I only wish I WERE turning Japanese

The best thing about having a husband in grad school is, without a doubt, the leftover food. Between lunches with his advisers and the odd departmental dinner, Himself brings me awesome stuff. As long as I don’t mind a semi-soggy samosa, I am set.


Tonight it was Japanese. I had to play hide-and-seek with a lump of wasabi (Ah, there you are, you secretive thing, you….HOT HOT HOT HOT), and the banana tempura was slimy, but the California rolls were sweet, sweet candy (imagine that last bit said in a Zapp Brannigan voice).

In honor of this evening’s gustatory delights, I want to give a big shout-out to my favorite Japanese of them all, my brother-in-law. Love, love to you and the whole fam. May your rice never be undercooked, may your pickled plums never become less pickly, may you get a Lexus on your 35th birthday, and may your daughter never cease to amaze everyone she meets.



~ by themeansister on March 3, 2009.

5 Responses to “I only wish I WERE turning Japanese”

  1. Velly nice brog.


  3. *sniff*

    How rude you are! I told S. to make you into sushi. It’s the least you deserve.

  4. Hi Mean Sister.
    I am friends and neighbor to your weird/smart sister. She told me about your blog. Very nice! I had to double take this picture of Mr. S, because he looks so freakin young.

  5. Hi, Alice, thanks for reading! Yeah, S. looks incredibly young here, doesn’t he? I think he must have been 22 or 23. Now he’s a grouchy old man (ha ha).

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