Shinnen Akemashite Omedetou Gozaimasu

The new year (oshogatsu) is particularly important in the Japanese tradition. It represents the chance for a fresh start, with proper preparation, of course. December is spent in purification, cleaning house (osoji), both literally and figuatively, in order to begin the new year with a clean slate, decorating with pine and bamboo kadomatsu for good luck, and sending New Year's postcards (nengajo).

For those interested in learning more about oshogatsu in general, the Japanese American National Museum has a good, but concise description. Wikipedia also has an overview. I could have sworn I wrote a more comprehensive blog entry about oshogatsu a few years ago, but I can't find it!

Kinpira, gobo (burdock root) and carrot

I julienne them with a knife, because food processors make the pieces too small

The final days of the year are spent cooking food with special significance with regard to health, longevity, prosperity and fertility (osechi) so the first few days of the new year can be spent with family. Some descriptions of osechi can be found at bento.com or norecipes.com and Yuka Yamaguchi also has a few recipes on her blog. Even though I can buy osechi at the local Japanese grocer, I still make my own. Since this is the only tradition I really observe, I figure I should do it correctly. Plus, the stuff is expensive!

Nishime in one of Grandma's Imari dishes

Includes renkon (lotus root), gobo (burdock root), 

takenoko (bamboo shoot), konnyaku (potato starch)

As you know, this year, actually the last two years, have not been the best, financially, socially, emotionally. I even lost a cherished friend, who brought only kindness to the table when all I brought was drama. I knew I was being unreasonable, but couldn't help myself. It is in my nature to push those I care about away from me and completely alienate them. I wrote recently about how people move in and out of our lives, but what I didn't mention is that those who leave due to our own foolishness hurt the most.

The last two years I've strayed from the tradition of opening my house during Oshogatsu. Maybe beginning the year on the wrong foot jinxed me. On top of that, one month after the current year began I turned 43 and thus began the 44th year of my life. 4 is bad luck in Asian cultures that have been influenced by the Chinese, because it is a homophone for death. 44 must be doubly bad.

As December ticks down to the new year I hope to begin it on the right foot, just in case. I am currently making much-needed repairs on the house, organizing bills to be paid before year's end, gathering my house cleaning supplies, prepping my cookware and shopping lists, and making sure the tv works for my grousing dad, so that I can start the year with a clean slate and focus on spending time with my family and closest friends during Oshogatsu. And of course, as a hedge, one month later, I'll be beginning the 45th year here.

Once in a Blue Moon

New Year's Eve Blue Moon

31 December 2009

2009 ended in the Bay Area with a blue moon obscured by clouds.  After sitting in the cold for a half hour waiting for a chance to capture the moon in all its glory, I gave up, shot what you see here, went inside to warm up, and rang in the new year quietly with traditional noodles, the dog, the cats, Iron Man, and my phone vibrating with a happy new year email from my friend.

My first thoughts of the new year were relatively frivolous.  I contemplated the advantage of being compared with Pepper Potts, rather than the Eve Teschmacher (from Superman) moniker bestowed on me by my boss (he gets to be called Doctor Evil).  First, I love alliteration!  Second, as a villain, Teschmacher is restricted to life underground, while Potts enjoys a relatively normal life. And of course, given that I am the most poorly paid person in comparison to others who do what I do (in his defense, he gave me a chance to manipulate numbers because he could see I was good with them when no one else would hire me because I had no finance/accounting background other than a few classes), I am envious that Tony pays Pepper well enough that she can afford to drive one of those sexy little Audi TT roadsters and well, I really love sexy little roadsters, although I'm more of a Porsche fan.  Yes, my midlife crisis is still in full swing.

Giving Thanks

Montara, CA

February 2007

The path ahead is uncertain and unstable,

but I continue.

The situation I desire is improbable,

but I wait for it.

Through everything, only one person is there

to pick up the pieces when I fail.

I don't always agree with you.

And no one else can piss me off like you,

but you've always been there when I needed you.

Thanks, dad.

p.s.:  I will deny this tomorrow.

Spare a Penny for the Guy?

Guy waits for the inevitable.

I read an article yesterday mentioning that Guy Fawkes celebrations in Britain are down, mainly due to a shift in focus to Halloween...

http://www.reuters.com/article/lifestyleMolt/idUSTRE5A43XE20091105

I felt for the Gunpowder Plot conspirator, whose life ended with several days of torture, hanging, and being cut up into pieces. Or at least for the 400+ year old tradition (longer if you consider the practice is based on even older autumn bonfire traditions) of burning his effigy and setting off fireworks every 5th of November. So when I woke up today, I decided to keep the tradition alive here in California, where it actually isn't a tradition!

Alas, there are ordinances in my city against open fires and fireworks, so Guy would burn in my fireplace. I raided my woodpile and grabbed dead leaves from my neighbor's dracaena to bind twig arms and legs onto a log body. I stuck a printed picture of Guy's face onto the body, which I doused in charcoal lighting fluid for good measure.  The result (above) looks more like the Burning Man than any effigy of Guy Fawkes I've seen, but my building skills have never been good and I had work to do, so that was as good as it would get. A bit embarrassed at my handiwork, Guy went straight into the fireplace, rather than being paraded down the street.

This Guy's on Fire!

Later in the evening, I set a match to the kindling underneath, and WHOOSH, the whole pile burst into flames and shot up Guy's body, as the lighter fluid in it combusted!  I grabbed my camera and tried to snap a photo while he still had a face, but it was too late.  His face was vaporized, his body completely engulfed (right).

Who knew the lighter fluid would catch so quickly? It's been sitting in my yard for years, is missing its stopper, and has been rained on.

This burning of the Guy is in honor of Lobo, who is English, but never partook in these juvenile pursuits when he was a pup.

Halloween 2009

Back in the day, children dressed up in costumes and knocked on doors begging for candy.  Now what do they do?  Two years in a row, not a single trick or treater!  I had no definite plans myself, so no costume, but I went to a rent party for my housemate's friend, who was evicted recently.

Banjo player.  An accordion player also played on this stage.

 I can't remember the name of this band, but I like them 

because the drummer reminds me of a good friend.

My friend has no tramp stamps and is a better drummer, though.

Projection screen, people, 

and the Extra Action Band

The candy lady takes a break.

Labor Day, 2009, a bit belated

The US recognizes the worker on the first Monday of September.  Many people take advantage of the long weekend by taking a short trip.  Some recognize the winding down of the warm season by heading outdoors and barbecuing.  And still others, in what could be considered an anti-labor gesture, shop the Labor Day sales (someone has to work those sales).

I went for option #2.  My housemate and I drove up to Petaluma in my midlife crisis convertible to spend the day with friends and eat food cooked in the great outdoors. I brought corn, and my housemate baked the loaf of bread in the photo on the left.  He attributes its odd shape to having to rise during the hour drive up to Petaluma.

I saw these fungi at right on a tree stump behind the grill.  I briefly contemplated tossing them on the grill, but I know absolutely nothing about mycology, and for now at least, am happy to be alive and healthy.

As I reflect on the meaning of the day, I also ponder the future of the worker.  The "stimulus" provided by the US government served to allow recipient companies the cash flow to be able to make massive layoffs in order to preserve the bottom line, which boosted the market a bit and allowed executives to receive bonuses.  Those who have benefited from the "stimulus," the executives and investors, are the ones who least needed help. 

No one sees any of that money trickling down to the (former) workers any time soon.  The vast majority of people, even those with jobs, have had to curb their spending. It is seemingly a Catch-22.  We stop spending because our dollars are devaluing rapidly, but the economy relies on spending.  When revenues are down, companies look to cut their largest expense.  And particularly when you take into account employer taxes, workers' comp insurance and benefits packages, that expense is Human Resources, so in a sense, we are cutting our own throats.  As it turns out, the mass consumerism we all bemoan was keeping us afloat, in a sense.

It has been speculated that these spending habits may persist for a considerable amount of time, so I imagine that out of necessity, the economic model will have to change, as well.  How, I don't know.  Will the government ease regulations or their enforcement?  Will boards of directors revisit executive compensation or even their own remuneration? Will the displaced workers form new types of businesses, or will they choose to revolt?  I guess we will find out in the months to come.

Packing Up

I'm in the midst of packing and figuring out what to do with what I've packed. The process is a bit more complicated than last year, since I actually had to buy housewares when I arrived. I have two weeks to move out of my apartment, and am not sure yet whether I will try to ship my things home, pay excess baggage to take them on the plane (possibly the cheapest solution, although a pain, since I plan to travel a bit before I leave and I'd have to tote them everywhere), or give them away to my neighbors or the next tenant of this apartment. I think I am probably agonizing over this more than I should, but I am a worrier by nature, so I guess I am just doing what comes naturally to me.

I did make time Tuesday night to join the festivities for the Féte Nationale/quatorze juillet (we call it Bastille Day in the US, probably to distinguish it from the national holidays of other countries). I took some photos of the fireworks (above) and carnival rides (left), and since I was out, took the opportunity to snap other sites around town I have been meaning to shooot at night, including Temple Neuf, which I had photographed during the day when I first arrived. I don't have a tripod, and was using a long exposure time, so it was difficult to get a good shot, but I actually like the way that shaky shot turned out!

On a bittersweet note, I found a store here that sells my favorite Single Malt, Benromach Peat Smoke. Back home, I have to drive ten miles to the Wine Globe to get it (I can also order it from the web, but I am an immediate want kind of shopper). Here, I take a 15 minute walk to the town center. I bought a bottle this week, and am debating cracking it open before I pack it up (I cannot polish off a bottle in two weeks). Too bad I have to leave...

... and something to look forward to when I get home: a used bookstore has opened in downtown San Mateo, which is walking distance from my house. Back before the chain bookstores, sometime in the 1980's, I spent countless happy hours perusing books and newspapers from around the world at the Central Park Bookstore/Café while I sipped my favorite drink at the time, a double mocha with soy milk (I'm asian -- if I use real milk, everyone is miserable). Unfortunately, the building owner refused to renew the lease when it came up, and there has not been a decent bookstore in the area since then, and it has been at least 15 years since it closed. It is not quite the same, as I believe the new store lacks the café and newspapers, and my drink has changed to a shot of espresso with a spoonful of honey (or maple syrup, if I'm home) and a little rice milk on the days my stomach acid is making me unhappy, but I am looking forward to the books! I hope they have a copy of Perfume, by Patrick Süskind. I have the French version, but the vocabulary is too advanced for me to read with any decent comprehension.