Making a Kimono Scarf, Wherein Peevish Nearly Reprises the George H. W. Bush Vomiting Incident

Just when I was starting to envision a cushy post-Japan career as an overpaid State Department consultant, offering humble pearls of wisdom on international relations, reality arrived in the shape of a mushroom. Alas, it wasn't the cookie variety with a chocolate cap. It also wasn't a shiitake, but more on that later.

We went to Mineko's house today to transform kimono remnants into scarves.  The scarf at left is an example of the style I made. I can't show you mine because I still have three more seams to sew. By hand, so it might take me a few months.

Here's another example. We used black kimono fabric for the body of the scarf and then added swatches of colorful fabric. Artistic and Fearless were more ambitious.  (This is nothing new.)  Their scarves have about two dozen colorful squares running lengthwise.

Mineko folds furoshiki

Mineko treated us to a tea ceremony in the tatami room on the second floor of her house before we got started on those scarves. She had arranged four cushions on the floor and one stool. She invited me to sit on the stool. I was more relieved than embarrassed since kneeling on one of those cushions for longer than thirty seconds is sheer agony.

Artistic and Fearless assembling their masterpieces

While Misa and Yuko helped us with our scarves, Mineko bustled around her kitchen preparing an elaborate and educational lunch. This is when I learned that there are at least seven varieties of mushroom in Japan besides shiitake.

A bit of backstory: Mineko and I somehow touched on the topic of food preferences during last week's trip to Nikko. When I mentioned that Artistic is a vegetarian and that Fearless and I dislike mushrooms, Mineko asked, "Shiitake?" I assumed she meant "including Shiitake?" and said yes.

It seemed like a fairly reasonable assumption so I was surprised to open the foil packet on my plate and find a chunk of salmon covered with slender pale mushrooms. I surreptitiously scraped them off and hid them inside the re-folded foil while ignoring the silent laughter of Artistic to my immediate right and avoiding eye contact with Fearless across the table. Just when I was starting to congratulate myself on dodging a bullet, Mineko let loose a Gatling gun volley in the form of what looked like a macaroni-and-cheese casserole but, upon cutting, turned out to be a tofu-onion-mushroom medley topped with melted cheese. 

She served me three sizable squares of the casserole. I made quick work of the cheese and not so quick work of about half a square. When Mineko pointed out that I had not finished my casserole, the dish she had gone to such pains to make, I cast a desperate glance around the table and saw that Misa was the only other guest who had not licked her plate clean. Misa has undergone abdominal surgery and has the appetite of a sparrow. She also has about fifteen years on me, but I was willing to claim kindred elderhood to escape finishing my casserole. "Your appetite shrinks when you get older. Look at Misa's plate."

Yes, I am seriously ashamed of myself. That's why I'm not plugging in my sewing machine to finish my kimono scarf. Stitching by hand is my self-imposed penance for bad behavior.

Takashimaya! Shinjuku! Kudasai!

We spent Suzi's last three nights in Japan at the New Sanno Hotel in Tokyo.  "How did you manage to reserve two rooms for three consecutive nights?" I asked the Ancient Mariner in amazement.  "I'm not quite sure," he confessed, "but I suspect all those room-hogging Department of Defense teachers are too busy packing for their taxpayer-funded summer hiatus to visit Tokyo this week."  After almost twenty years, I think my sarcasm might be rubbing off on him.

Mike and Matt plotted a trip to the electronic district Tuesday morning and called it "quality bonding time before Matt leaves for college."  I had other plans for Suzi and Kate. 

Nice use of rotting branch

"My friend Hiroko has invited us to meet her in Shinjuku to see an Ikebana exhibit with some other friends."

The Sykes sisters have spent a combined total of seven minutes arranging flowers in our nearly 113 (!) years on earth but we are always open to new experiences, especially those involving lunch.  Kate, of course, would not dream of missing the rare opportunity to see her godmother and mother navigate a cultural event.  So off we went.  In a taxicab, no less, which made the morning that much more special.  "Takashimaya!  Shinjuku!  Kudasai!" she bade the driver.  "Donder!  Blitzen!  Rudolph!" they giggled to themselves.

Scary vine strangling a banana leaf

The last time I counted -- about five minutes ago -- there were ten Ikebana schools, each professing a different approach or philosophy.  Sogetsu Ikebana, which Hiroko is studying, is based on the belief that anyone can practice the way of flowers anywhere, and with almost anything.   

A campfire perhaps 

The Sogetsu School preaches accessibility.  They believe Ikebana ought to be inclusive and global and not an exclusive aspect of Japanese culture enjoyed by a limited number of people.

(Frankly, I was quite enamored by the use of twigs and branches.  I see it might be possible to spend a lot less money on clear plastic yard bags and a lot less time bagging my neighbor's intrusive vines when I get back to Norfolk.)

Individual, imaginative, and extremely patient

Sogetsu recognizes that every person is unique.  Students are encouraged to be individual and imaginative.

 

Suzi and I invested in several portable plastic vases that can double as wine or beer coolers.  You'll just have to imagine this until I catch up with my chronology.

 

The exhibit was held at the Takashimaya Department Store which is about three thousand times bigger than the NYC version on Fifth Avenue.  Like many large Japanese department stores, Takashimaya rents floor space to other retailers and restaurants.  Some of us were excited to see an entire floor of Yuzawaya fabrics, yarns, and other craft supplies.  The others were relieved to see the line at the cash register was too long to allow the fanatics to shop without rudely postponing lunch.

 

Hiroko presented beautiful fans in lovely fan cases to Suzi and Kate during lunch.  The thoughtfulness of my Japanese friends continues to astound and humble me.

 

Hisayo snapped pictures of us near the Yuzawaya entrance.  I look terrible in one and Kate looks pretty awful in the other.  I would not post either one but Suzi is rarely photographed and Hisayo captured her essence wonderfully.  Which to post?  What's a mother to do?

In the interest of international diplomacy, Peevish blinks at the same time as Yoko and Hiroko.

Back:  Peevish, Suzi, Valerie
Front:  Yoko, Kate, Hiroko

  Next:  Edo Museum at Last!