We are starting to get into a groove and I was beginning to fear the worse: that nothing else funny or interesting would happen and I wouldn’t have anything to write about. Please consider this evidence why fear and worry are pointless.
I got a bike. Finally, I should add. Yes, just like the TV, the satellite for the TV, the internet, the school, well, you know, everything here comes with time. It should come as no surprise that we had to special order the bike. It could be better, but it’s a bike. Our daughter has quickly resumed her back seat driving skills, although she has yet to start singing “Slow down, you’re moving too fast” the way she did on I 95 and I 66.
The new bike means I have to find new routes to get everywhere. I haven’t yet got my road legs. Every time I think I have them, the back seat driver will remind me she is on the back by rocking back and forth. This reminder of my precarious balance is usually followed by, “Dad. I just rocked a little bit.” “Yes, I could tell.” In addition to the rocking hazard behind me, are the awning hazards above me. Well, the awning hazards that should be above me. I couldn’t ride on the sidewalks if I wanted to. Unless decapitation is the order of the day.
The other major adjustment in our lives came on April 30th when I got the following email from my wife:
Omura-san is leaving. She gave me her notice a few
minutes ago. Her last day will be May 14.
I quickly logged off and called the office immediately. I knew lawyer I was married to would do something stupid like tell her congratulations.
I called. My wife answered, “Moshi, moshi.”
“Give me Omura-san.”
“So you read the email.”
“Give me Omura-san.”
“It’s sad. Isn’t it?”
“Give me Omura-san.”
“Moshi. Moshi.”
“Konichi-wa Omura-sama. I forbid you to leave. I realize my wife has probably told you congratulations, and that she is excited about your new opportunity. But I forbid you to leave. You have to stay. My wife needs you. I need you. We need you.”
The silence that followed was long. Very long. I was told that Omura-san did not reply until the blushing had totally subsided.
“I offered to take your wife with me.”
“Omura-san. What will we do without you? If you are serious about this, you must give us your email address, you home number, your parents’ number, you cell phone number, your address, and your passport number. And you must agree to make yourself available to help us 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year.”
Do you know what she told me? “OK.”
And on May 14, she gave us all that information. And said she would be happy to be our “lifestyle consultant.” (Haven’t had to say this in awhile, but just want to point out that I am NOT making this up. First international cuisine and now lifestyle consultant. I want to know if I can be her lexicon consultant.)
Before you hit the reply button, let me answer some of your questions:
No, she decided not to dye her hair blond – this is VERY popular among the 20-somethings.
Yes, her new job has better pay, benefits, hours and increased responsibilities.
No, (and I asked twice!) she is not interested in coming to the states to be YOUR lifestyle consultant.
Yes it is sad. But every other week she sends an email, letting us know how she is doing at her new job and asking if there is anything we need help with.
The other week my wife came home with a huge smile on her face. I hadn’t seen this smile in weeks. So I asked, “What are you so happy about?”
“I called Omura today. I needed help.”
“And?”
“It took her three minutes to help me and solve the problem.”
“She still has the touch.”
Omura the protector and lifestyle consultant. Print up the new business cards and bring on the obstacles!
written07142004