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Home , Futon, Genkan, Getabako, Japanese kitchen, Tansu

Chapter 1 On Three Days of Discussion About How to Enter the Apartment アパートに入る方法に関する3日間の議論

July 14 2015 From Wikipedia: [edit] Main article: Genkan One characteristic of a Japanese is the genkan, or . It includes a small area, at the same level as the outside, where arriving people remove their shoes. As they take o their shoes, people step up onto a raised floor. They point the tips of their shoes to the outside. The rest of the residence is at the raised level of this floor. Adjacent to the lower floor is a shelf or called a (geta box) in which people will place their shoes. Slippers for indoor use are usually placed there. This was causing a big problem, and discussion about it went on for days. Our entryway couldn't be too low, because of the possibility of water instrusion. A previous owner had placed some cinder blocks along the (or more precisely, along the bottom of what used to be the ) that is to become our front door. Karl's first thought was to remove the bricks, in order to keep the level of the genkan lower than that of the floor. But the blocks were there for the obvious purpose of keeping water out. Water tends to collect--probably from multiple sources--right in this spot. And it isn't standing water, it seems to flow through this spot, as if we're glimpsing the top of an underground stream. (Note: We discovered weeks later that the source of the water was not an underground stream exactly, but 2 inch plactic pipe that connected to a storm drain system. Except the water was flowing up from the drain, rather than down the drain.) Removing the blocks would invite disaster. Option two was to have visitors take a giant step over the bricks into the genkan, but that didn't seem practical. Finally Karl declared that we would have to compromise: the transition from outside to inside would have to be visual, or textural, but we would not be able to have a "step up."

I tried to explain this to Ann, who looked at me with a blank expression. "What do you mean, there won't be a step up?" I pointed out the logistical challenges, and the thought process that led to Karl's compromise, and she wouldn't have any of it. "Why is the step so important?" I asked. "Because without it, it wouldn't be Japanese" was the response. The next day Ann met with Karl. Within 5 minutes they had decided to build up the floor throughout the entire apartment to 6.5 inches, so that there would be a four inch step up from the genkan. That didn't leave a lot of between floor and . Toby, slightly taller than I, stood on a 6.5 inch platform, bouncing around a little, and we all nodded approvingly. Anyone taller will have to stoop, but Toby and I are fine. As for how to handle the water accumulation near the entrance, the solution is brilliant. We embrace it. The "" will be a large river rock, from which you will step onto a "welcoming rock" in the genkan, from which you will step up to the tatami floor. Tomorrow we're meeting Ron, the mason, in Santa Cruz to do some rock shopping. Ann says: Embracing the water accumulation is like “lovingly reconciling your enemy”, as my dad used to say about the basic philosophy of Aikido. The character for “ai” in Aikido means harmony, and Aikido is about being in harmony with the rest of the world, rather than resisting. Rather than pushing back against an opponent, practitioners of Aikido pull their opponents in so that the opponent’s energy harmonizes with their own. The founder of Aikido said, “The secret of Aikido is to harmonize ourselves with the movement of the universe and bring ourselves into accord with the universe itself.” Chapter 2 Rocks and Woods 岩や森 July 17 2015 Yesterday we drove to Santa Cruz to meet Ronnie, the mason, to choose some rocks for the genkan. Ronnie was running late, so we had pretty much settled on something before he got there. He was happy with the choice, and thought it would work well. We all liked them so much that we decided to pave the entire genkan with rocks, instead of having just a "welcoming stone." There's a picture below. Meanwhile, Karl was spending some time at a mill in Boulder Creek. Our sleeping room is a three room, and there is some leftover space that will be filled in with hardwood floor. Karl was particularly happy with the fact that he had found a plank that would essentially fill the space with one piece. He proudly drove it by this morning to show it o (second piece from the top, left of the pile, on the back of his truck). You can also see, right on top of the pile, a walnut burl that will become the top of the cabinets. On the bottom of the pile are the hefty beams that will be "matchbox" cut for the ceiling panels.

And finally, while Ronnie was noisily cutting through cinder blocks and removing chunks of concrete from the floor (to move the floor drain underneath the soaking tub that Karl has constructed), I overheard this unlikely conversation:

Karl: We're going to need three in the sleeping room...two for the , and a big one for the door. Have you checked the inventory?

Mark: Yes, we have enough, but some of them are going to need repair.

Karl: Do we have paper?

Mark: Yes, but we might need some glue.

Karl; Well, that's just boiling rice, so we ought to be able to handle that! Chapter 3 A Gallery of Construction Grati 建設落書きギャラリー July 20 2015 Chapter 4 On the Garden 庭の上で July 20 2015

I'm excited about the potential for this spot, but I don't have a vision yet. Today I cleaned it up, removed the ivy that threatened to take over, raked it, and stared at it a while. I think this was a dog pen at one time, and I took out a lot of wire mesh and odds and ends that were stu ed into openings between the trees. I discovered a bay tree sprouting in the large stump near the center of the picture. It was hot today, and I could smell the baking bay leaves before I saw them. Chapter 5 On Meeting the Landscaper 造園家との出会い July 23 2015 Today we met with Karl and his friend Toru Kawamura. The meeting lasted about an hour, but specifics of landscaping took up only a small fraction of the converstion that drifted from Japanese to English to broken Japanese to broken English. Karl and Toru spoke of the time they met, when they were both planting rice in adjacent fields in southern . Karl lamented his failed attempts to grow rice in the Santa Cruz mountains. We learned that we have an avocado tree. Toru took every opportunity to mention his new grandson, and chided Karl for his lack of grandchildren. He will be cutting down on his landscaping work so that he can babysit one day a week. They spoke of the Zen temple they built together in northern California, and of their collaboration on Jack Oneill's in Santa Cruz. They talked of (evidently Karl is the former President of the Bamboo Society), and of red pine. They sounded like a couple of aging rock stars talking about the old days at the Fillmore. They did their best to trace the path of the sun overhead, and speculated on how that might a ect the arrangement of the elements of the garden. Toru said it all starts with the rocks. Karl described the reflection of the moonlight from the rocks in his garden, and insisted that he and Toru were striving not to build a garden, but to create a poem. "We want poetry in your lives." While cleaning up the yard, I'd discovered a midden of burl chunks. It looked like someone had cut up a tree stump, and piled the pieces at the base of a redwood, where the ivy covered them up. They were interesting, and I'd wondered if there was a way to incorporate them into the landscape. Toru spotted one of them from a distance, and everyone agreed that it was reminiscent of Kannon, the goddess of mercy. Oddly enough, it was the Kannon where Ann and I visited in 2012 that was a big part of the inspiration for this project. In the end we agreed to build a fence, to look for rocks, and to allow the materials to guide us. For the fence, Karl plans to use a technique that involves burning the wood, then wire-brushing the burned parts. "I've been wanting to teach the guys how to do that anyway." (Toru prefers letting nature do the carbon removal) Ann, who is prone to small world moments, had another with Karl, when they discovered that they have a mutual aquaintance with a Zen priest from the Myoshinji Temple Compound in , and they had each recently spent time in the same temple within weeks of one another,. "Of all the gin joints and Buddhist temples..." she said. The Zen priest was a wrestler for Arizona State. You can't make this stu up. Go Sun Devils! Chapter 6 About Buying a 箪笥スを買うことについて July 25 2015 This is technically not a construction note, but the floor plan for our 6 mat room includes an alcove for a tansu. We didn't have a tansu.

From Wikipedia:

Tansu is the traditional mobile storage cabinetry indigenous to Japan. Tansu was first recorded in the era of the Period(1688–1704). The two characters, TAN and SU, appear to have initially represented objects with separate functions: the storage of food and the carrying of firewood. Since the radical for bamboo appears in each of these characters, it may be conjectured that wood was not as yet used.[1] During the time period in which tansu gradually became a feature of Japanese culture and daily life, 1657–1923, both hard and softwoods were used by Tansuyas (tansu craftsmen), often in practical combination for a single chest. Woods commonly used in tansu included Keyaki (elm), Kuri ( chestnut), Ezo matsu (pine), Sugi (cedar), Kiri (paulownia) and Hinoki (cypress). Many collectors focus on finding genuine antique Tansu. There are few producing Tansu in imitation of the classic antiquesdue to the high cost of materials and the very low prices of secondhand Tansu . Larger chests are sometimes reduced in size, particularly chests, Step chests and other chests with deep drawers. Some reproduction Tansu have been reproduced in Korea using Keyaki veneer. Ann was picturing a chadansu, or tea chest. On Saturday we visited the warehouse of Kiku Imports in San Carlos to take a look around. There were several, incuding one with a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree kind of charm, that we thought was a ordable. I'm taking the time to mention Kiku Imports because the people there were so gracious and accomodating and friendly. The chadansu we picked had a couple of sliding panels, about the size of paperback books, that were decorated with a garish and cheesy Egyptian-ish fabric. The folks at the warehouse made some suggestions for suitable replacements (rice paper over maple leaves?), and searched high and low, and by this I mean an older woman was repeatedly climbing a precarious ladder to a perilous storage to dig out rolls of rice paper of various thicknesses until she found something we liked. In the end we picked a sheet of paper covered with kanji that was part of a story (according to the woman) about the Princess's 30th birthday. Unless there is more than one Crown Princess, this is the gal who turned 50 last year, so that dates the rice paper. The folks at Kiku Imports will be replacing the fabric panels for no charge, are cleaning, shining and waxing the chadansu, and we'll be able to pick it up in a couple of weeks. Chapter 7 TMI About Toilets トイレについての情報が多すぎる

July 26 2015 Toto, we're not in Kansas any more. This is all about toilets. The picture is from the "Clean is Happy!" campaign created for Toto, Japan's "leading manufacturer of sanitary ceramics." I'm not making this up. You can see for yourself here, and watch the video while you're at it. I have to aknowledge that in the world of sanitary ceramics, America is behind the times (all puns here and henceforth are intended). Think about how far we've come with other everyday items, such as the telephone. At the age of 60, I have a fairly broad perspective, but would someone less seasoned than I make the connection between the hand held, voice activated, game enhanced, text messaging, internet at your fingertips, picture taking, GPS social media tool of today and the bulky, wall-anchored party line rotary phone of the 60's? I doubt it. And yet, confronted with a from 1960, I suspect that they would have little diculty navigating its operation, without even having to google it. The American toilet seems to have run into an evolutionary cul de sac. (Bonus point for foreign language pun) Japan wins, and the Toto Washlet is where it's at. On Saturday we visited the Santekshop Store, where they have several washlet models on display in the showroom. The range in price is wide, and the young store manager was surprisingly serious and helpful. Toilet seats yawned open as we walked by, as if the toilets were bored and yearning for action. (How do they know if I intend to sit or stand?) Assuming that we go with a lower-end model, such as the C100 (round or elongated, it is of primary importance to know which is which), here are some of the features it won't have:

-wide front cleanse -instantaneous water heating -automatic open and close lid -night light -remote control

And alas, there will be only 3 settings for water pressure, water temperature, air temperature and heated seat control instead of the more luxurious 5 settings for pricier models. On March 9th, 2012 I saw a man blow drying his butt. I am certain of this date, as the event made such an impression on me that I had to go home and take notes about it in my journal. I was at the Almaden Valley Athletic Club, I was taking a shower after my workout and I happened to glance from the shower stall through the glass door to the locker room and saw a man pointing one of the blow dryers directly at his butt hole. I’d never seen this behavior before, and started to wonder about the consequences of inadvertently going through life with wet butt hair. To what sort of long-term risks was I subjecting myself? When I was in high school my friends and I occasionally met at a restaurant called Bumbleberry, which specialized in pies. It was in the Pruneyard shopping center, as I recall. Once when my father overheard us making plans, he cracked up at the name Bumbleberry. When I asked him what was so funny about it, he said it sounded like dingleberry (a forgivable mis-association when you start wondering where bumbleberries come from). When I asked what a dingleberry was he explained that it was a little ball of twisted together butt hairs that would sometime feel like a little object when you were wiping yourself, and when you tried to remove the object you would quickly come to the painful realization that the hairs were still attached. My father was full of expendable bits of information like that. But I started to wonder--was the blow dryer a strategy for reducing the liklihood of dingleberry development? How many unecessary dingleberries have I had to deal with, because of America's refusal to bring the commode into the 21st Century? I rest assured that all available Toto Washlet models come with air dryer, air purifier and air temperature control, albeit in only 3 settings for the cheap seats. Chapter 8 All About すべてのドアについて

July 27, 2015 Doors For such a small space, this apartment has a lot of doors. Pictured above, to the right of the image, will be the doorway that leads to the genkan. The original design of the apartment calls for a cheap, standard American factory entry door. Should have been a piece of cake, but it seems that t hings are never that simple. The next door you'll see as you walk in will be a sliding door, one of a set of four authentic Japanese doors that Karl had in his inventory. He had three styles to choose from. Based on his description we were ready to go with the "farmhouse" door, a stunning and solid look. But when we saw one of the alternatives, a -style with a glass panel, we quickly changed our minds. The shoji door would look even better backlit with some natural light, which brings us back to the entry door. Now we were looking for something with a glass panel that would let some light through, out not with some sort of pattern that would be projected onto the shoji. Lowe's and Home Depot both had something we could order that would work, but we wouldn't get delivery until sometime in September. Finally, through Craigslist, we found a reasonable alternative in the form of a door company in Gilroy, who is able to have something ready for us in a couple of days. It looks like this one in the picture on the right. Even then, there was quite a bit of extended discussion about whether the door should open to the inside (the American way, and perhaps better for security--unless you're in a commercial where you might need to leave quickly in an emergency--or to the outside (the Japanese way). This same conversation becomes a running gag in a Japanese movie called "All About Our House," required viewing for anyone building their own Japanese apartment

Below are samples of the three styles of interior door that Karl had. There is the farm house style, and two shoji doors (shown here stacked one on the other, and without some or all of the shoji paper.

The one we picked is the one with the glass panel. Interestingly, the "handle" that you use to slide the door back in forth is right about at the level of the glass. That's the right height if you're kneeling on the floor. There will be three of these doors in the 6 mat room (to the genkan, to the changing room and to the ). There are also doors from the sleeping room to the garden, from the changing room to the bathroom, from the changing room to the dingy basement (future location of the karaoke room?) and a doorless entry from the 6 mat room to the sleeping room. Chapter 9 About the Kitchen キッチンについて

July 29 2015

Today I enjoyed one of the most amazing bargains ever. While waiting for my cabinet order to be assembled, I went to the restaurant at Ikea and ordered "The Breakfast." Scrambled eggs, sausages and fried potato. 370 calories and gluten-free. For a dollar. No, that is not a misprint. $1.00 plus tax. The bottomless cup of perfectly serviceable Swedish co ee was free with my "Ikea Family" membership. I'm tempted to drive there every day from now on.

The . Nearly every aspect of our Japanese apartment--the floors, the , the , the features, the construction materials, the dimensions, the accents--is Japanese, in ways that would be recognizable to native Japanese, and in ways that would appear foreign to westerners. Except for the kitchen. There will be a fridge, a sink, a cooktop, some counters and some cabinets. The kitchen is the great bridge of commonality between the East and the West. And the Swedes do it for cheap. The design was all done on the Ikea 3D Kitchen Planner. We had to revise it a couple of times to accommodate changes in the room design, but today I pressed the "order" button, went to the cafe for breafast, and came back to find 28 boxes stacked on two flat carts, which I gracefully maneuvered to my truck. To maximize space, Karl had the brilliant idea of building a seperate room for the refrigerator. Below are pictures of the "annex" from the inside and from the outside. Chapter 10 On Our Visit to Karl and Ginger’s House カールとジンジャーの家への訪問

August 2 2015

Visiting Karl and Ginger As the apartment starts to come into focus, and decisions must soon be made about plaster colors and decorative details, Karl invites us to spend the afternoon at his house. The purpose is to give us a glimpse at some of the options that we'll have for our own place. Ginger is a gracious host, their property is expansive and wonderful, and their house is breathtaking. But it is the semi-outdoor , an appendage of the forest, where Karl is in his element. He sweeps us there after intercepting us as we attempt to navigate a dirt road in a remote part of Bonny Doon. It is there that he speaks--animated, almost giddy--about the history of the forest, and of his part in honoring the wood that it produces. In the photo above, Karl and Ann admire the single plank that will become part of the hardwood floor bordering the tatami in our future three mat sleeping room. We've seen this earlier, on Karl's truck, the day he discovered it in a sawmill in Boulder Creek. It was an unlikely find, and now it is finished, waiting to be cut, and Karl beams proudly as he talks about it, as if it were his precocious child. As Ginger waits in the house (We still haven't met her, just exchanged emails and an occasional phone call), Karl's tour of the workshop takes more than an hour. He explains why there are no "old growth" trees here, thanks to both the logging and the fires of the late 1800s. He points out how the trees propogate, and how the actions and long-term vision of a consciencious steward can a ect the quality of the wood. He shows us his lumber yard, where planks rest for seven years before they are ready for use. And he walks us through what can only be described as a "library," but instead of books, the stacks hold volumes of wood. And like the books in a library, each piece has it's story. There, wrapped in paper, are planks destined to become the ceiling in our apartment. Over there, a piece of walnut burl that is being considered as the base of our tokonoma. It was cut from a tree that toppled in the Loma Prieta earthquake, and Karl paid a group of homeless men a dollar each to hoist it onto his truck. And here, pieces that were cut from a log that had been submerged for decades in the San Lorenzo River, slowly taking on a distinctive color and texture. "Now you'll have the stories," he says. We finally make it to the house, meet Ginger (who shows no signs of impatience), and are seated, Japanese style, in the "tatami room" of their expansive home. We are awed by the fact that it is (except for the height of the ceiling) very similar in size to our future 6 mat room. Ginger serves us matcha as Karl points out the details of the . Eventually we wander to other parts of the house, including one with an enormous picture looking out to the forest in the direction of the ocean. We sit at the horigotatsu, where Ginger serves us pieces of melon and iced tea. Karl asks if we would be happy with a table like his. When we respond with enthusiasm, he becomes distant for a few moments, a little trance, where I imagine he is mentally going through the steps that will be necessary to re-create the three inch thick table. I've seen this before, during our regular walk-throughs at the apartment. He won't speak of it right away, but a day or so later he'll have all of the details worked out. Karl apologizes, more than once, for the condition of the tatami in this "." It is well worn, with threads sticking out in many places. For me, the wear has a certain charm. I wonder how many footsteps made by our children and grandchildren it will take to look like that, and I realize that I may not be around long enough to see the first threads poke out. Ginger pulls me aside and tells me about how, when this house was built, in her mind it wasn't just hers and Karl's, but belonged just as much to the workmen who contributed to its creation. And I realize, we haven't just remodeled a basement apartment, we've become part of a community. Chapter 11 Obon お盆

August 15 2015

We were honored to be invited as guests for Obon in Karl and Ginger's meadow. from Wikipedia:

Obon (お盆?) or just Bon (盆?) is a Japanese Buddhist custom to honor the spirits of one's ancestors. This Buddhist-Confucian custom has evolved into a family reunion holiday during which people return to ancestral family places and visit and clean their ancestors' graves, and when the spirits of ancestors are supposed to revisit the household altars. It has been celebrated in Japan for more than 500 years and traditionally includes a dance, known as Bon-Odori. We were jumping in on what I gather has been something like a thirty year tradition. This year, it was hotter than anyone remembered. Some of the regulars remember huddling up in down jackets in years past. I was wearing jeans and regretting it. It was "pot luck." Ann had worked all day making her famous "scattered sushi." Karl was cooking a magnificent coho salmon filet on a totally ghetto grill, assembled from salavaged pieces that included a car transmission casing. Rather than focusing on the spirits of ancestors, Karl and Ginger were dedicating this Obon to the children. There were quite a few there, preparing to camp out for the night. Some, who had been children in that meadow in Obons past, were now grown up with their own kids. And Karl and Ginger had recently learned that they were soon going to be grandparents. On our way back home, I managed to get the truck stuck in a ditch, and every attempt to get us out just made it worse. Rescuing us turned out to be the entertainment for the evening. There were five or six di erent suggestions for the best way to handle the situation, each using a di erent tool that someone had at the ready. The adults shouted directions while the kids ran cables, latched hooks, and ran around excitedly. We were quickly pulled to safety. As we left, I felt embarrssed for only a minute; we realized that for the children, and some of the adults, it was the highlight of the event. Happy Obon kids. Chapter 12 On Painting the Kitchen 塗るキッチン

August 22 2015

Paint. Walls are up, sheet rock is in place, tile is set, grout is drying and the chaotic, several-plates-in-the-air nature of the project has changed. The schedule is getting tighter and less forgiving. One person's job is dependent on another's being finished, and no one wants to sit around waiting. Karl claims that the rains are coming in 11 days. The mason needs to install the kitchen countertops, but that requires the cabinets to be installed, which requires the kitchen walls to be painted. The expectation was that I would do the painting, and I was happy to be able to make my contribution. On my second Friday "o " from school, I showed up with my brushes and a gallon of sheet rock primer. It turns out that all of the walls in the house were ready for primer, but there was no way that I could do it on my own in the time window given. There was also some minor sheet rock repair that needed to be done, requiring skills I don't have. So everyone turned out for a painting party. Karl, Toby, Ben (and Ron in the bathroom, trying to keep up with all of the challenges and tweaks that Karl and I keep giving him). "Party" is an overstatement. These are craftsmen, artists, and painting was clearly beneath them. They were grudingly participating soley to keep things on schedule. For me, it was the best day of work in a long time. Shared vision, collaborative work, attention to quality, objective feedback and measurable outcomes--all things that we struggle so hard to achieve in the teaching world--occurred seamlessly. It felt good to move. I enjoyed talking about things unrelated to the work, even if the conversation came circling back to getting stuck in a ditch on Karl's road ("That's what happens when someone from San Jose comes to the mountains!" "It took me an hour to fill the divots!") I liked stepping back at the end of the day and admiring what I'd done. As we cleaned our brushes, everyone was in a good mood. On Saturday I came back to put on the color coat. No one else was there. On the radio, the Giants lost by one run to the Pirates. Still, it was a good day. Chapter 13 Details, Details 詳細, 詳細

August 31 2015

Details. The heavy labor, the grunt work, is pretty much finished. With about 5 weeks to go, the attention begins to turn to details. In the photo above, Karl and Toby are testing the fit of one of the new shoji window covers. Kitchen cabinets are in. The ceiling planks that we saw a couple of weeks ago at Karl's workshop are now in place, waiting for the rafters and faux beams. Ron has cemented the rocks into the genkan floor. Today I delivered the refrigerator. Chapter 14 About Our Trip to the Sawmill 鋸機への私たちの旅について

September 4 2015

A Trip to the Sawmill I met Karl at the house this morning at 8:00, and after a quick tour of the progress they've made over the last three days (hand-adzed lintel for the tokonoma, faux redwood beams in the 6 mat room, posts in place here and there, ceiling finished...), we headed o to the sawmill. Karl has been wanting to take me there for some time, and I was looking forward to the opportunity. Our excuse for going this particular morning was to find a plank that would become both our dining table, and benches for the genkan and changing room. Karl wanted a single plank, around 42" wide. If we could get a deal on some planks for the fence, that would be gravy. As we drove the windy dirt road, I asked him why he didn't just mill the wood himself at his shop. He explained that it was a di erence between beams and planks. He works primarily from beams, but producing planks is a specialized craft for the miller. The redwoods grow with branches mostly on one side. When the wood is harvested, the branch side is full of knots and other imperfections. Planks are cut only from the other side. Generally you can only get one plank per log, if you're looking for even grain. The ceiling planks are a good example. They were cut one plank per log, three logs per tree. Our little apartment's ceiling required 36 planks, or 12 trees altogether. I believe that Karl has no interest in figuring out what to do with the rest of the wood. He'd rather just buy the piece that exactly meets his needs, and have nothing but sawdust left over. Karl tells me about the Peninsula Open Space Trust, stewards of 75,000 acres of wilderness in the bay area. When he finishes our apartment, he has been hired to evaluate twenty-something on their land to determine whether or not they have historical significance. He will be restoring at least one barn for the purpose of both functional storage and fund raising galas. "Barns go up quickly because there is no finish work. Your place is all finish work!" Karl says that he needs to hire at least three workers to take on this project. I am tempted to apply. We pull into the mill--no signs or anything, just a lot of wood--and Dave is waiting to greet us. Dave was a carpenter and cabinet maker, but has worked this mill since 1994. Like Karl, he likes to tell stories about the wood, and clearly takes pride in pointing out "sustainable" sources, which I gather means that the tree fell over by itself. We are looking for a big, thick plank with even grain and a "live" edge. Dave walks us around, pointing at possibilities. Karl rejects some as too expensive, although no one mentions an actual price. One, if I understood correctly, was "pure heart virgin," meaning that it was once a first round tree. The second round started in 1870, after the logging and the fires. Karl can tell one from the other with a glance at the growth rings. I guess he assumed that we couldn't a ord that one. He quickly narrows it down to three or four that he wants to inspect more closely. Dave drives the forklift over, and lowers a stack of planks to ground level. We pick them up, one by one, and Karl narrows it down to two. Chapter 15 The Sawmill Part 2 製材所 パート2

September 4 2015

The Mill, Part 2 They both have a split down the middle (the heart), which Karl says he will cut out, then join the remaining pieces. One has another split on the side, which also doesn't faze Karl. He checks and rechecks measurements, and asks me what I think, as if I have a clue. He settles on one, changes his mind, and goes back to the first again. We load it on the truck. Karl wants to buy the fence planks today and be done with wood shopping. We're looking for 15 foot lengths with lots of knots, varying widths are fine. We need 13 of them. Dave says he can mill them, or given some time he might be able to pull some up from the bottom of a pile. Karl is impatient. He spots a pile of planks on the ground that have apparently tumbled o of a larger pile. There are 13 of them, believe it or not. We load them on the truck. "Send the bill to Ginger," he tells Dave. As we hoist ourselves into the cab of the truck, the two craftsmen exchange some banter. Dave talks about how proud he is of his son, who is earning his Master's degree at San Jose State. He wants to be a teacher, which makes my ears perk up. And he is deaf, which is one of the reasons that dad is so proud. Dave tells a couple of stories about how his son used to work the mill, and how strong it made him. He chides Karl about his age, and admits that he is the same age too. Karl asks Dave if he knows the story about where the table plank came from. Dave inspects it again, and is certain--from the way it was cut and from the use of wax as a sealer on the ends--that it is one of "his." He promises to give Karl more information about it later. And still, no one mentions anything about prices. "We got a great deal on that wood," Karl says, as we drive away. Chapter 16 Shopping in Japantown ジャパンタウンでのショッピング

September 5 2015

Soko Hardware On Saturday of Labor Day weekend we started the day with a drive up to Japantown in SF, with the intention of finding some light fixtures. We scored on our first stop: Soko Hardware on Post. We found a ceiling fixture that had been almost impossible to find on the internet. We also found a lot of other stu that we will probably go back for at some point, when the construction is complete. Bath utensils, kitchen stu , lots of things we'll need to "furnish" the place. On the topic of , on the way back we stopped in San Carlos to pick up our chadansu. It looks really good. Can't wait to see it in place. Chapter 17 Floodwaters 洪水

September 11 2015

The River is Risin' This is kind of a wierd day, and I'm just musing. It is one of my Fridays o , but I've been preoccupied with work nontheless. The stang issues with French at both schools are drawing lots of attention, and intruding on my day (and on my last night). I'm at the mountain house, kind of wishing that I could do some physical labor to clear my head, but everyone is in a groove, and I'd just be in the way. I can't even get in to tidy up the basement, there is so much going on. I'm here to meet the guy from Roto-Rooter, who of course is running late. We have seven drains (two only recently discovered) that need to be cleared out. On the front page of the paper today there was a story about El Niño. Weather folks are now claiming a 95% probability that conditions will exist this year that are consistent with some of the wettest winters ever. When we bought the mountain house we knew it had a flooding problem. Now we've built a really cool Japanese apartment right in the crosshairs. Karl, Ron and I spent a good while surveying the area in the picture above. It is hard to make out, but this ditch becomes a river after a storm. The first thing we did when we bought the house was pay a significant chunk of money to a contractor named Jim Porter. Among other things, he cleared out this river and made a culvert to divert water away from the house. It has never really been tested, as we've had two very dry winters since this work was done. In the forground of the picture you can see a lame attempt by previoius owners to hold back the waters. The seven drains in the basement floor are another indication that this has been a problem for years. Not to mention the sump well. I've tried many times to contact Jim Porter for some follow up questions and suggestions, but for whatever reason he doesn't respond to my messages. Karl knows a guy name Howard Liebenberg, another local drainage contractor in whom he has a lot of confidence. I've left Howard a message too. Karl and Ron think we need to bring in some river rock to dampen the flow. I have a feeling there's going to be more to it than that. Chapter 18 Start Your Day at the Dump ダンプで一日を始める

September 15 2015

Tuesday morning sunrise from Guadalupe Landfill My truck has been parked on the street since Sunday with a load of trash that I brought back from the project. Today I used one of my accumulated "extra" hours and queued up at the dump around 7:50 instead of going straight to work. No waiting at this hour. I've been here so many times in the last year or so--moving my mother, selling our house, working on the apartment--that the guys recognize me now. It scares me to think about how much money I've spent altogether for the momentary joy of flinging crap (sometimes breakable crap!) from the back of the truck. This morning I pretty much had the place to myself, and after sweeping out the truck I took a few minutes to frame this picture without the usual urgency to escape the bulldozers and seagulls and commotion. It seemed like a perfect metaphor. It is possible to find a little calm and beauty even from the top of a mountain made of garbage. Oh, and the weather is starting to change. Chapter 19 Getting Plastered 漆喰を得る

September 18 2015

Plaster There is a lot of e ort, artistry...and money going into this place. Because we are in the middle of it, we are learning to appreciate elements of design and construction that might otherwise have gone unnoticed. A casual observer will be able to tell instantly that there is something foreign about the apartment. There will be a big hole in floor, after all. I think most people would identify the tatami as Japanese, but even a Japanese person might not appreciate how the woodgrain of the ceiling planks are continuous for the length of the , how the posts were hand-adzed, or how the trim in the bathroom is made from hinoki, to match the ofuro. And how would they know the stories about the wood? The crew is in the process of plastering the walls. Had I not been standing there, watching and listening, I would have had no concept of the complexity of the process. The mere act of explaining things to me was causing Karl's timing to be o . He was working in a small space, grumbling about the fact that the little trowel he was using was too big and clumsy. He told about how he used to make little specialty trowels out of plastic milk jugs for applications like this. Toby and Mark were spreading a rough coat, but Karl did all of the finish work. He was getting ready to leave for Japan, and was giving the boys their last minute instructions for finishing the job. "You are three days into an apprenticeship that typically requires 6 years, at minimum. I've been doing this for 42 years!" I guess this was supposed to be reassuring. Mark explained to me that the challenge is getting just the right amount of plaster on your trowel. Too much and it will be clumpy, and you have to remove it and start over. Too little and it won't cover properly, and you have to remove it and start over. What Karl's mastery allows him to accomplish is an even, smooth finish with no trowel marks. The artistry is in revealing as little as possible about the artist. This is work that Karl clearly enjoyed. He seemed to be in a zone, smiling all the while. The room is coming into focus. I was struck by how much the texture of the walls changed the feel of the room, and how the color of the plaster highlighted the color and detail of the wood. I'm not sure I will ever appreciate it as much as Karl does, but my eyes are di erent now. Meanwhile, Ben has hung the main entry door, and Ron is hand- making a culvert and is starting to shape the parking area. This last part makes me a little nervous. Ron's excavation revealed a water main, and Karl says that the condition of the pipes is very poor. The neighbors have been curious. We don't need the attention of the water company or the county here. Also, oddly enough, Ron uncovered an underground culvert of old water heaters jammed together into a long tube. Hopefully our arrangement will be an upgrade. And finally, Karl reported that our neighborhood association rep stopped by and pointed out a dying fir tree that needs to be removed, and claimed that it is on our property. I'm pretty sure it isn't, but it is one big-ass tree. We'll see how that one turns out. Chapter 20 Building a Bridge 橋を建てる

September 20 2015

We're building a bridge... Ron, our rock guy, makes me a little nervous. He is a skinny bundle of Rockstar swilling, cigarette smoking energy. In Ron's mind, nothing is impossible, and the more unlikely the challenge, the more fun he's ready to have. He has done some amazing work for us (wait till you see the shower!), and has come up with some very creative solutions to problems we've encountered. And he is fearless. That's the part that makes me nervous. Of all of the members of the crew, a casual observer might think that Ron has the roughest edges. Most of the work he does, he does on his own, and others work around him. No team stu for Ron. He works Rockstar fast, too. If someone had told me that Ron had solved our flooding problem in an afternoon by redirecting the San Lorenzo River using a shovel, I wouldn't be surprised. Karl once said that of all the guys that work for him, Ron is the one who best grasps the Japanese builder's sensibility. He has no Japanese heritage and has never been to Japan, but Karl says that when he goes to Japan someday, it will all make sense to him. Ron texted me the other day saying that he had a little extra time, and would I like him to do a little work on the driveway? I said sure! His reply text said, great, I thought so, but Karl wanted me to get your explicit approval. Okay, that should have made me nervous too, but I was busy at work and moved on to other things. We have a nice level driveway, with room for a couple of cars, on the level of the main house. The lower driveway, at basement level, is not so functional. The workers park their trucks there, for convenience, but there is a huge dip, or culvert, that you have to maneuver, and people often scrape the bottom of their cars there. You can't really get in all the way o of the street, so the nose of your truck is sticking out in everyone's way. And the dirt and gravel is loose, so people are always spinning their tires. Karl actually got his truck stuck like that, which was amusingly satisfying, given my experience getting stuck in a ditch at Karl's place. Our across the street neighbor was telling me about how many times he and others have lost a bumper getting in and out of the parking area. Which begs the question, what the hell were they doing parking in our driveway, and it seems to me that losing a bumper might be just as much justice as misfortune. But I digress. There are drainage pipes running everywhere, mostly underground, but poking out above ground here and there. One of them was in Ron's way, or at least in the way of his vision for a re-scaped driveway. We spent quite a bit of time staring at it, walking up and down the hill trying to find its origin, and at one point I again tried calling Jim Porter (the previously mentioned drainage contractor) to ask if he remembered encountering parts of this particular tube two years ago. Porter again never returned my call. I assumed that we would just work around it. But on that day that Ron had some extra time, he dug it up, and discovered a chain of--I'm not making this up--water heaters, stuck together to divert water from who knows where to under our driveway to who knows where down the hill. When I stopped by on Friday, the water heaters were neatly stacked on the side of the driveway. Ron had somehow cut out the concrete culvert, had poured a new concrete floor, and was setting concrete blocks on either side of this new open channel in front of our house. "What's going on Ron?" I asked, trying to make sense of all of this. "We're building a bridge," he said, and took a slurp of his Rockstar. Eventually, inevitably, it all made sense. When he finishes making the "sides" of the channel, he will top it with a layer of pressure treated lumber, bringing it up to exactly the level of the asphalt road. He will then attach planks perpendicular to the sides, with spaces between the planks so you can see the water running underneath, but sturdy enough that you can drive over them. After that, he plans to remove yards of dirt so that the driveway is at the same level as the road. I'm guessing he'll do it by himself, with a shovel, in an afternoon. And the neighbors will be able to park their cars without losing any parts. Chapter 21 Neighborhood Watch 近所のガード

September 26 2015

from Wikipedia:

A (炬燵) is a low, wooden table frame covered by a futon, or heavy , upon which a table top sits. Underneath is a heat source, formerly a charcoal brazier but now electric, often built into the table tself. Kotatsu are used almost exclusively in Japan, although similar devices are used elsewhere: for example the Spanish brasero or Iranian korsi. In the twenty-first century, the kotatsu typically consists of the electric heater attached to the frame, which is no longer limited to wood, but may be made of plastic or other materials. Generally, a blanket (or shitagake) is draped over the frame and heater and under the table-top. This first blanket is covered by a second heavier blanket, known as a kotatsu-gake (火燵掛布). Kotatsu-gake often are decorative and may be designed to match home décor.[9] A person sits on the floor or on with their legs under the table and the blanket draped over the lower body. The kotatsu was designed when people most commonly wore traditional Japanese style clothes, where the heat would enter through the bottom of the robes and rise to exit around the neck, thus heating the entire body. Most Japanese housing is not insulated to the same degree as a western domicile and do not have central heating, thus relying primarily on space heating. Heating is expensive because of the lack of insulation and the draftiness of housing. A kotatsu is a relatively inexpensive way to stay warm in the winter, as the trap the warm air. Families may choose to concentrate their activity in this one area of the house in order to save on energy costs.[11] In the summer, the blanket may be removed, and the kotatsu used as a normal table. Chapter 22 Dead Tree 死んだ木

September 27 2015 Dead Tree Above is a picture of the dead Douglass Fir. I walked around this morning looking for property markers. I didn't find any, but I agree with the neighbors that it is just as likely on our property as anyone else's. Plan A, according to the people in charge, is still to apply for the use of Association road funds to remove the tree, along with three others that look like they could fall across the road someday soon. To the right is a picture of the tree up close in the forground, with our house in the basement.

October 23rd update: It looks like PG&E is going to cut half of the tree down for free, in order to protect their power lines. We're hoping a couple hundred bucks and a case of beer might convince them to cut the other half.

January 20th update: PG&E, after several false starts, finally came and topped the tree. They weren't interested in our money or our beer, and just took o the top 50 feet or so. It is still ominously tall, but hopefully more stable. Chapter 23 Cleaning the Road 道路を掃除する

September 27 2015

Work Day The call went out on the Facebook group that this would be a road cleaning day. I thought what the hell, it was an opportunity to sow some seeds of goodwill, and to ride the wave of momentum that we generated in our (literally) middle-of-the-road conversations yesterday. I got to the house and started to walk down the hill when Rob pulled up in his truck and o ered me a ride. Rob lives in the red house on the corner. I learned yesterday that he graduated from high school the same year I did, and went to Camden, the "other" high school in my neighborhood growing up. Rob told me that he enjoys doing yard work, and that he appreciates how the road looks when it is all cleaned up. He was using a gas trimmer, and I followed him with a rake, pulling the trimmings from the ditch and moving them toward the river side of the road. Dave had a weed wacker. A little later Randal came out with his leaf blower. All of this was to clear the way for the water to go where it's supposed to go, and to avoid having it cut its own path through somebody's house. I was wearing one of my Yomiuri Giants shirts, with Miyagumi's name on the back. Rob mistook it for a Giants shirt, and asked if it was a Greg Minton shirt. "That goes back a ways" I said, and explained that it was a Japanese shirt. As we worked Rob gave me little bits of history about the road, about the really wet years, about how they had to dynamite the boulders that rolled onto the road one year. I was grateful that the conversation stayed clear of neighborhood gossip. "Now you've got me thinking about the old Giants," he said after a while. "Willie Mays, Willie Mac, Tom Haller, Orlando Cepeda, Jose Pagan." "Jimmy Davenport," I countered. "Tito Fuentes." We were having a significant sixty-year old white San Jose suburbanite bonding moment. I had to admit that I didn't mind the work. I had a 40 minute run on my workout schedule today, but two hours of raking, constantly switching sides, keeping a tight core and a flat back was just as good. And the road looked damn good. It seemed like a fairly pure form of community service. Cars drove by, people stopped and said hello, introductions were made. "That guy Rod," explained Dave, "lives just above you. He lives in Burlingame during the week, but spends his weekends here. He has ten acres, and about 200 Japanese maples. They're just starting to change color." Kent drove by, and came back with a rake. He told me that he had just sent his wife's 17 year old daughter, who is half Chinese and half Japanese, o to NYU. His wife (although technically he never used that term), who is Chinese but a Japanese citizen, left for a meeting in Vancouver. Kent was apparently looking forward to several days of drinking beer by himself. He mentioned that our popular neighbor across the street had been arrested yet again last night. There was talk about what kind of an o er it might take to get him to sell his house. Dave sidled up and said that if we ever needed any concrete work done, to talk to him first. Another bonding moment. Trees will keep dying and the rains are coming, sooner or later. It will be good to have these guys on our side. Chapter 24 The Day the Lights Went on ライトが点灯した日

October 2 2015

Let there be light! This morning I started the day, again, with a trip to the dump, to drop o the water heater husks. Then it was up to Berkeley to pick up the new futon . Soon we'll have to pick out fabric for covers. Meanwhile, Jake the electrician was busy at the apartment installing can lights. We can now switch on light to the bathroom, the 3-mat sleeping room and the alcoves (tokonoma, tansu, cloud shelves) in the 6 mat room. Pretty exciting. And finally, after a consultation with the ocers of the Road Association, we have determined once and for all that the dead Douglass Fir is not in fact on our property. At least as long as it remains upright. Chapter 25 Working on the Punch List パンチリストに取り組んでいる

October 9 2015

Punch List I spent the night up here last night, and had a meeting with Karl in the morning. Money has been a concern of late, and he was well aware of that. For me, it is a math problem, and my anxiety has been around not having enough information to solve the problem. For Karl, I think, he is feeling some guilt about leaving for Japan while the project was still in full swing, and about costs transcending everyone’s imagination. He opened the trunk of his car, and proudly showed me our new table. It is still rough around the edges, literally, but a thick, hefty formidable slab, artfully joined from three pieces in a way that made the seams pretty much invisible. I flashed back to the day that we picked out the raw wood from the mill in the mountains on a hot summer morning, shooting the breeze with Dave the miller. I will be reminded of that day every time I sit at that table. I will tell the kids about that day, as we share a meal at that table. We’ll drink tea there some day with Karl and Ginger, and I’ll remind Karl that Dave owes us a story about where the tree that gave us that table came from. Perhaps we’ll drive out there together sometime, just to get the story. I started the conversation by asking Karl about his trip. He seemed to relax a little as he reflected on the memories. He talked a little about the responsibility of being the sole American representative of Kezurokai, and about some profound insights that he gained from the experience. He spoke of a deep sense of gratitude that he has for the young men that work for him, and his realization that he has reached a point in his life when he is ready to relinquish more responsibility to them. He spoke of his gratitude for having met me and Ann, and how much this project has meant to him. It could have been done more cheaply, more generically, but for us, he said, he wanted it to be right, because we really understand and appreciate the poetry and art of his work. He spoke of many conversations with Ginger about what that has meant to them as artists, to have met people who understand. We’ve invested much more money that we’d planned, and he’s invested much more time and e ort than he’d planned. And we stood out front, side by side staring at the dirt driveway, both of us struggling to express how much more this project has meant to us than money or time. For Kezurokai, it will be Karl’s responsibility to make the opening remarks, to set the tone for the event. He told me that one of his colleagues suggested that he begin by reminding everyone to be careful of the sharp tools they would encounter. He recalled the time in his youth when he received his first tool, a very sharp chisel, decorated with the kanji character for “kami.” At first he misunderstood it as an arrogant gesture on the part of the toolmaker. “I was slowly brought back to my own youth and the deep connection between master-apprentice and the central role of respect of tools within that apprenticeship. The words of caution—watch out for sharp tools--brought back to me the way the Japanese tradition approaches shokunin, and their “dogu". From the earliest time I was informed that the tools had a soul. Learning and understanding the soul of the tool was a mystery the apprentice had to learn to honor and cherish. Just as within the Japanese family the incantation evoked at every meal “itadakimasu” stretches back into obscure mythic history…it inspires those gathered for meals around the -fire to think beyond the repast to those that made the meal possible, all the way back to the ones who tilled the field. That expression is a small phrase within the morning prayers of the Ise grand , as the daily o ering of rice is made. Within that tradition, the yearly o ering includes a sacred iron tool, symbolic of the ancient traditions of shinto tool makers’ “kami.” Incantations are made to the kami protectors of the mountains where the ores reside, and to the rivers where the “sa-tetsu” flowed down from the hills and settled into the natural pits of great rivers to be gathered and taken first to a shrine and blessed, before it was placed in a special clay smelt-furnace filled with pine charcoal. Each of the tool makers still partake in a yearly smelting ceremony, using natural iron. Carpenters gather wearing white garb out of respect for the “kami” contained within the iron, watching this ceremony which transfers some of the earth protecting spirit to the smelting and forging of the tools to be made during the year. Many of the tool makers have the ideograms etched into their blades, to evoke the nature and spirit of the sand-iron. By using a tiny portion of it in today’s tools the forge master continues to bring “kami” into the blade. As carpenters we stand at the end of an ancient tradition of honoring. To sharpen a tool, constantly, we bring ourselves face to face with the kami within the forge, and endeavor to protect the spirit of the steel which goes all the way back to the forces of nature dwelling within the forest. Those words—watch out for sharp tools--bring me back forty years to the day I was presented my first tool, stamped with the character “kami”, and my naive question to my teacher that opened the door to this mystical and sacred path. I will endeavor without so many words to inspire those young folks gathered to respect the sharp tools.”

(edited from an email that Karl wrote to a colleague, which he was kind enough to share with me on my request) Chapter 26 Back to the Future バック・トゥ・ザ・フューチャー

October 22 2015

Back to the Future, Forward to the Past Yesterday was "Back to the Future Day." Youngsters among you, you must watch the 1989 movie "Back to the Future II," in which Marty McFly travels forward in time to October 21st, 2015. Meanwhile, our 1960s basement apartment is bringing into focus Japan's traditional past. Our little time machine, complete with cultural flux capacitor. The plumber was there today, installing bathroom fixtures and hooking up the cookstove. Karl had finished plastering the alcoves, and kitchen countertops went in yesterday. Shoji doors and windows were hung in the three-mat room. Toby and Mark are busy trimming out the floors. In the picture above you can see where a tatami mat will fit into the corner near the kitchen; the space between will be covered with a gleaming piece of redwood. The tatami themselves have been delivered, and are stacked in the three mat room. There appears to be only a couple more days of work for the carpenters. There is still some behind the scenes electrical work to be done, most of it related to the sump pump and emergency generator. Ron will finish with the driveway pavers next week. Chapter 27 Take O Your Shoes 靴を脱いでください

October 23 2015

Floors This entry is about floors, but I couldn't resist this first picture of a shoji door backlit with morning sun. I spent the morning moving dirt from Ron's big driveway discard pile to behind the , a wheelbarrow at a time. Toby and Mark wer busy attending to all things floor related, with the exception of the tatami. Why do Japanese people take their shoes o before entering the house? Here's an interesting explanation.

Yesterday Karl sent this message:

THE MOST SIGNIFICANT WEATHER EVENT...POTENTIALLY...OVER THE NEXT SEVEN DAYS IS THE SYSTEM DUE TO TO ARRIVE FROM THE WEST AROUND THE MIDDLE OF NEXT WEEK. THAT SYSTEM IS FORECAST TO TAP INTO MOISTURE FROM HURRICANE OLAF AND POTENTIALLY BRING WIDESPREAD WETTING RAINS TO MUCH OF OUR FORECAST AREA...MAINLY ON WEDNESDAY. THE MODELS HAVE BY NO MEANS SETTLED ON THIS WET SOLUTION YET...BUT GIVEN LATEST MODEL GUIDANCE THERE IS AT LEAST A REASONABLE CHANCE THAT A PORTION OF OUR AREA WILL SEE A GOOD SOAKING. IF THIS STORM DOES DELIVER OUR FIRST GOOD RAIN NEXT WEDNESDAY (28TH)...THE TIMING WILL BE SIMILAR TO OUR FIRST GOOD RAIN LAST AUTUMN WHICH OCCURRED ON HALLOWEEN. Chapter 28 Bench Marks ベンチマーク

October 30 2015

Approach the bench There hasn't been a lot of new work this week, on the inside at least. The picture above is of the bench in the "changing room," the transition between the living space and the bath. The wood is part of the same plank that we picked out at the mill, the largest part of which has become our dining table. The detail--the "live" edge of the bench, the hand hewn post, the way the pieces are joined--gives me goosebumps. Chapter 29 Broken-Hearted 失恋した

October 30 2015

(This has nothing to do with the apartment project. Don’t read unless you want to know about my health problems)

Here I sit, broken hearted... I feel bad for my primary care physician, Mike Stein. He invited me in for a routine physical, which is usually not much more than a pleasant social visit. I don't smoke, don't drink, I workout hard and I eat healthy food, for the most part. Typically, Mike ends the brief exam with the advice, "What ever you're doing, keep doing it." This time he spent a long time listening through his stethoscope to what was going on inside my chest. Finally, apologetically, he told me that he was hearing a heart murmur that he swore was not there a year ago. What had begun as a light hearted visit turned into some serious shit. He told me not to worry, but to come in the next day for an echocardiogram. He apologized again, which wasn't reassuring.

I had the test done on a Friday, and spent the weekend wondering if my heart would explode at any minute. Finally, the test results confirmed what Mike was hearing: mitral valve regurgitation. I had lots of questions, so Mike referred me to a cardiologist. Chris Woo looks like he might have graduated from Saratoga High around the time I started teaching there, but he seemed to know what he was talking about, and he gave me as much time as I needed to ask all of my questions. He listened to my heart for about five seconds, looked at me over the top of his glasses, and said "Well, it isn't subtle!" He said he'd bet that I had this heart defect all of my life, and it had slowly progressed over time until it became more noticeable. The good news: I am "asymptomatic," and I don't need to limit my activity in any way. I'll have another echocardiogram in year to determine if there is any change. If things get worse, there are potential surgical interventions. And I can take some solace from the fact that not only can I keep up with weekend warriors much younger than I, but I can do it with a heart that doesn't fire on all cylinders. Dr. Woo said that some people "live out the rest of their lives" with this condition. Well duh!! I'm hoping he meant to say, "their ridiculously long lives." I feel like Superman when he lost his powers. Chapter 30 On the Home Stretch ほとんど完了

November 6 2015

On the home stretch. It feels like winter up here in the mountains. The pellet stove is burning furiously. Chain saws are buzzing in the background as neighbors have their trees trimmed. Wilson is , curled up in his favorite spot. The whole crew eventually arrived. I watched Toby removing fractions of an inch from side boards so that the tatami mats fit perfectly, but without any "tension bubbles." Karl gave me a tutorial on tatami maintenance, as we did our usual walkthrough. Mark and Ben are trimming doors and cabinets, and Ron is putting finishing touches on the driveway. The kotatsu table is the new focal point, and it is breathtaking. It is all coming together like a symphony. Karl shows me the wood slat floor for the bathroom. I've noticed recently that every time I've walked by the bath- room there is a subtle and enticing smell, and I realize that the wood floor is probably the source. I ask Karl about it, and he explains that it is Alaskan Cedar. He points out the cross section of the wood grain, and says there are hundreds of growth rings in the space of less than an inch. The Alaskan Cedar is the slowest growing tree in North America. He tells me that he got this particular wood from a hot tub dealer in 1976 whose business went belly up. He stored it in his dad's garage for 10 years. Thirty years after that it winds up on the floor of our bathroom. Karl asks if it is okay to show pictures of our apartment to prospective clients. He says there is a lot of excitement in the construction world about utilization of small spaces. The focus seems to be on innovative functionality, but Karl thinks there is a small-space market for old world tradition, and craftsmanship, and poetry. We agree that we are probably past the danger window of unwanted attention from county inspectors, and in fact he has a county inspector friend who he thinks would be interested in seeing the place. Yep, nothing structural here, just a fresh coat of paint, some paper doors and some funny looking floor mats. Bring him on by! Chapter 31 Before and After 前後

November 8 2015 Chapter 32 Toby’s In the Tub トビーは浴槽にいる

November 9 2015

Toby Takes a Bath Although it looks like Toby is playing hide-and-seek, he is installing the drain plug in the ofuro. Karl made this tub, many years ago as I recall. He mentioned that it has been placed in three di erent locations, but never installed. Originally is was intended for use in a guest house on his property, but it sat unused for ten years. Later it became part of a house he built for a couple who eventually decided that they wanted a tub big enough for them to bathe together. It sat on his property for sometime, collecting rain water. He made it in the U.S., from his memory of similar tubs in Japan, using traditional techniques and wood that was reclaimed from a failed hot tub business. He stored the wood at his father's house for years, and one of the first structures he built on his current property was a storage house for the hot tub wood. Because it had never been used, it didn't have a drain. Toby drilled the drain hole in a bottom corner and installed the plug that was ordered from Japan. We put water in it and it leaked like a sieve. But the wood will swell, closing the joints, and it will be awesome to take a Japanese bath. You can also see the handmade removable Alaskan Cedar floor, and glimpses of Ron's amazing tile work. It's November 11th, and the whole crew is here. When I arrive Karl is, to put it delicately, expressing a certain sense of urgency for completing the project. He has other work waiting. But we're down to the final items on the punch list. The boys moved the chadansu into its alcove. All of the shoji doors have been hung, and Ben is busy shaving slivers here and there so that they move more easily. Ben has been sick for a couple of weeks, and is having a hard time kicking whatever it is. Worse yet, he tells me the story about how he thought he had an ear infection and the doctor ended up removing a tick from his ear canal. Despite the shaving and waxing and testing, one of the doors seems to be catching on something. It turns out to be the tiny end of a sheet rock screw that is protruding into the door pocket. Using a magnet he locates the screw, makes a small hole, and backs the screw out. Unfortunately it leaves a small tear in the shoji. Fortunately, I wasn't the one to make the first hole. And Karl is around to show us how to patch it. Speaking of Karl, he has run into a tatami problem. We have one full mat left, and the intention was to cut two pieces that would complete the puzzle around the kotatsu. These spaces, roughly three feet by two feet, could just as easily have been filled with wood flooring material, but Karl was going for a clean, unbroken tatatmi look in the six mat room. But the tightly woven rice straw that makes up the mat is wreaking havoc on his saw blades, and Karl has retreated for the moment. Still, he seems determined. Ron is finishing up some drainage work, putting the finishing touches on the front steps, sealing the driveway pavers, and still needs to hang a mirror in the shower. Jake has finished installing the battery backup system for the sump pumps. One pump is on call 24/7, the other kicks in only if the water reaches a certain level. Karl used his shop vac to suck out 18 gallons of water that has probably been sitting there since we bought the place. Bring it on, El Niño. In the picture below (left), we're putting water in the ofuro for the first time. Notice Toby's stocking feet. Now that there is tatami in the house, the workers all have to take their shoes o when they come in, put them back on when they go out, and repeat this dozens of time in a day. Mark says he's going to list "tying shoes" as a task item on his time sheet. Chapter 33 Letting Go 放す

November 13 2015

Letting Go I meet Karl on Friday morning and he seems pensive, preoccupied. He tells me that this is the phase of the project that is hardest for him, the part where he must convince himself that it is time to let go and move on. As he says this he is touching up microscopic imperfections in the plaster, making note of doors that do not open and close perfectly, and directing me on on-going maintenance tasks. I show him the scroll that Ann has picked out for the tokonoma. He has special ordered a Japanese nail for this purpose, but we can't resist, and he installs a conventional American screw so that we can temporarily hang it. The task comes with a lesson on the proper way to roll a Japanese scroll. It looks great. Karl talks about how pleased he is with the way everything has come together. He reflects on the fact that some of the materials--the doors, for example--have waited for years for the proper setting, and have found it here in our basement. He tells me again how grateful he is, to have the opportunity to practice the work he was trained for as a young man in Japan, and to be able to pass on those skills to Toby and Mark and the others. As we walk around the rooms, we see the morning light filtered through the handmade shoji doors in the three mat room, and through the kitchen window. It is no longer a dark basement, but a space where the light is precious, like a jewel, something you cannot take for granted. He touches the rough post on the tokonoma, and tells me that he harvested this piece twenty-two years ago on a part of his property where the trees grow very slowly, creating its unique features. He is happy that it found a home after all that time. The face of the drawers on the futon is made from Elm, from Michigan. In the 70's, when Dutch Elm Blight was ravaging forests, rangers in a national park in Michigan did a preemptive cutting of all of the Elms. With the help of his dad, Karl was able to obtain some. Part of the same batch of wood was used to build the doors of the temple he built in northern California. The closet door is made from Port Orford Cedar. This is a close relative of Japanse hinoki. The grain is so straight, it is also used to make shafts for arrows. The wood that frames the doorways was "too good for the barn" at UCSC, so he held it back to wait for its proper place. Sometimes letting go and hanging on are just two sides of the same coin. Chapter 34 The Last Man Up 最後の男

November 15 2015 Last Man Standing The picture above is of Mark's "cave man hammer." I watched him use it to tap in piece of floorboard. It has nothing to do with anything else, but I thought it was cool. The last man, pretty much, is Ben. Ron still has a couple of things to do, and Jake will finish up when the generator arrives. But the rest of the crew is back at the workshop, putting a on the timberframe structure that we saw back in July, and Ben is left behind to take care of a few small but tedious tasks. He is making the frame for a piece of decorative glass above the ofuro, and is putting the face boards on the drawers of the futon cabinet, among other things. Chapter 35 Specs: Boring Stu スペック：退屈なもの

November 16 2015 Specs Theres not much of interest here-- certainly not literary interest--but I need a space to preserve some information about things that most people will never see. The picture above is of the sump pump, just after Karl vacuumed it clean and dry. Based on the capacity of his shop vac, he took out about 18 gallons, and the water level seemed pretty static for months, even years before that. I will check it again before the next major rain to see if any water has intruded. Jake has installed two pumps, one that kicks in when any water enters, and the second if and when the water reaches a critical level. Below are pictures that Ron sent before burying the last drain pipe. This one actually starts with the roof gutter, goes down a drainspout, and enters a two-inch ABS pipe just beyond the . It goes under a future garden, right next to a couple of rose bushes planted by a previous owner, and goes under another of those old water heater cores leftover from a former culvert, before emptying into the head of Ron's bridge. Chapter 36 Party Of 12 パーティー

November 21 2015

Party Time! On Friday, November 20th, we had a party for the builders. Karl and Ginger were there, or course, Toby and his wife Kori (who brought the flowers that are in the tokonoma), Mark, Allison and Derek, and later Ron came with his son and his son's mom. We did a saki toast in the apartment, sat around the kotatsu (12 of us!), had some sushi (from Edo Sushi in BC), then went upstairs for dinner. Ann made --Karl eventually took over the cooking--and with a couple of side dishes, everyone left satisfied. Ginger later told me that it is the first time outside of Japan that anyone had invited them to celebrate the completion of a project.

Karl and Ginger gave us this scroll as a house warming gift. Chapter 37 Rain Check レインチェック

December 13 2015

Rain Check Above, that's the view from the kitchen window on Saturday, December 12th. We've had a series of little storms. Nothing to write home about. After the first couple, the ground soaked it up like it never happened. But yesterday, the runo made it into what is now (again) our little creek. Chapter 38 Allison’s Party Pictures アリソンが撮影した写真

December 15 2015 Chapter 39 Happy New Years 明けましておめでとうございます

January 1 2016

Happy New Year. I don't know for sure, but this could well be my last entry on this site. It is January 1st, 2016. The project still has some loose ends; Karl has to make a new tub (the old one never stopped leaking), Ben has to finish installing the glass in the bathroom (Ben has apparently disappeared for a while, which doesn't seem to have anyone overly concerned), Jake has a couple of details to finish for the emergency power system, and I have some touch up painting to do, in addition to Ann's "honeydew" list. But the essence of the project is complete. Allison's sign is hanging by the door. Our kids stayed in the apartment over the holidays, and we enjoyed the warmth of the kotatsu during some very cold days. For me, it isn't ocially complete without the smell of some food. That happens tonight. As a Christmas gift Ann gave me a donabe cook- book, and a donabe. I'll be trying my hand at some "napa cabbage hot pot," cooking at the table that Karl made from the wood that Dave cut and that we picked out from Dave's sawmill back when it was hot up here in the Santa Cruz mountains. I hope it turns out. Wishing a happy and prosperous year to all...