Street find

I'm definitely a fan of street finds. One man's trash.... as the saying goes. Our apartment is already sprinkled with rescues from the curb. So it is no surprise that Uta too likes to scavenge. He fell in love with this chair, left out on the sidewalk with the trash, and begged and pleaded, nearly in tears, to be allowed to take it home. I agreed as long as I did not have to assist him. I was already weighted down with more than my fair share of things (and people!) to carry. So Uta carted this chair, which he simply could not go on living without, from Second Avenue in Manhattan to our second floor apartment in Queens. It came in very convenient when waiting for the train, and on the train when he couldn't find a seat. And now it sits in our kitchen, squeakier and creakier than any other chair on earth, I'm sure. It may get a coat of paint soon, Uta is thinking gold, I'll keep you posted.

At the Table

And eating too! Rice cereal and oatmeal she eats with gusto; two hands around the spoon and eagerly pulling it into her mouth. Bananas she tolerates, but grimaces with every bite. Sweet potatoes have been flat out rejected.

Uta at the Met

Bath time

Hanging with my bro

A New York Blizzard

Happy Happy Setsubun!

Setsubun is Uta's all time favorite holiday. On February 3rd we get to throw yummy roasted soy beans all over the house to scare the devils out and invite happiness in. We then giggle our way through the silent consumption of an uncut sushi roll, called Eho-maki. This literally means "lucky direction roll", because it is eaten facing the yearly lucky compass direction, determined by the zodiac symbol of that year. This year it was southwest. It's a Japanese springtime ritual that coincides with the lunar new year, and always succeeds in making us simply giddy with delight.

Tree Project

Our Hibaku tree seed never sprouted. We were sad not to succeed in germinating this very special immigrant from Japan. We wanted so much to have this great grandchild of the Hiroshima survivors take root and thrive under our care. Perhaps it was a little over loved, planted too deep, watered too much, it's hard to say. But luckily for Uta it wasn't a complete no-show. In its place several tiny mushrooms emerged, one by one, each rising victoriously from the barren soil, and one by one, withering and dying after only a day of life. Uta was delighted by the theatrics of the mushrooms, laughing out loud at their mysterious emergence and equally sudden departure. I was just relieved to have a little life, even if it wasn't the one we were hoping for, come out of that overly watched pot.

Hiroshi Sunairi, our friend, and the artist behind the tree project asked Uta to document his experience for his show at the New York Horticultural Center. Uta wrote a very sweet account of all that happened. His story was displayed, written in Uta's own hand, atop a photo of himself. Uta was honored to be a part of it. And now he is quite certain that he is famous.

Check out The Tree Project here.