only knows who else will get put up there! 

What better place for a time capsule too! 
Whoever tears down this house will find it?  

Selfie shot holding camera between upstairs floor and downstairs ceiling trying to see if I had the strap straight since not enough room to put my head in there.

I took way too danged many pictures ya know it! The next shots are out of order but still give an idea of progress made by and by

Must stop for lunch! 

Getting ready to plaster the last wall.  Plaster's a pain but I learned a bit while doing it. Like it really does pay to have a mixer and one of those little corner trowels, both of which I'm too much of a tightwad to buy so I improvised by making a corner trowel out of a strong styrofoam sushi box and a mixer out of a long old rusty drill bit jammed into a piece of wood. Hey, it worked! 

Then came finishing up the point where the old ceiling meets the new, all the while worrying my little helper who found the floor-less closet above wasn't going to drop a cordless drill on my head! 

I should mention getting some help clear staining the ceiling boards too

And being kept company by a cool little hae tori gumo (Fly hopping spider) one day

I had to crawl between the floor and ceiling to screw in the final two pieces (top left) to finish up filling in where the old ceiling meets the new. They're screwed into the back of the beam on top and nailed into the joist from living room side on bottom then covered with trim I removed from original ceiling.

Then it was just touching up with stain in a few places and caulking a few others and whala! 

And finding a good place for Bill and Opus

And last but not least, no remodel is complete until...

Home is where the hammock is!