two cents

I have national health insurance in Japan, and care has been prompt, good and very cheap. Ambulances (I've never ridden one here, but family members have) come right away and don't cost much. There are no "death panels." If my wife or child needs weeks of intensive care or a major surgery, I can rest assured that I won't go bankrupt. My taxes are also lower here than they'd be in the States. My story is as limited in its relevance as the scary anecdotes trotted out by the right, but I think it bears mentioning.

Japan has its health care problems, of course.

In fact, there are health care horror stories in the U.S. and everywhere else, so it seems to me that people on both sides are just looking to confirm their beliefs in presenting them as evidence. My point in sharing my experience is that I like Japan's system a lot better, for whatever that's worth.

A short summary of my feelings, which I've previously shared here: I am going to be taxed in any event, so I would rather get something back in health care than see it go to waste on things like exorbitant defense spending. Would creating a government option be creating a monster? It's possible (though not assured), but there are a lot worse monsters about which we aren't shouting in the faces of senators.

i still like a coke though

I really liked this article.

It contained such interesting facts as:

"Today, soft drinks account for about seven per cent of all the calories ingested in the United States, making them “the number one food consumed in the American diet.” If, instead of sweetened beverages, the average American drank water, Finkelstein calculates, he or she would weigh fifteen pounds less."

The above expains why I probably average about ten pounds less when I live in Japan.

There is also such hilarity/utter sadness as this:

"Consider the movie-matinée experiment. Some years ago, Wansink and his graduate students handed out buckets of popcorn to Saturday-afternoon filmgoers in Chicago. The popcorn had been prepared almost a week earlier, and then allowed to become hopelessly, squeakily stale. Some patrons got medium-sized buckets of stale popcorn and some got large ones. (A few, forgetting that the snack had been free, demanded their money back.) After the film, Wansink weighed the remaining kernels. He found that people who’d been given bigger buckets had eaten, on average, fifty-three per cent more.

In another experiment, Wansink invited participants to cook dinner for themselves with ingredients that he provided. One group got big boxes of pasta and big bottles of sauce, a second smaller boxes and smaller bottles. The first group prepared twenty-three per cent more, and downed it all. In yet another experiment, Wansink rigged up bowls that could be refilled, via a hidden tube. When he served soup out of the trick bowls, people, he writes, “ate and ate and ate.” On average, they consumed seventy-three per cent more than those who were served from regular bowls."

the days of my lives

A lot has been going on. One thing is that I am not just translating things anymore. I am also helping a few clients do business or start to do business in japan. It has been good.

One client is a fashion boutique owner in Hong Kong. (So far no talk of cargo planes or rubber dog poop yet). He buys from fancy-pants Japanese fashion designers, and sometimes opens up exclusive stores for them in Hong Kong. He is sharp, really cool, rather impatient, and very fashionable.

Like many Chinese folks, he has an English name. I'll call him Harvey, though the name he goes by is a lot closer to being a nineteen-seventies presidential candidate's. He is sometimes a little gruff when things don't go well, but when i do him a favor, such as making an urgent call or getting a supplier to change payment terms, he shows his gratitude by calling me various things. Some that come to mind are:

Clever boy
Sweetest
Sweet (not the same as Sweetest)

and others that are hard to remember because of their sheer difficulty to recreate.

Also, when I first interpreted one of his meetings, I wore a suit. As you may guess , though, no one wears a suit in the fashion world. So harvey told me not to wear a suit the next time. Initially this made me happy, until I realized what a crutch a suit is to a man with no fashionable clothes. I spent quite a bit of time the night before the next job thinking out my fashion strategy. I decided khakis with a polo shirt would be sufficient. The next day I met Harvey and his two assistants. He was wearing a super-fancy t-shirt from some famous brand with a hermes scarf around his neck, etc. etc. I felt conscious of my outfit for the first time since like 1996. Harvey saw my insecurity and said "You look FASH." It was nice of him.

perspective

These articles were on the front page of MSNBC today.

certain values of more

I am definitely blogging more now...

So I hiked to work. It had been gnawing at me for a while, so this morning I finally decided to see how long it would take me to hike to my office, going over the mountains instead of around them. It took me about two hours, though I took one trail at the end that cost some time versus the other I could have taken. The route was highly circuitous, but very nice. It also featured numerous ups and downs, as Japanese hikes are wont.

In what I hope is not simply one of my sporadic instances of healthy living, I have been riding my bicycle (I have been in Japan long enough now that I cannot say "bike" without it meaning motorized two-wheeled vehicle in my mind) to the office. While it is only a few miles, there is a decent incline on the road to the office that helps me work up a nice man-sweat. The answer to your question regarding my work-time physical aroma is "Probably."

coming to terms

Hi everybody. I haven't been blogging because of Facebook. I wish I could blame something else, but that's what it comes down to.

I basically like Facebook, but enough things about it bother me that I feel it is far inferior to blogging. For one, I don't want anyone to have to join something to see my posts, and if I want ghetto advertisements next to my posts, I'll sign up for them here and make the 4.7 cents/year for myself.

I have also been working a lot, which steers me toward making small status updates on Facebook in lieu of longer posts on here. 

Ugh. I've written "Facebook" three -- wait, four -- times now. Something about even mentioning it by name bothers me.

Anyway, I'm going to post more. I don't want to be like Grant.

democracy in action

As I mentioned before, I am on the rotating board of directors of the neighborhood association (hereafter chokai). This is a position that carries with it all the prestige of Cameroon being on the UN Security Council, except nobody wants to buy my vote.

As one of my first duties in the position, I was summoned to participate in the committee convened to select new neighborhood association leaders. Our previous president had served eight years and was ready to be done, and this necessitated the selection of a new president, two vice presidents, a treasurer, and a secretary.

The committee met on Sunday night at 7:30 P.M. (By the way, this association is for the house where Kiyomi's  parents live, because we are the official inhabitants.) We made an evening of it and went to eat dinner there. I kept my suit on from church, not knowing what is appropriate attire for such an auspicious meeting. Kiyomi's parents, Kiyomi, Mimi and the cat all looked proudly on as I stepped out the door to do my civic duty.

When I got there at 7:28, most of the members were already around the knee-tall table sitting on cushions on tatami in the small chokai meeting hall, which is called the "Arai Club". The outgoing president, who quite likes me, was tickled that I would show up in a suit. No one else was terribly dressed up, and as he gushed about it I felt somewhat like I did the time fellow Sno Chateau resident Blaine went into my room, and seeing my suit hanging there there laughed delightedly,later reporting to fellow residents that "Red got a little suit; 'bout this big [air-measuring approximately a foot vertically] (note: Blaine did not intentionally speak with a semicolon)." We I bewilderedly asked another guy living there why he would be so tickled, the guy explained that "He thinks of you as his little friend."

The meeting got going right on time, as even inconsequential Japanese meetings are wont to do. The first order of business was for the outgoing president to explain the process of selecting a committee chairman, and then selecting a president, etc. The selection committee consisted of former presidents (excluding the outgoing one), the rotating board of directors, and current position-holders. Each committee member was asked to introduce himself, and when I introduced myself the outgoing president told everyone where I am from, how I had just started a company there and named it Jataki Shokai (after the beloved neighborhood landmark), and other facts that made my intro quite long.

The outgoing president left after this explanation, and after nominating the guy most likely to succeed him (by virtue of having served as vice president so long) as chairman of the selection committee. This was a funny moment, because the guy he nominated knew, along with everyone else except possibly me, that he was likely to be selected as the new president, but worried that his being the chairman of the selection committee would look bad when he eventually did become president, but couldn't exactly cite his likely selection as why he ought not be selected as committee chairman. He is also a mild-mannered, warm fellow who wouldn't want to disagree with the outgoing president, adding to the awkwardness.

This potential source of disturbances in the force was a little worrisome to most present, but the grand tradition of having former presidents was revealed for its genius when, as if on cue, the two former presidents began to opine that the spanking-new committee chairman was in fact the best choice as president. These presidents veteran were the first to speak in the committee's deliberations - this was proper procedure, and no one would have dared to speak before they had their sage say - and obviously no other candidate was nominated after that. 

Of course it flashed through my mind that this didn't seem like a complete deliberation, but I quickly realized that this is the way things are done, and the venerable former presidents were right on the money.The prospective new president made sure to go around to each committee member and request their opinion, eliciting a modicum of committee comment. When the time came for me to comment, I offered my opinion that president is a tough job that one should be lauded for fulfilling, that he was the man for the job, and I would be happy to support him. The several committee members I hadn't yet met (I'd say our association has about 50 to 100 households) who didn't yet know me sort of got bug-eyed that the dog was talking.

With every one's assent secured, the motion to select the new president carried unanimously in the affirmative, and the trickier business of vice president-, treasurer- and secretary-selection ensued. This is where it got interesting for me. 

Our chokai is divided into three sections: shimo (downhill), naka (middle), and kami (uphill). We are part of kami. The new president had been selected from shimo, and the more vocal of the former presidents opined that someone from kami should serve as vice president. One man living near us was mentioned, but his wife, who was present in his stead, politely refused the position for him, citing his business (strongly pronounce the 'i'). I began to sense that being vice president or any other position in the chokai is not exactly coveted by most folks. At that refusal-of-nomination, the former president set his wise gaze upon me. I was startled. I thought "Oh my, he's about to nominate me." Sure enough, he said "Well then why not have Derek here do it?"

All eyes were now upon me, and I looked at the new president. He had a slightly concerned look on his face. I could tell that he had nothing against me, but he probably already had someone in mind for the job. I said "I'd be happy to help any way I can in the chokai, but I do worry that I am quite new in the area (four and a half years is probably 1/5 to 1/10 the average time most committee members have spent in the area) and I might not be as qualified or knowledgeable as some others."

These words were well received, and the president quickly rolled out his proposals to head off any further departures from SOP. His nominations were quickly approved, and the presently serving treasurer was selected to continue treasuring.

Then came the secretary position. The former president who had previously nominated me was still desirous that someone from kami serve a position, and again nominated me. This time, everyone got really vocal and voiced their assent, the new president included. Again everyone was looking at me for a reply, and first I asked "What does the secretary do?" This caused momentary discussion, which resulted in a reply of "Mostly the secretary attends all the meetings and takes minutes." I then said "Like I said, if I can help, I'd like to." The motion carried, and the meeting soon adjourned so that those who were not present but had been selected could be notified by a home visit from designated visitors, who were tasked with coercing selectees into accepting their respective positions.

So now I am the secretary-select of the chokai. I am excited for the first meeting, where I'll whip out my laptop to take minutes, and I imagine the sixty and seventy year-old faces around the table will look similar those of the Enchantment Under the Sea dance attendees following Marty McFly's nasty Johnny B. Goode guitar solo.

night music

I usually listen to music while working. I can go without, but I prefer to go with.

Working during the day and working at night are completely different activities to me, and require completely different music. Also, working with words as I do, the music I listen to while working must not take my attention away so much that I can't think about sentences and say them in my head uninterrupted.

Here are some of the daytime albums that I fancy. Many of the albums I listen to in daytime have a night alter-album from the same artist (Also, if you notice that nothing is new, it's because I haven't bought much music recently. What I do have is usually gotten from others. Let my friends never stop selecting new music for me.):

Radiohead - In Rainbows

Beck - The Information

Cake - Fashion Nugget

Cat Stevens - Foreigner

Arcade Fire - Funeral

Band of Horses - Everything All the Time

The Killers - Hot Fuss

Canadian Brass - Champions

James Taylor - One Man Dog

The Streets - Original Pirate Material

Hall and Oates - Greatest Hits of some kind

Beach Boys - Endless Summer

Here are the night albums. They are pretty much old friends, having gotten me through many a lonely night of work. Have I mentioned that working all night is one of the loneliest things in the whole world to me? It is. I tend to reach nearly utter despair around 3:12 A.M.

Radiohead - Kid A/Amnesiac

Kings of Convenience - Quiet is the New Loud/Riot on an Empty Street

Nick Drake - Bryter Layter

Willie Nelson - Willie Nelson's Greatest Hits

Beck - Sea Change

Cat Stevens - Tea for the Tillerman/Teaser and the Firecat

Daft Punk - Human After All (particularly when I get drowsy)

Christopher O'Riley - True Love Waits (this night gem I'd never have known if not for Aaron)

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young - So Far

Tan Dun - Hero Original Soundtrack

Jeff Buckley - Grace

Doves - The Last Broadcast

There are way more, too.

A lot of these albums contain parts that make me do insane harmonies and sometimes lyrical flourishes that I might be embarrassed to have observed, but which usually make me titter to myself gleefully. In fact, I bet you'd pay five bucks to see some of them.

Anyhow, I am very happy to not have the gene that makes one get tired of the same music. I will shamelessly and happily listen to these albums over and over for years to come.

one more picture

This picture was just so [fill in the vulgar intensifier or euphemism of your choice] idyllic, I had to add it as well.

plums

Uratakao is a cold place in the winter. It's on the north side of Mount Takao, and the Kobotoke River running through it keeps the air humid, so any wind bites pretty hard. Depending on where you are, the sun goes down as early as 3:00 p.m., and doesn't come up until ten or eleven.

That all makes the winter feel pretty long, but one thing that shortens it a bit is the blooming of the plums that starts in mid-February. You can't help but feel like spring is here when the air starts smelling like plum flowers and the pink, white and red trees start showing up.

Plum trees are really scraggly, which makes for a nice contrast when they bloom.

This is a flag advertising this Saturday's Ume Matsuri, or Plum Festival, to which many sightseers will be drawn. I skipped the first half of church yesterday to help put up these flags and spruce up the local shrine. I am on the rotating board of directors of the chokai 町会 (neighborhood association) this year, so I'll have to help out with a few events of this kind.

scotch egg

Tonight, Kiyomi was wondering aloud what would be a good thing to eat for dinner. After we mentioned a couple of items, she said "I can make Scotch Eggs."

"Surely this is some funny Japanese food that somehow got a British Isles-influenced name but has no origin there, or only existed during the Meiji Era when Japan was adopting all sorts of funny British things that remain vestigially today*," thought I.

I had to acknowledge an intense interest, though, which was perhaps a product of my recently discovered fascination with food items that have a British Isles-influenced name (Exhibit A [there's no B]). 

That is what brought about tonight's delightful meal, which I can only predict will become a family mainstay for us. A Scotch Egg is a hard-boiled egg wrapped in sausage and then breaded and fried. You can learn the rest at the Wikipedia entry, which has got me determined to buy one at a convenience store if my travels ever take me to England.

Our version, which is the Japanese version according to Kiyomi, had ground beef and onions instead of sausage. This food holds a special place in Kiyomi's heart, because it was periodically offered as a school lunch item in her junior high and high school years. She recalled that it was one of the more expensive meals when it was offered, fetching a princely 550 yen from students that fancied the delicacy.

My first-ever Scotch Egg was delicious. It had the pleasantly crispy outer coating that all good fried foods have (and which makes breaded, fried anything taste good, even okra), but the meaty deliciousness of a meatloaf or Hamburg steak, and then, well, a hard-boiled egg, which in all its simplicity is a food I will always think of as moderately delicious (and most importantly, eminently available).

I am quite eager to sample what Wikipedia claims is the real version, the one made with sausage. I expect great things out of it.

*Japan has a genre of food called yoshoku 洋食, which technically  means "western food," but really means "food that appeared Japan in the late 1800s and has either been frozen in time while its European brothers have evolved into unrecognizable incarnations, or has been so bastardized by Japanese interpretation as to be a uniquely Japanese food, yet its origins banish it to the western food category." Some items in this category are the hambaagu (Hamburg steak), which is garnished with grated Japanese radish and soy sauce or ponzu as often as it is with demi-glace sauce; omuraisu (an omelette whose filling is rice that may or may not also include a meat or other item, but usually has the color and chief flavor of ketchup [or catsup if you prefer]; tonkatsu (breaded pork cutlet [the "katsu" being short for the Japanized "katsuretsu"]), which so captured Jonny's tender heart during his visit here as to necessitate our eating it some five times in seven or so days, neither of us tiring of it (indeed, it is as though despite Jonny's subsequent nuptuals, he has left a lost love in Japan for which he pines, and that love is tonkatsu, with whom I frequently dally in his absence); shichu (stew), which while somewhat similar to the stews Americans and like-bred countries enjoy, is a distinctively Japanese food that comes in roughly two versions: White, which is a hopelessly creamy affair of eponymous color and usually contains only potatoes, carrots, broccoli and onions (though I have prevailed upon Kiyomi to add chicken most of the time now), and Brown, which is close to Dinty Moore beef stew in its composition, but not as thick and with a shinier sauce. Both stews are served over rice as frequently as they are served with bread, though I unsurprisingly prefer bread.

one more picture

Here is the promised picture of how the office is situated in relation to the vending machine. This is an important geographical relationship to note, of course. I need to count the exact number of steps it takes to procure an Aquarius tall-boy and get back, then make that number of steps part of some para-religious ritual.

I quite like gazing upon Mt. Takao in the background and composing gangsta haiku, too.

in a day

As you know, I rented an office a couple months ago and recently posted a ohoto series featuring it in various tasteful poses. After I got into that office, I came to the conclusion that I would go ahead and incorporate, rather than continuing as a freelance translator. There are several advantages to doing so, chief of which being that I can get better paying work.

I started the incorporation process this week, which in Japan, consists of the following:

1. Have an administrative scrivener 行政書士 (i.e., someone with the knowledge and sheer bravery to navigate bureaucratic red tape) create articles of incorporation for you. These articles will include your company name, address, amount of capitalization, areas of business (meaning you have to determine and declare in advance in approximately what kinds of work you will engage), organizational structure, the period of your accounting year, and other exciting information.

2. Get three official company seals (rubber stamps) made: (1) A seal with your company and company title on it (実印), (2) A seal that will be used in banking affairs (銀行印), and (3) A seal with just the company name (社印). These seals will end up on any document, contract, or other item of importance in which your company engages.

3. Have the administrative scrivener go to the local Legal Affairs Bureau 法務局 and register 登記 your company, which includes a number of fees, chief of which is a registration fee of about $1,500.

4. Submit proof of deposit of the amount of money that you have designated is the company's capitalization. This amount is public record, and can be interpreted as a sign of a company's legitimacy (or lack thereof).

5. Pay the noble scrivener a grand or so.

I am actually waiting on the seals to be made, which should be next Tuesday or so. After that, it should only be a couple days. Then I'll be the president. Of something.

The company name I have settled on is Jataki Shokai. Exciting name, I know. I thought about putting my name in the company name, or making it something English, or using words that describe the work I do, but I settled on this. Jataki is the name of a famous waterfall on Mt. Takao, and its name means "Snake Falls". It is a short hike from our place. Shokai just means "company" (or perhaps "commercial group"), but it's a little more old school than the word kaisha 会社 that is usually used to say company.

Once I was set to start the company, I thought about my office situation and started looking into building an office on the property that I and Kiyomi's brother own, right across the street from Souji and Kuniko. That property already hosts the famous vending machine (still profitable), but is otherwise just a concrete foundation where we park cars.

I looked at various kinds of prefabricated and similar buildings, all of which were fairly expensive. Then I saw an advertisement for what are called "unit houses". These buildings are basically glorified kit-based sheds like folks have in their backyards, but with locking doors and windows, carpet, and insulated wall panels. The big do-it-yourself chain store Cainz Home (kind of like Home Depot) had them on sale. I decided to buy a one-room, 9.2 square meter (about 100 square feet) model for $3,600, which price includes everything: materials, transport, labor and tax. My logic was that if I am going to be working for more than a year, the money I would spend on my $300/month office/apartment would soon exceed what I could own outright. I also reasoned that working in beautiful environs at the foot of Mt. Takao would be very nice. The property faces the forests of Mt. Takao, and abuts the Kobotoke River. I'll get to look outside at the trees and hear the river, and when the mood hits me, I'll go for hikes.

Convinced by my musings, I went ahead with buying it, and today was the big construction day. One guy came with a truckload of materials and magically threw it up in about eight hours. He did it all alone. It was a sight to see, and I took phone photos of the process for posterity.

This view is a lot better in person, and will get greener in the next few months. The river flows below the railing you see, and the falls after which my company is named lie a little bit up the mountain you see at top right.

This all means that I am pretty sure I'll be in the translation business for the rest of my working life. I am taking time off from school right now, but I'll eventually finish. Right now I am going to focus on the company, though. It's genuinely exciting to be starting it. Luckily, unlike a new business, I already have clients that I can just have pay the company instead of me. This makes it pretty much impossible not to succeed in terms of profitability, since I am still working alone with no overhead.

bailout hilarity

Reading this article about Wells Fargo's now-infamous attempt at holding a Las Vegas junket after being bailed out, I laughed aloud (I did not roll on floor laughing, however) at this part:

"'In light of the current environment, we have now decided to cancel this event as well,' the company said Tuesday night in a news release that also said it had never planned to use taxpayer bailout money for the trip."

I'm relieved to know that Wells Fargo keeps their $25 billion bailout and Las Vegas junket kitty in separate shoe boxes. That's something I always tried to do in my halcyon days of Las Vegas revelry.

the office

I rented an office. I just couldn't focus on work the way I needed to at home. I couldn't just sit on my butt when I needed to, either. Yes, my working hard and hardly working were both in peril.

I had thought about renting an office previously, but dismissed the idea as too expensive, at least when compared with the alternative of working at Starbucks or McDonald's and their ilk. The main problems with Starbucks and McDonald's and their ilk, though, are the unreliable power sources and my natural tendency to consume their food and beverages. With McDonald's, some stores have outlets just for laptops, while others are vigilant to keep people from using any outlet. McDonald's locations also often have a hard time separating smoking from non-smoking areas (not to mention the occasional smorking area, which is the most delicious and unhealthy of all). Starbucks is expensive, and I can't begin drinking a hot or iced chocolate of their making without completely finishing it. Their food is fairly lousy, too. On top of all that, I am bad at weathering the looks that are given to a customer that spends four hours or more in the same seat.

I then had an epiphany, which was that there are many very cheap apartments in existence in and near Hachioji, and lacking a need to host customers, I could easily rent one of those and work there in utter silence, noise, concentration, or laziness. I looked around on a few apartment-hunting Web sites, and found many under the $400/month limit I mentally set for myself. They were almost all one-bedroom shoe boxes meant for some sad college student or single worker bee to inhabit. Such a place would have been fine for my purposes, but then I found a two-bedroom apartment for $300/month, with no money down (not "No, money down!", mind you). I snapped it up.

It is located on the second of two floors between two other apartments, the three of which sit atop two "snack" establishments, which in Japan are a kind of bar. I think the price was low because there are no bathing facilities (there is a toilet, though). Kiyomi suggested that maybe someone died there. That's what she assumed about our cheap apartment too. Both times she has raised this possibility, I have expressed how I don't mind if someone died where I live/work. In fact, if they died in my office and are haunting it, maybe they can help me with some of the insane Japanese I encounter when translating.

What better place to start than the fabulous washiki toilet? If you know me, you know my feelings about these beauties. The slippers? In Japan, any respectable home has a pair of slippers just for the toilet, because it is an unclean place and the other parts of a home are clean. I have always resisted this, but for some reason I acquiesced for the office. Maybe I wanted to assuage Kiyomi's slight disapproval (which is now approval) at renting the place.

Here is the kitchen. I opted to not even have gas installed, and the empty pizza boxes you see occupy where the stove would normally be. Don't worry, I eventually threw the boxes out. 

Here is where all the translation magic goes down. I keep the hot water pot right next to me, which leads to my drinking massive amounts of herbal tea. I stopped drinking soda when I got the pot, because I became too lazy to go out to a vending machine and get it. It has been good to keep the blood sugar steady, though.

The lamp on my desk is the only source of light other than a dim fluorescent bar above the sink. I realized that I had no light in the room when it got dark on my first day of working there. Now I turn on the small lamp, and it's still very dim, but just right to see the keyboards. I also enjoy being in a dim room, even though people in Japan refuse to accept this. Anyway, this may be a cliche, but I truly love lamp.

My desk is a kotatsu, which means it's got a heater underneath, hence the blanket. I find it very hard to work in a chair with legs anymore. My way is very pleasant, and I can work a good 12 hours here if I have to. Also, you haven't sat for hours on end until you've sat for hours on end on a tatami mat (that was an obligatory instance of overrating something Japanese, which is a favorite pastime of mine).

You can see that I work right next to the window, which is unfortunately frosted glass. I sit next to a small space heater. You can also see that I have a lot of unused space. Every once in a while I will do some push-ups here. I have also used the space to dance around disturbingly (or is it disturbedly?), because no one can stop me. If Karl Malone were to evaluate my office, he would remark that "Cheeth can do whatever he want to in there."

I have a closet that currently doubles as my refrigerator (score one for drafty Japanese apartments), but I prefer to hang my work clothes on the nails that I drove into the timbers. I also hang my push-up bars there. One of my morning rituals is to come in and take off my pants, then slip on a nice set of coveralls for the day's labors. I'm a twisted sort of Mr. Rogers in that regard. Getting into the coveralls puts me in the mood to work, and they are eminently comfortable.

There is also the other, still-empty room between the kitchen and the room in which I work. My friend Dave is considering moving in there to similarly escape his family as he translates. This will make the arrangement even more economical. And don't worry, we escape our families because we love them. (And also because I can order a pizza for lunch without wifely oversight.)

just in case

If you happen to go to Hachioji, but for whatever reason you wish to avoid me, that's fine. Just go eat a burger at this place. They fix a great burger. It's no Greek burger, but I'd still go there even if it were in the States.