My Weekly Elementary Visit

Yesterday was the day of my weekly visit to an elementary school for some english fun and game time. This week it was time to venture out to Okayama Elementary School. I had a premonition that the weather would be less than pleasant, and I was correct. It started to snow on Thursday morning and it really has not stopped. I knew that the weather would be awful because the one major snow storm that we had last year happened on the day I was to go to Okayama School. I just had a feeling that the time I went there this year it would snow too.

Okayama is about a twenty minute bike ride on a nice sumer day. And it is a lovely ride too. I can hop on the bike path that leads to the lake and ride most of the way with no worries about cars. Last year when about six inches of fresh, wet, sticky snow fell it made the ride unbearable. I was forced to walk part of the way, and where I did have to ride along a street I was constantly splashed by slush thrown up by the tires of passing cars. I arrived at the school forty minutes after leaving home soaking wet and terribly cold.

I was hoping for the best on my bike ride yesterday. Luckily there was only about an inch of snow on the ground and it was not to difficult to ride through. The hard thing was beating the wind. I had to ride against a cross wind that lashed my face with stinging wet snow. I ended up pulling up the hood of my jacket to protect my face. I made it to school in about thirty minutes and this time I was rather hot from all the exercise. In fact as I was sitting in the principal's office in my short sleeved green eggs and ham t-shirt the school secretary asked if I wanted the air-conditioning turned on.

I taught the morning away and was invited to eat lunch with the sixth grade class. I usually eat lunch with the students during my Friday visit. I was glad to eat and goof around with the sixth graders as they will be coming to my junior high school in April. Lunch was a scary combination. It was the usual assortment of rice, soup, salad, and meat. The salad was a very bland combination of wilted and vinegared greens. The soup was actually the best part of the lunch. The boy next to me told me it was kim-chee soup. It tasted like every other school lunch soup I have ever eaten except it had some spice to it. Not a lot, just enough to give it a kick as it ran down the back of my throat. The rice was rice. The chicken was the single worst piece of chicken I have ever eaten. The best thing I can say about it was that it wasn't big. I had only what can be described as a knuckle of stuff. There were about three or four little chunks of meat all held together by connective tissue and skin. It was all covered with a slimy sauce that can best be described as greenish yellow in color. The meat itself had turned almost reddish and to be combined with the green sauce it was not very appetizing. I did it though. I ate the whole thing. I felt like I was eight again. "Plug your nose. If you can't smell it, you can't taste it." I kept telling my self. Well I couldn't plug my nose and still be polite so I went with my other maxim, for eating green beans and the like, from my childhood. Take a bite of something gross, then a bite of something good. So I ate in this fashion. Bite of chicken. Bite of rice. Bite of chicken. Bite of rice. (This is the procedure for eating much of the offerings of Japanese hot lunch, which is often actually served at room temperature or slightly above, never hot.)

After Lunch the sixth graders invited my outside to join them in a snow ball fight. I accepted figuring it would be fun to toss some snow balls around with them. I did not envision that their invitation meant, "Come outside so we can all throw snow balls at you." Which apparently it did. I also forgot what a Japanese playground is constructed with. Playgrounds here are gravel. Gravel has a tendency to turn into mud after a heavy wet snow. So I find myself outside running through the slushy mud with every kid in the school throwing ice missiles at my crotch. How do I know that they were aiming for my swimsuit area you ask? Well the fact that when the whole ordeal was over I looked like I had had an accident in my pants would be the biggest indicator that they were aiming for my "stuff." I ended up retreating to a section of pavement where the school would be behind my back giving me a more fortifiable position. I also managed to make friends with some of the first grade girls who kept me supplied with plenty of snow grenades to lob at the attacking forces. I was very relieved when the bell rang and it was time for the kids to begin cleaning time. They ran off to go and look like they were cleaning, and I ran off to lick my wounded pride.

While I was teaching the day away, and getting blasted by some serious snowballs, Jenny and Logan were off on their own adventure. After school Jenny and Logan wandered off to see what Hachiman Shrine and the canal looked like all covered in fresh snow. Logan's school is about halfway to the mountain so it was not too far to walk after school. The shrine sits at the base of Hachiman-yama, and the canal was built hundreds of years ago to force ships sailing on the lake to pass by the castle that sat on the mountain thus having to pay taxes to the lord of the castle. The canal has a great old world feel to it. One evening we were watching a period drama on TV set in medieval times and we recognized Hachiman Canal in the movie. Jenny managed to get some very beautiful pictures of the snow covered canal. She also took one of the snowman that you see. The snowman was outside of the army recruiting station. As they walked to school in the morning the recruiters were hard at work building the snowman. One of the men was only doing so in a short sleeve white t-shirt. On the way home from "The Yama" Logan fell asleep while getting a piggy-back ride from Jenny.

雪
(yuki)
snow

New Year Resolution

This year I resolve to update my blog with increasing regularity, hopefully to write something everyday. Oh sh*t, I guess that I already blew that one. I never have been one to make and meet my New Year Resolution. I almost did not even make one this year. And then around the second week of January I thought that it would be a good motivator for me if I resolved to write more. I was doing fairly well updating more often, because I was using my free periods to write and then bringing it home and posting it in the evening. Then came winter vacation. We had plenty of little of adventures that I hope to write up and add to the blog, but i will also try to keep people updated with our lives.

This week the weather has turned colder. I thought it was cold before, but it has become winter in the last couple of days. As I type there is snow falling outside for the second time this winter, and this time it is cold enough for the snow to stick to the ground. The worst part of the cold is the mornings. We wake up in the morning and the temperature hovers around forty-five degrees in our living space. It is even colder in the hallway where the bathroom is. We have taken to showering in the evening because there is no way we are going to bathe in the morning when the air is so cold we can see our breath. I guess that Japan is a nation of extremes. In the summer it was unbearably hot. Now we go to the store to escape the cold.

Monday I quickly got ready to go school. I had to because of the cold. I pulled on all fifty layers. Sixteen pairs of socks, long-johns, pants, five or six shirts, seventy-five sweaters, all in a vain attempt to stay warm on the ten minute bike ride to school. On my way to school I saw one of the students from my school in front of me. I sidled up to her and bumped the back of her bike with my front tire. She jumped about three feet in the air. Then she saw it was me and she started to laugh. Yelling at me the whole time, "Kebin yamete, Kevin stop." We rode together for a short way. Me all bundled up in my winter gear and her in a sweater and knee length skirt and over the calf socks.

I passed her after a block or so of riding together. It was as I was stopped at a traffic light that she joined me once again. I noticed that sitting in the helmet that was hanging from her handlebars was her cell phone. She was using her phone as an MP3 player. I pointed at it giving her my best school yard, "ooooohhhhh your going to get in trouble." She looked at me with pleading eyes and begged me not to turn her in. I told her that it would be our secret. It was then that she offered me the last thing I expected to seal our bargain. She held up the pinky of her right hand. She wanted to pinky swear with me to seal our secret. I did the only thing I could in the circumstance, I locked pinkies with her and pinky swore that I would never tell. It was not until later in the day that I realized how binding our contract was when all of her friends wanted to pinky swear with me too.

Tuesday brought an unexpected change of work duties for me. I was contacted about eleven in the morning and told to be at city hall at two-thirty to meet the mayor. And I would be helping to give him a tour of the city. Oh yeah sorry, this was not the mayor of Omihachiman who of course knows every inch of his town, but the esteemed mayor of Grand Rapids; Mr. George Heartwell and his beautiful wife. At first my going on the tour was canceled because I had a meeting with a teacher in the afternoon, but the investigation went higher up the totem pole and by the time the vice-principal was trying to find out about it, it became apparent that "it would be best if Kevin went on the tour." So it was time to go and change into my suit and go to meet the mayor. I was brought to the new hospital where we would be given a tour of the facility. I was very impressed with the new hospital and the Mayor. He was a very nice fella, down to earth and impressive at the same time. We toured the hospital, a crematorium, and a museum/art gallery. The hospital and even the funeral parlour made sense to me. Both were beautiful facilities that are recent additions to the city. The art museum however, I am at a loss to describe. It was like a special needs art facility. The best way to illustrate my point is by painting a picture of one of the areas. I will do my best to describe the area know as, "けんちゃんのファテジランド" or Ken-chan's Fantasy Land. An autistic man of about 18 years old has created an amusement park out of old milk cartons, curry boxes, paper and cardboard. It is very similar in every regard to the creations Logan's classmates make in kindergarten. (editorial comment: I don't say this to humiliate or degrade the art, because it really is quite impressive and cool. I describe it as such to provide the most accurate picture.) After the museum it was time to call it a day. I headed off home while Mr. Mayor and the first lady of Grand Rapids were driven off to their next appointment. A chance to meet the mayor of my home town was quite an honor.

I will do my best in the coming weeks to keep you better informed of our time here. I will continue to write about our adventures and describe the more mundane parts of our life in a fun and informative way.

またあしたね
(mata ashita ne)
see you tomorrow

Operation Tanuki Town

Our mission should we choose to accept it was to infiltrate the town, view pottery made in one of six ancient kilns in Japan, purchase a tanuki statue and return home. The main objective of the mission would to be the purchasing of the tanuki statue. We had to go to the source. We were bound for Tanuki Town. In the middle of Shiga is a town that crafts the majority of the tanuki statues that are seen in Japan. The name of the town is Shigaraki. Shigaraki is a tiny little town that is situated out in the middle of nowhere. We did our research and planned the best route to the town. This trip would take a total of six train rides, three there and three home. We did not encounter any problems until we went to board the third train of the morning. It should not have been a complicated procedure. We needed to get off the train, exit the terminal, buy a ticket for a new train line, and head off to Shigaraki. It should have been easy. But as it seems, nothing is ever simple.

We exited the JR line and proceeded to the other train line. There was no ticket machine so I walked up to the window and asked for two tickets to Shigaraki. The gentleman on the other side of the glass responded by crossing his forearms into an X and speaking far too rapidly in Japanese for my ears to comprehend. As he did this, his comrade began to point toward the other side of the station and motioned in an arc. All in all I understood the meaning perfectly. We were in the wrong place. This was not the train line that traveled to Shigaraki. That line was somewhere “over there”. Now all we had to do was to locate the third train company that operated out of this tiny station. This proved to be a tricky proposition. By the time we finally located the hidden entrance to the needed train line we found that we had missed the train by two minutes.

On the up side we had located the hidden entrance, but now we were left to entertain ourselves for one hour in the middle of nowhere. So we did the only thing that seemed reasonable. We went to Seven-Eleven. Convenience stores here sell all manner of treats and we walked out with a box of chocolates called “Melty Kiss”, an apple Kit-Kat, and some rice balls filled with tuna salad. We hoofed it back to the train station and we sat on a bench eating our lunch.

Finally the appointed hour came and we went to board the train bound for Shigaraki. The train was one of the smallest trains we have ridden. It was a total of two cars long. We found a seat in the back car and prepared for a trip through the countryside. I thought it very interesting that I found the ride on this quaint little train to be more romantic than the ride we took in Kyoto that was billed as a romantic train ride. I was impressed by the myriad of fall colors that we could see as the train winded its way through the valleys of the Shiga countryside. The blazing yellows, reds and oranges that covered the hills and low mountains were striking and beautiful. It made me realize that I will always long to be near the mountains. I enjoyed watching the track drift off in the distance as the train progressed. The majestic view and tranquil country almost made up for having to wait to ride the train.

We arrived in the town of Shigaraki and were immediately greeted by the largest statue of tanuki I have ever seen. It made me laugh when I looked at his midsection and sitting in the middle of his tummy was a pay phone. It could have been worse and have sat a bit lower. That is not a phone I would like to place calls from.

Our first destination after arriving at the Shigaraki Station was the ceramic institute and museum. We were lucky that we found a giant map of the town and plotted our course. The walk to the institute was about a mile. It was a very pleasant day and the weather could not have been any better for a nice long walk. We finally reached the ceramic institute and took the opportunity to look around and admire the beautiful pottery creations made by some talented artists. It was a cross between a gallery and a museum. The art created was stunning. There was a vast array of styles. Some of the artists created cutesy knick-knacks, while others produced pieces of abstract modern art. We opted not to tour the actual museum because the price was too high for our liking. We also took some time to tour the grounds of the institute. The campus is situated on a very large hill that afforded an awesome view of the fall colors found in rural Japan.

The afternoon was beginning to wane and it was time to move on. We still had to find and purchase the perfect tanuki statue. This would not be a little decision. On our walk to the ceramic institute we had passed not fewer than ten large shops that displayed hundreds of tanuki statues each. We would have thousands of statues to choose from. We found the perfect one after much browsing and searching. I hope to one day set outside the front door of our home. Carrying the wrapped statue under my arm because it was too large to fit in the backpack we headed back to the train station. The sight of a very picturesque and vacant shrine just off the main road distracted us. We took advantage of the opportunity and entered the shrine to take in the sights.

In doing so we missed the only train out of town. Once again we found our selves stranded in a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere. This time the length of time we had before the next train was an hour and a half. We started to look around for someplace to eat dinner. Not far from the station was a sukiyaki restaurant that looked delicious, but at almost sixty dollars a person it seemed too dear for us. There was another restaurant next door, but the sounds of off key karaoke coming through the walls deterred us from entering. We were left with only one reasonable choice. Once again we would go to Seven-Eleven. This time we left with a snack. I had a can of hot coffee and a sandwich; Jenny had a bottle of hot milk tea and a box of milk cake. We wandered back to the station where we ate our food in quiet solitude until the stationmaster approached us and said that it would be okay to board the train that had arrived forty-five minutes before departure.

We rode the train back to Omihachiman and walked to the only restaurant still open at eight-thirty in the evening: McDonalds. We stumbled through the front door wearing and exhausted from our day of being stranded in small town Japan. We had to laugh that we headed off to a small town and found ourselves spending time in two small towns. It made us realize how fortunate we are to be located in Omihachiman. Our city is a fair size, not too big, not too small. Omihachiman station has trains that depart on a very regular basis. We find life and traveling to be convenient and simple.

Merry Christmas!!!

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Sukiyaki Thanksgiving

Thursday was Thanksgiving. It did not feel like a real Thanksgiving though. There was no turkey, no mashed potatoes, no big family gathering, and worst of all, no pumpkin pie. Equipped with the knowledge that anything we did would not make for a true holiday feast we decided on patronizing a new restaurant. There were several restaurants on our list. We were not sure which one would fit the bill. Whatever choice we made it had to fit three criteria: first, it must be someplace we had never been. Second it needed to be close to our home. Last and most important it must not be named McDonalds. We had to cross most off the list at the last minute due to rain and our own lack of willingness to walk great distances with water falling from the clouds.

The list was narrowed down to three choices. We could visit a local Italian restaurant called Prema Prema, a Japanese restaurant near Logan’s school or we could stay home and scrape together a meager supper. Staying home was the wild card. About midday dark clouds began rolling across the sky, and soon after that a cold rain started to fall. The thought of trudging across town in a cold and dreary rain made staying at home seem more and more like a viable option.

However, eating spaghetti made with bland sauce from a bag, and garlic bread fashioned from slices of white bread spread with butter and sprinkled with what remains of our dwindling garlic supplies would never be an acceptable holiday meal. Our minds were made up. We would trek to the restaurant closest to home. That restaurant happens to be Prema Prema.

We geared up for a walk in the rain. Logan put on his raincoat. We grabbed our umbrellas, and set off. But we would not eat at Prema Prema that night.

They were closed. We stood in front of the door. The rain beat a soft pitter-patter on our umbrellas. I looked at the dark restaurant. Then I looked over at Jenny and said, “I think they are closed.”

She glared back at me with a wry grin and said, “What makes you think that Mr. Wizard? Is it the fact that it is pitch dark in there? Or is it the fact that there aren’t any people inside.”

“Nope.” I replied tugging on the door handle, “The door won’t open.”

It was about a two block walk to the Japanese restaurant near Logan’s school so the trip did not take long. We did not exactly know what type of food they served or if we would be able to order anything on the menu. Japanese restaurants are generally very helpful to people who can not read the words on the menu. In the front window of the shop there are plastic models of the food served in the establishment. Before we decided to go we had never bothered to look at the window to see what kind of food they served. It turns out that they were an upscale udon restaurant. Udon is a type of noodle served in a thin broth. The udon noodle is very thick and the broth is sweet. It is a very popular dish here in Japan, but it is not my favorite. I think that the udon noodle is mushy and the broth is too sweet, but that is my personal opinion. Even though we do not particularly care for udon we decided to go ahead and eat dinner at the restaurant. We saw in the foyer that there was a stone grinding wheel to make the flower for the noodles, and farther in the restaurant we could see where the noodles were made fresh everyday.

The hostess ushered us back to our own private room where we sat on the floor around a low table. We had taken plenty of time to stare at the offerings in the window and had made some preliminary choices for our dinner. I wanted to try the sukiyaki udon, and Jenny was leaning toward something that looked a lot like nabe. I ordered the sukiyaki udon and Jenny ended up choosing the tempura and sushi set that came with a big bowl of udon soup. Logan wanted the Thomas kid’s meal. A few minutes after ordering we were brought our food on giant serving trays. Jenny’s came first. The tray contained a large bowl of udon, a plate with six pieces of sushi on it, and a dish of tempura. Tempura is a type of deep frying. Tempura refers more to the batter used to coat the food than anything else. Tempura batter is delicate, sweet, bread like, and delicious. Next, out came Logan’s food. He had a hamburger patty, a piece of fried chicken, two fried shrimp, some french-fries, rice, and a cup of chocolate mousse. My dinner came last. On my tray there were three bowls.

In the first bowl there was rice. In the second bowl there was a raw egg. In the last bowl there was the sukiyaki udon. Sukiyaki is similar to nabe. Beef and vegetables are cooked in a pot with a sauce. The sauce for sukiyaki is made up of soy sauce, sake, and sugar. It is very delicious. The beef, vegetables, and tofu are placed into the sauce and cooked, and in my case there were udon noodles too. This is when the raw egg comes into play. I used my chopsticks to beat the egg until it was thoroughly mixed. Then I pulled out a slice of cooked beef and dipped it into the raw egg. After going into the raw egg the beef made a short trip into my mouth. This process was done with all the contents of the sukiyaki.

Jenny and I swapped food halfway through. We both agreed that the sukiyaki was the better of the two meals. Logan ate his slowly. Not because he was enjoying every bite more because we were eating in a new location and he was overwhelmed. I must admit that the udon at the restaurant was the best that we have ever eaten and probably will ever eat. We ate until we were stuffed in the spirit of the holiday that it was. After all that is what Thanksgiving is all about. Sitting back and shoveling massive amounts of food into your belly while being surrounded by turkeys. Now if only we could have found a decent pumpkin pie in this country Thanksgiving would have been complete. I guess some things will have to wait until next year.

Nabe+Drinking=Fun

Last Wednesday night was a staff dinner party with the teachers at my grade level. About once a month the second grade teachers all gather together for dinner. To say that this was a dinner party is misleading, it happened more like this.

On the Friday prior I came into work and found a note on my desk. The note read, “We will have a drinking (crossed out) nabe party on Wednesday. Please check with your wife.” It is hard to say if the drinking was crossed out to be polite or so that I could check with my wife about dinner without mentioning the drinking. I was verbally reminded about the party and how much fun it would be to drink some alcohol together. It was a subtle hint and reminder that I had not been out drinking with them in quite some time. I checked with Jenny and she confirmed that it would be cool for me to go out with the people I work with in my day to day.

So on Wednesday evening I set off to find the nabe restaurant. It was easy to find, as it was the same location as when we had the first drinking, er... nabe party there. It is hard for me to believe that it is a functioning eatery. The place is a bit run down. In order to describe it best I will borrow a term from my students in Grand Rapids. The place was “broke down.” It is situated in between two railroad tracks so that every twenty minutes or so there is a train going by on one side or the other. I found a spot to park my bike outside which was a sticky wicket as the front of the restaurant was situated along a busy street, so I propped my bike up along the wall hoping it would not be carried away by a train. I entered and was greeted by the oldest restaurateur I have ever met. He must have been approaching eighty and the restaurant he tended must be in the exact same condition as when his father handed him the reigns. I would not be at all surprised to learn that the eatery predates the train line. The room I was ushered to was as dilapidated as the rest of the location. In the corner of the room was a large screen that at one time featured a majestic painting of a large eagle. Today, however, that eagle appears to have undergone drastic surgery. Large portions of the fabric are being held together with pieces of bright white medical tape. But I suppose that the condition of the building has little bearing on the deliciousness of the food. And the nabe at this place is supposed to be some of the best around

Nabe is a complex dish that requires throwing a bunch of vegetables and chicken in a pot of broth and allowing it to cook. It is the broth that makes it special. There is a lot of garlic in it. I happen to love garlic and will put lots of it into just about everything I eat which makes nabe a thing of beauty. Sitting at the bottom of the pot are four or five giant cloves of garlic. The broth is then brought to a boil then the chunks of chicken are thrown in along with bok choy cabbage, mushrooms, carrot, tofu and chicken meatballs. Once the meat is cooked thoroughly it is scooped out and placed in a bowl and eaten. It is delicious. The best part is that it tastes great with a nice cold glass of beer. Then again what food doesn’t taste better when accompanied with a nice cold lager? We ate all of the food including some pork that one of the teachers had brought from the grocery store. The pork is used to make a dish called shabushabu. Shabushabu is very similar to nabe. I picked up a thin slice of pork with my chopsticks and dipped it into the boiling broth and swished it around until it was cooked. When it was cooked I ate it.

We talked, ate, laughed, drank, and ate some more. When all of the veggies and meat were gone it was time to make the rice. Cooked rice it added to the broth along with a couple of beaten raw eggs and some chopped green onions. The rice, egg and broth mixture is allowed to cook until the egg is done. Then it is all scooped out and placed into a bowl and eaten. My favorite part of eating the rice is getting one of the big cloves of garlic in my bowl.

The entire time the eating is going on the beer is flowing like wine. Well in a way. You must never pour a beer for yourself, it is considered rude to do so. So when you need a refill you grab the bottle and fill up your neighbor’s glass and they, in turn, do the same in return. Well this leads to one seldom having an empty glass, which makes it difficult to gauge how much you have consumed. When this happens the most reliable method is to judge how fast the room is spinning. If you find it hard to stand then you turn your glass upside down. This gets tricky when you are drinking sake because the bottom of a sake glass is just a smaller cup and people will continue to fill it. I, how ever made an early evening of it leaving before the sake even came out. I retired about nine and was home tucked safely in my spinning bed around nine thirty.

Birthday Party at Ren-kun's House

We followed up the Friday night birthday fun with some Saturday daytime birthday fun. Logan’s friend Shigeru was having a birthday party in conjunction with some other children from Logan’s class, and he invited Logan to be one of the guests. We met Shigeru and his mother in our parking lot and waited for a ride to the party. The party would be held at the home of another member of Logan’s class. We arrived at Ren’s house, where the party was being held, in a matter of minutes. It would not have been at all difficult to walk there, but I am glad that we got a ride because I do not think that I could have found the house without an excellent map.

Logan had a great time playing with his friends. In all there were about eight children there ranging in age from not yet born to four. They played with Ren’s massive collection of toys for about an hour. All this time the adults were trying to figure out what to talk about. The common theme of the morning was silence. Ren’s Dad stayed and visited for a short time before he had to go to work. Other than that I was the only man there. We sat and talked a little but mostly watched the kids play. Then the magic thing that brings all people together came out. No, not that! Food.

Ren’s Mom began to bring out plate after plate of food. There were sandwiches and fried chicken. My favorite though was the big giant bowl of sushi. Now this was not ordinary sushi it was a special type of sushi called chirashizushi, and Ren’s Mom had gotten up at five in the morning to prepare it. Chirashizushi is sushi that is all mixed up. The rice is prepared and mixed with long strands of scrambled egg, seaweed, and little tiny fish that are almost too small to see. It is a very special and very delicious type of sushi that is usually served in the spring for the Hina doll festival. We were also fortunate enough to eat some authentic Chinese gyoza. Shigeru mother and father are Chinese, and his mother made some delicious steamed pork wontons. It was a lot of fun to eat our fill of the delicious food.

We enjoyed the lunch and the kids went back to playing. It was time for after lunch karaoke. Ren had a little keyboard with a microphone. The children took turns sitting at the toy piano and playing while another would sing into the microphone. Ren was quite a rock star. He really had a good time singing, and he was dressed the part too. He had the glam rock look down pat. He had decked himself out in a pink barrette and a bright pink headband. Logan tickled the ivories while his front man Ren belted out the tunes. He was just a little eyeliner short of being David Bowie’s Iggy Stardust. Logan and his friends had a great time. They did not seem quite satisfied however. There was something missing from this birthday party.

Then that which was missing was found, and out came the cake. It was a simple cake with white frosting and strawberries on top. I was a bit shocked and delighted when I was asked to cut the cake.
I was horrified however that they wanted me to carve it up before singing Happy Birthday. I lead a rousing rendition dedicated to “everyone” then I sliced the cake into twelve portions. We devoured the cake. I think that the cake was the first homemade cake that did not come out of a rice cooker; we have had in a little over a year. And a delicious cake it was. I ate my entire piece and some of Logan’s piece too, as he was more interested in playing with his friends than in eating cake. Not too long after cake we made a graceful exit and soon found ourselves in the loving confines of our own home.

Always trying to find a way to escape the prison of our own four walls we soon found ourselves making our way to the local Starbucks. It is a bit amazing but it was Jenny who made the suggestion. We were sitting in our chilly apartment when she suddenly exclaimed, “I think a nice hot latte would be nice.” Me never being one to pass up an opportunity to drink a nice latte; I was up and standing at the door with my coat on as my answer. I figured that actions speak louder than words. So off we trooped to the one Starbucks in Omihachiman. I drank a gingerbread latte and Jenny had a crème brulee. Logan shared whichever one he could get his hands on. We sat and joked about our day and how much fun we had as we sipped our coffee. Once again the day ended with a nice cup of Joe. Perfect.