Battling Black Crow Bowel Blasts

Courtesy of needpix.com

We’ve experienced some fowl times in my neighborhood. It began in late June, in the early dawn hours of the morning. I was repeatedly woken by a cadence of loud “caw-caw-caw” squawks. That meant it wasn’t pigeons that were responsible for these affronts. I recognized the handiwork of crows in the form of disgusting splotches of white-gray bird guano splattering our driveway, occasionally peppering the car.

Yuck. And very hard to remove.

I thought these dirty deeds would be temporary, might abate. Wrong--it just got worse. I knew I was at war.

Preparing to do battle, I studied my new enemy. Canny, intelligent creatures, those crows. They’re well known as pests in cities, prying apart garbage bags for edible trash and making a mess. They are clever birds who know that humans will always place garbage in accessible places. People may even cover their trash with netting, but these wily adversaries peck the bags, or drag them out, then rip them apart in their search for food. 

They’ll stake out a spot near a source of food and establish a nice perch to rest at night. And drop their guano in the same spot.

Those are all good reasons to combat this scourge of deep sleep and sanitation. And so I bought a cheap water pistol and plotted an ambush to scare them off. Evidently I didn’t plan well or practice properly ahead of time. This pistol’s meager stream didn’t reach the power lines less than 20 feet from our balcony. It neither scared the crows nor dislodged them from their regular resting place atop the power lines. It just made them caw with derision. I lost the first skirmish.

I ignored my bruised pride and regrouped. Thought it through. First, I made a decoy. My neighbor had mentioned an old farmer’s trick to make a scarecrow or a flashy moving object, to trick the crows by the scarecrow’s movement due to gusts of wind or the sun’s glint. I put together a "tinsel terror" festooned with old CDs to rustle in the wind and glitter in the sun.

Then I purchased some better firepower.  A pump-action super soaker water pistol that can accurately shoot a powerful stream of water 40 feet. I plotted my ambush. One early morning, the usual “caw-caw-caw” (“we’re here”) notice roused me. I crept onto the balcony, jumped up quickly and nailed two crows with a jet of water. Revenge at last.

The crows have not returned to sit on the same spot and there has been no further crow crap on my car or driveway. This is 100% true.

And if they do come, I’ve got the super soaker ready to do battle again.

Canada Day & Preteen Paydays

July 1st
It’s Canada Day, I’m working at home and it’s pouring rain. I have neither a beer in my mitt nor a flag flying outside the house. So my sitrep aligns with the celebrations in Canada that have been subdued by the pandemic. I opted for a simple indoor salute to mark la Fête du Canada. 

The Great White North is far from perfect, but I think it’s pretty darn good. Why else would people come from around the world to live there? Today, I miss my homeland, but celebrate its birthday and all that’s good and right there.

Two years ago, but a cute photo

I want it all….NOW

Riffing off the notion of far-from-perfect but-pretty-darn-good, let me offer a few observations about Ladies E. and M. Recently, they’ve embraced junior entrepreneurship and making money. It’s the compelling magic of capitalism!

Courtesy of Karl Hess and Amazon Books

I believe entrepreneurship thrives because some people envisage an opportunity, work hard and take risks to fulfill a perceived need, for profit. Kids are no different from adults, just smaller and less cynical. My daughters are consummate entrepreneurs. They laser-sighted new ways to manage and manipulate their poor papa to obtain some cash. I’m learning that as the Rising Daughters develop and are further immersed in society, the more they want stuff. And as soon as they decide they want it, they want it right NOW.

They already get monthly allowances and receive generous cash gifts from their grandparents. (They do save some of this largesse.) Yet it doesn’t seem to be enough. Not being old enough to get a part-time job, what’s a daughter to do?

Marina, for one, does “special projects.” In reality, that means extra study projects or cleaning jobs like raking leaves. I assign her long written assignments which helps maintain her thinking, organizing and writing chops in English. (Examples: “Why I got mad when doing my homework and how to fix that” and “Why I brush my teeth”). We still have not succeeded in getting her to delay gratification or save any of the extra money she earns. Meh.

Older sister Lady E. is better at saving but lazier; she refuses menial odd jobs. As a digital native, she prefers using the internet to maximize her yen purchasing power. Case in point, she has an account in Mercari, the marketplace app using my name and credit. It allows users to buy and sell items from their smartphones and ship them anonymously from local convenience stores. She buys and sells manga comics, and who knows what else? She’s also “old economy” smart. For example, she’ll buy a box of ice cream cones on sale for about 250 yen, and then tell everyone they’re in the freezer. Later, when family members rummage for snacks at night, she demands a 200% markup. Smart kid.

There’s also the steady supply of 100 yen coins I pay to both girls as a penalty whenever I utter the F-bomb and they can hear it.

I read in a recent U.S. poll that members of Gen Z (ages 18-24) are ambivalent toward capitalism: 42% have a positive view and 54% negative. The poll’s suggestion was the wealth gap among Americans that became more visible during COVID has adversely influenced younger adults’ view of capitalism. In 2019, 58% of Americans ages 18-34 reacted positively to the word capitalism. That's plunged to 49% today. Capitalism seems to be trending negative among young people.

The Rising Daughters™ are taking the opposite track. Maybe because they’re part of an as-yet unnamed generational cohort, or perhaps they’re just different, it seems my daughters are unrepentant market economy enthusiasts. At least, for now…

Gaijitated

Prologue
Etymology of “gaijitated”-- a portmanteau blend word formed from gaijin (meaning “outsider” or “foreigner” in Japanese) and the adjective agitated In English.

I sometimes become gaijitated. That means I get irrationally and disproportionally annoyed by a minor perceived slight that happens when I violate my host culture’s norms or break some rule. I get pissed off when they become flustered, or exasperated, or rigidly ignore me. It’s self-induced frustration that’s part of the experience of living abroad. And 95% percent of the time, I cause it because I forget the guiding maxim of When in Rome, do as Romans do. And when you don’t Sometimes Shit Happens.

So here’s a story…
Although it’s my second go-round, I am still readjusting to the fine art of living well in Japan. A few months ago, we planned to dispose of two old surplus kerosene heaters by recycling. The trash disposal system here is complicated. Big ticket items (fridges, stoves, couches, any metal over 30 cm long) won’t be collected by the city garbage trucks. You must pay a separate disposal fee and arrange pickup, or drop it off yourself at a local recycling center. We're-do-it yourself types, so Naomi correctly pre-registered for a drop-off day and time and bought the requisite recycling stickers to cover the disposal cost. All set.

In Yokohama, these recycling centers tend to be staffed by semi-retired seniors. The recycling drop-off process is frenetic. There are many staff members scurrying around as the items are handed over and then quickly moved to adjacent holding areas segmented by size and use. It’s highly efficient and makes sense. With moving cars and heavy items being dropped off, safety is very important.

 

I went alone, drove in the entrance and saw one lane occupied by large trucks, so I slowly proceeded into the only other open lane. It was the wrong lane. I pulled up and stopped. A crewcut, silver-haired member of the recycling center team (the guys in the green jackets) barked at me in gruff, rapid-fire Japanese, “get in the correct lane, why did you go in this wrong lane?” I blanched and pointed to the jammed lanes behind and beside me. I couldn’t back up now anyway with the one-way traffic flow. 

“I am very sorry, and good morning. Should I go around again? The lanes are blocked,” I replied in Japanese. He just turned away. No reply. Then a flustered-looking lady with a clipboard came over and said, “Wait. Did you pre-register?”
“Yes, we did,” I said.
“Did you pre-register?” she repeated.
“Yes, my wife, who is Japanese, did call and pre-register,” I repeated. I gave her Naomi’s family name and cell number.
“Wait over there, I will reconfirm,” she replied, and walked toward her office.
I was causing quite a scene. And I was just a tad irritated by the way I was being treated.

While I was waiting for the lady, two other staff members came up to the rear of our car, per standard procedure for drop-offs, and I got out and handed them the two heaters with the payment stickers already attached. By that time, I’d decided to get out of there because I was embarrassed by my own mistake and wanted to leave as quickly as possible. Why wait for the almighty confirmation?

Of course I knew I had messed this up and this was entirely my responsibility. The crewcut guy freaked out when something unexpected occurred. Perhaps I was being too sensitive by thinking they were also uncomfortable because I was a lone foreigner and oftentimes that takes folks out of their comfort zone. They assume I cannot communicate with them.

But as I sheepishly handed the kerosene heaters over, one of the other staff guys kind of grinned at me once he realized I wasn’t being rude or cutting in line, just oblivious of which lane to drive in. He nodded toward the exit, indicating it was OK to go. I said thanks and drove out. 

Reader, you might be thinking, why is he making such a big deal about this? If you live in Japan long enough, etiquette mistakes by gaijins and the various reactions by local people accumulate. Stress builds up if you let it get to you. (And I did.) At that point, over-sensitive foreigners need to suck it up, accept their part of the responsibility for whatever occurred, and not get gaijitated.

###

Work-at-home habits of the lazy and soon-to-be unemployed: Pt. 2

More coping mechanisms until La Revolution:
- Hide: Shut off the video camera. There’s no way they’ll know if you’re listening or napping. Avoid engaging in conversations or sharing any ideas.
- Eat during important calls. Don’t worry, it won’t distract anyone.
- Instill a “micro-meeting” culture by taking breaks between online meetings. (5-minute meeting, 55-minute break to reset for the next meeting.)
- Reduce meeting attendees to one person: you. Meetings held under the tree in a lawn chair, looking at the clouds.
- Go from video conferences to old fashioned phone calls to no calls. Ignore your phone for a few hours.

But if you wish to prevent the revolution:
- Promote the “mostly off” work culture as an antidote to the “always on” spirit subtly condoned by management as necessary to be competitive.
- Reduce multi-tasking to single-tasking, specifically strategic snoozing.
- Reduce distraction. Compartmentalize work tasks and focus attention by ignoring everything but Ken Burns documentaries, binge watching “The Boys” on Amazon, and periodic viewing of squirrels riding surfboards on YouTube.
- Recover some of your pre-COVID work routine. Go into the office (if there still is one) sometimes if you can. During the inbound commute, laugh aloud to jokes heard on your favorite podcast and then collect the alarmed reactions of other passengers amid the eerie silence. When homeward bound, grunt for no reason at periodic internals and energetically scratch the same spot on your lower back each time. From the train station, drive homeward recklessly to burn off your day’s accumulated exasperation. Relieve stress and feelings of inadequacy by yelling at your family for no reason at the dinner table. It’s a taste of the good ol’ days. 

So what’s the point? COVID prompted the massive shift to work-at-home that is creating some new work culture twists. Let me restate that I LOVE working at home, it’s a jim-dandy way to earn a living. What’s not to like about it? But let’s see if the virtual workers opt for a velvet revolution after all.

Hello, holodeck!

Work-at-home habits of the lazy and soon-to-be unemployed: Pt. 1

The revolution cometh, people!

I just love working at home!
It’s fan~~tastic and has dramatically improved everything in my working life!
But, some folks…feel there is no joy in Virtualville.

Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. Characters, places and professed work-related anecdotes either are products of the author's limited imagination or are described mostly fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual, very dutiful company employees (such as the author), places or persons, living or dead, is, again, mostly coincidental. Especially if anyone in the company I work for actually reads this. 

At first, exclusively working from home sounded ideal: no commute, no traditional work attire, and a break from office intrigue and people politics. However, the COVID pandemic lingers with waves of new variants. So there’s no definitive end in sight to this massive shift from working in an office space to rocking it in a spare bedroom. Instead of in-person interactions or conversations, at-home workers constantly rely on computers and phones to stay connected. Many are hitting the wall of technology fatigue, too, because we’re all using tech in every aspect of our lives now. Thanks very much, Silicon Valley.

“Remotely working” is the appropriate description of productivity for many these days. The pandemic continues and business has decreed work-at-home to be “the new normal” for white-collar workers. But growing numbers of them are bored as shit by it all, and have embraced stealthy rebellion. It’s becoming a growing insurrection of the virtual class.

Why are NeoLuddites growing in number?
- You know the bean counters see cost savings so work-at-home will be continued with some flimsy justifications.

- When the highlight of the week is changing your background to try and amuse your co-workers, or you’re sending never-ending salvos of cheap emotion-laden GIFs…somethings gotta give.
- Too many, WAY too many eye-draining, soul-killing online meetings.
- People miss office pranks.

Some coping mechanisms until the revolution arrives:
- Secure your own dedicated office area at home with good ventilation and a beer fridge. Ignore spouse and kids’ claims for private space…this is w-o-r-k.
- Wear shorts not skivvies for Zoom conferences when it’s hot. Exception: if forced to attend a virtual Happy Hour, skivvies OK and, indeed, recommended.
- If in a Zoom meeting with only audio: make faces at the co-workers or external collaborators you despise without making a noise. They can still feel it.
- If in a Zoom meeting with video: randomly mute others claiming a bad line creates feedback. Click mute with imperceptible hand movements, but continue nodding with the conversation flow.

Courtesy of themarketoonist.com by Tom Fishburne

- Schedule a meeting, kick off the meeting by asking another attendee why they requested the meeting and topic, savor his or her baffled look and fumbling response, then with a patronizing tone re-schedule “so people can do their prep.” At the next meeting, check the result of the meeting with another meeting. All these meetings = no paper trail.

More to come...

Scenes from the sanctum

Two months left until the Tokyo Olympics! Yet Yokohama, Tokyo, Osaka and seven other densely populated prefectures are still under the government’s coronavirus “state of emergency.” In effect, it means people refrain from pleasure travel, restaurants and bars are told to close by 8 pm and not serve alcohol or offer karaoke. The measures are intended to prevent a fourth wave of COVID-19 infections. I predict a fifth wave of aggravated boredom soon. (It’s the lack of karaoke that may kill me. Kidding.)

Like the rest of the world the Rising Family™ has adjusted. We’ve been doing what we can to get out, stay active, and have fun. So in this post I’ll share a few photos from the first half of the year that give you a taste.

January: stayed home over the Christmas and New Year holidays. We were reacquainted with the delights of downtown such as Yokohama Harbor at night.

Our Yokohama life (Phase 2) is flavored with discovering new things about the city. We went to hatsumode -- the first Buddhist temple or Shinto shrine visit of the Japanese New Year – at an ancient shrine not far from our neighborhood. It just felt right to kick off the year that way. There were fewer people there than we expected.

Lady E. celebrated her birthday at home with a homemade cake. She’s in a down-to-earth mood these days. “Just family, please!"

Warm winters mean you can trek or hike trails year round. Jumping bean Marina was so full of energy she bounced down the trail to the car.

Every month my bud James Shalikashvili and I take off for day hike somewhere in the Tokyo-Yokohama-Chiba area. Here we are at the Miura peninsula; Mt. Fuji is across the bay on the right.

When I’ve had enough and need to get away, I take off for a day drive on my trusty 125cc scooter which magically enables me to skirt traffic jams. I find serene spots for downtime. This is the view I get from one of my favorite escape destinations: staring at the cedar tree boughs, sea salt in the air....

Democracy rocks my world

In 2015, I lost the right to vote in federal elections because I had been living outside Canada for more than five years. This post is not a retroactive rant about the government’s decision to restrict the vote of more than one million non-resident Canadians like me. Rather, it’s a valentine to a system of government that can change.

Earlier this year I read the measures taken to restrict voting rights for Canadians abroad were being contested in the Supreme Court. The court's ruling led the current government to reverse course and restore the vote for expat Canucks. I soon applied online to be part of the new international register of electors. I received a notice in the mail confirming I would again be able to vote. Good stuff, right?

Canadian citizenship entails certain rights, freedoms, and responsibilities. Every citizen should have the right to vote regardless of where they live. It’s wonderful the law changed thanks to healthy civil discourse, political action, and the rule of law. That process rendered change without any violence. If that’s not another terrific example of democracy (and the Canadian social contract) in action, what is?

I need to get off the soapbox, I know. In a nutshell, I was gratified to have my right to vote returned to me. I can again be a part of the elections that steer the direction of my country. Once a Canadian, always a Canadian. And huzzah for democracy.

Courtesy of the Parliament of Canada