What to do, what to do

I just read about the study done in the UK that found even one glass of alcohol a day increased a woman's chances for certain types of cancer.

So let me get this straight.

If I don't drink I am more likely to have a heart attack and if I do I'm more likely to get cancer.

Oh, just shoot me now........

Dumplings, Part 2 and 3

On the Sunday following the party, we all went to Yokohama for the Chinese New Year parade. Dragons, dancing women, kings, queens and jesters made their way down the street, stopping to pose for pictures and say hello to the children.



After seeing the woman in the restaurant window making perfectly shaped dumplings, Wenjun and I decided to continue to try on Tuesday. Since she had a lot of filling and dough left over from the party, we only had to roll, stuff and steam our way to a delicious snack.

So we thought.

We rolled, we stuffed, we steamed. As we tasted them, they seemed ok. I brought some already steamed home for dinner and had another batch to put in the freezer for later.

To heat, I put them in the microwave. Big mistake. I served them. Bigger mistake. Arny was not happy. According to Wenjun, John was not happy either.

Last night I steamed the ones' we bought from the restaurant and just for the fun (or torture) of it, I steamed a few of the one's we made that were in the freezer.

It is official.

I cannot make dumplings.

Yet.

I will keep trying.

There is no such thing as fortune cookies in China....

.........but there are dumplings. Many, many dumplings. I got the chance to make them Saturday night at a Chinese new year party given by friends Wenjun and John. Standing with a few of her friends, I marveled at the speed in which they rolled out each little circle of dough and even tried my hand at filling and shaping the delicious morsels.
Dumpling making is a family affair, with various members taking on different tasks, based on their particular skill. As these women shared their own family's methods, I stood quietly, soaking it all in, trying to remember something so communal in my family. I couldn't. The cooking that went on in my house during holidays was solely my mother and grandmother's responsibility, with the rest of the family called only when the meal was ready. As I got older, I helped, but I can't remember us working on the same dish at the same time.

Though, I do have fond memories of the baba-san family "Apple Butter Festival" where family and friends spent the entire day making apple butter and trying not to get stung by the yellow jackets buzzing around the apple press. Driving down to Delaware from New York, we never got there early enough for the start, arriving only as the huge, black kettle was already over the fire, the smell of apples greeting us as we pulled up. We all took turns mixing the apples with the paddle and listened carefully as the more experienced members debated the amount of cinnamon to add. While we waited, we talked about what had happened in the year since the last get-together. Finally it was ready and everyone went into action, an assembly line forming to pour the butter into jars and then screwing both parts of the lid on tight.


Of course the best part was several weeks later, as I dipped my knife into the almost finished jar, remembering the wonderful day down in Delaware.....

Beans. Beans, Beans

Today all over Japan people celebrate Setsuben by throwing beans to chase away the evil spirits shouting "oni wa soto, fuku wa uchi ( Evil is out, good luck is within) or Oni wa uchi, fuku wa uchi (evil is within, good luck is within").

Usually the man of the house(see above) puts on a demon mask and runs around chasing the others in the house, while they throw beans at him. I did and had much fun, while Ariana was too shocked at her parents behaving so silly to get up and join in. Once she recovered, she did repeat the words just like she learned in Japanese class.

Tess just ate the beans.

So much for cultural enrichment..........

a snippit

...riding Ariana home on the bike after school.........................

Ariana: baba's name is Arny.

me: that's right.

Ariana: Arny rhymes with Barney.

me: Yes. It does.

Random Things

My new favorite product. While they look like normal jelly beans, they are more. Much more. Filled with both Vitamin C and Collagen. Yes, while we painfully shoot the stuff in our faces, here in Japan they eat it. Who is smarter??


The first earthquake casualty - this morning as I was sitting at the computer, the building started swaying and things started rattling. I am so used to it now I continued to sit and type. Later we had some people over for brunch and we were all discussing how jaded we have all become. As I pulled down the martini glasses for dessert (I was filling them with fruit and cream, not martinis by the way) I saw this. It apparently rattled just a little too hard on the top of the shelf and broke.

How sad.

Finally, the other very rainy morning baba san left for work as Ariana and I were still trying to make it out the door. Finally all ready, I started looking for my keys, first in the relaxed "why can't I ever just put them in one place" kind of way, then in the "Oh my God I am going senile!!!!!" kind of way. I looked all over, in both the logical places and the more ridiculous (the fridge). Finally I gave up, hustled both of us out the door, leaving it unlocked (I live in Japan, I can do this) and went about my day. I took the clicker to the garage door, ensuring I could get back into the building.

Later in the afternoon after doing another complete search of the apartment, I called baba san and embarrassedly told him I couldn't find the keys and asked if he could look in his briefcase to see if perhaps Ariana put them there, or maybe they just fell in. He looked and and then said

him: "wait, they're here. They're in my pocket"

me: In your pocket??

him: yes. I don't know how they got there.

me: what do you mean? you put them there.

him: I don't know.

me: what do you mean you don't know if you put them there. Do you remember me sticking my hand in your pocket??

him: no, but you must have left them somewhere where I thought they were mine.

me: (speechless at this point)

Twice, I searched the apartment, spending the entire day worried that 1) I was going nuts 2) I would never find them and would have to deal with getting a new set from the landlord 3) even though this is Japan, someone was going to get into the apartment and take everything valuable that we own.

My question is... just how much should I make him pay?