Umbrella Policies

My father, a master of the silly one-liner -- which can only be appreciated when repeated zillions of times -- used to love to pose this question: What do they do in China when it rains? 

My long anticipated Japan visit is over, and I could certainly use some ancient secret Chinese wisdom to figure out not only what to do when it rains but when things in general just seem crappy. Returning from a trip is always difficult. My re-entry this time around -- to quote a friend who put it better than I could ever hope to -- feels a bit like landing in a shit storm without an umbrella. Unfortunately, my father may have clued me in on garden variety rain, but he never told me what they do in China -- or anywhere, for that matter -- when there's a shit storm and no umbrellas.

As with most things, I am left to figure it out for myself. For starters, if I am being blown around in a shit storm, I'd just as soon take a pass on the umbrella. Odds are, if everything else is going south, the umbrella will be blown inside out, and I have yet to see anybody win a battle with an inverted umbrella. It's a waste of energy, you end up getting drenched anyway, and you inevitably make a complete ass out of yourself in the process. Shit storms don't scare me; umbrellas do. I'll just take my chances walking between the rain drops and and dodging puddles and staying a safe distance from the curb.

Reality check! To slip between rain drops and avoid puddles and tuck yourself a safe distance away from splashing vehicles you have to be little, particularly your feet. On a good day, my feet are disproportionately large for someone of my small stature. Add in long plane rides and lots of salt and my feet look like flippers. Shoe shopping in Japan was demoralizing; I watched with envy as my daughter, whose feet are each about the size of my big toe, struggled to fit into the larger sizes. I looked at the size conversion chart; they don't even make shoes big enough for me in Japan. Now I know why Cinderella's stepsisters were so bitchy. I can do without umbrellas but not without shoes. Winter would really be a bitch.

Plan B. If I cannot make my feet -- or the rest of me -- smaller, maybe I can just disappear. I could become invisible, out of reach of the storm, and what better place to start than with my blog. I messed around with the settings until I figured out how to remove it from view, and with just a couple of mouse clicks, my ramblings went underground. They were there, somewhere, but nobody would be able to find them. A few disgruntled emails from my loyal followers confirmed it; they could gain access by invitation only, and I had clearly not invited them. Good riddance to everybody, I thought, no more positive reinforcement, to be sure, but no more negative comments to rain on my parade. All well and good, until I realized how much I rely on my writing to get me through my most confusing moments. It's much sturdier than an umbrella, something I can actually rely upon in a shit storm. A couple of mouse clicks later, I was up and running.

What do they do in China when it rains? They let it rain. They don't fight it, they just go about their business and let it rain. Makes perfect sense. Storms move, and like all dark clouds, this too shall pass.