Sujata Massey

Have you ever frequented a bookstore so often it became a second home? 

 

From the moment in childhood that my parents permitted me to walk to our neighborhood bookstore, I've engaged in this kind of squatting. From Micawber’s Books in St. Paul, to long-gone independents in Baltimore and Washington D.C., I've been an independent bookstore regular.

 

For the last eight years, I've been a homing pigeon to The Ivy Bookshop, just a few miles from my house in Baltimore. The Ivy Bookshop started in 2001 as a small, quite genteel general bookstore. I was happy to sign stock there, but there weren't many public events. What a change the store underwent with its second owners, Ed and Ann Berlin. I met them when I returned to life in Baltimore after a brief exodus to the Midwest. I quickly learned this wonderful couple wanted excitement in the store and would do everything to make writers feel like family.

So I was no longer just sitting in a chair paging through books. It was a thrill to be part of a bookstore that aimed to make local and international writers feel welcome. The store newsletter kept me abreast of many creative activities ranging from writing workshops to book talks. The Berlins were so successful in building community that they opened Bird in Hand, a bookstore-coffee shop near Johns Hopkins, which was easily accessible to people without cars. This shop also succeeded, with a younger, diverse customer base, some of whom were mostly there for the coffee.

 

Ed and Ann saw retirement on the horizon but were adamant the store should not be left looking for its next buyer. That’s how bookstores often lose their footing. When Ed met Emma Synder, the executive director of PEN-Faulkner Foundation, he learned the former Baltimorean dreamed of starting her own small business in Baltimore. He lured her in, and she became a a part owner in 2017. She became The Ivy’s sole proprietor in 2019.

 

I still visit with the Berlins, who live about a fifteen walk from my house. Recently, Ed gifted me with what he created during retirement: ADRIFT, a memoir that’s full of art he’s collected and stories of his travels and adventures. The built the Ivy into what it was--and they continue to be an important couple in Baltimore's cultural life.

 

Under Emma’s care, Bird in Hand and the Ivy Bookshop continued smoothly; but like Ed, she was always thinking ahead and trouble-shooting. Emma looked at independent bookstores around the country that had survived the expansions of Barnes & Noble and mail order behemoth that is Amazon. She deduced most secure bookstores were located in buildings they owned, so they were never subsequent to rent hikes and other problems related to tenancy. 

The obvious question arose. Should the Ivy leave its tiny space in a well-known strip mall to build something larger and with more economic resilience? Would the Ivy's customers, used to 18 years of bookshopping at a strip mall, go somewhere else? 

 

A charming green Victorian for sale two blocks from the original Ivy Bookshop provided the answer. The former church had a high ceilinged, long and wide room perfect for browsing, plus plus multiple other rooms. The property came with almost three acres of well-groomed lawns studded by trees and shrubs--quite unusual for any bookstore. There was a meditation path, a vintage gazebo, and a vast sheltered outdoor patio. There appeared to be enough room to open a coffee shop within the store, and to even keep a small apartment for the use of writers in residence or traveling on a book-signing journey.

 

Emma bought the property and renovations were well underway when a virus began spreading around the world.

 

Not only did Coronavirus slow the new shop's buildout, it made in person shopping at the existing old stores unsafe. The Ivy closed down for browsing entirely and pivoted to taking book orders online and having them fulfilled by drive-to-home and mail deliveries or curbside pickup. 

During this time, the Bird in Hand bookstore became a drop-off point for a Baltimore city CSA farm to leave bags of produce for people, something I was grateful for. Even though customers couldn't enter the store,the Ivy carefully set out tables holding the CSA food. They kept making coffee and serving pastries, but it was to patrons sitting outdoors at distanced tables. Online, both stores  hosted online book talks to promote authors who were releasing books into a world where there were no longer in-person book signings.

 

Despite the pandemic, renovation did proceed to completion and in October, the Ivy re-opened, following city rules about social distancing and reduced capacity.

 

I went for a private browsing appointment this week and discovered a bright, roomy space that is a book-lover’s dream. During my recent visit, I saw a constant steam of sole booklovers coming to pick up book orders or browse with appointments (it’s open to limited capacity walk-ins after 2 each day). On my way out, I saw shoppers outdoors browsing in the covered patio. 

 

It had been so long that I’ve shopped for anything except food or essential supplies. Passing by bookcases loaded with colorful titles, I felt my spirits rise. I left with four bags of books, knowing that I’ll be back many more times, and that in June, when my next book releases, I can have a garden book talk.

 

If you are not a person who often gives books as gifts, now is the perfect time to try it out. A small effort this month can make you part of a bookstore family's happy ending. 

Signed copies of Sujata's books are always available by mail order from The Ivy Bookshop. She's also holding a Zoom talk about The Sleeping Dictionary at 6:30 p.m. EST on Dec. 14, 2020. Send her an email with the subject line Sleeping Dictionary Book Talk if you'd like the link.

HAPPY STRANGE THANKSGIVING

 Kwei--Wednesday

(Image: Subbotina Anna/Shutterstock)

Thanksgiving 2020 will likely go down in history as one of the strangest for many people. Now, apart from dreading having to deal with troublesome Uncle Frank another year, there is a much more serious specter looming over the decision to travel to get together with family and friends: Covid-19.

Although over three million people have reportedly passed through our airports already, a good 71% of travelers say they are more comfortable going by car than flying, according to a Volvo Car-USA and Harris Poll. 

Masked traveler (Image: OPOLJA/Shutterstock)

Air travelers interviewed on CNN and other outlets expressed how much they wanted to see, touch, and hug their loved ones after 9-10 months of separation from them. Neither the CDC advisory against traveling this holiday season nor the horrific Covid-19 statistics is persuasion enough: The death toll has topped 259,000 out of a staggering total 12.5 million cases with an average of 167,000 new daily cases and a projection of 20 million cases by January 20, 2021. Hospitalizations are surging and many hospitals are at capacity.

Some of us, myself included, find the risk-benefit analysis of millions to be baffling. You might be dying to see Granny again but she might be dying in two weeks after you kissed her on the cheek and gave her a puff of your Covid-19-laden breath. At the moment, personal family gatherings can act as super spreader events.

I believe flawed reasoning has determined the decision to travel and gather with family:

1. Hard to believe something I can't see. Viruses floating in the air? I don't see them, so I'm not that alarmed.

Corona Airport

2. A negative Covid test before travel means I'm okay. Long lines of cars formed at testing sites before this holiday week as people sought the reassurance that they were negative and "cleared" for travel. Unfortunately, between the time of the test and the arrival at the destination, contraction of the virus could occur. The test is only a snapshot in time: at this moment, I am unable to detect any virus inside you.

 

              Line for Covid-19 testing, Dodger Stadium Nov 18, 2020

              (Image: Ringo Chiu/Shutterstock)

3. I have my mask, I will socially distance, and I'll be fine. Here's the problem. If you are 

 traveling by air, you will undoubtedly run into areas of travel where you may be packed in with crowds

 of people you cannot possibly be distant from. Recall that in the bustle and hustle of travel your mask and other people's masks may slip down the nose or off the mouth. Are you planning to eat or drink at the airport or during flight? You'll have to take your mask then, won't you? If someone starts coughing beside you in your packed plane (and they will be packed), how can you be sure they are not spewing virus-laden droplets? This may seem like doomsday thinking, but think of the stories you hear about Covid-afflicted people who believed they had been very careful but still got the disease.

4. Willful blindness. People who no longer want to deal with a painful problem can go into denial and    choose to ignore the issue. This is exactly what happened to soon-to-be-ex-President Trump. There are also people who have a difficult time imagining themselves in the position of those who are struck down by Covid-19. They can't feel it. Others yet have become desensitized to the daily barrage of appalling numbers of cases, hospitalizations, and death.

5. The vaccine is coming, so no problem. You have no idea when you'll receive the vaccine, which, by the way, is not a cure for Covid-19. Between now and the time you get the vaccine, you could get infected.

Be ready, friends, this last spike of cases before the vaccine could be our worst yet as a result of the holidays.

What's Thanksgiving All About, Anyway?

Supposedly, in 1621, the Plymouth colonists and Wampanoag Native Americans shared an autumn harvest feast and this was the "first Thanksgiving." In fact, both Europeans and Native Americans had been having food celebration festivals all along. It was really in the 1830s that New Englanders looked back at the event and thought it resembled their version of the holiday and therefore designated it as the "first Thanksgiving."

I'm firmly skeptical of oft-repeated historic legends, because time has undoubtedly modified and changed the story to become something that the original event was not. The story of what happened to the Native Americans at the hands of Europeans disallows us from presenting the story of Thanksgiving out of context and as if it was all sweetness and light.

So, on many Thanksgiving feasts as I've gorged on excessive amounts of food, I have often felt guilty at the dining table as I think of the less fortunate. My mind strays to the question, "What exactly are we doing, and are we sure we know what we're celebrating?" Like many traditions, Thanksgiving's true meaning, if there ever was one, has undoubtedly been lost and turned into an over-the-top occasion. On the plus side, the warmth of company can be a joy. Perhaps just a little less stuff on the table? 

And so, me?

You can tell that I'm ambivalent to the Thanksgiving ritual. It's okay if I don't have one. This 2020 year, millions are out of work as a result of the Covid pandemic and government neglect and mismanagement, and I'm not sure I feel good about "pigging out." As I've done in the past, I might go out and help serve up some free meals for those who have little or nothing. I think I'll feel better. 

 

CORONAVIRUS IS EVERYWHERE--PART ONE

Wednesday: Kwei Quartey MD

With a little wordplay on "Murder Is Everywhere," I digress somewhat this week from murder to COVID-19. Poignantly, the virus that causes this illness, SARS-CoV-2, really is a killer. It introduced itself as a respiratory affliction, but lo and behold, it does a lot more damage than that. Doctors and researchers are beginning to look at it as a vascular and inflammatory disease. The respiratory system is only the conduit, like an intruder creeping in through your bedroom window and then proceeding to all the other rooms to cause mayhem. That's why we say COVID-19 is a "nose-to-toes" disease.

One indication of this is that people with respiratory disorders as the only comorbidity, e.g. asthma, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, are not as high-risk for COVID-19 as are patients with high blood pressure, obesity, and diabetes. These last three conditions often coexist, but each is also an independent causative factor in cardiovascular disease, which the SARS-CoV-2 appears to exploit. 

Even in relatively young people who don't have such underlying issues, COVID-19 has induced strokes via abnormal clotting mechanisms that clog up the brain's arteries. In the brain arteriogram shown below, Fig 1 shows a blood clot (arrow) on the right side with blockage of the blood supply; in Fig 2, blood flow resumes after removal (or dissolution) of the clot.

Occluded artery in brain circulation (arrow)

Restoration of blood supply after clot dissolution (Image: Samunella/Shutterstock)

At the other end of the body, we have "COVID toes," which are red or purplish spots on the toes due to vascular clots and/or inflammatory changes in the skin.

Covid Toes (Image: Chris Curry/Shutterstock)

And all along the path from head to toes, COVID-19 can leave destruction in its wake in the heart, lungs (of course), kidneys, and liver.

Coming to our attention over the past few weeks is a pediatric manifestation possibly connected with COVID-19: a Kawasaki Disease/Syndrome-like illness that's been branded Pediatric Inflammatory Multisystem (or Multi-organ) Syndrome, or PIMS. It seems odd that in some cases the PIMS has occurred quite some time after the acute infection in the child has passed. The syndrome involves a fever, dramatic rash, swollen lymph nodes, abdominal pain, peeling of the hands and feet, "strawberry tongue," and conjunctivitis ("pink eye.") 

Child with Kawasaki Syndrome (Image: Chu KyungMin/Shutterstock) 

What is largely missing in our discourse on the COVID-19 pandemic is much mention of how it affects and has affected the continent of Africa, so I will tackle this in my next blog.

Sustainable Hope

Sujata Massey

On a recent day that I was missing fresh greens,  I walked into the garden. It was long before I'd planted my first seeds for lettuce. Not much was there. And yet...

I appraised the dandelions. Their gay golden faces are dotted all over the lawn and garden beds. I needed to weed anyway, and as I got down on my knees, I saw how beautiful and crisp and long many of the leafy plants were. They were absolutely fit for a "spring mix." As I dug up a few clusters of dandelions, I saw more and more that I wanted.  I could have a series of salads. I hesitated, wondering if I was depleting my garden of food I might need later.

After I had taken many handfuls of crisp greens, I washed them in a deep bowl, rinsing them over and over until the water ran clear. I dried the greens in a towel and then and mixed them with hearts of palm, red onion slices, a bit of orange, and a little bit of leftover fennel. With a little oil and vinegar and honey, it was a delicious salad.

I have butter lettuce and romaine now, thanks to a couple of businesses that have their own delivery truck service. When I make an order, I get things for my neighbors, too. I am making my own bread and biscuits. I feel like no matter what, I can feed myself.

I was so glad for the dandelions the day I needed to eat them. They're still popping up here and there, and I doubt they'll ever be eradicated. I'm also taking wild chives from the lawn, and feeling grateful for their snap. It reminds me of the stories from elderly Japanese people who recalled eating grass during the war years, when there was no rice and not much of anything else.

I was placing a blueberry bush into the garden today. Turning to get some compost, I noticed a large black bird with a tangerine-colored body was staring at me.  Could this be a Baltimore Oriole, a bird that represents our city and sports team, but that has eluded my gaze in the decades that I've lived here?

The oriole was sitting on the branch of the lilac that I've considered removing because it grew horizontally rather than upward. Now I realize the handicapped lilac make the perfect perch for this bird to watch over the garden. Did he realize the awkward human was planting something that would make exquisite dining for him in the next months?

The makeshift becomes magical sometimes. And as daunting as the next months are supposed to be, I will keep hope in my heart.

A NEW TWIST TO WRITING AND MEDICINE IN THE COVID-19 ERA

The COVID-19 pandemic has turned life upside down in so many ways it's difficult to quantify. For me, it has touched on my writer-doctor career in special ways. As you probably know, many well-known writers have also been physicians, e.g. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Anton Chekhov, Robin Cook, and so on.

Medicine
Although I'm not "on the frontlines" anymore, having retired from medicine in 2018 to write novels full time, I have a particular sensitivity to the havoc wreaked upon the hospitals all over the world by COVID-19. ERs and ICUs shown on TV full to capacity remind me of my on-call days and nights at USC-LA County Medical Center when it seemed like there was no end to the relentless flow of patients. At the ungodly hour of 3 AM, exhaustion was so profound that sometimes I couldn't feel my feet as I went back and forth between the wards and ERs.

L.A. County USC Medical Center, the older on the left, the newer on the right     

(David Tonelson/Shutterstock)

 

 

COVID-19 has suddenly familiarized the lay public with words and phrases like N-95 masks/respirators, (removes 95% of all particles that are at least 0.3 micrometers in diameter, Not oil resistant); ventilators, or "vents" as doctors often refer to them; and intubation, the procedure of placing a tube into the windpipe in order to attach the patient to the vent; and perhaps above all, PPE, Personal Protective Equipment, vital to keep doctors and nurses safe.

Full PPE (Som Taste/Shutterstock)

 
As a physician, there will always be a tendency to feel like going back to the battlefield, and the call is so urgent that California Governor Gavin Newsome has waived fees for retired physicians to reactivate their licenses (a stiff $808). It's unlikely I'll return to brick-and-mortar clinics, wards or emergency rooms, but there's an appealing alternative. One result of the COVID-19 pandemic is a quickly burgeoning interest in telemedicine, i.e., the remote diagnosis and treatment of patients by means of telecommunications technology.

Long before COVID-19, I've been interested in telemedicine not only because I think not all in-person visits to one's physician are completely necessary, but also because of telemedicine's potential as a tool in developing countries, where the doctor-to-population ratio is very low and going to see a doctor could mean a day-long trip from the village to the nearest clinic/hospital. One of my specialties, chronic (non-healing) wound care, is particularly suited to telemedicine. If a nurse goes out to a remote area, he or she can transmit an image of the wound back to the office and the physician, who can recommend on-the-spot treatment from the nurse's well-supplied wound kit. But up until now, physician reimbursement has depended on seeing a patient in person in the doctor's office. In a large, traffic-choked city like Los Angeles, a medically stable patient may commute 2 hours to his/her doctor's office just for a routine visit lasting 10-15 minutes. Maybe COVID-19 can show us that a telemedical visit could have achieved the same thing effectively and efficiently.


Writing
I will wager that at this moment, writers are incorporating the new coronavirus (SARS-CoV-2) pandemic in their novels, or are writing medical thrillers based on COVID-19--not that it hasn't been done before. I consider Robin Cook (Contagion) a master of pandemic fiction, as is Michael Crichton (The Andromeda Strain). What's remarkable is that the scenarios in these fictional accounts are no longer unlikely or the stuff of mere fantasy. This doesn't necessarily make pandemic fiction any easier to write.
Although I will probably not write a medical thriller--it's funny, you'd think I could or should!--but the next Darko Dawson novel I'm working on will have COVID-19 as a backdrop.
A few scenarios have occurred to me in which the disease can add some interesting scenarios to mysteries and thrillers:

• How did the crime occur when everyone was on lockdown--the "impossible" crime?
• How does a detective investigate a murder when everyone is on lockdown? Is s/he morally obligated to investigate while the pandemic is swirling? What about  the investigator's family who might become infected secondarily?
• The victim had asymptomatic COVID-19; the prime suspect denies ever having been in contact with the victim, but then the suspect comes down with COVID-19 five days later. That might strengthen the case against him or her.
• The victim didn't have COVID-19. If traces of COVID-19 RNA are detected at the crime scene, who left it there, and can s/he be traced?
• The RNA of the virus can be sequenced. If the COVID-19 RNA of the victim and a possible suspect are identical, what does that add to the case?
• For an international thriller, what if an assassin (think The Day Of The Jackal) denies being in a particular country--let's say, Iceland--but his COVID-19 genome is typical of the Icelandic pattern? That's complicated, but thriller readers love a challenge!

There's any number of setups using the COVID-19 pandemic as an environment in which a mystery or thriller takes place, but its appearance in some shape or form is pretty much inevitable. In medicine and writing, it's the elephant in the room that can't be ignored.

No Way Out? Domestic Abuse During Lockdown

Zoë Sharp

The UK is in lockdown. It has gone from advice issued by the government on March 15 that the over-70s should self-isolate, via an order for all bars, pubs, cafés, restaurants and gyms to close on March 20, to a nationwide lockdown three days later. By March 26, the UK police enforcement powers came into effect.

So, we were told that we were supposed to leave our homes only in order to:

1. shop for necessities like food and medicine
2. take exercise (once a day)
3. for medical reasons or to provide care or help to a vulnerable person
4. for essential work, or non-essential work where working from home was not possible.

When I last logged-on to my local doctor’s surgery website, the advice seemed to have changed slightly. Item #3 on the list now says we may leave our homes:

‘for any medical need, including to donate blood,

to avoid or escape risk of injury or harm,

or to provide care or help a vulnerable person’

The reason for this additional wording soon became apparent in most countries where lockdowns due to coronavirus have occurred. In Hubei province, China—site of the original outbreak in December 2019—reports to police of domestic violence more than tripled.

A drop-in centre in Brazil has seen a 40-50% rise in cases. Calls to helplines as far apart as Catalan and Cyprus have all increased by noticeable amounts within the first week of isolation.

On the other hand, not everybody who is confined to the home with their abuser is able to make phone calls. In Italy, calls to helplines were replaced instead by emails and texts. And now, in France, those being abused are able to walk into a pharmacy—one of the few outside places they are allowed to visit—and deliver a coded plea for help to counter staff.

Last weekend, when a woman in the French city of Nancy did this, the result was the woman’s spouse being arrested by police. The French police reported incidents of domestic violence requiring their intervention rose by more than a third during the first week of lockdown in Paris.

The feeling of not being able to get away from an abuser, coupled with the inevitable stress caused by the coronavirus pandemic, has led to an abrupt surge in aggressive behaviour. Similar spikes were documented by researchers during the financial crisis of 2008.

Living in close proximity with others, particularly if it is not usually part of your routine, can be stressful at the best of times. Although, I’m not sure that the series of online posters put out by the Malaysian government, advising women not to nag their husbands or be sarcastic, and to dress up and wear makeup, struck quite the right note. The government has since withdrawn their advice and apologised. (I would say, “Well, that was big of them…” But I’m following guidelines about use of sarcasm…)

Isolating with your family may be someone’s idea of heaven or hell. To be honest, for me life is much the same as normal. I shop infrequently, keep to myself, and spend most of my day sitting at my keyboard, trying to nurse a dodgy elbow while still chipping away at the word-face as productively as possible.

However, I am isolating with two demanding cats, as I do every winter, which is a delight. (Apart from their habit of playing ‘catch-and-release’ inside the house with the local wildlife. I have spoken to them most sternly about this. It makes no difference.)

Tosca and Lulu 'helping'

I was happy to see that when it became clear lockdown was heading to New York, the local animal rescue shelters ran out of pets to adopt, so great was the demand for company during a time of need. Let’s hope those new owners don’t abandon those pets when all this is over.

And, if you’re speaking to friends isolating at home with their partner, no matter how idyllic their relationship may seem on the surface, you might like to try asking them, not, “How are you?” but instead, “Do you feel safe?”

Stay safe and well.

And, as Annamaria has been doing, I, too, would like to applaud all the staff and families of the NHS, and all those who are doing their best to ensure that such vital workers are able to do their job.

This week’s Word of the Week is gonif, which means a disreputable or dishonest person, and is often used as a general term of abuse. It originates from a mid-19^thcentury Hebrew word ganev, meaning a thief.

How Paying my Taxes Saved My Ass

-- Susan, every other Sunday

In late February of 2020, coronavirus panic struck Japan. A rumor spread through Tokyo that Japan would suffer a shortage of toilet paper because TP was made from the same raw materials as surgical masks. Although entirely false, the rumor caused a toilet paper panic of epic proportions, with shelves stripped bare--not only of toilet tissue, but anything and everything else one might use to replace it, too.

Who knew this would become the definition of "luxury"?

Almost simultaneously, the newspapers in Japan issued reassuring statements:

Japan's toilet paper is not made from the same materials as masks.

Japan's toilet paper is domestically made.

There are no shortages. There is plenty of toilet paper.

I believed them, and didn't join the buying panic. I had four rolls at home, and I didn't worry.

Five days later, there was still no toilet tissue on market shelves.

I was down to three rolls.

I grew slightly concerned.

Three more days passed, and although the news outlets had escalated their cries from "There's plenty of paper" to "Stop being selfish," and then "For the love of all that's holy, QUIT HOARDING TOILET PAPER!" there was still no toilet tissue on the shelves.

At this point, I had placed my penultimate roll on the hook, and I admit true trepidation had taken hold. My apartment has a fancy Japanese toilet (with both "back" and "front" bidets) but I didn't relish the idea of ending up in a "drip dry" situation.

Me, contemplating a world with no toilet paper.

I considered asking my mother to mail me toilet paper from the States (in a stroke of irony, she's now in need of some herself) but a flash of inspiration presented a more creative option.

Furusato nozei.

Since the system isn't well known outside Japan, please allow me a brief aside to explain the program.

Every person in Japan pays annual "residence taxes" (equal to approximately 10% of take-home pay, with no significant deductions allowed) to the city where they reside.

Almost 80% of Japan's population lives in urban areas, which results in dramatic inequities where taxes are concerned. Wealthy cities like Tokyo take in oodles of money, while many rural towns receive next to nothing.

In 2008, Japan introduced the "furusato nozei" program, which allows residents of Japan to pre-pay up to 40% of next year's residence taxes to any qualifying city, town, or municipality of their choice, in return for a dollar for dollar reduction in the taxes the donor has to pay next year (less a one-time annual administrative fee equal to roughly $18 USD).

Why would anyone choose to prepay taxes "just" to help a less wealthy part of the country?

The Japanese government thought of that part, too.

Everyone likes a gift!

Every city, town, or other municipality that participates in furusato nozei is allowed to offer a "thank you gift" (or gifts) to donors, valued at up to 40% of the tax donation the municipality receives. (And they can use wholesale/production values rather than retail, making the value actually higher.)

A thank-you box from a town in Hokkaido famous for growing soybeans

Donors can visit furusato nozei websites (my favorite, and the most popular, is furusato choice) to see the various thank-you gifts on offer (more than 250,000 different choices, as of March 2020), and select the gifts they want. The payments can be made online or by credit card, bank transfer, or at thousands of convenience stores across the country.

We can even choose the purpose for which the tax donation will be used. (Thus far, I have donated to enrichment activities for elderly people, jobs for people with disabilities, environmental protection, and educational programs for children.)

I started making furusato nozei donations late last year, to support some of the towns I visited during my 100 Summits climbs. In return, I received generous gifts of tofu (which I love), smoked sausages, and giant dekopon--known as "sumo oranges" in the States.

Orange you glad you know about furusato nozei?

So when the Great Toilet Paper Panic of 2020 hit, I fired up Furusato Choice and typed "トイレットペーパー" in the search bar, hoping that at least one of the cities that make Japanese toilet paper would have a thank-you gift that could save my ... sanity.

Hello, Wakkanai.

The small port town in Japan's far north was offering 98 rolls of top quality, two-ply Nepia "Anemone" brand toilet paper . . . in return for a measly 10,000 yen donation (about $95 US).

And remember ... I get all 10,000 yen deducted from the amount of residence tax I have to pay next year, making that toilet paper free.

Me, after solving the problem.

I made the payment instantly, and five days later Yamato Transport (Japan's parcel delivery service) knocked on my front door with a waist high parcel wrapped in plain brown paper. Inside, I found the promised 98 rolls of toilet paper.

In my house, right now. This is enough toilet paper for two years.

Best of all . . . it's pink.

We have toilet paper back on the shelves in Japan now (and I hope the US and other places won't be far behind), but when the $#!& was threatening to hit the fan in a major way, Japan's residence tax donation system came through . . . and saved my ass.

And though this post has rolled on longer than my usual offerings, I hope it's provided a distraction and a smile in a difficult time. Stay safe, stay inside, and stay positive.

And please . . . don't hoard the toilet paper.

Dark Times—Light Relief

Zoë Sharp

As the UK hunkers down into what are still the early stages of the coronavirus Covid-19 pandemic, there’s a surreal quality to life. For most of us, the seriousness of what’s happening has not yet quite sunk in. Not to the extent that many experts are telling us it will—and soon.

Many people around me are getting used to this strange thing called Working From Home. Or, as authors call it Welcome To My World. Even so, working alone because you want to is one thing. Doing it because you have no choice is quite another matter.

It looks like we’re in this for the long haul.

At such time I find that humour is a boost to the morale. My sense of humour is on the low-brow side but I try to stay away from things that are a bit too close to the bone.

Therefore, I’ve been trawling through the jokes, images, and memes online so you don’t have to. Here’s my selection of a little light relief in dark times.

From Fatherly.com

Let me tell you this coronavirus joke…

We have to wait two weeks to see if you got it.

I ran out of toilet paper and had to start using old newspapers.
The Times are rough.

Finland just closed its borders.

You know what that means—no-one will be crossing the Finnish line.

In my day, you would cough to cover up a fart.

Now you fart to cover up a cough.

No toilet paper left in stores.

Stocks have been wiped out.

From BoredPanda.com

From SAPeople.com

 From Fiz-X.com

And finally, a couple of my own:

This week’s Word of the Weekis quarantine, which comes from the Latin quadraginta and the Italian quaranta, meaning forty. Its first known use was during the Black Death of the 14^thCentury, when the port of Ragusa—now Dubrovnik in Croatia but at that time controlled by Venice—introduced a law requiring the isolation, for a period of thirty days, all ships arriving from plague-affected areas. This was known as trentino. The practice caught on and was then extended to forty days, becoming quarantine.