Things to Pray for (an edited list : )

I still don't know when I'm leaving. It might be December 1 (next week). It . . . might not. No one knows. Which seems . . . problematic. So. 

Here are some things I could use prayer for as I prepare for my Canadian adventure!

• Patience
• A date of departure
• An address for arrival
• For my borrowed Canada phone to connect to wifi, so I can try to get an e-sim card for it before I leave (whenever that is) 
• That I will rest regularly and sufficiently
• That my foot will calm the #*&% down and function without extreme pain
• That my brain will focus instead of fragmenting and fogging 
• That my pelvis and ribs and shoulder and knee will be happy and stay in the right place like it's their job that they like doing
• That I will pack / fit everything (so maybe pray for some time- and space- bending abilities?)
• Peace and calm
• Ability to prioritize 
• Ability to complete tasks in order of priority and without getting constantly distracted
• Ability to make decisions
• Organization for the new job responsibilities
• That VPN will work so I can read, listen to, and watch my stuff without shenanigans
• That my housing will meet my needs
• Pain levels stay manageable

I'll keep adding things to the list. I appreciate your prayers and positive thoughts! 

Anything I can pray about for you? Comment or message me! 

a song that has been running through my head as I pray and contemplate and plan

Begging you to be my escape - some details about the why

So, some stuff happened at work.  And suddenly, I just didn't want to be where I was anymore.  

And then this ask came along to potentially relocate to Canada for a year, and I was on it.  I checked first to be sure there were physical therapy pools in the area that I could get to.  (I'm not completely irrational.)  

Then I threw my name in the ring and, motivated by rage and frustration, I sold myself as a great candidate for the thing!  And they were really impressed and agreed that I should do the thing.

In some ways, I AM a great candidate for the thing!  In some other ways, I mean, have you heard about how my body is falling apart?  And how it reacts when there is a lot of stress?  Or reacts to travel?  Or sitting wrong for 10 minutes?  Or moving too fast for 1 second?  I am NOT a spry 20-something who can up and move a lot and sit in a regular chair and do work for 12 hours a day and be FINE.

And have you MET me?  I mean, do you remember how awkward it was to get to know me (if you did so as an adult since my chronic pain shenanigans have ramped up)?  How many times I forgot your name.  How many times I still forget your name?  And can't remember things about you that are important?  Or forget words?  Or lose my train of thought?  Or can't remember the sentence you just said?  Or the last word I said?  What was I talking about?

For a while, I was in a negative place and this was my way to escape.  

And that's . . . not the best reason to make an important and life-altering decision that could potentially destroy you.  

Especially not when your foot is MAD about . . . whatever it is mad about.  And your shoulder.  And your knee.  And . . .   There are a lot of ands in this list.  I will be away from all the medical professionals who are familiar with my connective tissue disorder and know how to safely literally shove my skeleton and joints back in place on a regular basis.  And the therapy pool will be colder and louder.

I will lose access to all my books, manga, and anime DVDs.  For a year.  

I'm a leader / facilitator in two small groups with my church and lead lots of projects at work.  I have friends I hang out with when I'm feeling people-y.  I have a kid I mentor.  Going to a place where you lose access to all your people when you are not in the best mental place is also . . . maybe not the smartest plan.

But.

Where I was is probably worse.  

And I don't know what I could have done to make it better.  I've sort of lost confidence in my ability to do so.  And maybe interest in breaking myself (more) trying.

So, lots of intense new challenges, some of which I can probably help with.  In a different place.  With completely different people.  Sort of with the same company, doing things to help make peoples' lives better.

It is an adventure.  I chose it, for whatever not-great reasons, so let's see what happens.

every trip is longer

One of the things I really admire about the kid I started mentoring recently is that she already has one of the most valuable skills a person can learn: the ability to ask for what she needs.  I don't have to try to guess or play head games with her; if she likes it, she tells me.  If she needs a drink or a snack, she lets me know.  She is way better at this than I am.  Inspired by her forthrightness, I decided to contact the super cheap-o airline I am flying next week to ask if I can get an aisle seat assigned without having to pay for it.  And you know what?  It was hard to do. 

Reading the reviews about how small and cramped the seats are, how they aren't adjustable, etc., I knew that if I got trapped by the window or in the middle, I would be in so much pain and so stiff when I arrived at my destination that I would be even worse company than usual, which isn't very nice when one is going to a place to spend time with people you love that you only gets to see once a year.  I need to get up and move to prevent everything from stiffening up (way more than normal people), but when I'm on a plane, I just can't handle asking the other folks in my row to get up all the time.  It takes even more energy to do that, and people give me dirty looks if I even do it once, and it drains me completely.  This I know.  

So I had to decide whether to ask for some small crumb of accommodation for my disability.  And it was really hard.  I knew I should do it, yet I kept putting it off.  In the end, it came down to this: being present and good company is difficult for me all the time under regular circumstances.  This is a special occasion.  Why sabotage myself by being too d@$^#d shy to ask if I could have an aisle seat? 

So I asked, and they replied, and I will print out the email and see what happens at the gate.

Wales, waste, and crankiness

The last time I was in Wales, it was January, and the nights were country dark even though we were in a village because, as my host told us, money was tight in the village, and they had decided to only turn half of the streetlights on at a time.  I thought about this today as I had one of those "Our society is wasteful, unhealthy, and decadent!" moments. 

Have you ever had those sorts of fed-up moments?  The students in my writing class want to talk about how easy it is to solve big issues like world hunger and poverty.  I passed a store with all its lights on and sign blazing even though it had been closed for a few hours.  I got some over-priced hot chocolate I was told was flavored with cinnamon, and I thought they meant the actual spice cinnamon, which is really good for you, but they actually meant some horrible sort of cinnamon syrup that tasted of pepper.  I'm trying to think of ways to cut down on senseless waste on my part when I eat at the cafeteria at work, but I can't figure out how to avoid all the paper and Styrofoam since they won't let us bring our own washable dishes. 

Maybe I'm just cranky because I remember how incredible that fresh apple juice our hosts served at that home-stay in Wales tasted.  And how clear the stars were once the rain and snow passed that night.

Reasons to hate a certain airport

At first, this was going to be pure venom, but then something positive caught my eye, so I decided to be slightly more even-handed.  The poop joke helped.

+ It was so humid when we arrived that fog was everywhere, and on the walk from the plane to the terminal, I breathed smoke and felt like a dragon, including sound effects because I was the last one off the plane, so no one could hear me. I forgot that I wasn't invisible, though, which is why I was completely mortified to step into the terminal to see that an old man in a rocking chair facing the door was laughing his head off at me. Nice.

- You can't get from one terminal to another without exiting the secured area.

+ A nice TSA employee tells you this, only smirking a little.

- You have to check in separately with your connecting flight airline, and your connecting flight's airline recently merged with another, making it impossible for you to follow directions and do automatic check-in.

+ A nice airline employee helps you through this.

- You have to go through security screening again, meaning you have to dump out the water in your water bottle and barely make your connecting flight, so you can't refill the bottle, and your ears do not handle the waterless descent well at all.

+ The airport has rocking chairs.  Also bathroom stalls designed for people with luggage.

- It has sinks with automatic soap dispensers located too close to the automatic faucets, so when you rinse your hands, the soap dispenser poops all over your sleeve.

+ At least the sink water is cold, so you don't broil while your hands get rinsed.

- Which is good, because, since only a thin trickle of water comes out of the faucets, you are rinsing for a long time.

+ The airport has recycling containers.
And there you have it.
Any good, personal airport horror stories you'd like to share?

Uses for sweaters

In Japan, I discovered that I am allergic to buckwheat pillows, which should be illegal anyway.  We spent several nights in some cute business hotels that reminded me of home because they were small and efficient.  These establishments seem to prefer the buckwheat pillows, which are probably slightly less uncomfortable than, say, buckshot pillows would be.

It's a good thing I had packed those ridiculous sweaters (in case the temperature dipped and I needed another blanket) because they rolled up decently to serve as pillows and could be worn on the way home to make more room in the suitcase for the ridiculous number of used books and cute toys that came home with me.  At least I'm consistent.  (And much more souvenir-savvy after my travels. :)

ice cream of the gods

Today for no apparent reason, I am craving sweet chestnut soft serve ice cream, something I nearly missed a train for while visiting my sister in Japan.  Even if I had missed the train, it would have been worth it.  I thought nothing could beat sakura soft serve, but I was wrong.  So, so wrong.


Have you ever craved something you ate once while traveling abroad and have little chance of obtaining?

Japanese baseball and other curiosities

I should so be in bed right now.  It is criminal to make a single baseball game last that long.  I loved every overly-analytical, hyper-dramatic minute of it, but it really messed with my plan to be in bed by 10.

If you are ever in Japan, you should go see a professional baseball game.  In fact, it doesn't have to be a professional game.  It could be a regular high school game.  It's one of the best ways to realize how very different Japanese and American cultures are. 

It's the same game, right?  Except that it's really not.  What they play on the field is mostly the same, except for the bowing and a few other things that may have changed since I was obsessed with the sport too long ago.  (Dude, if you're tagged by the catcher before you touch the plate, it doesn't matter if you knock him over as long as he holds onto the ball, right?) 

What you should be watching is the stands.  If you are at a game with an audience and a cheering team, they are the people you want to have a good view of.  It's kind of unbelievable.

I was reminded of this experience (my dad and I visited my sister in Japan this April, and we were lucky enough to get great seats at a game in a new stadium) as I was watching this Japanese baseball show.  Even in high school, they take their cheering very seriously.  If you want to be in the official cheer squad, there are uniforms, protocols, hierarchies, cheering routines, songs, and all sorts of things you must know, remember, and perform.  I swear they must practice as much as the baseball teams themselves. 

It's bizarre, ridiculous, and utterly compelling.  I cannot describe to you how seriously they take it, and nothing can replace the experience of being there while it happens.  Especially during the seventh inning stretch and that thing they do with the balloons.  Words fail me.  Seriously.  (Actually, if I try to describe it, I will laugh too hard to finish, and I will need my inhaler, which is bad before bed.)

If you want to get a glimpse of this and aren't afraid of Japanese animated TV shows, check out the second part of season one of a newer show called Big Windup! Oofuri in the U.S.  What you'll see there is pretty tame (it's the first round of a high school tournament), but as you watch the game unfold, pay close attention and notice that you almost always hear music in the background this entire, rain-soaked game.  (Did I mention it's only the first round of the tournament?)

You really have to experience it some time.  Please.  Then you can try to write about the balloon thing, if you dare.


If you've been to Japan or another country and been astounded by how differently they do something (rock concerts are another interesting experience) than the way we do the "same thing" in the United States, do share.  What activities that you expected to be familiar caused massive culture shock instead?