Author Archives: DELively

Victoria’s Journals’ TeaBook–End of Book Review

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Disclosure: I got the Victoria’s Journals’ TeaBook at the 2016 ISOT as a sample from the notebook maker himself. I told him I’d use it and abuse and write a review only if I thought it was worth buying. It turns out it is.

The maker of the TeaBook is a fountain pen addict and designed the notebook to hold up well to fountain pens. He did a good job.

In general, the paper held up quite well against the brutal fountain pen onslaught I inflicted on it.

The TeaBook is an almost A5 sized notebook (it’s a few millimeters thinner but is the same height). It is designed to be rolled up and carried in clothes pockets or even in the bottle holder on a carry bag.

The TeaBook rolled up tightly.

It comes rolled up in a tube that reminds me of the tubes that Retro51 pens come in. The notebook can be rolled up quite tightly, but then lays flat without any latent curl. The cover is a flexible red plastic that didn’t crease over time.

The TeaBook in front of its case.

The pages are made of 80# Spanish paper. The version I had was lined, but it appears to come in at least dot grid as well. (Note: I had a prototype case that didn’t match the paper I had inside so this is just a guess.) Each page is perforated, which is something I usually don’t like, but after a few months of regular use, none of the pages had started to work loose. I did, by the end of the book, like the idea of being able to rip out pages I wanted to use and then get rid of the rest.

Detail of the perforations and the lines. I liked the light ruling.

The paper handled fountain pens about as well as the Field Notes America The Beautiful edition. Several inks bled through, though, including one that destroys laughs at notebook paper and snickers at Tomoe River paper—No, really, it mocks the paper it’s used on—and that was while it was in a pen with a steel M nib. (More on that ink in a future post.)

My ink testing page.

The results of the ink tests. The results are respectable, given most of the nibs and inks were terminators, but not great. I’m not sure this facing page was necessary, though, so I didn’t mind defacing it.

My only complaints with the TeaBook were minor and more a matter of personal preference. I’m not a big fan of title pages on notebooks, and even less of a fan of personal information sections. I’m not going to leave my address around in case some radical pen/notebook addict finds my notebook and then tracks me down to punish me for disrespecting stationery. (Oh, sure, mock me as if I’m the only person who does that.)

This really isn’t necessary and could lead to me visiting your house.

Also, I’m not sure it needs the logo, as cool as it is, taking up space on each page.

Lastly, some kind of built in strap or aftermarket binder loop to keep the notebook closed tight would be nice because it tends to unroll to fit the space it’s put in. That said, it’s probably easy to make or rig up something like that.

Right now the TeaBook, if it is available (it may only be a prototype) is only available from retailers in Asia. Interested parties will have to contact the maker for more information.

I’ll be contacting him myself. I’d like to try a couple versions with different paper styles.

 

Rudeness is as Rudeness Does

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It says a lot about Japan that the most uncivil things I saw today were actually quite minor. One shocked She Who Must Be Obeyed, and the other involved coffee.

Oddly, although I was also involved, I was not the biggest problem.

As is our tradition for each New Year’s holiday, we had a huge dinner with the entire clan of immediate in-laws and then, after the oldest brother ran away as fast as he could, the rest of us went shopping.

This involves droves of people and traffic, but luckily we’ve missed most of the fukubukuro fighting so we were safe.

At lunch though, we chose the busiest restaurant, and as I was bringing my double espresso back from the drink bar, a woman decided to spread her wings and spun into my cup. This I could have forgiven but her attitude was less than apologetic, which is unusual for Japan, so I got grumpy for minute. Oddly, though, I was able to move on fairly quickly, which is unusual for me.

Then, after we all separated—our girls having been dumped off on the youngest in-law and her husband—She Who Must Be Obeyed and I did some shopping. As we were heading back to the car to head home, we witnessed one of the rudest things we’ve seen in Japan (at least that didn’t involve riding on the train).

An elevator full of parents and kids in carts began to empty while a young couple with a stroller and an older couple with a couple small bags waited. It took the parents and kids in carts a long time to exit, prompting the older man to push his way on the elevator. Then, when the last cart was gone, the old man closed the door in front of the young couple with the stroller. The young man tried to push the button, but it was too late. He and his wife both looked surprised, as they had, technically, been at the front of the line.

She Who Must Be Obeyed and I both muttered something along the lines of “What an asshole” and it was our topic of conversation all the way back to the car. In the asshole’s defense, the young father should have pushed the button as soon as people started getting off the elevator. Also, as rude things go, it wasn’t that bad, but by Japan’s standards, it was rude.

The most shocking thing was that I didn’t do anything that could be considered rude. I even apologized for being bumped. And I didn’t swear. Much. At least not loudly.

New Year’s Planner Planning

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Although it may seem crazy to so-called normal people, pen/stationery addicts understand the necessity of deciding your new year’s carry before New Year’s Day. They also understand the idea of “your carry”.

So-called normal people use a smart phone app or a portable calendar or, in a really risky stretch, they write in the squares on calendars that hang on the wall. They also have the crazy notion that “you should just use the system you used last year.”

Pen/stationery addicts, on the other hand, find this crazy. They have a lot of stuff they need to use, even as they acquire new stuff, and this inspires them to try different things each year. Variety. Spice of life. Etcetera.

In my case, I’ve decided to abandon the daily log that resides on my desk (more on that in a future post) for something more portable. I’ve also decided to abandon a scratch planner that I carry both as a justification for owning my Old Church Works Quad Cover and as a way to use up notebooks.

Instead I’ve acquired a smaller Hobonichi Techo that will serve as my planner and log and I am trying to figure out way to use the pages I didn’t use in its larger cousin (aptly named Cousin).

I’ve also decided to switch my daily 10 Ideas to a random Field Notes notebook or a similar sized notebook from a different maker. That will go in my OCW cover along with my food log, my random notes notebook, and the “book bible” for my latest project. This might give me four notebooks in the cover, which will make it fairly thick, but will give me something to write about in the future.

My other goal is to limit my goals in the new year. I have a couple projects to finish before I worry about other projects. Any attempts at multitasking have, of late, led to paralysis and that will change.”

Along the way I’m looking or ways to use up notebooks. I’ve already passed a few on to the girls whilst trying to encourage them to find ways to use them.

I’ll give specific details on all this in the future. Until then, there are notebooks to assemble.

There’s also a business to formalize or simplify. I’ll need a notebook to help me think about
that, though. I’ll have to decide if I’ll use one I have on hand or if I’ll have to buy a new one.

That makes sense to pen/stationery addicts but so-called normal people may find it crazy.

The Year That Was , for Better and for Worse

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The saddest part of 2016 was watching my friends and family lose their minds and not being able to do much to help them. Then there was that other thing.

One of the advantages of living overseas during a year like 2016, especially when you lack faith in government, is you don’t understand what the fuss is about. This is partly because you aren’t subject to the masterful emotional manipulation of the US press. Because of this, to me, 2016 wasn’t that bad of a year.

Granted, some celebrities I liked died, but that happens every year, especially as I get older, but they were hardly saints and the world will move on without them whilst their work remains available. I started getting worried, though, when a friend fretted that two singers had died but a politician he didn’t like was still living. (Note: not the president-elect. At that time.) That was the first time I got mad about it. At another point I had to defend one of the world’s leading neurosurgeons—who’s had movies made about him—after a colleague called him an idiot. I didn’t even support him; I just don’t like the name calling and snark that masquerades as political discussion now.

In fact, I’ve had more productive debates with Christian fundamentalists than I’ve had with political extremists of all stripes because the Christian fundamentalists never threatened to send me to hell and never called me names. They were more interested in winning recovering fundamentalist, agnostic me over to their side.

Then, the US election became a battle between, in my mind, two questionable Democrats, one disguised as a Republican and one with dozens of psychologists helping manipulate voter emotions, and things got really sad.

Because I’m both agnostic nationally and a “meet the new boss, same as the old boss” kind of guy at all times—every president since, and including, Ronald Reagan has expanded government, engaged in questionable wars and, with one exception, either signed or promised to sign anti-firearms legislation—I found the entire spectacle both amusing and disturbing.

The most interesting part was watching the so-called mainstream media collapse and desperately grasp at “fake news” accusations whilst praising self-identifying fake news purveyors such as John Stewart and John Oliver. It was sad to see emotion trump, er, um, dominate reason, on all sides. The hypocrisy was strong on all sides, too.

As always, we got the leaders we deserve, regardless of what we think we want. (Note the Second: I didn’t vote this year, as there were no suitable candidates, even in the Libertarian party, and I was pretty sure how my home state was going to vote. I was right, of course.)

As for me, it was a strange year. Turning 50 left more marks than I expected and I’m still feeling a bit rudderless. I’ve been distracted of late and have been caught in the “planning but not doing” phase of many projects (aka the Old Normal). I’ve also been stuck in the phase of knowing what to do but not doing it.

Our oldest turns sixteen in a couple weeks and chose physics as her general course which means the most help I can offer is “study harder”, “learn math gooder”, and “put your damned phone away”. Our youngest is a tween and almost as tall as She Who Must Be Obeyed and is working on improving her teen attitude/brain damage. I’m currently working four jobs, including one I can do at home. (This is a lucrative distraction, but is still a distraction.)

That said, I feel in pretty good shape as 2017 starts. I still floss regularly, and I’m still out of debt. The ink business is stagnant during the winter because of freezing temperatures and physics, but a friend has challenged me to pull the trigger on things I’ve been postponing. Not sure I will, but the challenge is there.

I’m still writing stuff. More or less. This bit of blather will face a few changes in the future, but more on that in a future post. I’m also going to be seeking out a few dependable beta readers.

All the best to everyone on 2017. Happy new year from Japan.

Travel on Trains With Men in White

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All things considered, I was surprisingly calm, even as I was kicking foreign tourists out of our seats.

Along the way I ate hot dogs (carbs) and saw a character who has to appear in a novel some day.

Today our oldest and I traveled to my in-laws. The prep for that involved denial, folding, washing, waiting, and several “where are you?” texts.

Our oldest had a “school related event” that didn’t involve her school uniform and She Who Must Be Obeyed didn’t know about it so that leaves me going “Hmmmm”. However, she did make it back in time for her to pack and for us to catch our train. (We even took a selfie, of sorts, modified with Prisma.)

S and I on the bullet train to Itoigawa. #fakeart #playswithcamera

A photo posted by DL (@d.e.lively) on

She Who Must Be Obeyed, for her part, made several calls confirming that we were packed and ready to travel and aware that today was the day we were supposed to travel. I, being in an oddly relaxed mood (more on that in a future post) resisted torturing her by saying things such as “I thought we were traveling tomorrow” and “what daughter?” and by not pretending I’m worried that I didn’t turn off the kerosene stove. Oh, and I paid that homeless guy and his friends a bunch of cheap booze to house sit.

Our trip was on the new Hokuriku Shinkansen which runs from Tokyo to Kanazawa with a stop at Itoigawa, which is now the township where I used to live (a long story involving government and mergers).

Because it was late in the New Year’s season, we ended up with an oddly complicated trip. Our train stopped at Nagano, but not at Itoigawa. This meant we had to change trains, which, luckily, merely meant a walk across the platform.

However, when we boarded our first bullet train, there were people in our seats. I politely pointed this out, and the people, who were Asian but spoke neither Japanese nor English gave us the seats, but seamed annoyed. (Note: the train was a very rare reserved seats only train.)

(Note the Second: By colossal coincidence, SWMBO and our youngest had people in their seats when they traveled, too.)

Luckily, one us remained awake so that we could change trains at Nagano. Then, at the end of our ticket, there was a mad rush through the suddenly large and confusing Itoigawa Station, but we managed to get tickets for the local train to Nou Machi (which, oddly, we had already passed in the bullet train) but we got tickets and got on the train.

On the train, a single car with only a driver, was man with gold hair. He was wearing a white suit, a white mask and blue Oakley sunglasses. If he’s mafia or a host, he’s very low class because he’s forced to take the train. Either way, he occupied four seats and seemed to be struggling to stay awake.

Now I’m at the in-laws sipping Japanese whisky and wondering how I remained calm through all this. I’m also wondering how to work the man in white into a story.

Last Day Before The Train

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Spent today doing nothing. Well, I did a few things, but not much else.

Our oldest was off at a concert and I was left behind to do laundry and finish season two of The Man in the High Castle, which is an impressive adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s novel of the same name, but lacks his sense of “No really, what the hell is real. No really.” It is well acted, but season 2 drags as they only had 15 episodes of material but decided to make 20.

I did manage to break down some boxes and slightly organize some things, but mostly I was relaxing before tomorrow’s trek to the in-laws.

I should probably try to do a little work before then, but I probably won’t. I should also pack.

Cooking With What Little is at Hand

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Two forces collide when She Who Must Be Obeyed isn’t around: the lack of food available for cooking, and my strange ability to combine random ingredients to make a meal.

The former force is a result of SWMBO’s lack of confidence that 1) I can cook and 2) will cook. (There are complicated reasons partly involving me always being wrong that explain why I rarely cook when she’s home.) As a result, SWMBO uses up almost everything available in the refrigerator in order to guarantee nothing will be left behind to spoil. She then wonders why I favor store-bought meals when she’s not around.

The second is a result of my having been a bachelor for way too long combined with an interest in cooking combined with bad money spending habits. (Books before food.)

(Note: I realize there are a few book maniacs who don’t understand why this is a bad spending habit.)

As a result, I’ve always had a knack for assembling random ingredients into a meal. I’ve always maintained that if you gave me a Snickers bar, three pieces of dried toast and a can of Cream of  Mushroom soup I could make a an actual meal out of it. (Toast the bread and cut it up as croutons that you sprinkle on the mushroom soup. Eat the Snickers bar as dessert.)

The alternate plan, if you have a little cash, is ignore the dry bread and mushroom soup and eat the Snickers bar on your way to McDonald’s.

Tonight I had two more giant chicken breasts that had met their “abandon hope all ye who consume this” date two days ago. I responded with a can of crushed tomatoes and two leeks. It all turned out pretty good, but it needed something.

I’ll probably get in trouble for using the tomatoes but that’s a small price to pay.

 

 

Last Minute Rushing in the Rain

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I didn’t go out yesterday, which meant that it was raining today.

Luckily, around lunchtime the rain stopped and my youngest and I were able to escape.

My first mission involved 1) go to atm and get money; 2) cross street to different atm and deposit money: 3) find a place to eat lunch.

Step one went badly as the atm I was using wouldn’t let me withdraw money. Instead I had to get back in line and get a different atm. Once the money was secured, I headed over to a different bank and deposited the money. Once the money was deposited our youngest and I went to a fast food place for lunch.

After that my job was to stay out of the way of last minute packing. I also had to refrain from comments and suggestions.

Eventually, She Who Must Be Obeyed and our youngest made their way to the other side of the island. Now it’s my job to think about packing. Eventually.

Planning Without Plans

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As She Who Must Be Obeyed and our youngest prepare for a trip to my in-laws’s house, I find myself trying to make plans as our oldest has plans and that will keep us from traveling at the same time as the others.

She Who Must Be Obeyed, with a certain sense of snarky triumph, declared that I’d be responsible for laundry. I didn’t have the heart to point out that 1) laundry’s not that hard and that I mostly don’t do it because I’m not considered competent (i.e. I don’t do it the way SWMBO thinks it should be done and that means she prefers to do it herself) and 2) even if I don’t do laundry, the clothes will still be here when we get back.

Mostly, I need to know when those of us left behind have to travel and which days I’m responsible for making sure meals get made.

I also have to decide how many chores out oldest will have time to do.

The Traditional Annual Foods

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Our Christmas dinner morphs a bit from year to year, but this year established the basics: Chicken, potato salad, bread, cheese, wine.

Because turkey is both difficult (and expensive) to acquire and nearly impossible to cook (unless the bird is the size of a pigeon) we end up with whole chicken leg (defined as “roast” chicken, but it usually ends up as teriyaki chicken.) This is easier to cook but lacks what I consider a vital element: the ability to use leftovers for sandwiches. There’s also no stuffing and very little pie.

Because everyone was busy, more or less, an odd side effect was that the sweets remain unfinished. This means dessert will be tomorrow.

Knowing the way we do things, that might end up being supper.