Went out for dinner tonight with Arwen’s mom & faux pa, and since Fridays are kinda special for us, we chose sushi at Downtown Sushi in our old stomping grounds. They’ve got a little upscale on some of the fancier rolls, bucking the standard Vancouver “sushi places almost outnumber Starbucks” pricing of $3-$4 for your normal California roll, and maybe $5-$6 for the “fancy” rolls.
Well these guys have gotten all fancy and done some really interesting and tasty rolls, but um… $12? Srsly? Ripley (who’s seven, and yet can do some serious damage in an all-you-can-eat sushi place) got a fancy “Ocean” roll, and an order of gyoza, and I think his portion of the bill was probably around $18.
Woof.
But thankfully, Arwen’s mom was picking up the bill tonight, so Ripley didn’t have to make good on his offer to pay for himself (I think, if he’s lucky, he’s got about $4 in the whole world.)
It was interesting for me though, ’cause Ripley often offers to pay for something if he thinks he’s not going to get it otherwise, but tonight, I think he was honestly noticing that $12 was a lot for a single roll of sushi, and wanted to help out. It was kinda nice to see that he isn’t entirely psychotic when it comes to sushi. I think maybe part of it is that we don’t have as many restaurants, dollar stores, and drug stores (like Shoppers) near our house, so he’s not constantly bombarded with the need to spend money on a “thing.”
I get that wanting to buy things, too. I’m like that. If I don’t have a couple of bucks in my pocket for a few days, I start to feel meager, and that makes me do weird things in my head. I start going into some odd form of hunter/gatherer, I think, and I start trying to figure out what I could do/sell/make that I could sell on Craigslist for $50 or something.
But if I find out I have a $10 in my wallet, I’m good. I’m fine. I don’t need to spend it, I just have it. Weird.
Nanny 911 is on, and it’s the blonde lady who says “famleh” instead of family, and it makes me giggle and cringe at the same time. I think Nanny911 and Canada’s Worst Driver should both be on a new cable channel called the “You’re Fine Dear, It’s Your Husband Who Should Be Voted Off the Island.”
Seriously? I just. These guys are… I mean… Screw YOU, dude. What the hell? I guess that probably comes from growing up in a family of strong-willed people, and strong women in specific. When my mom was 23, her dad died, and her mom became a widow with six (yikes – SIX!) kids ranging from 25 to 13 (I think), and so the entire family grew up watching a woman as the head of a house…
…so I’m always sorta flabberghasted when I see any of these shows that have a base premise (the kids are running the house, or people have been nominated as bad drivers), that invariably becomes (at least partially) a study in “Why the hell are these two people together?”
Of course, I’ve wondered that about a lot of people I’ve known over the years, and I’m sure there’s some friends who’ve wondered what the hell Arwen sees in me, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be editable by a television producer to make me look like such a… a… such a butthead about dealing with other people, especially your partner.
But what the hell do I know? I’m just a person, too. I’m sure everyone on those shows that was chosen because they “made for good TV” didn’t think there was anything odd about their own activities. America’s Next Top Model has this down to a science – you can usually pick out the person who has no chance of winning, but is destined for a trainwreck of booze, crying, or just good ol’ batshit insanity before they are sent packing.
…and then I think of that sign – something about “There’s a {something} in every crowd. Look around. If you can’t find them, it’s you.” and I start looking around my circle of people to figure out who I can’t find – which role is missing, where’s the gap in the grill?
Whatever that gap is, whatever archetype is missing, I guess maybe that’s my line. That’s the part I’m supposed to play.
Huh.
