Just spent part of the evening filling the paper work for my mandatory annual physical.

This normally wouldn’t bother me except that I seem to have to do it every year because the company I work for seems to send me to a different clinic every year which means I can’t use the medical history from the year before. I suspect they are either chasing discounted prices or are forgetful.

I suspect the latter because, for three years in a row now, they’ve scheduled health checks for the last few days of the term. It then follows that I point out that I will be missing a number of last classes, depriving my students of vital information about the exams.

This year that was met by  the email equivalent of a huff and sigh and then two weeks of waiting while they found a date. This is an improvement, though, over last year, when they expected my colleague to cover for me in the morning and then expected me to go back to school after having a barium test.

I told them “no way” (full disclosure: the language used was actually, um, more colorful and profane than that) unless someone at the office got a barium test in the morning and then go back to work in the afternoon.

Tomorrow I’m supposed to get a tube down the throat again, but they sent me form about the barium test.

Tomorrow might be kind of interesting.

Lately it has become a tradition on our daughters’ birthdays that we eat steak at a hamburger place that used to be a Red Lobster.

When it was  Red Lobster it became notorious for poor customer service. That included long lines when there wasn’t a large crow inside (partly because they apparently had no plan for bussing tables) and misspelling our oldest’s name (and then not correcting it) when we surprised her with a birthday party there.

Eventually it closed and was replaced by a restaurant called Hamburger Koubou (or Hamburger Workshop). It’s draw is an all you can eat salad bar, that includes bread, various pasta dishes, soft tacos (or spring rolls), curry and desserts. Its specialty is hamburger steak, but we almost always get real steak instead.

We go because around their birthdays our daughters become carnivores and suddenly desire steak. We gladly take them and much too much is eaten. Since today is our youngest’s birthday, we were pleased when she decided to maintain the tradition.

The trouble is, for reasons I don’t fully understand, we get placed in the same booth which is apparently the back up raw meat storage section. The air conditioner blasts one half of the booth directly, but shows a little mercy to the other half. Mind you, this doesn’t bother me, but it annoys the girls and She Who Must Be Obeyed. We could move, but the layout of the air conditioners leaves me with little hope that there’s a warmer section.

Of course, the cold doesn’t stop us from helping ourselves to the all you can eat soft-serve ice cream.

This week She Who Must Be Obeyed as been stressed because our girls have been in and out of the house for a couple nights at a time.

I actually consider this peaceful; she considers it stressful.

At our girls’ schools, the end of school marks the start of school camps. Our oldest went to an overnight camp as part of a junior leader program, then came back for one night before leaving the next day on her school overnight camping trip.

After she got back from that, our youngest left for her overnight camping trip. This started badly, though, when the kids had to hike from the school to a bus station and, because no mothers had been informed about this first leg of the journey, many of the kids had duffle bags rather than backpacks.

The guilt from this (even though it wasn’t, technically her fault) stressed out She Who Must Be Obeyed and made her more concerned than she normally would be (and she normally be extremely concerned). I therefore gave your oldest a standing order that She Who Must Be Obeyed not be allowed to leave the house. “If mommy goes out to check on the car; stop her. If mommy puts the trash out early, stop her. If the house is on fire, stop mommy from leaving because she probably started the fire herself.” (Something like that.)

In the end both girls were fine and came home with little trouble. There was some rain and some altered plans, but they managed to camp before the heat of summer kicked in. That seemed to make the trips better.

Twenty years ago today I came to Japan for just a couple years. My plans sort of changed after I got here.

As has become ritual for the program I was part of, we arrived in the morning and then, after a trip through immigration where, oddly, and against personal tradition, I managed to choose the fast line, I left the air conditioned airport to the shocking morning heat that often makes people reconsider their futures in Japan. (Tokyo is roughly the same parallel as Santa Fe, New Mexico, but, really, 10 a.m.? That much heat and humidity? 10 a.m.? Really?)

I was temporarily housed in the Century Hyatt in Shinjuku (which was awesome) and did some tentative exploring.

After a few days of orientation, we were sent off to our new homes and all I remember is a guy who would become a good friend making video interviews of us for future review. I also remember me assuring one nervous English lass that “they can’t eat you” and since that was the worst thing that could happen to her she was going to be okay. (Oddly, I was told later that this actually helped calm her.)

I was fortunate to land in a beautiful, friendly town. Or maybe it was unfortunate. I settled in and got comfortable, which is always a bad thing for me. Improvisers need pressure, not time to plan and make excuses. I settled in and lots of grand plans suddenly seemed less important. I kept up the pretense of graduate school for a while, but even that seemed less important. (Actually, it had seemed less important for a long time, which is part of the reason I came to Japan. More on that in a future post.)

It helped that I was living near some great people who, to this day, continue to inspire me and who helped me get through the first year. (Note: wherever you go, as long as things aren’t exploding, stay two years; the second year is always better.) Eventually I met She Who Must Be Obeyed and things progressed from there.

Part of me misses being back home, but I’m happy to still be here, even as things have stagnated slightly. One of the odd aspects of my psyche is always seeing myself as being in transition. Where ever I am at the time is only temporary. That allows me to put off making decisions and allows me to coast when I should be driving more aggressively. Admitting that something has become permanent is a hard thing to do.

That said, I miss Wednesdays in Niigata more than being back home. Soaking in a bath and chatting with friends and then eating and drinking for a few hours helped us all remain sane.

I still feel comfortable, although lately things have felt less relaxing (long story). She Who Must Be Obeyed still kind of likes me and we have two beautiful girls. One of them still likes me, the other thinks I’m an idiot. It’s not a bad life, really. Not a bad life at all.

I don’t remember anything about Chicago except that I stayed there one night before I traveled to Japan. I saved a cigar band, which means I must have smoked a cigar, but I don’t remember doing that.

I didn’t write anything useful in my diary except general vagaries about some of the people I met. In fact, if I hadn’t written down the room and the hotel I wouldn’t remember that I stayed there at all.

The only thing I remember is calling AOL to cancel my AOL membership. (Note: AOL provided internet in those days via stone tablets and casting bones.)

I also vaguely remember a reception of some sort. I may have spoken to some people there–that’s what my diary says–but I didn’t bother writing down any names or descriptions.

I’m not sure why I don’t remember more except that I’d had a hectic month and was in a mental daze. I remember more about leaving for the Peace Corps–mostly the people I met–but I don’t remember where we stayed.

Part of moving overseas involves a period of “What have I done?” as your brain second, third and fourth guesses everything your are doing. I remember not having much money (very long story involving cars, accidents, banks and credit cards) but nothing else. The hotel was a transitionary place and my brain was in transition. That phase didn’t involve thinking or remembering.

After that, though, I boarded JAL 009 for a business class flight to Japan. This was nice enough that one friend I made in Japan described the experience as “the best place I’ve ever been”.

I only planned to go for two years. I ended up staying a bit longer.