Shake, Rattle and Roll

Thurday afternoon about 5:15p Tokyo time - our first earthquake:

Me: Jed, get in the doorway!

Jed: Wow, this is cool!!

It was over quickly and all is well.

Can You Hear Me????

For those of you wondering why we haven't replied to emails or phonecalls, it is because we are experiencing "internetis interruptus".

Since we are waiting for our internet to be hooked up, we have been logging on to whatever system we can get connected to (the apartment is wired for wireless). This is great, except when you can't get connected to anything, which has been happening at regular intervals. Not only is it inconvenient for emailing, but for talking on Skype and watching television on Slingbox.

We have been reduced to actually talking to each other - which has been quite illuminating. In a good way.

So, if you don't hear from us, don't be concerned. Everything should be back to normal next week.

Phantom Toilet

Just when I thought I had seen it all, here comes the next generation of bizarre toilets – right in my own home.

I was trying to organize our bathroom. Now this in itself is a humungous task given I am one to collect little bottles from here and there. I think of them as souvenirs to remember the various places I’ve been. I must have traveled a lot because I kept pulling out bag after bag of “products” wondering where they would all go. There were the little bottles of L’Occitane from our honeymoon at the Four Seasons in San Francisco, Heavenly Bath products from South Beach, Institute Swiss products from the Omni (when was I at an Omni?) and leftover Keihl’s from my trip to Cannes – part of the extra gift bag Auntie M got at the AMFAR benefit and I grabbed practically as soon as she walked in the door. Well, she had two. My point is I have a lot of little products and I had to put them somewhere. I would crouch down between the toilet and the under-sink cabinet for awhile and then I would get up to get another bag. And the toilet would flush. Just like that. I would be in bedroom and I would hear the flush. I would be no where near the actual seat, certainly not sitting on it and all of a sudden I would hear the “whoosh” and then the “flush”.

Apparently I was close enough because sure enough, our toilet flushes itself. This is very dangerous. I could get used to it and start leaving the scene of normal toilets impolitely unflushed, yet again shaming myself and my family.

This isn’t all. Here is the control panel for the Phantom Toilet. Not on the seat mind you, but mounted on the wall. And in English.





You would think the people who invented this would use their powers for good.

Pug hair arrives safely in Tokyo.

Crib does not - Good thing I didn’t get the referral this month, because half of it is missing. They are trying to find it in the warehouse now.

Husband-san, Jed-san and the moving crew astounded everyone by getting the queen size boxspring up 9 flights of a near spiral staircase, all the while several of the parties taking place at Happoen, a reception hall with a clear view of the staircase and the boxspring leaning dangerously over the side, watched in amusement. Sad to say, the couch didn’t make it. When they told us the only way to get in up to the apartment was to rent a crane; the cost of which would be basically the same as getting a new one, we opted for the new couch. We kept the pillows and cushions from the old one, so now, in a flashback to our college apartments, we are grovin out to a lovely view of Tokyo on a makeshift sofa. Well, perhaps not grovin out to the view, as Jed's computer withdrawal has officially ended and he is looking nowhere but his computer screen and husband-san just sits and wonders "perhaps a 12 step program is in order?".

I am now in a mad rush to wash all of the sheets and towels so we can sleep and wash in comfort tonight. It turns out we have one washer/dryer unit just like we had in the other one and a separate additional dryer stacked on top of each other. It will come in handy when I am on my way out and can leave and come back to a fully dry, but horribly wrinkled load of laundry.

Tomorrow, while Jed is off to his first day of school and Arny to work, I will be busy reading manuals for everything from the dishwasher to the air conditioner.

Not A Good Day

Woke up to the worst news!!!! Referrals are coming in and it seems they are only going until the 22nd (We are the 27th). While with every other month in the past, there is a warning: certain agencies, usually the larger ones or ones overseas get the news about the cut off date; there was no warning this time. People talked about hearing something early next week and get the referrals the beginning of September. No one was expecting them today - they took everyone by surprise.

And I am so sad.

I desperately want to stop waiting; wondering; imagining. I want it to be real. The idea of the movers coming tomorrow, bringing the crib and all of the other baby things and me still not having a face to put in the crib, or to dress in the clothes, or bathe with the Johnson & Johnson's lavender baby wash; it is too much...

All the comforting and reassuring thoughts that I have heard and said myself to others - "It wasn't meant to be", "all in good time", "When you get her, the wait will feel like nothing", "all in good time", "she is not ready yet" and the worst one of all "you are not in control" mean nothing - they are no comfort right now.

I. Just. Want. My. Baby.

And to top it all off - how cruel is a world where you can have wrinkles, cellulite, hot flashes and pimples all at the same time? now really, how much more am I supposed to take???!!!!????

Moving Day

We have a move date!!!! We were informed yesterday by Katoh-san at the moving company that our things will be released from customs on Friday. Everything is arranged and on Saturday at 9am, I will begin to see all the stuff that has been slowly making its way from New York to Tokyo. I never realized one could miss a salad spinner before. I can't wait to see my bed. I can't wait to sleep in my bed!!!

I'll get the keys tomorrow and find out how to work all of the appliances, air conditioning, security system and anything else having a switch. I will drag Jed with me because I know that once being told how everything works, I will promptly forget - hence the need for someone that still has memory cells left to be present.

And, to top everything off - we just found out we can have a barbecue grill on the balcony!!!

Food, Glorious Food

Sunday, leaving husband-san and Jed-san in the comfort of the air-conditioned apartment, I ventured out to the Azabu-Juban festival with Jan, Jon and their friend Kane. It is a yearly event where most of the streets are closed off and thousands crowd into space enough for hundreds while eating the most bazaar things; mostly served on sticks:



and drinking to excess, all while rubbing sweaty shoulders with their countrymen and women. Some do this in traditional garb, with the paper fan added for comfort in the heat.

There was dancing,

fishing for goldfish,

and music,
oh, and random scary men.....

Home

Today is the day our things are supposed to arrive in Tokyo after six long weeks at sea. We will be one step closer to moving to our permanent apartment and finally having more than four forks. Living in a serviced apartment has been nice; the maid service twice a week in particular; but it requires an ability to do the dishes at an alarming rate since we only have four of everything. Since Jed has been here, we have started rationing plates and utensils in order to be able to get through the day. We could go out and by stuff, but that would just mean shlepping it to the new place and we have enough shlepping to do already. Once our shipment gets through customs, which should take four or five days, we will be able to schedule the move and finally, finally be "home".

I have been obsessed with the move as a way not to be obsessed with the impending arrival of news about our daughter – it could be the end of this week!!!! Every time I think about getting the phone call from the agency telling me I am finally going to be a mother, my eyes fill up with tears, to the point of overflowing. This is fine – right now - in the comfort of my apartment, but not so fine walking down the street or sitting in the subway. People already stare at me: the gaijin (foreigner), as they do every other gaijin; they don’t need the extra excitement of “overly emotional gaijin sitting on train bringing disharmony to her family by making a public show of emotion”. But I can’t help it – the well of motherly instinct and intense love I have stored inside for so long, which has been slowly increasing as the months of wait have passed, is now so full it cannot be contained. Any thought of referral phonecall, phonecall to grandparents, sister, uncles and aunties, and especially holding her for the first time make the tears flow – I warn you now I will be a basket case. As I call to tell you of the news, please ignore the tears and cries, get past the blubbering sobs and hysterical laughter – please just laugh along with me. Because I will truly be most happy.

A New York Moment

In an attempt to lure Jed away from his computer and actually step outside, I asked whether he wanted to go to the Ghibli Museum, where the focus is on Hayao Miyazaki, the brilliant animation director of such classics as "Spirited Away"Castle in the Sky" and "My Neighbor Totoro", and a particular favorite of the entire Murray-Mutch family. He made a sound that kind of sounded like yes, so off I went to the Lawson convenience store to buy tickets. Yes, in order to go to this particular museum you must get tickets in advance, for a particular day and time. And, even more bizarre, you must buy the tickets at this convenience store. There are two in my neighborhood and in the first one I experienced my first "not so nice" encounter with Japanese counterpeople. I entered the store, did a quick search for Ginger Ale and sunflower seeds (he does need sustenance lest he pass out at his computer) and then made my way up to the counter with my notebook, with the name and address of the museum written down, asking if I could buy tickets. The young man said something really fast and looked away from me towards the next customer. I stood there, shocked to be on the receiving end of decidedly New York style behavior. I looked towards the other check out person, an older woman, who waved her hand towards a machine and also looked away towards the next customer. I went over to the machine, looked at the Japanese writing and decided that after a day in the heat, sun and humidity I did not have the energy to even try to figure out what I was supposed to do at the machine. I walked out, weighing my sincere thought that I need to learn Japanese with my equally sincere but arrogant, self serving all-about-me thought of "why can't they just have an "English" button. Walking through the building I usually use to avoid more heat and humidity in order to get home, I see another Lawson store and think I will try this again. I walk in, again taking out the notebook with the name and address of the museum and again ask if I can buy tickets. The very nice young woman comes out from behind the counter and actually starts pushing the buttons for me, first getting the museum and then trying to purchase the tickets - seven or eight times we tried, by the last few I was pushing all the buttons all by myself - but every day and time we tried was sold out!!! Apparently, this is a very popular museum.

So we will have to go to the Ramen museum instead, another place Jed is willing to leave the house for. Yes, you read correctly - an entire museum dedicated to noodles.

Yum.

Welcome to the Expat Connection

As each family rose to introduce themselves, it became obvious that we were one of the only "virgin" families living outside their home country for the first time. Most of them were old hands at moving from country to country, this being their third, fourth or fifth move. The new headmaster of the school held the record though, this was his 26th move.

We were at the "new family" orientation at Jed's school. While the kids were off in another room hanging out and getting to know each other, the parents were standing, in turn, and relaying the important stuff - who, where from, how long here, etc. It was quite a diverse group - people from English, Australia, Ireland, Finland, Nigeria, France, Belgium, India, the US and a number of locals from Japan. Despite the differences in years of expat experience, we had a few things in common- several of us were still waiting for our shipments to arrive and were staying in temporary housing, we were all excited about our new lives here and most interested in making connections with others.

For new families, people here by themselves or spouses of people here on assignment (that's me!!), it can be an isolating experience being in a country where you can't speak the language and know no one. In order to assist newcomers, the school has a great support system - even providing us with a family "buddy" to answer any questions we had. They also organize various activities, volunteer opportunites, etc.

Outside the school, there are groups that cater to the expat world - all with the express purpose of bringing people together. I have been brave (very brave) and have gone to a few of the get-togethers. The first is a group called Stitch n'Bitch, a group for people who knit and crochet. We met in a restaurant, had some food, and then pulled out our projects and just sat around talking (no bitching that night). There was someone from Australia, Japan and several of us from the US. It was a nice way to spend an evening. The old timers were quick to give pointers to us newbies and a good time was had by all. Here is my finished project:



Last week I went to dinner with four other woman, one of whom had started a dining club for once a month dinners. We met at an Italian restaurant, had great pizza and talked and talked. All of the other women had been here for several years and it was interesting to hear their perspective after all this time.

This is not to say that I don't think of my friends back home all the time. And miss you all terribly. But the good news is when you ALL come and visit (and you better), I will be able to show you a really good time given the education I am getting from all of these fabulous ex-pats!!!

Like Father Like Son

see July 13th post to see what I mean - uncanny isn't it????

Addition #1

Most honorable Jed-san arrived safely yesterday. After a non-eventful ride back to the apartment, the celebratory Ritz Crackers and ginger ale and one episode of "The Family Guy", he passed out, waking for an attempt at dinner, for which he was too tired to eat.

He did find the toilet quite amazing.

Yanaka

We ventured out on Sunday to a town called Yanaka. It is one of only a few areas that survived earthquakes and bombings and still retains the feel of an old style town. There are many temples here, as well a a museum which was the studio and home of Asakura Fumio, a sculptor. The first floor contains his studio and the upper floors were where he lived. Visitors must take their shoes off and put on slippers to see the musuem and remove even those to go upstairs to the living area, because all of the floors are covered in Tatami mats.

It was a beautifully designed building, and very peaceful. And, while the top floors were not air conditioned, it was surprisingly cool given the extreme heat outside.

I'm Not The Only One Who Needs A Nap

Even Geishas need to rest.

Whenever I am on the subway, it always amazes me that so many people are sleeping. Perhaps it is the long hours people work, but probably half of the car is filled with people in various stages of sleep. There are the head-bobbers, the swayers, the dosers and then the ones fighting with all their might not to sleep. I couldn't understand this concept until I took a long ride after an afternoon of walking around in the heat. The cars are air conditioned and very quiet. No screeching like you hear in New York. And, very little talking. It is easy to get swayed to sleep on these trains. I was fading fast...until my station came up and I had to leave. I was almost sorry.

R and R

When one is in a big city like Tokyo, there is the feeling one must be busy all the time. There is so much to see, to do, to buy. I've been feeling this pressure to get out and see it all - there is a shrine I haven't seen!! - what about all those museums; I've only been to a few!! - the beach; I haven't been yet. I must go!!!!

I realized today that the next few days are going to be the last in a long time - in a very long time - in a "better take advantage of this now because the next time will be when I'm old and senile" long time where I have absolutely nothing to do. Jed arrives on Tuesday and we will hopefully be moving the following week, followed by what I sincerely hope will be the baby news we have been waiting for...Forever. After that, free time will definitely be over.

So, I am officially not planning anything and will be lounging around for the next four or five days. I will be wallowing in laziness, relishing the lack of any type of organization, luxuriating in naptimes, savoring my afternoon baths, and treasuring the solitude that will be lost in the wonder of children arriving and causing all sorts of wonderful chaos.

I would write more, but I feel a nap coming on..............

A Guarded Tour

Yes, when you take a tour of the Imperial Palace, there are quards. Many guards. Several that check you in, making sure your name is on the list. One that leads you to the reception area, where you wait for the tour to start and three that follow the tour, making sure you stay in a reasonably orderly line and not go where you are not supposed to. Their presence just makes you want to be a little bad, just to see what they would do. Here is one making sure we don't jump in the lotus moat:

This is the Fushiami-yagura keep - one of the several defense towers on the grounds. This one was moved from Kyoto in the 17th century.

Our group reflected in the windows of the Imperial Palace. Notice the umbrellas...
This is the Fujimi-yagura - from the top they say you can see Mount Fuji......on a clear day of course, but I cannot confirm, as the guards wouldn't let us go anywhere near it....

Movies

On Saturday Husband-san and I went to the movies to see "Pirates of the Caribbean" - one of several movies playing in English with Japanese subtitles. Or more accurately, we tried to go to the movies. For those following my adventures, you know recent events have brought me to the conclusion that most everything done for the first time will have to be done twice; movie going as well.

We got to the theatre only to find out the only seats left for the show were in the front row. How do we know this you ask? Because in this theatre, all seats are reserved and the ticket taker showed us the seating chart. Since we didn't want to wait for the next show, we ended up buying tickets for the next day, which worked out better schedule wise. The ticket taker told us in the future we could by tickets on line and even wrote out the Japanese symbols we needed to click in order to purchase them. And, to make things even better, they have an "almost" senior citizen "Marriage 50" rate that we are eligible for!! So, instead of 1800 yen per ticket (about $17) it will be 1000 yen. Although we will need to buy the tickets at the box office for that.

They have many other rates too; for students, groups of students (the "friendship" price), ladies day all day Wednesday, and any showing on the first day of the month.

There are other differences as well. The concession stand has very little candy, popcorn in both regular and caramel, sandwiches, wine, beer, tea and coffee. And you get your purchases on a tray that you can carry into the theatre.

While we have the cute little blurbs about "no talking, cell phones, etc." showing how obnoxious people can be and the horrible things that will happen to them if they do, they show a very stylized "art house" short movie telling short stories about a woman at the movies, showing only her legs as she sits in the seat. The narrator tells the story and each one ends with the message "no talking, no kicking" the message being "if you do these things, this lovely woman with beautiful legs will not be able to enjoy the movie - you wouldn't want that now would you." It's the whole, "you are part of a bigger entity and as a proud Japanese person, you should want to keep this theatre in a harmonious state by not doing anything to shame yourself or your family" message. As long as people don't talk or kick, I'm happy. And they didn't - the theatre was silent.

Finally, everyone takes their garbage out when they leave the theatre. All in all, a lovely experience.

The "Spouse" - Rant #2

Husband-san hands me the envelope upon his arrival home. All is well........ so I thought!!

Yesterday I make a trip to the bank to get the PIN number set up for my card, make a withdrawal and hand the paperwork with the missing credit card information in. You see, we got a letter in the mail saying we had not answered all of the questions and included was a form with the missing information highlighted. The questions we had missed had to do with the number of employees in Husband-san's company (did I miss something, but what exactly does that have to with us getting a credit card?)

As I am filling out the withdrawal slip, Nice Bank Lady #1 approaches and gently hands me my "number" - the one I had not taken as soon as I walked in from the little machine that hands them out. Thanking her and apologizing, I return to filling out the slip. I then wait in the comfy leather chairs for my number to be called. Yes, rather than standing in line to see a teller, you take a number. There are big, overstuffed chairs and magazines to read while you wait. After about five minutes, I hear my number and Nice Bank Lady #1 comes over to show me exactly to which counter I am expected. Nice Bank Lady #2 has a smile ready as I approach:

Wife: Konnechiwa (this means good afternoon - aren't you impressed I know this?)

NBL#2: Konnechiwa

Wife: (sliding withdrawal slip towards her) I would like to make a withdrawal.

NBL#2: Ah, yes. Can you re-write the account number and sign your name here? (I had crossed something out on the slip and they don't like this.)

Wife: Sure. (I do this - thinking "I knew this and should have just filled out a new slip before I came up here".)

NBL#2: Thank you very much. Do you have your ATM card with you?

Wife: Yes and I need to get a PIN number for it.

NBL#2: Oh. Yes. You got that when you open account.

Wife: I'm sorry, I didn't.

NBL#2: Ohhhhh. Usually you get that when you open account.

Wife: I understand, but I didn't. At least I don't remember picking one out. Let me try. (I slide the card through the card reader using my usual PIN number thinking perhaps I did select a PIN number and forgot- nothing). See, I'm sure I didn't select one when I opened the account.

NBL#2: You opened it here?

Wife: Yes.

NBL#2: Yes, well you usually pick one out when the you sign up. (I heard you the first two times, ok???) Ok, well you will have to fill out a change password form . (what??!)

(She runs and gets me another number which is for the customer service people - I am starting to think very bad words. She returns with the number and leads me back to the very comfortable chairs. Nice Bank Lady #1 re-appears and takes me over to a desk):

NBL#1: So, you are the authorized card holder?

Wife: Uh, no, my husband opened the account. (oh, don't say it, don't say it, don't say it!!)

NBL#1: Ah, I see. You do have a PIN number. It is your husband's PIN number.

Wife: His number works for my Card? (what?????!!!!!!)

NBL#1: Yes, it does.

Wife: Ah, I see. (thinking " I don't **&^%$!!! believe this!!! I don't even get to pick my own PIN number. Why put my name on the card if I can't even pick my own number??! Why didn't they just put "DiLaura Wife" on the card, or better yet "DiLaura Dependent", or maybe even "DiLaura person we don't trust with her own account") I didn't realize, you see this is my first time here.

NBL#1: Ah, yes, this happens a lot. It takes time to get used to a different culture and the way things are done. (oh my God, she sounds like me !!! I never realized how annoying it is and I swear right here never say things like this again.)

(I then go and sit in the comfy chairs again waiting to go back to the teller and get my, no correct that, "husband-san's" money. Nice Bank Man #1 calls my number. It takes me a minute to realize this as I thought I had just been helped, but I raise my hand and say:)

Wife: That's me. I've actually been helped already. (He looks nervous - as if he thinks he did something wrong. I realize this and say):

Oh, but I need to hand this in. (I then hand him the credit card form).

Nice Bank Man #1: (Taking the paperwork and looking it over carefully) Oh, I'm sorry, we can't take this here. You need to send this in.

Wife: I'm sorry, But I filled out the application here.

Nice Bank Man #2: Yes, I'm sorry, but then it is sent to the credit card company. This letter came from them. Here, I will go get you an envelope.

(He jumps up before I can tell him I already have one. He returns shortly later and proceeds to put the paperwork in the envelope. It is taking more time than it should as it is not quite folded properly and his hands start to shake a little at the prospect of not actually being able to do it. Triumphantly, he finishes and hands the envelope to me.)

Wife: Thank you so much (someone just shoot me now, please.)

(NBL#2 beckons me over to counter, where NBL#1 is waiting. I get the feeling this isn't good)

NBL#2: Yes, well, there is a problem. I'm sorry, but you see since you are not the authorized card holder, you are not allowed to withdraw money from the teller. (Oh, you've got to be kidding!!!!)

Wife: Oh.

NBL#2: You can use the machines to withdraw the money though. (ok, where is the gun...get me the gun!!!)

Wife: Oh good. No problem then, thank you. (Wait, why am I thanking them??)

NBL#2: Well, the amount you want to withdraw is more than is allowed by the bank. It is possible to raise this limit, but your husband will have to call. Here is the phone number.

(At this moment I want to hurt someone. Anyone, it really doesn't matter who. I want to hurt them really bad. But instead I politely say:)

Wife: OOKayyyy, so if he calls in, I will be able to use the machines.

NBL#2: Yes, right away.

Wife: Thank you so much (die!!! All of you just die!!! NOW!!!!) Is there somewhere I can use my phone. I don't want to disturb anyone.

(She points me over to another comfy chair area and I try to reach Husband-san, but he is not answering the phone. I sit for a minute realizing if ever I have anything important to do, I will need enough time to be able to do it twice, since the procedures here are so insane. I get up to leave, of course thanking everyone for their help - NOT!!!. As I walk out the door, NBL#1 calls to me. I look back and she is running towards me. I think to myself 'please, just leave me alone. Do not say one more thing that is going to make me want to hate you'.)

NBL#1: I wanted to tell you to make sure to tell your husband that when he calls to increase the limit, to have him increase the limit on both the bank machines and the non-bank machines (ATMs at 7-11, the post office,etc.). But, the limit for the non-bank machines can't be more than the bank machines. This is very important.

WIFE: Thank you, thank you very much.

I want to think something really mean, I really do. I just wasted almost an hour and will have to come back on Monday to do what could have been done in five minutes. As I ride down the escalator though, I realize that as much as these people annoy you with their STUPID and CHAUVINISTIC rules, they are just so nice...........................................They need to stop that.

The "Spouse" - Rant #1

Life here in Tokyo for a " spouse", especially a "non-working dependent spouse", is an experience that takes getting used to; particularly in the area of banking. There is no such thing as a joint banking account here. Instead, the husband opens the account and gives access to his wife. Fine. OK. I get it. I am merely an appendage with no importance or ranking on my own. I accept this.

A couple of weeks ago, we went to the bank so husband-san could fill out the paperwork to grant me access to said account and and obtain a supplemental card, so his little "wife-san" could get money for extravagant things like food. Japan is primarily a cash society - places are just starting to take credit cards - and, a very safe one, so having substantial amounts of cash on you at all times is normal and necessary. Amazingly enough, the card was actually going to have my name on it (how lovely of them). They said they would mail it.

Two days ago, we get the letter in the mail saying the postman had tried to deliver it, but no one was home. You see, because it is a bank card, the person who the letter is addressed to must show I.D. and sign for it. Notice the name on the letter:

This is MY CARD, with MY NAME ON IT and they still addressed the letter to "husband-san". What does this mean? Are they giving him one more chance to come to his senses, change his mind and not give the silly little wife access to his hard earned money? Oh, did I mention that he had the option of restricting how much money I took out and how often? (Husband-san is a very smart man and pretended he didn't see that part)

Actually, I think it is a conspiracy to keep me so busy trying to get the letter back from the post office, I don't have time to spend the money because I CAN'T GET IT OUT OF THE BANK BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE THE DAMN CARD!!!!

You see, since husband-san now works 12 - 13 hours days, he is never home to take delivery of the envelope - to show his I.D. and sign his name. In fact, it took him about a week and a half to get his card and in that case, they ended up delivering it on a Saturday. So, I decided to go the post office yesterday to see if I could get said envelope with said bank card. There is a post office right around the corner and I figured it would be there. Oh no, the very kind and polite man told me, this letter was at the Azabu post office about ten minutes away by foot and the office that handles the mail for our home zip code.

So today I went to the Azabu post office, with husband-san's alien registration card as identification and yes, the letter was there, but no, they couldn't give it to me because I WAS THE WIFE. The man patiently and yes, politely, explained that he had to get it "in person" despite the fact I had his alien registration card. Perhaps they thought I took it out of his wallet while he was sleeping. I asked if they could deliver it to his office, since HE WORKS 14 HOURS A DAY. I called husband-san to get the address while the man is standing right there listening to me. After hanging up, the man went to the back and then returned saying VERY POLITELY that they would send it to the post office near husband-san's office (the first one I went to and the one that handles his office's zip code) because- everyone say it with me - HE NEEDS TO PICK IT UP IN PERSON!!!!!

So I smiled and said thank you very much (YOU SCHMUCK!!!!) - Michelle, did I spell that right?

I realize they were being very accommodating to send it to the other post office, the one closer to his office, and that would never happen in New York. And yes, it is very kind and polite of them to do this. And yes, I realize the man tried very hard to make sure I understood him, considering he was speaking Japanese and I was speaking English - But wouldn't it have been easier to just give me the damn envelope??

But, I have foiled their little plot because husband-san has given me his card - ha!!!

A Little Bit Closer

Today, written on my agency's website, after the congratulations to the seven families who got referrals this month, is the following:

"Next referrals should come to families with late July log in dates."

That's us!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, fingers crossed everyone for the referral to come at the end of August...