I Love Sushi

Feast your eyes on chirashi sushi, agedashi tofu, and garlic calamari from Bellevue, Washington's, "I Love Sushi." We all shared the calamari and tofu. My parents had tempura and my niece and nephew shared a "Caterpillar Roll." My brother had an amazing tofu steak and my sister-in-law enjoyed....I can't remember. Some kind of sushi roll maybe?

You'd think there'd be an abundance of quality Japanese restaurants where I'm currently living. Sadly, there is not. A co-worker told me that near authentic restaurants can be found in San Mateo, but I have yet to explore that area...

Seattle, or I should say the Eastside (Bellevue/Redmond), is becoming decidedly similar to many other American urban cities. The live/work lofts are invading towns; Walgreens, Jamba Juice, and Crate and Barrels are following you everywhere you go. Rather than Pacific NW restaurants, there are Ruth's Chris Steakhouses (what does this name even mean??), PF Changs, and the overrated Cheesecake Factory's all over. Ugh.

Needless to say, I did re-realise how much I love the Pacific Northwest. I love the cool crisp air and the lovely shades of green everywhere. And the great Japanese restaurants!

I've just re-read this entry (about 30 min. after having written the top bit) and have noticed a quirky habit of mine. Ever since I was able to write, I've recorded nearly everything in my life. Weird unimportant things and big things. I was apparently an early follower of Joan Didion's claim, "We write to experience life twice. Once in the moment and once more in retrospect." This is not verbatim, but you get the picture.

Also, and perhaps neurotically--from my earliest diaries to every travel journal I've ever written, I recorded what everyone has eaten. From family trips to Japan, to summers in Hilo, I had nearly every dinner recorded. Maybe not everyday, but at least 3 out of any given week.

Typical journal entry from 4th grade: "Today I saw Brad playing kickball. In class, we watched a movie about colonial life. I went home and practiced piano. We ate meatloaf and rice and salad. I helped mom do the dishes." (Brad = my big crush of 4th grade)

I'm not sure why I did this. I still do it, to an extent. There has to be some comfort in knowing what I ate in Paris on New Years Eve 2005? Maybe. Why do I feel compelled to record meals? Well, not every meal. Just certain ones during certain times in my life.

I once imagined what it would be like to record your entire being. Say, if you had amnesia and "forgot" your entire life. How much could one record to recall their former life, personality, habits, hobbies, etc. ? My "life recording" would have weird entries that I'd ponder in my post-amnesiac state. "You never eat pork but you enjoy the occasional hot dog or prosciutto. You have a pathological fear of holes and you prefer dog people to actual dogs." What the hell?? Would i like the one I've recorded, would I be able to relate to myself or even make sense of the "old" me? I often think of this on my drive in to work. I have no idea why.

Anyway, back to the recording food bit. A few months ago, Cappy and I stopped into Cody's Bookstore in the city. I found a book published by a guy who photographed everything he ate for one year. Everything. Every snack, breakfast, and hungover late night meal. Now that's taking it a bit too far. Then I realised there are copious blogs on this same topic. To do this for myself would be not only uninteresting, but absolutely frightening.

In my mind, recording things I've eaten in writing is not the same as a photo journal of everything. Maybe it's a bit OCD. I don't think so.

I'm a nut.