The Kitchen and I

What constitutes a successful day for you? Accomplishing something big at work or school (or both)? Eating three healthy meals? Completing a to-do list? I certainly agree with all of these things, and am sure you all have your own "successful day" indicator. While a successful day for me fluctuates, depending on what I'm currently involved in or the status of my life, lately these successful days equal completing various household tasks. My energy is coming back bit by bit, my second cold waning (though not this forceful cough) and my motivation to get our apartment back in order runs high.

Now is Wednesday evening. Tuesday I slaved away at our kitchen floor, scrubbing a few month's worth of crap and grime. I alternated mopping and vacuuming, until the floor shined in only a way dull hardwood can. My next task involved clearing off the dining table. From one end to the other, the fact that it was indeed a table was hard to recognize. After another hour of putting away, throwing away, cleaning and again, vacuuming, the table shone in all its black-brown glory. I smiled with the greatest sense of self-satisfaction as I admired the clean kitchen. I willed the kitchen at that moment to stay clean for at least a month.

Of course, later on, as David was working on our muffin pizzas, carrying them to the oven, he suddenly makes a noise as if in trouble. I glance up from my cooking and run over to help. SPLAT! Too late. A muffin met its fate on the newly cleaned floor. I wasn't sure what to cry over, the lost homemade muffin, or the sauce and cheese splattered on the FLOOR. In the end, I think my attachment to the floor won out. David was nice enough to clean it up though.

So ever since this cleaning spree, I vacuum the floor a couple times a day and wipe up spills almost immediately. Did I mention, that our apartment is a dust-magnet? I have no idea where it comes from. No matter how often I vacuum, it never lasts very long! Curses dust. Curses to you.

Uh.... anyway. So since yesterday was cleaning day, today was cooking/baking day. After David's sudden declaration he was going to make pancakes this morning, I mixed up a batch. Lunch was meatloaf I baked up last night. I wanted to make roasted potatoes, with these special potatoes I have never tried before. (Never seen them in the States). So, I cut them per the usual, seasoned them and tossed them in the oven. My taste test 20 minutes later led me to a burning, coppery mouth. Me in the kitchen, spitting it all out, rinsing out my mouth with water. What kind of potatoes ARE these? What if they are poisonous? What if I'm allergic? I was sure my face would puff up any instant, and so I brushed my teeth. As if that could really help...

David walks in for lunch to see me brushing my mouth out like mad.

"Something is wrong with those potatoes!" I asserted.

David pops a piece in his mouth and says he doesn't notice anything.

"My mouth is BURNING," I insist. "You don't feel anything???"

"Nope."

Figures.

Then I obsessively scrubbed the cutting board I cut them up on... so they wouldn't poison me some other way.

What else did I try today? Lately I have been experimenting making whole wheat English muffins. I've actually never made English muffins before, so it has definitely been trial and some error. However, the second batch came out quite nice. Fluffy, wheaty, full of air pockets you expect in any good bread. Yum.

Just the other day I made these scrumptious peanut butter cookies.

And cinnamon buns:

If only I had a picture of those English muffins... but, some other time perhaps. Now, the evening is winding down and off to bed I go.  (Well, after I've had to edit the stupid html ten times to make the pictures stop messing with the text.) Tomorrow is a new day - and a day that will most likely not involve any time in the kitchen, cooking or cleaning.

Reflections of a Winter Walk

Last week, amidst the tragedy fallen upon Haiti, constant abdominal pain, and the need to get some fresh air, I decided to take a short walk with my new camera. I had wanted to write a blog that week, but in light of the situation in Haiti, I felt there wasn't anything to say. So consider my silence a tribute.

Sometimes, or oftentimes, it is easy to envision your surrounding life as difficult, depressing, or even mundane. Perhaps you wonder, what happened to my passion for life? For (insert something you think is important)? What happened to motivation, or even interest? The past months have, in any case, facilitated the time to think of these things. Even now, I am continuously pondering why and how passion always changes.

And in some of those times, a simple walk can cure a case of lost passion.

A walk to the hills behind your dwelling. Hills you often think about and wonder, what would I find if I climbed those hills? Perhaps, an old blue shack, crackling paint revealing the building's nature.

Or, bright, red cherries hiding in tall, dry brush.

Then, discovery of a small temple. A pathway nearby climbs even higher to reveal a peek of the landscape.

Continue further, over felled bamboo trees, and discover - magic.

 

  Leaves rustle loudly as the wind throws its way through. The gentle clunking of hollow bamboo trees against each other creates a symphony all its own.

The sun glimmers through the trees as they sway to and fro, and the forest floor shimmers in response.

A time like this takes words from not only the mouth, but also the mind. They disappear in the forest's song, and suddenly perspective finds its way back. There, in the midst of tragedy and turmoil, depression and monotony, exists peace. Even, joy.

I returned back home that afternoon with numb fingers, rosy cheeks, and peace - not only of mind, but also of heart.

The First Sunrise

明けましておめでとうございます！ (akemashite omedetou gozaimasu, i.e. Happy New Year!)

Winter has settled in here on the east side of central Japan. Days begin with gradient, transformative colors as the sun's orange circle slowly awakes the country. This is the land of the rising sun, after all. As the sun makes it daily trajectory through the sky, we enjoy its warmth - all we have really, as Shizuoka is so windy and drops the otherwise moderate temperature. Our apartment was frigid when we arrived back home at the end of New Year's Day. Two weeks absence + no heating + drop in temperature = freezing cold apartment. Somehow I shivered and shook my way through making our bed, brushing my teeth and leaping into our icy bed, the heater on high. Remember, no central heating in Japan (well, except in Northern Japan, where it's like the North Pole or something).

Two weeks flew by quickly in Washington. We greatly enjoyed the precious time with family and friends, and sad that we could not have more time to spend with others we didn't have a chance to see. We realize now that two weeks isn't nearly long enough to manage this. Perhaps a longer visit next time? We'll see.

However, on to other matters! The great success of this trip is what shall be known from here on out as: The Diagnosis. After a messy departure from Japan (we left a day late due to my being incredibly ill), almost-constant nausea, hard-feelings towards anyone driving but my husband, whom my sister says must have driven like an old woman (no offense to old women, but David isn't exactly an old woman) and incredible jet-lag, the moment of truth finally arrived. (Of course, I swore off all moving things after the trip, and every time I see an escalator now I scrunch up my face - only realizing this when David laughs.) As the nurse did the pre-doctor things nurses do, and as I fitfully tried to explain two months of hell to the nurse, my doctor knocked on the door with the two-page letter I had faxed her.

"You've just been through it haven't you?" she said empathetically.

"Yes! We are so frustrated! I haven't been at work, I feel so terrible... it's so awful..." Feelings tumbled out of my mouth easily, opposite of my inability to vomit when in any moving object.

"Well, let's see if we can fix you up!"

She did a quick check, asked a few questions, and as she explained that she wanted to run her own panel of tests on me, the words we'd been waiting for finally arrived:

"I think you have labrynthitis."

"Really??" Was I dreaming?

"I've seen it a hundred times. My husband, poor man, has a doctor for a wife, was crawling on the floor one day when I came home. I ran so many tests on him, and he had labrynthitis."

Even she noticed, as others missed, there was some fluid in my ears, and STILL in my sinuses. She explained labrynthitis - that it is a deep inner ear inflammation, caused by a virus. The virus has to run its course; there is no way to treat it. The symptoms I was experiencing caused chronic nausea (which I think may have ended up as an ulcer) and of course cause motion sickness and other things. My allergies end up making things worse. She fixed me up with some drugs for the nausea, motion sickness and inflammation, and sent me on my merry way.

Thank you oh incredibly competent American doctor! You have helped me infinitely more than the round of doctors we saw in Japan! I practically cried as I left, thanking her over and over, practically bowing out of habit. (You would too if you'd gone two months sick at home without a diagnosis).

Of course, travel and lack of sleep put me out with a cold when we got back. Have almost fought it off now though...


On the subject of feeling grateful, I thought I might revisit a few things from 2009 I'm thankful for. Although we completely missed New Year's Eve, (we were somewhere over the Pacific Ocean at the time, although I'm not sure which time...) and I was drugged and out of my mind most of New Year's Day, my New Year spirit hasn't left me yet. So,

A few things I'm grateful for in 2009 (in no particular order aside #1):
1. marrying the most amazing man
2. precious time with loved ones in Washington
3. our "grown-up kids" from youth group days
4. the chance to take a writing workshop
5. rediscovering passions
6. living in Shizuoka
7. moving to Shimada
8. heaters
9. top floor of the apartment building
10. delicious, healthy food
11. money to buy said food
12. a new camera to capture moments
13. a Christmas tree
14. the chance to read others' stories
15. a new laptop, to write with, to transform pictures with, to entertain me for endless hours sitting sick

These hardly mark them all, as there is so much to be grateful for and highlight.

I hope this New Year is a tremendous one for you. Here's to 2010!

Counting Change... err... Double Bagging?

Alas, my days continue to be spent wrapped up in fleece in front of a space heater at home. Setting out on any kind of adventure typically requires movement, and as such, leaves me in a state of delirium and overwhelming feelings of possibly losing whatever food I managed to eat before said adventure. Oh, motion sickness, I have not known you my entire life! You have plagued others mercilessly, and I laughed in your face. You could never take me with you motion sickness! Never!

Oh, but now, motion sickness is my close friend. I hope you are all spared from this feeling if you have yet to experience it, as it is completely miserable. We have a ten-hour flight coming up this week, so I am desperately praying I will be saved from this dark plague, if only for ten hours...

The medical mystery continues! An MRI has been scheduled Monday afternoon, and an appointment set with my American doctor in Seattle. I should note, that in order to schedule the MRI, I had to wait an hour and a half at the hospital on Friday, just to SEE the neurologist. Then, the neurologist asked two questions, and then, "when should we schedule the MRI?"

I replied, "we can't just do it today?" Thinking, I thought that is what I came here for. Couldn't we have done this over the phone?

So far, as my illness continues to puzzle everyone, doctors, in effort to save face or some such very Japanese way of thinking, they go out with their last resort diagnosis: stress, mental problems, stress, see a psychiatrist. You see, in Japan, people are expected to take the doctor's word as the final word. They are definitely not encouraged to question anything the doctor says, while in the States, questions are *usually encouraged (with exception of crazy hypochondriacs that look everything up on the internet... uh... I don't know who does that! Certainly not I!). So, if you so much as question them, or in my case, say you are going to stop taking their drugs because they aren't working, they fume and refuse to help you out with say... filling out a leave of absence form for your boss. Doctors are like gods. Listen to them! Respect them! Never question them. They know everything, after all. (Note: I don't mean anything against doctors, I have had good ones, but simply my rant on the majority of Japanese doctors I've seen here).

Anyway, so as I try to cope with this strange illness that takes me on twists and turns, faster and more ferocious than river rafting (and just as nauseating, for extreme kinds), I try to go to the store to test how well I am doing. Can I move? Can I stand? Can I last through the entire experience and make it home feeling the same as before I had left?

I went to a nearby grocery store yesterday. David was gone, throwing kids around somewhere, and so I decided I felt well enough to bike to the store, grab a few things and go home to start my cookie baking extravaganza (homemade gifts for people here). The bumpy ride proved too much, as I arrived at the store a bit green and lightheaded. I wandered around the store, throwing things in my basket, straining my eyes as I tried to keep my head stationary (to not perpetuate the motion sickness). After finding the things we needed, and feeling I was going to lose it, I shuffled to the cashiers, and went to what I thought seemed the shortest line. A man that had been in front of me was going to take my spot in that line, as I was still shuffling there, but he seemed to find that a bad decision and went into another line. I thought, YES! I have won! I get the spot! In only moments, I would realize how wrong I was.

There were only two women in front of me, and the cashier was helping the first woman already. As I waited, I started to feel light-headed and hot. Uh-oh... hot flash coming, as I started to panic. It was then I noticed that the prim woman in front of me had double-bagged all of the items in her basket. Not only the produce, which is typical to put in those plastic bags, but every single item, including things like butter or cheese (which are already wrapped or in some kind of container!). I was shocked. This woman was the epitome of the environment's Antichrist. She obsessively double-checked all her items, and then twisted a plastic bag full of plastic bags into a knot, patting it three times and situating it delicately in her giant plastic pile. My heart felt as if it had been stabbed - all that work to be environmentally conscious and utilize the three R's, felt as if it was being canceled out by this woman and her plastic-mongering.

As the moments wore on, I felt weaker, hotter, and more lightheaded. The cashier finished with the first woman and moved on to plastic-hoarding woman. To aggravate me even more, she handed her items to the cashier ONE by ONE. Usually the cashier handles things themselves, as in the States. But NO, this woman would pick through her basket, hand the cashier the items in some order she needed them to be, saying "Thanks" with each one. To let out my frustration, and my anxiety over the fact I might pass out any minute and wasn't sure what to do about that since people were pushing up against me from behind, I sighed loudly, "Oh my GOSH." No one noticed. They usually don't, since they don't understand.

Finally the woman finished and took ten minutes to count out her exact change. At that point, I couldn't even move my head as it aggravated the lightheadedness even more. Thus, I couldn't look at the cashier when she told me the amount and when I handed her the change. I probably looked like I had a broken neck or something. Then, out of the corner of my eye, plastic woman proceeded to bag her plastic piles in what else, more plastic. At this point I hurried to the bathroom though, before I blacked out.

Suffice to say, I made it home, though felt miserable most of the rest of the day. Today is cookie-baking day so I must tend to that now. Oh, and packing.

Has been a pleasure, and please remember the moral of the story: reduce, reuse, recycle! Resist the urge to double bag every item you purchase in plastic. You too, can prevent global warming! Oh wait, that is the forest fire slogan isn't it. Well, you get the idea.

Oh Random Japan...

I thought I would take a few moments to share some random pictures I've taken since being here but haven't posted. (Note: all pictures taken on my iPhone)

This is a typical vending machine you might see around Japan. Drinks are common, but so are cigarettes, ice cream, and hot food like this. I tried some fries from it. They were terrible.










This is a box that travels around the hospital on a track on the ceiling. Much like trains, Thomas the tank engine, etc. It generally carries important documents I think, such as patient records. It's beyond me why they aren't afraid someone could just jump up and grab the thing. Or shoot it with a laser gun. Or swipe it with a samurai sword. (I watched G.I. Joe last night, ok).

A sign on an ice machine or something at a grocery store. I took it to mean, "no pigs shall stand on cows" but David ruined that idea by telling me what it really means. Essentially, these people just have issues laying out pictures in a word processor.

  This is the first rickshaw I've seen in Japan. The guy is posing for a picture, he's not really just slacking off.

There were three pathetic looking dogs in that little buggy. I especially like the expression on the old guy's face.















We can't get a real cat yet. So we have various non-real kitties around the apartment. These ones are obsessed with the birds in the picture.

The Blue Toe Strikes Back

Here I am again, sitting around at home with my heater and new MacBook Pro... mindlessly surfing the internet, reading the news, reading food blogs, convincing myself to actually write something...

I just started a writing workshop - mostly in hopes to motivate myself to sit and write consistently again, and also hone my skills. It has been over a year since I finished school, and I can tell my writing skills have slowly transcended into sub-par. Not that they were brilliant before or anything - it is more like, I write like I talk to the majority of people in Japan, (well in English anyway) slowly, simply, never actually using complete sentences. Do we really use complete sentences when we speak anyway? I'm starting to think we don't much of the time... Especially since when I try to use complete sentences in Japanese, I always get cut off and can never actually practice making sentences in Japanese that I so desperately need to practice. Alas.

After many miserable efforts trying to find a helpful doctor, I finally saw a man who speaks English. He, of course, wanted to test for anemia and all the other things that I have been tested for numerous times, but I pressed him to check my nose. He agreed, pulled out a strange-looking instrument and slid it up one nostril, tilting my head back. Then:

"This side is very inflamed..." He pulls out of that nostril and into the next.

"This side has more inflammation."

I suddenly have a feeling of relief. Finally, someone sees that my sinuses are having issues. I ask him if this is part of the problem. He seems to nod, perhaps slightly disgruntled that I beat him to this point. He proceeds to prescribe me an anti-inflammatory plus allergy medication. He says he is worried that I have an infection since I had a fever of, 98.7. (I biked to the doctor's office in a down jacket. I told the nurses and him that, but they didn't believe that would indeed raise my temperature to what is considered an average body temperature). I asked for non-drowsy drugs; he replied that the drowsy kind is better.

"Do you feel drowsy with that medication?" he asked.

"I don't do well on drowsy drugs. In fact, I seem to have more issues."

He smiled slightly, probably thinking I am a crazy hypochondriac, and said that was all for today, come back in four days.

I reluctantly filled my prescription and headed home. That evening, after taking my meds and getting ready for bed, I started laughing hysterically and found myself too weak to stand on my own. (It's also possible that I was yammering silly, unconnected thoughts, but that is only rumor at this point.)

As a result, my head did start feeling better after the weekend. However, due to being drugged and having a slight issue focusing on what I'm doing, I had a bicycle accident Saturday. David and I were just riding down the street to a local yakiniku restaurant, and there I ran into a curb, ended up with 3 giant bruises and bruised the very same toe I seriously injured last year. Then, as I hobbled around the next day, I worsened the sciatica I seemed to have obtained recently. So though my head has been getting better, I have been left unable to walk. As they say, when it rains, it pours. Although in my case I feel it is more of a typhoon.

So here I am, at home, for over three weeks now, bored. I am getting excited for Christmas though, I can't wait to take a vacation!

Anything else? No, I don't believe so, not unless you want to hear all about the news in the world, what is hot in the food blogging world, or about the latest television show mishaps. It sounds pathetic, and believe me, dear reader, it is.

My Own Medical (Drama) Show

Apparently, social networking sites like Twitter or even public blogs seem to instigate make-the-customer-happy compensation. Such was the case for this couple. So, perhaps I may also dare to use this posting as an extortion to...well, read on. Oh, never fear reader, this should hopefully be amusing to you, in any case.

Let's start with the medical industry in Japan this country I live in that shall remain nameless. A few weeks ago, you remember, I was rather sick. Before that, I actually had an incident where I nearly passed out at school. They carried me to the nurse's room in a gurney... and the vice-principal kept patting my face and asking (in Japanese) if I could see her, and if I was ok. Of course I'm not ok... I'm laying on the floor in the staff room. What other time would I choose to lay on the floor in any place but my home? I digress.

Since this episode and my sickness, whatever it was... I have been hardly able to return to work. Standing is a chore, walking is like a cross country race, even moving my head around seems to emulate a feeling akin to those amusement park rides that spin you around and wave you up and down... like a cat playing with a mouse or other small rodent of choice. So, David took me to the hospital this week, and after a million tests, pertaining to my heart, all was deemed normal and they suggested that perhaps I am under stress. I was actually feeling fantastic before all this began, better than all of last year, so I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Stress?! Do you want to see stress, buddy?!?! I'll show you what this stressed-out woman looks like!!! I merely avoided eye-contact, looking at David as I started to cry, since once again, an unsolvable problem by doctors. Surprise, surprise. I should at least be thankful they were able to figure out that my UTI was indeed a UTI a few months ago. Kudos, bladder doctor guy, you have solved infinitely more than any other medical professional I have seen since coming here.

The cardiologist recommended seeing an ear/nose doctor. We went the next day, despite me swaying back and forth when I walked and not being able to keep my head straight most of the time. The man looked in my ears, gave me a hearing test, then had me lay on the patient bed and held these ridiculous-looking goggles up to my eyes and him and the nurse moved my body around while examining my eyes. Of course, this didn't really make me lightheaded any more than I was... and the doctor decided I must be fine since nothing happened. However, they weren't really moving me very fast and they were both supporting me so it wasn't exactly what I would be doing on my own. Plus, they didn't really look at my eyes after they made me put my head upside down over the edge of the bed. He started talking to David (in Japanese) and I suddenly hear "psychiatry." I turn, make eye contact with David, (I had been staring off into space only a moment ago due to my lightheadedness) and glared. David, of course, knew I had understood this small bit, the bit that I would have been better off not understanding, as this doctor apparently thought I was a nut-case. He asked me if I was stressed, to which I said no... all the while thinking about the fact of these doctors asking if I'm stressed, makes me stressed. It must be a common diagnosis. Oh, you are coughing up blood today? You must be stressed.

That's the end of that saga for now. Will I make it to work Monday? Will I collapse on the train and cause train delays prefecture-wide? To be continued.