Mi Kasa Es Su Kasa

I’m on a mission. And not just any ordinary mission. I’m on a mission to find a new umbrella. But not just any ordinary umbrella. I am on a mission to find the ugliest, most resistible, most hideous umbrella in Tokyo.

Believe me, I’m not on this mission because I hate umbrellas or because I don’t have any fashion sense. I just need a better way to keep track of my umbrellas. Too many umbrellas look the same. Since moving to Tokyo, I have bought nearly every umbrella sold here.

Big ones, little ones, polka dotted, too.
Green ones, plaid ones, black and blue.
Cheap, expensive, fancy, plain,
And tons of transparent ones from the conbini down the lane.

“Maybe,” I said to my husband as I futilely searched the restaurant’s umbrella stand for my umbrella, “maybe, there’s some kind of honor code that I don’t know about. Maybe all umbrellas are considered shared property and that’s why mine keep disappearing. Mi kasa es su kasa. My umbrella is your umbrella. What do you think?”

“I don’t think that phrase means what you think it does,” my husband replied.

Yes, I’m on a mission. But not any ordinary mission. I’m on a mission to find more friends. And not just any ordinary friends. I am on a mission to find exciting, whimsical friends who love adorning their stemware with wine charms.

Golf ones, boating ones, shells from the beach,
Tea party, tennis themed, in the shape of a peach.
Artistic, seasonal, nautical,
Holiday, animals, tropical.

“Charms help you keep track of your glass at cocktail parties,” my mother explained. “Thank you for the gift,” I said as I studied the mini lucky horseshoe charm, “but I don’t go to cocktail parties. Really, the only thing I need to keep track of is my umbrella.”

When it rains, it pours. That’s it.

I’m no longer on a mission to find the ugliest umbrella. Now I am on a mission to personalize my umbrella with one of my many wine charms. A bit of sparkle, a bit of inspiration and a whole lot of identification. A simple, efficient umbrella accessory.

“Cell phones shouldn’t have all the fun,” I said to my husband as I tied a charm to the handle of my umbrella. “On the next rainy day, I am bringing out the horseshoe.”