We’re usually golfing by the third week of April. Spring has been late arriving this year but we were anticipating the course opening today. Unfortunately, however, we had a late April snowstorm yesterday and once again, everything is buried beneath a layer of snow!

Though I haven’t golfed since the course closed at the end of the 2007 season and I’m very anxious to swing a club again, of much greater concern is the fact that the local farmers need to begin planting their grain crops soon. Spring work usually begins by the first week of May but, even though the latest snow will melt away quickly, the ground is much too cold for them to consider starting for awhile yet. The growing season is very short so hopefully we’ll see a major turnaround in the weather soon. Then I’ll either be out on a tractor or the golf course!

I think the people who name paint colours must be the same ones who name blue jean styles (see Fashion frustration – April 9).  According to the paint chip, I spent the past day and a half painting our kitchen and livingroom Moonslice.  In my mind, Moonslice would be a shimmery silver but that’s not even close.  It’s actually a very light yellow.  Personally, I think Buttercream would be a better name.  Depending on the light and the time of day, it sometimes look like a warm cream and sometimes a light sunshiny yellow.

The paint job wasn’t a dramatic change.  In fact, I simply gave the rooms a fresh and slightly lighter coat of the same colour that was already there.  My original plan had been to use some paint left over from the last time they were painted  but unfortunately, when I opened the first can, it was obvious that it had deteriorated over time and the colour was no longer Moonslice.  Putrid would be more accurate so off I went to the paint store for a fresh supply!

I actually enjoy painting.  It’s peaceful and seeing the fresh untouched surfaces when I’m done gives me a sense of accomplishment.  What I don’t like is getting ready to paint.  First came washing the walls with TSP and then rinsing them.  That was followed by filling holes, sanding, more filling and more sanding and then, finally, priming.  After living in the house for 28 years and raising a family in it, it definitely has a lived in look and the walls are no longer pristine.  As I painted, I recalled the chart that used to be penciled on one of the kitchen walls recording the heights of three growing children.  I also remembered rushing one of them to the doctor for stitches when his head met one of the corners a little too forcefully!

Now that the painting is finished, it’s time to decide which pictures and ornaments will go back in their old familiar places, which ones will be moved and which will disappear altogether to make way for the mementos that came home from Japan with us.

I started teaching Sunday School again the first Sunday that we were back in Sedgewick. The children in my class are in grades 1 and 2. Last week, on Easter Sunday, we talked about our treasures. Each child drew a picture of something that they treasure and then told us what it was and why it’s special to them. One little boy drew a dinosaur tooth from the gift shop at the Royal Tyrrell Museum in Drumheller. A little girl chose a doll given to her by her grandmother. After each of the children had taken a turn, one of them asked me what my treasure is. Without hesitation, I told them that my treasures are my grandsons, Andrew and Ayumu.

Biologically, I have only one grandson (not counting the unborn grandchild whose gender is not yet known) but in my heart, I have two. Andrew was born to our daughter and her husband on May 1st of last year. We’ll soon be joining them to celebrate his first birthday. Ayumu was born in Japan on the 14th of June. How he became my grandson is a story that thrills my heart.

Like many church-goers, we are creatures of habit and we tend to sit in the same part of the church every week. In Japan, we sat on the right hand side of the sanctuary every Sunday but one. On about the third Sunday that we were there, an usher directed us toward the left side and I ended up sitting next to a young woman who was clearly pregnant. I don’t believe in coincidences. I truly believe that we were where we were for a reason as it was in that spot that an amazing relationship began. Seiko and I began to talk. I learned that she was due at the same time as our daughter, Melaina, and that like Melaina, she was also carrying a boy. I told her that as I watched her baby grow, I’d be able to imagine my grandson and the stages that he would be going through. After knowing me for only a few minutes, Seiko told me that her son would be my Japanese grandson and that is truly what he has become. The first time she put him in my arms, she called me Granma!

Though the due dates were the same, the boys were born 6 weeks apart. Andrew, also known as Drew, arrived early and Ayumu, or Amu-chan, came late. This seems to have been a precursor to their personalities which are also quite different. Andrew has never seemed content to be a baby. Climbing and walking at an early age and insisting on feeding himself long before he was really able to, he is a strong willed little character who is determined to challenge his physical world. Amu-chan, on the other hand, is a gentle spirit. He loves to sing along when Seiko sings and her father says that his long fingers were made for playing the cello just like his mother and grandfather.

During his early months, we knew Andrew only through photos, videos and Melaina’s regular reports. He was almost 11 months old when we finally met in person. I worried that he might be shy with us but Melaina had shown him our pictures and he had heard our voices when we talked with her. Amazingly, when we met, it was as if he already knew us. Now it is Amu-chan whose progress we must follow from a distance. I hope that he, too, will know us when we meet again. It is also my heart’s desire that our two treasures might someday meet one another!

Shopping for clothes can be so frustrating! At 56 years old, I don’t want to dress like a teenager but I also don’t want to look like I’m ready for the old folks home! There don’t seem to be many stores that cater to those of us who fall somewhere in between.

Today I went looking for blue jeans. I’ve always been more comfortable in jeans than pretty much anything else. In fact, I fully intend to still be wearing them when I’m 80! That might be difficult though if I don’t have any better luck than I did today.

It appears that I don’t even speak the language.  One store offered curvy, classic or contemporary fit.  Though I liked the sound of curvy, I could pretty much guess that it wouldn’t be my style.  On further perusal, I discovered that curvy is “designed to give a shapely fit through the hips and thighs” and “fits a slightly smaller waist”.  Hmm… sounds just right for someone with an hourglass figure but not a boyish one like mine.  The only way a pair of jeans could give me shapely hips would be if they were padded!  Classic sounded okay too until I discovered that they have a low rise.  I like my pants to fit a little below the waist but since I’m rather long in the body, low rise just doesn’t work for me.  That left contemporary.  I thought perhaps I was a contemporary kind of gal until I discovered that they have a mesh panel to flatten the tummy!  Maybe when I’m 80, but for now I depend on my morning stomach crunches to do that job!  I thought perhaps I’d have better success at the next store but it was even more confusing.  After all, what in the world is a boyfriend fit?

Men don’t seem to be plagued with the same shopping woes.  Richard walked into one store, picked out a new pair of jeans exactly like the old ones that he bought two years ago and he was done!  So not fair!

When we told them about our home in Canada, our friends in Japan simply couldn’t visualize a town with a population of 900 people. I understand completely. I couldn’t either until I came to Sedgewick to teach school almost 34 years ago.

There are a lot of “You know you live in a small town when…” jokes circulating on the internet. Here are a few that I can definitely identify with.

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You know you live in a small town when…

Third Street is on the edge of town.

You don’t need to use turn signals because everyone knows where you’re going.

You call a wrong number and they supply you with the right one.

You dial a wrong number and talk for fifteen minutes anyway.

You decide to walk somewhere for exercise and people pull over to ask if you need a ride.

Your teachers remember when they taught your parents.

The New Year’s baby is born in February.

You can’t go to the grocery store without seeing someone you know.

It’s normal to see an old man riding through town on a ride on lawnmower.

The closest McDonald’s is 50 miles away.

Everyone knows the news before it’s published.

You drive into the ditch five miles out of town and word gets back before you do.

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It’s absolutely true that in a town this size people know your business almost as soon as you do. There’s advantage and disadvantage in that but one thing I’ve learned is that it’s best not to believe everything you hear.

In the spring of 2007, as our retirement approached and we began to mention our interest in spending a year teaching English in Japan, rumours began to spread. We soon heard that our house had been sold and that we were leaving for China as soon as school was out at the end of June! Even those who knew better than to believe these stories started asking when we were leaving long before we’d actually accepted teaching positions.

Now that we’re back, it’s becoming obvious that many people think we’re only here for a visit. The second question that many ask, after “How was it?” is “Are you going back?” or “How long are you here for?”  I suppose there’s one of two reasons for that. Perhaps they actually thought that we’d left permanently or more likely, in most cases, they simply don’t realize that more than a year has already passed since we left.

Are we going back? If we do, it will only be for a visit, not to work for another year. We had the option of staying longer, but family obligations would have made that an unwise choice and we really do want to experience retirement. If travel wasn’t so expensive, I’d love to visit Japan once a year. In fact, if I was able to, I wouldn’t mind spending several months there each year but this is home.

How long are we here for? I really don’t know. Sedgewick is a good place to come home to but there’s still a lot of world out there that we haven’t seen and we’ll certainly be looking for opportunities to spend shorter periods of time in other interesting places. In the meantime, though we miss the many wonderful friends that we made in Japan, we’re happy to be back.

I even came up with my own “You know you live in a small town when…” line recently. You know you live in a small town when the vehicle parked next to yours has a license plate number that is one digit different from yours. I don’t know who YKX 656 is, but we’re YKX 657 and we were parked side by side in front of the Sedgewick Co-op one day last week!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t consider myself particularly domestic.  For the most part, I cook because we have to eat.  On the other hand, one of the things that I missed when we were in Japan was an oven.  Like many Japanese households, we had a two burner gas stove with a little grilling drawer that was great for cooking fish or a couple of pork chops, but no oven.

Needless to say, in the almost two weeks that we’ve been home, the oven has been well used!  One of the things that I’ve always enjoyed cooking is the big turkey dinner at Thanksgiving and Christmas.   Turkey isn’t part of the Japanese diet.   In fact, the idea of cooking something that big completely astonishes them.  When my sister, her husband and five of their children, including three teenage boys with hearty appetites, came for dinner on Sunday, I cooked a turkey.  Yum!

Baking is definitely not my forte but I do enjoy making muffins.  There are already bran muffins in the freezer and this evening I tried a new recipe for cranberry muffins using the leftover cranberry sauce from Sunday’s feast.  We haven’t tasted them yet but the kitchen smells heavenly and I’m feeling a wee bit more domestic than usual!