In search of an alternative to our pricey neighborhood sushi standby, The Hok, we tried Kimono on Germantown Pike. Their nigiri had beautiful and generously cut. But their selection leaves a lot to be desired. Out of my Chef's Selection of seven pieces: two were tuna, two were salmon, and the most exotic fish on the plate was mackerel.
All's not lost: there's a place further down the pike that's supposed to be even better, only they're not open on Sundays.
After considering a costume that was too tight to be comfortable, then one that was too warm for the unexpected weather, and finally one that the Tamster made me return to the CVS across the street; I decided to go as The Diverse Cowboy.
I decided to update the car's music library. Until now I've been burning MP3 discs since they can hold over a hundred songs per disc; but since half my iTunes library is in AAC format (which can't be converted to MP3 conveniently) I switched back to standard audio discs: one compact disc, one album.
It wasn't until I've burned over thirty of albums that I realized 'Hey wait a minute... I actually own most of these CDs'. Now that's irony.
Wiping off the sludge that collects on our front-loader's rubber gasket is a lot wiping up a child's shitty crack. Just saying.
I can build up a bike in a few hours, lace up a perfectly-tensioned set of wheels, even take apart an intricate piece of electronics—and most of the time put it back together—but as soon as a headlight went out I went straight to the dealer. Sixty bucks.
Later, out of remorse, I popped the hood for the very first time to see exactly how much work my sixty bucks got me. I was relieved to see that while the right headlamp seemed like a simple ten-minute job, the left one–the one that went out—required removing the battery.
I guess can live with that. Scary stuff, them car batteries.
There are five Burgervilles on I-5 between Seattle and Portland. It's going to be an awesome trip already.
