Except that last night I dreamt of being taken off an airplane because I had a drowned Japanese baby in my carry-on luggage.
1) Damn you 60 Minutes and your interview with an elementary school teacher in a tsunami-struck village.
2) Damn you the international upbringing that has left me: a) feeling permanently displaced and b) completely unable to compartementalize international disasters as "remote." Japan, after all, is a long plane ride away but one could certainly be there in less than 36 hours. That's SO CLOSE.
And the trees are just putting out blossoms here--that most Japanese of symbols. They already smell sweet, I noticed this evening as I ran out to get Winton's yogurt-covered blanket from the car (where I had left it in hopes that he wouldn't notice its absence. It, unlike the blossoms, smells foul).