out for sushi (lyn)

Alexander and I are going out for dinner.  We prefer ordering in, eating at our coffee table (Alexander uses our dining table more for homework than eating), and watching an episode of 24.  It’s always exciting to see how Jack Bauer is going to untangle himself from an impossible situation and then kill fifteen terrorists single handedly after he’s been shot three times and left for dead.  What’s amazing is that it rarely seems absurd, despite the fact it is.  But I have a $25 coupon to a Japanese restaurant we like, and it’s expiring tomorrow. 

I decide to wear a pair of black pants that I bought in July of 2007.  They are a D&G size 44. (I later check an online conversion chart; Italian size 44 translates to a size 8, but I’m sure that’s a big size 8).  When I last tried these pants on, I couldn’t breath in them, and I remember looking in a full length mirror and seeing a scary-large tush.  When I try them on tonight, they are a little baggy and my tush is not protruding.  They don’t look good on me at all.  I take them off, put on my new favorite Lucky jeans, and wonder when it was I should have worn them and have them look good.  Probably around Thanksgiving.

Armed with our $25 coupon (I feel a little like Jerry’s parents going for the early bird special somewhere in Florida), Alexander and I go to Amber, a local Japanese restaurant.  We order the sushi/sashimi dinner for two.  We are sitting at a small table, and when our platter arrives, it is so big that the water glasses have to be removed from the table so that it can fit.  The couple next to us looks over and says, “You two are so small, how are you going to finish that?”  I think I disappoint Alexander when I don’t launch into my recent weight loss history.

Except for a foreign looking grayish-colored fish that neither of us wants to touch, we finish the whole plate.  The couple near us is impressed.   Alexander and I talk about college; about school; about girls; about life.  And while Jack may be off saving the world, I’m happy just to be sharing a quiet meal with my son.