You probably know the logistical hell that is aligning the schedules of several groups of adults. If you don’t, enjoy your youth. Our little family of three had a pretty busy last weekend, and so did Lynnette’s parents. As is a family tradition, we combined the celebration for Lynnette and her dad into a Sunday lunch at Uncle’s. In a little over a week, Lynnette crossed two restaurants off at Pier 38 off her list. Incidentally, I crossed the FilCom center off my personal list on Saturday night. Everyone’s a winner.
We got there a few minutes before Uncle’s opened so Madison and I took a little walk. A short distance from the restaurant sat a pier in the water reachable by a tiny bridge. “You want to go?” I asked. “Yeah, yeah!” she said. She was all cool on our way across onto the pier. I think it was when she was on the narrow concrete slab surrounded by water when she realized that falling into the dirty water was a possibility. “C’mon, dad, hold my hand,” she said. Considering she’s been on a I-only-hold-mom’s-hand trip, I found this highly-hypocritical. But since I love my daughter more than anything – even sushi – I obliged.
As we waited for our food to arrive, Madison practiced writing her alphabet. At this point, she can spell her name, recite the alphabet in order, and write most of them out without any problems. Sometimes she writes the letter S backwards. Sometimes she confuses letters like P and B and D if she’s writing the lower case versions and in a rush. Like anything else, it’s a process. Which isn’t to say that I’m not proud, because I am extremely proud of her. Perhaps the most important things I’ve learned as an educator is that as a parent I have to foster an appreciation for reading and writing early because she won’t want to do it when she’s older. Besides, she’s already ahead of Matty, and he made it out of college. I think we’re going to be okay. Now, if I could just figure out how to get Mad to stop referring to herself in the third person. I have no idea why she does it, but everything is “look at her” instead of “look at me” and “she’s dancing” instead of “I’m dancing.” It’s almost to the point of transitioning from cute to self-absorbed.
I already posted a picture of what I ate on Sunday. It was a sashimi bowl that was nothing short of amazing. In order to prevent myself feelings of longing, I have avoided looking that that picture since. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I feel like it has to be true: I think about sushi the way I thought about girls and relationships when I was a younger man. By that, I mean constantly and in sordid detail. I think about eating sushi all the time. In fact, it was during one of these subconscious moments of sushi daydreaming that I said the following to Lynnette:
You know, I know we’ll never be super rich, but if we were, I’d like to imagine that one of the key benefits would be eating sushi without worrying how much each piece costs. It hangs over me, you know.
Lynnette nodded and let out a dry “I know.” She might be my soulmate but she still hasn’t let me eat sushi off her tummy and dip it into the shoyu in her belly button. But she did make up for that by rocking the Sloppy Swish last night.
As Lynnette s wont to do, she guided the party to Uncle’s in part because she wanted to try the bacon, avocado, crab sandwich. She was not disappointed. She was so not disappointed that it’s not picture here with her. It’s gone, man. Anyway, another birthday tradition is Lynnette’s saving juuuuuuuuuust enough room for dessert. If Lynnette were stranded on a deserted island and she could only bring three things with her, Madison would be one, creme brulee would be another, I have no idea what the third would be, and I would living with Abby (maybe it’s her!) in an empty quiet house. I don’t think I crack Lynnette’s top 14. Anyway, as fate would have it, Uncle’s sells creme brulee. Lynnette took her time with it, offering a few bites to Madison who struggled to finish her fish and chips lunch. Seven years ago (!) when Lynnette turned 27, I was introduced to her love for this dessert. She ordered ochazuke and made me finish it so that she’d have time for the creme brulee sampler at Alan Wong’s. I distinctly remember fighting through my entree, whatever remained of Lynnette’s entree, then trying to squat or something to take a picture with her. If I can find it, I’ll post it. But that was then and now both Lynnette and I don’t have to pawn our meals on anyone. In fact, we have to make room for Madison’s inevitable leftovers. At some point, I should probably start exercising. 2013 is a good a time as any.