Before anything else, I want to throw some big ups Lynnette’s way. She took it upon herself to not only clean the fish tank, but also renovate it to align more closely with Madison’s tastes.
“Wow, that’s the clearest I’ve ever seen that water,” my brother Paul wrote after viewing a picture of the newly-renovated fish tank over Instagram. I would be inclined to agree. Most times, the water in the fish tack is a shade of green. I suppose that’s because we don’t clean it as often as we should, but it might also be a function of the fact that we don’t have an algae-eater living in the tank. We did have one, but I think he was bullied to death by current residents of the tank. The hope is that the new neon rocks, festive fake plants, and effeminate backdrop leads to a decrease in fish-on-fish violence.
Lynnette figured out early on that she wanted fried spam musubi and those chicken wings that came with them. I offered to wait in line for Lynnette since she had the money. She took Madison to the truck selling foregone conclusions, AKA the KC Waffle Hotdog. It was the one sure thing going into the Eat the Street this afternoon. As I stood in the back of the slow-moving line, I was glad that the clouds and breeze had shown up. This time, we remembered to bring a little mat to sit on while we eat. What we forgot was a little rolling crate or large tray or something like that tote all the food and drinks from line to line before finally settling down to eat. Next time.
Lynnette and Madison were able to pick up Mad’s lunch in a few minutes. That worked perfectly because the 10-minute wait to order in addition to the 15-minute wait for the order to come out gave us more than enough time for Madison’s waffle dog to cool. She was able to eat about half her ‘dog while we waited for Lynnette who was waiting for her food. Lynnette claims the wait was worth it:
The batter [for the musubi] was not too thick, not too thin – just right. It actually stayed crispy, even though I didn’t eat it right away and after we covered it with foil. The flavors of the chicken were divine (she rubbed her belly as she said this part), it was the perfect combination of salty, peppery, garlicky… (she paused briefly and had that far-away stare going on. I think she was having a flashback to the musubi and chicken) and that batter was oh-so delicious, too. Two thumbs up.
I am not adventurous when it comes to food purchases. It’s not necessarily that I am unwilling to try new things, it’s more that I tend to view that kind of decision in the following way: I can get the old thing (that I know I’ll enjoy) or try something new that might lead to disappointment. As I strolled up to the Simply Ono truck, I saw the smoked meat/kalua pig/spicy ahi combo plate that’s my own personal stand-by. “Didn’t you get that last time?” Lynnette asked. “Yeah…” I said. It was then that I decided that I would not get the same thing, no matter what. While nothing else really excited me, I settled on a combination plate from Koi. The hamburger steak with bacon/mushroom gravy and garlic chicken with two scoops of rice and mac salad hit the spot. I don’t know how this happened, but it looked like a lot of food. When I finished the plate, I wasn’t stuffed or filled with self-loathing like usual. Thank you, Koi, for giving me tasty food which did not compromise my self-esteem.
Oddly enough, the most interesting thing about Mililani’s Eat the Street was the band playing music. I think they were all teenage girls. I didn’t really pay much attention as we walked by them. They were playing Katy Perry’s “Firework” when I first heard them. It wasn’t anything special. The singer’s voice wasn’t terrible, but I guess since she was young, it didn’t quite have enough “umph” behind it yet.
We got macarons. We walked out of the main event area, but remained with earshot of the music. Over the next 10 minutes, they played “Lights,” “Domino,” “Rumor Has It” (an extremely adult song which sounded odd being sung by a teenager, I mean, would a teenage girl really complain that her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend is half his age? Let’s just move on), and ended with Heart’s “Magic Man.” “Magic Man” kicks ass, but it was released four years before I was born. What the hell? Was the band great? No. Would I hire them to play Mad’s birthday party? Absolutely. Would I hire them before Matty? No. Because Matty is free.
We drove down the hill for bathroom breaks and to pick up Abby before heading to CORP to watch a Damien baseball game. Since Abby gets out of the house so rarely, whenever she even catches a hint that she might be allowed outdoors, she goes batshit. She jumps all over the couch, sprints around the living room, and tries to nip at us as we attempt to put on her harness. But she hates car rides. I don’t know what it is. First she whimpers, then she cries, then she all-out howls. Once it gets to this final level, I beg Lynnette to pick her up or do anything, because Abby’s generally sitting right behind me and screaming into my ear in Dogese. It’s not a romance language.
We made it home in time for me to just miss David Wright’s grand slam in the WBC against Italy. I have softball games tomorrow and on Monday, but not work. Spring Break, baby!