a mis-matched life...

I have many hang-ups. A good number of them get in the way of me trying to live a normal life.

Well, "Normal."

I completely forgot to mention another freedom that I found in reading Washoku: as a part of the practice, a cook pairs each element of the meal with a plate or bowl that best complements the food, disregarding whether or not the dishes are matching. You are /supposed/ to mismatch.

Amen!

I am now going to sacrifice a little manly dignity to explain why this is significant. There is an odd compulsion in me to have dishes and flatware that match. This also relates to clothing and perhaps music in a roundabout way, and I've been working it out for some time now. I believe it is a sudden sense of propriety that has been implanted on my mind, and has been rejected ever since.

I blame money.

Though I am no rich man, I am making more money more consistently than I have before. Doesn't that mean I buy new by default, and that everything matches the drapes? Also, having gone through the scam that is the wedding registry machine, wouldn't it be uncivilized of me to not have a matching dinner set?

Feh.

Back I'm the Old Country my uncle and aunt (in-laws) are potters, and their kitchen is filled with an eclectic sample of their work over many years. Some of the pieces are even mistakes or seconds. The fact that none of it matches makes the dinner table a cool melting pot of pottery, like an earthenware NYC. And in the washoku idea one is encouraged to use different materials (glass, metal, etc) as well.

Of course, my uncle and air probably don't care either way, which is the right way to be. But with these damn hang-ups, the washoku way could work for me. Perhaps one day I will have a china set and get all my clothes at the mall, but I've been trying that insuccessfully for a while and I want my thrift stores back.

Proper be damned.