Okay, moving on.
Let me tell you a little story. Once upon a time, I hated sushi. I hated Japanese and Chinese food. I hated hummus, falafel, olives, salsa--oh, my, it was a really long list. Most of the items on it, I had never actually tasted, but I knew instinctively that I hated them, like a five-year-old does, except I was in my 20s. Some very patient, helpful friends (thank you, Paul, Keegan, and a numer of others) waded through my reticent stubborness to rescue me from not knowing what I was missing. By the time I enrolled at St. Vladimir's Seminary in New York, I had learned to love a number of items on that list, and more importantly, I had learned to try new things. And a good thing, too, as Michael and I went to a Chinese restaurant/sushi bar on our first date. Ah, the good old Rice Star.
For reasons of geography and life circumstances that we won't go into here, Michael and I haven't been able to find a good Chinese restaurant or sushi place near us since we left New York. Until tonight. Oh, joy! Oh, rapture! I have found Nirvana, and it has sushi! Michael came home from work yesterday with a menu from "Sakura Restaurant, Chinese and Japanese Food," and in our desperation for good sushi, we only managed to wait 24 hours before we had to go try the place. We dropped off Brigid with her kind, generous grandparents, and went to Sakura with our hopes high. We weren't disappointed. I had to struggle not to moan and sigh in satisfaction with every bite. I'm a happy sushi lover.