Lobo will be surprised when he wakes up

Somewhere in Germany, a man slumbers. Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, in the San Francisco Bay Area, the woman who gets to snuggle with him once every few months strolls into her local nail salon on a whim. Kim, her manicurist, looks puzzled: you're not due for another week or two! But the little Japanese woman looks instead to the retired RF Engineer in the barber chair and inquires of her: "Tammy, I need an 8 inch ponytail for this charity. Do you have time to cut my hair?" She hands Tammy a page with donation requirements, and replaces her in the chair.

My hair before cutting ->

It's been two and a half years since my last donation, which went to Locks of Love. Most of you know Sheila recently donated hers, reminding me it was about that time. I usually wait longer, but it seems to be growing more slowly this time, and Señor Inglés likes my hair long. I opted to do it now, while it has some time to grow before I see Lobo, and for donating it to Pantene Beautiful Lengths instead, which accepts 8 inches instead of 10 (thanks for the idea, Sheila!).

Tammy pulled my hair back, measured and said "in order to get 8 inches of usable ponytail, I have to cut 14 inches from the full length." Jennifer, the owner (and Tammy's daughter in law), said something in Vietnamese, which from the tone was something like "you're wrong," then in English mentioned another client who'd come in to do the same thing. My hair was pretty damaged, and had been layered, so Tammy had a point. I let her take the longer amount, which ended up being 15 inches.

<- My 15 inch ponytail

I have much less hair than I when I left the house this afternoon, and it's shorter than I would like, but it will grow. I think this will be my final donation. It takes so long to grow, and having it so long is a pain. This is my fifth submission, four more than most others who donate hair give, so I feel okay about ending that cycle.

The excitement over, I sat down to my LiveMocha and TEFL accounts. I have been buckling down on the TEFL certification (I'm doing it through i-to-i) and new language acquisition, and researching labor markets and issues, which is why I haven't been here as much (and my house is messy, my checkbook not balanced...). After a few minutes, I realized my neck was cold! My hair no longer wraps itself around me to keep me warm.

Learning German with my short hair ->

For those of you into learning languages, LiveMocha is based on the Rosetta Stone platform. They show pictures and text and play audio of terms and sentences related to the pictures, then do a series of text and autio-based repetition exercises, a sort of combination between the Direct and Lexical methods. Like Rosetta Stone, the first things you learn are words and sentences you are not likely to use regularly (the woman is fat -- yes, that's an actual sentence they used). Their reasoning is you learn the way a child first learning language does. Where that method fails is it doesn't take into account adults have a knowledge bank (developed neural pathways) for language babies don't. I use it to supplement the other methods I'm using, which teach more practical terminology. Oh, and the chat function is annoying. Right when I'm concentrating on my lesson, a window pops up, telling me some guy (it's never a woman) wants to chat.


The Bane of my Existence

Deep orange, lustrous, slick, sometimes hard, sometimes pulpy, cloyingly sweet when ripe, astringently tannic when green.  Persimmons.

The Fuyu (above), round and firm, is the type most commonly found in American markets.  It can be eaten in bites, or sliced and used in salads or as garnish.  

The ovoid Hachiya (left) is edible when it is soft and pulpy and therefore completely unsuitable for market bins.  The texture can be off-putting, but if you freeze and eat them with a spoon (and throw in a little whiskey), it's not too bad.

I abhorred persimmons as a kid, and even now won't go out of my way to eat them, so of course I inherited not just one, but two large trees, one of each kind.  Every year, friends and family members receive both the fresh fruits, and those my father dries, so most of the fruits are given away or consumed by the birds and I never really give them much thought.  This year, for the first time, I actually noticed how pretty they actually are, and took some photos today.

Every autumn, both trees sag under the weight of the maturing fruit, and the delicate branches need to be propped up so they don't break.  As the weather cools and the leaves drop, the fruits ripen on bare limbs.  On the stark branches, the contrast of orange against the blue sky is brilliant on a sunny day.  And on a gray day, the flash of brightness can be a welcome reminder that clear skies will return.

Winter Rituals

I spend much of this time of year cleaning house -- literally and figuratively.  I've written about cultural new year traditions I follow -- cleaning house, paying bills and opening my house for oshogatsu.  All this serves to begin the year with a clean slate (no clutter, no obligations) and open heart.

This is also the time I reflect on my life, and decide what non-domestic clutter belongs in my past as well.  Letting go of feelings, issues, people is never easy, no matter how much you dread them or know how bad for you they are.  I admit I tend to hold onto emotional baggage much longer than I should and often allow negative influences to drag me down far enough to chip away at my well-being.

Most of you know I am taking "cleaning house" to a new level this year, and leaving family, friends, home and possessions to live in a different country.  I gave up my spring teaching load at City College, a job I have held continuously, albeit part-time, since I finished grad school.  Granted, as backup, I have not given up my fall classes, but I am going without my teaching salary for nine months minimum.  I'd like to think I'll stay in touch with everyone at home, but I know some people will move out of my life.  I don't know who yet, but I hope I will remain in their hearts as they will in mine.

In opposition to losing touch, I recently spoke with one of my oldest friends.  I met Didier the summer of my twentieth year meandering down the bank of the Truckee River.  He was a drifter who stayed in a country long enough to save money to move to the next.  I had never left the US.  I was a "type A" person, worried about my future and security.  He had faith things would work out in the end.  He passed on a scholarship to MIT to travel the world.  I clung to academia as though it were gold.  Polar opposites.  We spent the summer together, and from him I learned about passion, anger, love, hate, courage, fear, and how to let go and follow my heart a tad more and my head a bit less.  Since then, we've written irregularly, but we have kept in touch, and he moved back to his home town of Cluses, in the French Alps.

When I was in Paris last month, I called.  Unfortunately, I didn't call until I was there and he couldn't take time off work.  He offered to spend the weekend showing me around Geneva, but I was leaving Saturday morning and could only delay my departure one day without having to scramble to find a substitute for my Monday class.  It felt good to talk to him, though, and since I will be relatively close this spring, I will make it a point to visit.

The next few months will be full, as I learn German, review French and Japanese, get a TEFL certificate (I hope to teach English until I find something more stable), research employment agencies, jobs and potential employers, and pare down my life to the essentials.  We will see how things pan out when I leave my pets, possessions and home in Steve's care and head to Germany with everything I can carry in two suitcases to do the legwork on finding a job.

I'm Off!

I didn't realize the value of time until recently.  Between my day job, teaching at night, brushing up on my French, trying to learn German, and trying to find time to job hunt, free time has become a scarce commodity... and sleep a luxury item!  My schedule is beginning to take its toll, as I've had a hard time concentrating the last month or so and am perpetually exhausted!

I look forward to my upcoming vacation much more than any other.  For the first time, I actually need the break away from work, which is an odd feeling for me.  And because I haven't seen him in four months, I covet the few days I'll have with Lobo.  No amount of electronic communication can replace the experience of seeing expression and body language, hearing vocal intonations, and feeling someone's warmth and substance when interacting in person.

Given my need to separate myself from my routine, it is somewhat ironic I have chosen to vacation in one of the two cities in which my boss spends the bulk of his time.  Luckily, I know the names of the places he frequents and can avoid them.  In some ways, it's good to be the bean counter.

I haven't been online much lately, and will likely be on even less this week, if at all, but I hope to post photos at some point (unless they are all bad).  Well, my plane leaves tomorrow afternoon and I'm not finished packing!

My Home

In 1950, there were relatively few neighborhoods in San Mateo where people of Japanese ethnicity could buy a house and feel relatively at home. My paternal grandparents bought a lot in the older section of town, an area that was, and still is, populated largely by ethnic minorities. People abandon this neighborhood when they can, but I am reluctant to give up something my grandparents worked so hard to turn into a home.

My grandfather, a gardener, initially built a tiny, 2-bedroom house with a friend of his, where my grandparents and father stayed until the main house was built. This house still stands, and you can see one side of it next to the orange tree on the lower right. It now holds mementos and tools, and occasionally my car.

The fireplace in the photo is in my living room. It wasn't used much before I moved in and I had to have quite a bit of work done on it to get it into safe, working condition. This photo contains other photos of several family members, and I think it will be one that will keep me company when I am homesick.

Steven will stay and take care of the house and the animals we've accumulated. My financial situation is uncertain, so I may not be able to return as often as I'd like. It's good to have someone I trust to take care of everything. In writing this, I am faced with those nearest and dearest to me -- animals (bipedal and quadripedal), plants and inanimate objects I won't see regularly for awhile, possibly years -- and I feel a tad sentimental. But pushing myself out of my comfort zone, and immersing myself in more of the world before I am too old to do so are high on my priority list. Leaving home is something I need to do.

Not that I don't have insecurities, the major one being I don't have a job yet. There is the very real possibility I won't find one. I haven't picked a good time to look for work! I could try to find some unfilled niche and create my own job...

And there's Lobo. Being separated by so much time and distance is stressful. The possibility that he changes his mind about me, I don't live up to his memory or expectations of me, or we ultimately want different and non-complementary things from our relationship is always in the back of my mind.

A couple of years ago, I wrote about the uncertainty I was feeling in hitting middle age, although much of my insecurity couldn't be attributed to middle age so much as carryover from an insecure youth. Since then, my midlife experiences have fostered much in the way of personal growth, some painful and some pleasurable. I think the next year or two will continue that trend. I am hopeful it will involve more pleasure than pain, but knowing how life works, am prepared for the reverse.