First Timers

It occurred to me today that moving is kind of like having a new baby. We get to experience lots of "firsts" with each new duty station.  Instead of "First Steps" or "First Words" I get excited about "First Time We Make Pizza in our New Home" or "First Time I Recognized Someone in the Commissary" (that's my true barometer of when the new place is "home.")  Okinawa has given us a slew of new "firsts" that didn't even register as important at other duty stations.  For example, the First Time we drove on the left side of the road.  More than once in those early days, the kids would choose car time as the perfect time to ask me 354 questions, and at some point I'd bark at them, "Don't talk to me....I'm driving!  I've got to focus here!"  I'm sure I added a few gray hairs the First Time I turned right across traffic.  (Think about it.)  The First Time I ventured into a Hundred Yen store and had to pay the cashier for my purchases was a panic-inducing event.  Now THAT was stressful.  I was still not too familiar with the value of all the yen pieces and there are 6 different coins to decipher.  I looked at the register to see how much I had to pay and thought I had given the cashier the right amount.  Well, I was wrong.   Meanwhile Mary is using my not-yet-purchased Japanese broom as a horse and galloping around the register, and the growing line behind me is looking at me, surely thinking, "Grrr....this dumb American!"  In desperation I held out my hands in an offering of coins and the cashier plucked the correct amount from my hands.  She really could have ripped me off that day since I had no idea if she was taking a 50 yen coin (about 62 cents) or a 500 yen coin (about $6.20.)   However, I was so ready to get the whole ordeal over with that I didn't care. 

And who can forget the First Time we found one of these little geckos hanging around in our house  (this one's in the bathroom)....

or the first (and only) time one of them fell from the top of the cabinet door and landed on my head!  And, in case anyone's wondering, no--he didn't stop to offer me insurance. 

Well, those days are long over.  I can make right turns like a pro these days, and I have no qualms about handing over my yen to the cashier (just ask my husband.)  The geckos still freak me out, but I'm learning to live with them.  However, the Firsts still surprise me now and then. 

Today was one of those days.  It's no secret that I've been needing to get a haircut for a LONG time.  (My last haircut was in my friend's kitchen at Parris Island!)  Some of you don't know this about me, but I have very thick hair.  Not thick by Cuban standards, but crazy thick by American (and now, Japanese) standards.  Back home when I call a new hair salon I've learned to explain to the receptionist that my hair is freakishly thick and they need to allot enough time to deal with it.  The ones who don't heed my warning end up frustrated when their next client is waiting while they're still drying my voluminous mane.  Here on Okinawa, the search for a hair salon was made more difficult by the language barrier.  (There is a salon on base, but I had heard less-than-stellar things about it.)  So I finally asked a friend of mine and she recommended her hair stylist....a nice, English-speaking Japanese lady named Rumiko. 

Last week I went by the salon to make my appointment.  I felt I needed to show Rumiko my thick hair to make sure she understood the severity of the situation.  "Hai, thick....yes....is okay," she naively said that afternoon.  Well, this afternoon as I sat in her chair for my first Japanese haircut experience, she was not so optimistic.  "Very thick hair!" she said.  I told you!  I'm screaming inside my brain.   We discussed the type of style I wanted (shoulder length, a few layers, easy to manage but able to go into a ponytail for those many lazy days when I don't want to deal with it) and then we went to the hair washing chair.  In my opinion, the hair washing is the best part of the hair cut experience.  Having someone else massage my scalp is pure heaven.  When I'm old, I'm going to be one of those ladies who goes to get her hair done every Saturday, just so that someone else can wash my hair.   Anyway, I slump down in the chair and notice that this sink is rather low, and I'm really having to slouch so my head can lie in it.  I'm thinking, "I know the Japanese are not a tall people, but I'm no Michael Jordan...what's up with this chair?"  At this point she says, "Please, sit up."  So now I'm mortified that I'm slouching around her salon and probably committing a serious Japanese faux paus. She lays several different towels and sheets on and around me and then tells me to lean back.  Then, the chair automatically rises and leans back to the proper hair washing position (like at the dentist.)  Fancy, schmancy I'm thinking.  She lays a final small towel on my face and starts with the hair wash.  "Lot of hair" she says (again.)  At some point during the wash, another person came into the salon and she spoke with him while rinsing my hair.  Since they spoke in Japanese, I had no idea what they were saying, but I'm sure it had something to do with my crazy-ass hair.  Finally the luxurious hair wash ended but as I started to get up she leaned my head back again and gave me a short scalp and neck massage.  Ahhhh, this WAS a first!  I could have sat there all day. 

Once the massage was over, we headed back to the hair cutting chair.  Usually this is when the scissors come out, but here in Okinawa (or at least at this salon) Rumiko blow dried my hair first.  That took a while.  (Again, if she'd only heeded my warning she would have been prepared!)  Eventually the scissors came out, and my Rapunzel mane was transformed into something more manageable.   When I finished up and gathered my things Rumiko started to sweep up my hair from all over the floor.  "Look like small dog" she said.  She's right...it did look like a wig factory had exploded and she was cleaning up the mess. 

As a special treat (and because every woman feels like she's in a shampoo commercial after a haircut) here are some pictures. This is what happens when I have too much wine with dinner fun playing with the automatic timer on the camera.....I doubt Revlon will be calling anytime soon....

Birthdays, Blenders, and Two Brave Girls

January starts the Birthday Season around here.  Five of the six family birthdays happen between the months of January and April and our season starts off with Bill's birthday.  He has the unfortunate circumstance of having his birthday on January 4 (so soon after Christmas.)   He should have married a woman who was organized, prompt, and prepared for dealing with two back-to-back gift-giving events.  I am not that woman.  When I'm planning his Christmas gifts, I usually try to reserve a few good gift ideas for his birthday so he gets an assortment of good and bad gifts for each special day.  Sometimes the after-Christmas birthday comes in handy.  There have been years when  a "Christmas" gift  is ordered too late  doesn't arrive on time, so it's slipped in with the birthday gifts and the recipient is none the wiser.  Sometimes by the time Christmas comes around I'm plum out of good gift ideas and he's left with whatever desperate gift I can find at the last minute.  One year he got an ax for his birthday.  An ax!  What kind of a crappy gift is that?  He was a good sport about it, though...and actually claimed that he liked the ax. 

This year his birthday gifts were particularly pathetic.  Being way over here on Okinawa (unusually far from a Target) I should have made the extra effort and planned ahead to make sure I ordered and shipped any birthday gifts with plenty of time.  Unfortunately I barely got the Christmas gifts ordered and shipped on time, so Bill's birthday really got the short end of the stick this year.  Here are some of the sad gifts he received on his birthday:

A set of mini clamps:  If you need to clamp anything, Bill's your guy. 

A little light that uses a magnet to stick to a grill spatula:  For all your night time grilling needs. 

 And finally.....

The blender sounds like a worse gift than it really is.  Bill makes milkshakes for the kids on Friday nights, and our old blender had seen better days.  He actually requested this gift. 

Bill was a good sport about all these gifts, but I also think he's just a good liar.  Look at Andrew in this picture...even he knows Dad got screwed. 

After the gifts, the kids were a little hyped up from the sugary cake and they started acting really silly. 

We eventually got the kids to bed that night, and relaxed for the next 26 days before Yours Truly finally reached her special day. I was a little ambivalent about this birthday because it's the Big 3-8. I don't know if I was having a mini-mid-life crisis or if the reality of aging was too overwhelming for me, but on the morning of my birthday (after the traditional muffins and coffee) I decided I was going to do something out of the ordinary on this Important Day. I wasn't going to let the fact that I am now firmly entrenched in my late-thirties stop me from anything. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day and Okinawa has many exciting attractions, so I consulted my little partner (Mary) and we decided that we would go visit the Okinawa Lighthouse. It should be said that in the last few years I have developed a paralyzing fear of heights, so this destination certainly qualified as Out of the Ordinary for me. When we made our plans, we were sure the lighthouse would look like this when we arrived.

Unfortunately, due to Okinawa's freakish suddenly changing weather, we arrived to a lighthouse that looked like this:



"On second thought, I don't know if this is such a good idea," I told Mary as we got to the lighthouse.  "I don't even know if it's open." 

"But look Mom--There are people up there! It is open!" said a very excited Mary.  (These Crazy Okinawans! Thanks a lot! Who else would think of going up in a lighthouse in this weather.) 

The rain had slowed to a drizzle so we got out of the car, paid the lighthouse keeper, and made our way up the 527 lighthouse steps.  As my partner and I slowly ascended those stairs, I could feel my heart beating faster and faster and I was internally starting to freak out.  My mind was racing.  "I'm crazy for doing this!"  I said to myself.  "What am I thinking!  What if there's an earthquake while we're up at the top and the whole thing comes crashing down!  I didn't even tell Bill we were doing this!  He doesn't know we're here.  He'll never think to look for us in the lighthouse rubble.  This was a VERY BAD idea."  

Before I knew it, we were at the top of the stairs and I had officially reached panic mode.   As if that wasn't enough, once you reach the top of the stairs you have to climb up this old, rusty looking ladder onto this little landing.  Then you go through a tiny door to get outside onto the lighthouse deck.  (Is that what it's called?  I don't know.  It doesn't matter.  I'll never be up there again.)  Maybe the rusty ladder looked scary, or maybe I was exuding my trepidation, but even brave little Mary got a little nervous when she saw the ladder.  "Here's my chance!"  I thought.  Then I said to Mary, "You know, we don't have to do this if you don't want."  "No, it's okay, Mom.  But how about you go first, " she said.   Great.  My plan backfired.   So I cautiously climbed up the ladder, and she followed. 

Our last step before going outside to the deck was to go through the little door.  And it had started to rain again, so I told Mary, "How about we just look out through the little door so we don't get all wet?"  She seemed okay with that idea, and a little panicked herself.  As we looked out at the little buildings and cars WAY down below, I started thinking, "This is ridiculous.  Why am I being such a wimp?  This thing has probably been here for 200 years....it's not going to come crashing down.  It's a LIGHTHOUSE!  The whole point of it is to be here during stormy weather.  It's not like this is a typhoon or anything!"  So I very nervously forced myself out that little door and stepped onto the deck.  It was VERY high.  However,  it was quite breathtaking, even on such an ugly day. 

I felt very proud of myself for not letting my fear get the best of me (although I didn't dare step more than 2 feet away from the little door in case we did get an earthquake and we had to suddenly rush down those 527 steps.)  Even Mary found her courage and joined me out there, although I think she might have second-guessed that decision a little bit.....

After about 30 seconds we both decided we'd seen all there was to see and we went back through the little door, down the ladder, and back down the stairs.  Once we were back on solid ground, we felt like some very cool chicks.   We had survived and conquered the Lighthouse! 

The rest of the day was pretty standard for birthdays around our house.   The birthday person always gets to choose the dinner, and I didn't feel like cooking.  I chose Macaroni Grill because the other places I wanted to go to are closed on Mondays (I don't know why) and because it's one of the few places that everyone likes, so that meant I would avoid a Birthday Argument.   It turned out to be a very nice day.  Maybe 38 won't be so bad after all! 

You probably won't hear from me again for a while.  We normally don't do big Valentine's Day things around here, so it's unlikely that I'll post about that.  Early on in our relationship Bill and I had a series of dismal Valentine's Days, so we decided many years ago that we would fore go this holiday.  We like each other...we know it.  No need to fight the masses at the fancy restaurants trying to get a reservation.   If we decide to explore any exciting (ground level) Okinawan hot spots in the next few weeks, I'll be sure to share our adventures with you guys.  Miss you lots!