Running Red

I went running the other day. Not that I wanted to. I don't hate running anymore. I used to. Running was just so...not what anyone could want to be doing. But now it's mostly just a method to be somewhere in a faster way than usual.

But I was actually running in a great big circle. Surrounded by 700+ children; also running. My honor had been challenged by a small contagion of 4th graders, you see. And that just doesn't fly down in Toda-town.

So, yes, I ran. With the running. And it was fine. I kinda wished we had more of a warm-up and any of a cool-down. (Stretch on my own time...I know, I know.) Coupled with my 30 minute bicycle-shaped commute, the three minutes of running got the blood pumping. Right on up into my face.

This is a big, giant deal in Japan. Apparently red-facedness only happens when you are:
A. Well and Truly Drunk
B. Very Nearly Dying

So knowing that I had shown up to work sober, the students were more than a titch concerned. Almost endearing. Slightly annoying. (Though they may have thought I snuck a fifth while changing in the locker room.)

Care Packages for Expats

In dire need of a care package. And it's not that I want to be home...I just want my stuff from home. Globalization, get your ass in gear!

I partly blame the return of Wendy's to Japan while the market fails so, so very hard at making a single Taco Bell accessible. And there is no way it can be due to the quality of T-Bell, I know people who eat at Yoshinoya regularly. (You know who you are and what you did...the eating thing. I just mentioned it. Pay attention.)

The list that was requested of me is primarily composed of snacks and candy. I'm usually able to clothe myself, except that one time. But you weren't there for it, so I guess it wasn't worth mentioning. I'm also not terribly fussed about personal products. Except for deodorant. I very much would like deodorant.