Milkman

There are many different things to get used to in Japan, obviously. One of them is door-to-door solicitation. A disadvantage of being a stay-at-home mom is dealing with answering the door to people who have a catalog of magazine subscriptions in their hands and a prepared spiel that I can't understand. Or the guy in coveralls and a broom in his hand. I think he wanted to sell me house-cleaning service. Door-to-door salesmen are bad enough, but add to that the fact that I can't understand most of what they are trying to tell me, and I have to interrupt with wakarimasen, gomen nasai (I don't understand, so sorry). I couldn't buy what they were selling even if I wanted to. At least I can play the gaijin card, so they don't try too hard.

Yesterday, tho, as I was about to wakarimasen my way out of another spiel, the guy handed me a bag of products. "Sample," the guy got out of his mouth. And "one week." I got to answer wakarimasu! Arigato, this time. I can't read the catalog he gave me, but I do get to enjoy samples of milk, yogurt, and vegetable juice. At least, I think it's milk and yogurt. They have cryptic numbers and letters on them, so they could be secret chemical formulas that will make me taller or give me super-powers or something. I guess D will find out, because I put one in his lunch today. I'll scrutinize him when I pick him up after school and see of he looks different.































And speaking of cryptic, I purchased a sesame seed grinder (yummy on ramen) at the Ramen Museum. I have no idea what "Slicky-N" means and what is has to do with sesame seeds, but it works great.