The White Peril 白禍

Okay, so yesterday I finally gave in and bought a beard trimmer, which I'd resisted doing before because it meant that I officially have a beard that I do NOT WANT. I am now the proud proprietor of a glorified pet groomer. To use on my face. At least the guy pictured on the box is cute. And I guess I shouldn't be complaining too much, because if you use it on the lowest setting, you just end up looking as if you hadn't shaved since yesterday. That I think I can live with, even if it is a little Faith-era George Michael. It's better than Older-era George Michael.

In better news, I forgot that the long weekend starts Friday this time around. That means that Atsushi will be home in a little less than 24 hours. I have to work tomorrow, but we'll have time to have brunch first. I'm thinking of making the baked French toast recipe here. You must understand--people eat like this ALL THE TIME where I grew up. I'm surprised the recipe doesn't tell you to dump powdered sugar over the finished product, and I'm absolutely floored that the writer says you won't need syrup.

I feel much better after my weekend with Atsushi. I always do, of course, but it was especially good to have him here while watching, say, Céline Dion melt down on Larry King over how New Orleans rescue efforts are going and scold people for getting cross at looters.

I tell you, I already felt pretty prepared for the next disaster that could hit Tokyo, but after watching this week's events, I decided the Atsushi-Sean household needed reinforcements in a major way. That now-infamous woman who showed up at the Superdome with a Diet Coke and outstretched hand was...wow. And you don't even have to bank on people's being complacent--despite the newness of our building, it's not inconceivable that part of it could fail and take out a neighbor's stash of earthquake stuff. I doubt the weird foreigner in Apt. 3## would be the first place people would go for help, but there's no reason not to overdo the readiness bit.

So I bought a sterilizing jug that holds 4-ish gallons of in addition to the several bottles of Suntory Natural mineral water I'd been keeping. My old radio had more or less conked out, so I picked up a crank-chargeable one that can also be used to charge a cell phone. I'd never bothered stabilizing the freestanding cabinet in the kitchen; I got a brace for it. An extra candle-in-a-can and an all-in-one kit for Atsushi to take back to Ultima Thule with him, and we were good to go.

Oh, except that what John's been saying about carrying around a space blanket and purification tablets piqued me, so I snagged those, too. Actually getting into the sleeping bag would make me feel as if I were dressing as Madge's Sex book for a costume party, but better to look silly than to be hypothermic.

Atsushi is coming tomorrow--first time in a month, and not a moment too soon. I spent the night of 9/11 quivering with anger and staring at the television while he came in from time to time to make me more tea and sit with me for a bit; he had to get up at 6:30, but I don't think I was alone for longer than 45 minutes the whole night.

The hurricane coverage isn't the same, because it didn't involve an initial jolt followed by days of looking for answers. If there's one thing you get used to from living in Japan, it's seeing the initial reports of minimal damage after an earthquake or typhoon give way to far grimmer discoveries in succeeding days--but of course Japan hasn't had anything near the broad and deep destruction that was just worked on the Gulf Coast. Poor Atsushi has spent the last few weeks working overtime every business day and going into the office on Saturday and Sunday. I'm going to do my best to provide the two-day respite he deserves, but I'm afraid he's going to come home tomorrow to a boyfriend who can't stop bellowing at CNN but can't stop watching it either.

I'm also scruffier than usual: my dermatologist told me to grow a beard. Well, she didn't put it that way, but she told me that some of the treatments I've gotten lately would heal better without having a razor dragged over the affected area. I grew out the whole thing for a week. Last night, I was told approvingly by friends that I looked "very hard-gay." There was unseemly speculation over what color leather goods would best complete the look. But by today I was ready to claw all the skin off my jawline. I'm not fond of goatees, but I have one now as a compromise; it's my chin I'm not supposed to be abrading, so at least I was able to clean up my itching cheeks. My poor Atsushi may look kind of scuffed up by the time he goes back to Kyushu, though.