unbottled cat

You've finished your chores--washing the salt off the windows, washing the car, finally hauling the boxes out of the closets, stacking old photo albums, trying to ignore how young you were in those old photo albums--and there's nothing left to do but lay your chin down on the dining room table to stare at the cat and the sunset.

happy new one

IN THE MIDST OF UNPACKING and unwinding from the last year, we were far enough along to settle in with new year activities and begin some traditions that will color our new life. Some neighbors, who have two little daughters, invited us to pound some rice with them and their friends. This was m's second mochi tsuki taikai of the year--since there was one at her new day care center--and we met a lot of local people. They didn't seem to have a lot in common other than that they were all very laid back, and seemed rather proud of goofing off as much as possible: going fishing, kayaking, surfing, laying around. No one seemed to be suffering from the lack of a work ethic, but I'm sure it's not as easy as it looks. We ate a lot of the mochi, and got some for the kagami mochi offering to put in our tokonoma. A bit rough, but it stacked fine, and was a perfect size for a tiny citrus topping.

M spent a lot of the last few days preparing the New Years food, which she's never done before. A lot of time on the phone with her mom, and getting faxed recipes. We were going to go to the local shrine after midnight, but m was starting to pass out, the winds were still blowing like banshees, and it had gotten very cold. From previous years, we know the lines are going to be very long: fun when you're in the foot stomping, fist pounding mood, but . . . we weren't.

I've never been a great fan of a lot of o-sechi ryori because I find it too sweet, but M always goes easy on the sweeteners so the food on the morning of New Years Day was perfect. She swears she's going to up the menu each year, and I'm looking forward to it--a treat considering how people rely more on convenience stores and groceries for their osechi these days.

Then we made it to the shrine to pay our respects. The Akiya shrine sits high up on the side of the hills overlooking the sea. It's old and weathered, and it was almost empty when we stopped by: only one or two other families, and we chatted for a while and played with an old, one-eyed pug named Cherry. I didn't ask what M and m's wishes were, but I presume they were pretty close to mine--that the gods look kindly on our joining their neighborhood.