Do you ever have days where thoughts and ponderings seem to float up from dusty corners or beneath bed frames as if they've been waiting for a quiet moment to remind you of their existence? Yesterday and today have been so full that these little awakenings remind me that amidst all the tasks and hours and days, there are other dormant parts waiting for me to prod them forward and grant them time of their own. Tonight, is a night for pen and paper and unfolding contemplations.

Growing up, our meals included Japanese rice on the side of everything. Though our cabinet shelves were filled with chawan bowls and our drawers with ohashi, we always seemed to be running out of clean dishware due to their frequent use. Chazuke (green tea poured over cooked rice) was most often accompanied by tofu and turkey bologna slices with tsukemono and Kikkoman shoyu at the ready. It was a staple--the PB&J equivalent of our household. I remember these simple meals and

When I was a small child, my mother needed to pick something up at our local fabric store. While she shopped, my sisters and I explored the rows of lace and cloth and thread. We soon discovered little tids and bits left behind on the floor where their only future looked to be a life of the forgotten--left behind and tread upon by adults with too many bigger projects in mind to notice the wayward treasures beneath their feet. So, we stooped to pluck them from their saddened fa