Viva la crunchy

I can’t sleep.  I’m a mess obsessing over my latest addiction, of which I was not allowed to partake in this fine Sunday due to more pressing issues like finally taking the Christmas decor down.  Anyway.  It’s a modest little phenomenon known as the “Crunchy.”  For those of you who don’t spend the greater portion of your days seeking out happy hour specials at suburban sushi joints in the Midwest, I’ll explain.  It is, quite simply, the best sushi roll on the planet.

The hub and I have been trying to crack the secret of the crunch, to no avail.  I’ve deduced that it includes tempura shrimp, some sort of spiced mayo, and balsamic vinegar…but that’s all I’ve got.  To make things more interesting (…wait, you’re NOT interested?) the sushi masters at Sushi Tango (www.SushiTango.com) in Woodbury make it differently than other places - and it’s the best.  Bold claim, you say?  Well, I’ve dragged the hub to 3 sushi joints this week alone to prove my theory, and no one is even getting close.  We hit up Sushi Tango (lovingly dubbed Sush Tang, as I’m currently in the habit of lopping off the last syllable of most nouns) last night for dinner, and on the way home noticed that he newest Sushi place in our burb was finally open.  We HAD to go in…..and HAD to get the crunch.  They tried to dress it up with a fancy name, but the Samurai Crunch was all smoke and mirrors.  Plus, it was a waste of the last available 1/36″ of my stomach space - and for those of you who don’t know me, that’s just unforgivable.

If anyone knows how to make this delectable little treat, please enlighten me.  My body is pushing back on the new schedule of eating only between 2-5 and 9-close, and I’m starting to get the shakes when I go more than 24 hrs without that soy sauce saturated heaven.  I guess I could also just watch the next time they make it, given the largely accepted construction of sushi bars with the only barrier between the sushi Gods and sushi worshippers being a half inch of glass.  But that would require that I tear my focus from the sake.  And that’s a whole different obsession. 

The big idiot and the “T”

My husband broke our keyboard yesterday and is now feverishly searching for all the keys that popped off.  First he put the U back in the wrong spot and it’s apparently stuck there for eternity, and now I’m getting a play by play of each letter he successfully replaces.  I’ve conned him into thinking my plan for sushi, a chick flick, and joining the leagues of others seeking local fame in our hometown karaokee joint this evening was his idea.  The key finding is becoming more urgent - since moviefone is necessary to execute this evening, and using a pen to push the ”f” isn’t going well.  It’s getting violent, with references of gouged eyeballs.  Hmm.

Today I’ve made strides towards what my parents would deem “fiscal responsibility.”  Every weekend day - yes, EVERY Sat & Sun, the hub and I start out with a trip to one of the 4 Starbucks within 5 miles from our house, then make a lap around Target, picking up mostly non-essentials and loving every minute.  We pretend to be there for the deals, putting on a good show browsing the clearance endcaps, but for every $4.73 picture frame we purchase, a DVD, the latest cheap-chic bag, and a new pair of aviators for the man will be rung up.  Today we walked the store, filled the basket, then met up with our old friend Buyer’s Remorse PRIOR to checking out.  We faked a “hey, put the basket down and help me with this”, abandoning the basket cleverly amidst the little girls spring must haves.  I’m proud of our escape.   

Robby: “Yes, I just found the T!” Victory!

Welcome….to me?

Well, this is a first.  Me speaking, no one interrupting.  Quite heady, yet eerily silent.   I guess I should be polite and welcome you to my blog - but seriously, you’re on a computer and do you really care if you’re greeted?  I’m excited to get started here.  This will likely be more of an outlet for me than you, but in my dreams I envision a “dear diary” that finally talks back.  We’ll laugh, we’ll cry….and at the very least you’ll make pause before you close the window and redirect to Google.  The pleasure is mine!