TCCOR Shmeakore

We are in "TCCOR 1 Caution" mode here. What does that mean? I wondered the same thing, the way I have sometimes wondered which Tornado W (watch or warning) should send me racing to the SW corner of the basement or which military base flag condition (red or black) means I ought to call an ambulance or which terrorist threat color might want to make me think twice about getting on that airplane. So I did a little research.

Tropical Cyclone Conditions of Awareness (TCCOR) is a system prepared by and for American military personnel stationed in Japan. Apparently whatever system the native Japanese have developed over the past several centuries does not suit our purpose (surviving a cyclone, I assume) although it's possible some junior officer with a Japanese wife simply asked her to translate the local version a few decades ago and was subsequently promoted to senior officer status on the basis of his hard work. But I digress. Those cars speeding up and down weather hill are very distracting.

TCCOR levels start at 4 and end at 1. The levels denote wind intensity and the time remaining before those wind conditions are expected to arrive where I happen to be standing. From July to November here, we are always in TCCOR 4 mode. This means we are always within three days of possible "destructive winds of 50 kts or greater".

Let's just assume (a) "kts" denotes knots and not karats in this instance, and (b) Matt, Emma, and Mary already know to never use an abbreviation in a paper until they have first spelled out the complete word. So, what is a knot other than a possible title for Dave Eggers next book? Seriously, are we talking knots per hour and, if so, how does a knot per hour compare with a mile per hour? This is your shot at some of those burger cookies, people.

TCCOR 3 is declared when those 50 kts winds are within 2 days of me, TCCOR 2 means "within 24 hours," and TCCOR 1 is "within 12 hours."

Which brings us to TCCOR 1 Caution: the winds are blowing at 34-49 knots and are expected to reach 50 knots or more within 12 hours. When/if the winds reach 50 knots or greater on this installation, TCCOR 1 Emergency will be declared.

According to the directives issued to all military personnel upon arriving in Japan, schools are closed when TCCOR 1 is declared. When TCCOR 1 Caution is declared, "All outdoor activities should cease, except those in direct support of urgent military missions. All non-mission-essential personnel are released from work and should be off the streets and in their residences."

But, um, someone decided not to close the schools when TCCOR 1 was declared. They still did not close the schools when the caution was issued although they reserved the right to send the children home early. I imagine there are scores of kindergarteners here who will never forget their first day of school, assuming they survive being blown into Tokyo Bay when the winds top 50 knots and someone decides to send them home.

I'm wondering how we informed people about potential emergencies 50 years ago. Because, as I told that base emergency preparedness "expert" two years ago, it simply does not make any sense to me that we are putting all of our eggs in the electronic basket. They are communicating information to us via television, radio, and the base website. The people who live off-base don't receive that television channel and recent arrivals (me, for instance) don't have a television to receive any channel whatsoever. The base website has a questionable security certificate, presenting a hurdle to many. When I finally managed to get over that hurdle, I read what I already knew, "We are in TCCOR 1 Caution. Please watch Channel 15 and check this website for additional information."

The wind has been blowing the screen back and forth across my bedroom window all the time I've been writing. Normally I would spend about two hours editing this diatribe into a somewhat tidy little essay but I'm going to post this now just in case one of those scary Harry Potter trees crashes through my window. Because if I'm not around to say I told you so, I sure as heck hope one of you will either do so on my behalf or at the very least write a wildly popular song, "She Told Them So," that Sandy can sing at my funeral and then perform at the Grammy Awards, perhaps as a duet with Elton John. Maybe a little medley, even, but don't use any post-1975 pictures of me if I'll be sharing screen time with Princess Di.

Thanks.

They'd Better Not Cancel the First Day of School

Today is the first time in six weeks I've missed our television. Maybe I should stand in the carport and flag down the next car that comes down from Weather Hill.

Something might happen if you click on the title.

Dawn's Early Light

I'm no longer setting the alarm for 4:30 am. School starts the day after tomorrow and Matt's practices have been switched to after noon, a time more in synch with my circadian rhythm, but already I'm a bit nostalgic for those quiet morning hours when I sat on my back patio listening to the base slowly wake up around me.

Every summer the Navy announces the First Class Petty Officers who have been selected for promotion to the rank of Chief Petty Officer, commonly referred to as 'Chiefs.' For the entire month of August and the first half of September the Chiefs-select undergo a rigorous training regimen and a nearly-as-rigorous fundraising frenzy. Here in Yokosuka the Navy's best and brightest run along the side of my house at 5:30 every morning as they approach Weather Hill. Fifteen minutes later they pass again on the descent (walking this time so I guess they're following "The Galloway Method.") I can hear them approaching when they're still two blocks away. There are about 25 of them, chanting in unison to that tune we all learned watching boot camp scenes in old movies. Weather Hill is the toughest obstacle they face and they seem to appreciate the spectator standing on the side of the road in her pajamas, humming "They'll Be Comin' 'Round the Mountain."

Spinmomster

The Red Devils took a beating at home tonight from archrival Yokota (aka Air Force Pukes). The final score was a disheartening 49-6. On the plus side, #88 was on the field for seven kick returns and the camera battery waited until half-time to sputter out.


Remember that new hobby I mentioned the other day? It's already done wonders for my popularity. The phone rang just as I was racing out the door to the game. "It's Mi-Mi. Do you have any ice? There's none on the base and the Oakleaf picnic is tomorrow!" The Navy Exchange has pulled all the ice from its shelves on account of some sort of infestation (I'm picturing lots of frozen cockroaches, yuck). It's so great to feel needed. Maybe I can parlay the ice into my passing dish . . .

More Cookies

I went to Kamakura to catch up with Kyoko and Tsuneko, my Japanese book club ladies. From our house to the JR train station is a 30-minute hike in flip-flops, my footwear of choice now that I've worn through the soles of my brown flats.

Arriving at the station 10 minutes ahead of my train, I popped into the convenience store in search of a little towel to mop the sweat from my brow. These little towels are de rigeur in this part of the world. (Before he deployed Mike graciously posed with his One Piece towel to illustrate this point.)

I not only found a towel but, even better, spotted the tiny burger cookies Bridget let me sample two years ago. Although I had searched high and low for my own supply of these cookies, I had always come up empty-handed.



The teaspoon was Matt's idea to help you grasp the size of the cookies. The filling is bourbon-flavored caramel.

The faux sesame seeds are a nice touch.

Anpanman Museum Reprised

The USS Nimitz, an aircraft carrier based in San Diego, arrived in Yokosuka the day before yesterday. This is the first time many of those young sailors have set foot in a foreign country. Three of them entered the train station just as Jen F, Amanda, and I were heading to the Anpanman Museum in Yokohama yesterday morning. The slightly baffled looks on their faces appealed to our maternal instincts, although in my case the instinct is probably just as much buttinski as maternal.

They were in search of Tokyo where they hoped to take pictures of the Imperial Palace. We got them as far as Yokohama, told them where to get off (that was fun to write), showed them how to check their progress on the route diagram above the door of the train car, and insisted they also visit Asakusa for a good temple experience. I hope they had a wonderful day. I certainly did.



Jen O (as opposed to Jen F, and you haven't even met Jen R yet) had alerted me to the availability of plastic popcorn containers like the one the tyke above is wearing around his neck. He's wearing the Baikenman model but I selected the Anpanman version for Matt and had it filled with caramel corn. Once Matt polishes off the contents, I'll re-appropriate the container, plant it next to my kitchen sink, and toss coffee grounds into it. Because when I'm not busy bagging ice cubes these days, I'm amassing coffee grounds for my garden. That would be the garden I plan to start when Mike is home long enough to ride shotgun to the plant store. I'm still not brave enough to drive solo out in town.

Coffee grounds can also be used in place of baking soda to rid your refrigerator of odors. I read it on the internet so it must be true.

This Week at the 100 Yen Store

Matt's busy with football, Mike's bobbing around in the water somewhere off the coast of Mumble Grumble Mumble, and there are actually limits to the number of lunch outings I can rationalize. I stupidly forgot to put my sewing machine in the Unaccompanied Baggage. I don't remember how to cast yarn on a knitting needle. There are 30 books loaded on my Kindle but I'm trying to pace my reading just in case a maritime mishap sends all my other books to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Since an idle mind is reportedly the devil's playground and mine can barely contain my thoughts let alone a slimy red creature, I've invented a new hobby. My dad would appreciate this one. I call it making ice.

It started when I had four minutes to kill waiting for the coffee in the French press to steep. I grabbed a ziploc bag, emptied four ice cube trays into it, then refilled the trays with water. With 10 more seconds to endure, I wandered over to the front refrigerator, opened the freezer door, and - Eureka! - found an automatic ice maker (Note to Chip: That scratchy noise in the middle of the night is not a rodent in the walls after all. Whew.) The automatic cubes went into the bag with their homespun cousins and the bag was stowed on a shelf in the empty freezer. Filling bags with ice soon became part of my daily routine, like brushing my teeth and taking a St. Joseph's aspirin.

While wandering around Daiso, a 100 Yen store, with Margaret the other day, I spotted these nifty Ice Block Bags. They come in 2 liter and 3 liter sizes. I bought both.



Between bagging cubes and filling bags with water, I am now too busy to go out to lunch most days. I'm thinking of expanding into crushed ice as soon as the blender catches up with us. With three varieties of ice on offer, I'm sure to be swamped with invitations from just about every hostess in Japan.

I feel a contest coming on . . .