Naked with Strangers and Loving it

Where in the world would you invite a friend you haven't seen for years to bathe naked with you for hours on end?  That would be Japan.

At the onsen--a public bathing area--men and women go to their respective areas, shed their clothes, wash off under spigots, then soak in various hot baths which are created from hot springs.  My husband said we were going there with uncle and aunty, and even a male friend who was planning to stop by to meet us after his work.  My eldest son picked up his bathing suit.

"Oh, you won't need that," my husband said.
My son's eyes grew wide.  "I don't think I want to go," he said.  "I'll just wait here."
"Don't be a wuss."  Younger brother said.  He was at a hot springs two years ago and got to be the voice of experience. 
All the way there, nervous voices asked what was going to happen.  But, once we got there, we couldn't drag the kids out.  Is that a familar bath story?

We've been fortunate to bump into onsen--hot springs all along our trip.  And unlike the usual bath story, as soon as I say the word "onsen,"  I have everyone's full attention and cooperation.

  

An Amazing Retrieval

This morning--before the sun rose--we arrived at Haneda airport, Japan.  Six passengers/10 pieces of luggage.  We weren't quite sure where we were going--a general direction of Saitama (countryside) to visit my sister-in-law.  However, we weren't clear on how to get there.  So we lolligagged as long as possible, eating breakfast, drinking tea in the aiport restaurant.  Then we headed for the monorail, which took us to a train, then five sets of stairs (fortunately all down), then a subway, more stairs, another train.  Four hours later we were at my sister-in-law's station.   She took us home, and my brother-in-law cracked a carton of juice for us.  My daughter took one sip and raced outside. 
"What's the matter?"  I called.
My brother-in-law looked up, concerned.
"Are you alright?" I called again.
"My retainer," she said, tears forming.  "I don't have my retainer."
She had left her retainer in a napkin on the table in the restaurant at the airport. 
Oh, gosh.  We'd never find that.  Never.
My older daughter said,  "I think you better translate this debacle, cause he thinks she just doesn't like the juice."

I had to laugh.  And gladly told my brother-in-law the problem.  He said,  "Don't worry,"  picked up the phone and called the airport.  He described the restaurant and the retainer.  They had it.  We all did a little dance while he stayed on the phone.  Apparently, in order to release the retainer, they needed a note complete with address and signature and instructions.  After getting my younger daughter's signature, he raced out the door, insisting it wasn't far.  He was back three hours later with the retainer.  I'm still amazed. And so grateful.

Graduation or Cocktail Party?

After a seminar on how, in order to be an affective blogger, one had to write something two to three times a day, I threw in the towel.  I didn’t have two or three things to blog about each day…besides I had a novel to finish.  I had been working on the sequel to My Half of the Sky when a Korean gentleman approached me, saying, “Your novel reminds me of old Korea.  Will you help me tell my story?”  

He grew up in Seoul, Korea during WWII, and in the space of three years watched his happy homeland turn into a prison and punishment center for his family.  Well, I couldn’t resist his heartwarming story.  Last week, I put the final touches on it—at least for now.  (It’s with my trusty critique group and a select group of editors.)

So I could have started blogging last week.  But I was at my eldest daughter’s graduation from UC, Santa Barbara.  It was a wonderful moment in our family history.  The speeches were thoughtful (although at moments, I expected the Dean to pass around a donation hat.)  And it was a particular thrill to have all the students stand and be told, “You have graduated.”  Tears came to my eyes.  

Then the students sat, and we were put through the torture of listening to various staff members read (poorly, I might add) 1200 names.  Some of the friends and relatives did not bother to stick around to listen, but after having heard their friend's/child's name got up.  If these people had just left, that would have been okay—rude, but okay rude.  No, these people acted like they were walking through a dinner party.  “Oh, Jess.  How are you?  I haven’t seen you in ages.”  High five, shoulder bump.  

Did I miss my daughter’s name?  

It was ridiculous….a definite breakdown of a touching day.

Graduate daughter is now going to Hangzhou, China for two months to work in a hospital—to get the feel for how things are done there, to hone her language skills.  So, of course, we all need to give her the send off.  We’ll be traveling first to Japan (where she was born) and then to Hangzhou.  I will do my best to find at least one thing of interest to report on each day...or two.

Just Wait a Minute

I needed to get to a family service in Ottawa, Canada last Saturday. I flew out Friday morning with connections in LA and Chicago, planning to meet my sister on the last flight.
I figured my ticketer knew what he was doing when he suggested various flights. However, after the pilot left late from LA, I got in the air and realized I had but twenty minutes between flights.
Perhaps the gates were right next to each other.
"No," the guy sitting in the aisle seat--a native of Chicago--chuckled. "You'll never make it."
He did root for me, however, offering me his seat for the last ten minutes of the ride, and practically pushing me off the plane as soon as the bell rang signalling this big bus had reached a full and complete stop.
I had 14 minutes.
I ran through the terminal like OJ Simpson (in his Hertz rent-a-car days) to the shuttle which would take me to the next terminal.
I had five minutes.
"Just wait a minute," a guard said. "The shuttle will be here soon."
A whole minute? I don't have an extra one of those. I called my sister. "Can you ask the flight to wait? I'm almost there."
"Don't worry," she said. "It's been delayed."
It was amazing. I was so relieved to have that time. Just time. Time to breathe.
It made me think of writing. We're often under an imagined deadline. I need to finish this by my 50th birthday, by the end of the year, by summer vacation. It makes us do silly things (like jump over suitcases and push others out of the way.) It's good to have a deadline, a goal, as long as the goal doesn't overwhelm your writing. When it does "Just wait a minute."

Climbing the Mountain

Over the holidays, we went on our annual trip to Lake Tahoe. There was absolutely no snow, other than that manufactured by the resorts, which was fine by me as my idea of a good time is driving on dry pavement, not bundling up, and hiking around the lake with the dogs.
While the kids snowboarded on icy patches, my husband and I decided to hike to the top of the bare mountain. It didn't look hard--surely we'd be back down in time to meet the kids for lunch. We looked for a path and, not immediately seeing one, just bulldozed our way through a patch of bushes, over a bunch of rocks.
It got rockier and rockier. The top seemed further and further away. Whereas my husband was surely a mountain goat in some past life and jumped from rock to rock, I was brought to my bottom as I held precariously onto one wobbly rock after another. I kept thinking, "Was this supposed to be fun?"
I decided I'd rather hike on flat pavement and went back down the mountain. A few joggers ran past and I asked, "Is there a trail nearby?" There was--just down the road. Oh, the beauty. A nicely carved trail, a direction to follow.
I was reminded of the writing journey. How it seems so easy--to just write a book--and I bulldoze through, getting hung up on rocks and scratched by branches, landing on my butt more times than I can count--and wishing to be like a mountain goat. While there is no "trail," I've found several markers helpful:
1)The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide by Becky Levine. She writes about the importance of critique groups, how to find one, how to critique. My critique group is my major lifeline, pulling me back when I wander off -or can't even find--the trail.
2)The Plot Whisperer: Secrets of Story Structure Any Writer Can Master by Martha Alderson. She takes the nitty gritty words and forces the author to look at the big picture. What is the plot? How does it evolve? It's a great help for people (like me) who bulldoze ahead and get stuck on a pile of rocks.
3)Occasional amazing teachers, like David Corbett. He is the author of numerous adventure stories, including Do They Know I'm Running? Done for a Dime, Blood of Paradise, and The Devil's Redhead. He'll be teaching a class Arcs & Acts at Book Passage in Corte Madera, Saturday, February 4, 10:00 am-4:00 pm and Sunday, February 5, 10:00 am-3:00 pm. See details
4)Good books. The book of the week is Deep Down True by Juliette Fay, the story of a middle-aged mother who tries to pull her family and herself together in the wake of a divorce from her husband who left her for a young Chinese immigrant. I enjoyed Fays's first book--Shelter Me--better. However, as in that book, I loved Fay's voice. I would read anything by this author.

Fun with Antiques

My younger son is into photography these days. So, one of the big gifts I gave him this Christmas was a "real film" camera from the back of my closet. He thought it was so "cool." I got a kick out of the idea that something I'd used as a young adult was an antique, and was thrilled to be able to actually teach him something. (Usually he's the one showing me how to set a password or download an app.)

By the way, one of his photos was chosen for a city contest
Please take a look and vote---the beautiful blue rose picture is his. Merry Holidays.

Amazing Coincidences

This past month, I had the good fortune to visit England and Denmark. Our eldest was doing a semester at Warwick and, as the Brits don't do Thanksgiving, we took it to her....and to a smattering of relatives who have lived overseas so long they've forgotten about that particular tradition. There were a great many amazing moments (which I won't tire you with). I did discover the fact that Warwick Univ --of all possible places in the universe-- has a sister relationship with NTU-Singapore. So I arranged to drop off a copy of My Half of the Sky for their library. That was definitely fun.

Book of the Week: Shelter Me by Juliette Fay. When the story opens Janie, who has two small children, has just lost her husband in a freak accident. Seems like a real downer, but the voice of Janie is strong and funny, and made for a good read.