I've been to the desert

This is the desert. I was there this weekend. It was hot.

Though it can be pretty.

But I do prefer this:


As of Tuesday, I've lived in this for a year:


Ugh, is all I have to say.

I feel as though I'm in a holding pattern and I can't break away into the rest of my life, at least not for a while.

Again, ugh.

"One day in the country/ Is worth a month in town" -Christina Rossetti

Sang it sistah. Sang it.

Libraries Are Magic

Here's how this story begins: Rene and I were both called back for Sox Appeal. Without knowing it, we made appointments within 20 minutes of each other. The call-back was at Maura Tighe Casting on Berkley St. Rene was having a hard time getting through the traffic and I was early, so we switched times. The interviews were the same as the last time but neither Rene nor I felt we did as well as we did the first time. I guess the first time it was just silly fun and then the second time is was more real and more anticipated. My sweat-stache was in full beading mode. Drip drip drip. Hotness.
Anyway, Rene made it right on time for the 6:10 appointment. She didn't want to drive home through the traffic again and how often are we in Boston around dinnertime? So we went to dinner. And this is where the magic of library-ness occurs.
We used my Charlie card (pronounced: chaaaaaahlee caaahhd) for a few stops on the train and then walked from Government Center, passed the Big Apple Circus--seriously!-- over to the North End. Truth be told, I've only ever eaten at Cibo for dinner. This is a little criminal. What the hell is my problem? So, instead of going to Cibo, I let Rene suggest another place. She picked La Famiglia Giorgio. Only she couldn't remember exactly how to get there.As we wandered the streets, we came across the North End branch of the Boston Public Library. I figured we could pop in and get directions.
The circ worker (that's circulation desk, for you lay people) didn't know where the restaurant was, but the library--being the haven of information that it is supposed to be--had maps of DeNothind (the North End).
As Rene looked over the map to jog her memory, I then remembered I had signed up for a Boston Public Library card online. I asked the guy if I could pick one up at any branch and he said yes. So then, I picked up my new BPL card. (These are the library cards in my wallet: Auburn PL, Lewiston PL, Pittsfield PL, Old Town PL, Bangor PL, Maine State Library card, MaineCard for Orono, Weymouth and now my new Boston PL. And if I wanted, I could get a USM ID card and use that as a library card.)
Rene still didn't know exactly where to go but--magic of magic--with my new library card, I had access to the internet, so registered and Rene looked it up on Yahoo. Isn't that amazing?
So, armed with the knowledge that libraries are gateways to grant, we walked outside, down the street, then we turned the corner to 112 Salem St and ate dinner.

It was the saddest thing: they ran out of mussels. So I had the vegetarian sauce (eggplant, mushrooms, peppers, marinara sauce) with the homemade pasta. The pasta was good. The sauce did have a nice taste, but it wasn't special. I mean, I make a really badass veggie marinara that's just as good, if not better. I prefer to eat things I would never make for myself--like mussels--when I go out to eat. Rene had ricotta stuffed eggplant over penne. I had two bites of hers and said, "Dude, I'm stuffed." And indeed she was stuffed--we both were--after our meals. the portions are gargantuan. Also, the wine comes in juice glasses, which is adorable. We took Haymarket back and watched a slew of little ones along with parents hop on the train. We were a little confused but then Rene remembered the circus was in town. This is why 5,6,7,9,12 and two, childless, 20 somethings (very odd) all had cotton candy and plastic jugs with squiggles straws and elephant decals on the train with them. They all got off at Park St (pAHk street) to take the Red Line back to the suburbs. We got off at the new Arlington, which should now be called Berkley, and walked back to Rene's car, but now before we came across Ben. Well, it may have been one of the Nyms, but whatever was, it certainly was one gigantic bubonic totin' sewer rat. Awesome.
Anyway, that's the story for yesterday.

my mother is a bad influence on me

I Want Candy: a series of random blogs on pop culture

Oh poo poo poo--ba-aad news.

Okay, this isn't easy for me to admit. I feel a little ashamed. As a matter of fact, I'm going to change my font to smallest once I finally get prepared to write this but

I like American Idol.

I spent years in Maine, sans cable, immune to its cloying grip. But my mom watches it every week and even though she's not home tonight, I've put it on to watch it. I'm going Freudian and blaming Mummy.

Oh, god, how did this happen? I used to be too cool. I used to be too independent. I used to be immune to pop culture. (Though, admittedly, I never abandoned General Hospital.) I mean, I watch Charlie Rose. I listen to NPR. I'm supposed to be too hippish-ly snobby for this.

It's worse. I even have a favorite. Yeah, listen to this thought I had:

Though Melinda is a good singer, I'm sick of the humble thing. Also, she isn't as fun to watch compete. She's got it too much "in the bag" to have it in the bag. Plus, as Danielle pointed out, she's not someone the kiddles can dig. She appeals to the older Idol watchers. The ones who listen to soft rock stations like Magic 106.7, or John Tesh's national program.

My fav? Certainly it wasn't that freakin' kid with the hair. Yes, I know his name but I refuse to have it come up in a search of my blog.

The one I think who has the potential to be the compelling, all-ages appealing idol is Little Miss Sunshine herself, Jordin Sparks. She's, like, 5 years old and has the voice of a sirr-eee-ussss Diva. Plus she's young enough to appeal to the teeny boppers, like that hair kid did, but has the talent that people who actually care about being entertained by an entertainer with a nice voice can enjoy.

Oh, no. What is wrong with me??!! How can I follow up the last post about all my fav alt rockers coming out with LPs next month with a blog about freakin' American Idle. How?

Whatev. I liked the Spice Girls, too. And I grew up being in love with Michael Jackson. It was only a matter of time.

Oo, g/g. Jordin's up.

Releases next month-1995 or 2007?

Not that I mind at all--indeed I'm quite delighted--but I was reading Rolling Stone and was confounded by a page on upcoming releases. Smack in the middle, back to back to back, the following three bands/musicians had blurbs about their upcoming releases: Tori Amos, Dinosaur Jr, Bjork. I had to double check the fine print at the bottom left hand corner to check that there wasn't some leftover issue of RS hanging around the powder room literature. (Come on, we all do it!) Alas, it was the current issue.

Dinosaur is back together but they're like that couple that should be broken up permanently but can't keep away from each other because of the chemistry. Even in the RS blurb J was all snarky about Lou not sharing songs for the band but instead keeping them for his solo career.

Bjork is going back to the dancy-poppy fun that Pete and I experienced on Lansdowne St at the Avalon in June of 95. (Jeff Buckley opened. Seriously.) It will be nice to have another Bjork-y tune like "Big Time Sensuality" to hippie swing to while seat dancing in the car.

And finally, Tori's latest. What's funny is the retro trend of persona/ alter-ego work. It's coming around again in all forms of artistic expression. On the next page of the RS issue referred to above, there was an article about Of Montreal front runner Kevin Barnes, who has three alter egos that he uses to create songs.

It's the 40th anniversary of Sgt Pepper, so maybe that's looming the back of the creative minds.

It's also this: when writing poetry or rock music lyrics, it can get boring writing about oneself all the time. So, to take on a persona and write from that person's perspective opens up doors that staying within one's own head wouldn't.

In February I went to the Grolier Poetry Series at the Democracy Center in Cambridge, featuring Joan Houlihan and Ander Monson. The two poets weren't in any sort of collaborative relationship, they just happened to be reading together that night. But, oddly enough, both were working on writing that did the same things. First, both had poetry projects that were in the realm of fantasy science fiction--though not in a cheesy, obvious and banal way, more like a venerably literate Vonnegutesque way. Joan Houlihan was working on poetry that explored a distopic society. Ander Monson also had elements scifi. The other thing that both were doing was taking on a persona and writing from that persona's perspective. We've been binging on confessional poetry for so long, it was time to go elsewhere with the meaning of "I."

For Tori's part, she makes it fun to anticipate the new album. There are gimmicks, and being a toriphile, I'm all-in. And she knows we'll all be all-in. It's fun, like finding the blogs of the "dolls": Santa, Isabel, Tori, Clyde and Pip.

Two weeks and two days until the release of American Doll Posse.

The Poet Invokes

I've been like E! News Daily and the Colbert Report these last couple of days: completely ignoring the obvious tragedy.

For no other reason than they did: what does one say that isn't cheesy, diminishing, pedantic?

But I have to say this: the relevance of The Poet was highlighted this week, and--though I'm not of the same poetic field as Giovanni--I couldn't be more proud to call myself a poet.

Who put our tragedy in perspective? Who made us realize the universality of sadness and it's opposite: hope? Who articulated why everyone--throughout the globe--felt for so much those people just trying to 'Be in College'? Who invigorated the crowd? Who roused everyone in that stadium to stand on their feet in the face of adversity and challenge the false depravity of the loner--for who is the poet but a loner? And just as the introverted 'creative writer' violently bullsh1tted his way into the media spotlight and American tragedy with disparately misguided brain functions leading to the grotesquely violent horror of Monday, so the true poet rejuvenated the grieving masses with her rousing, inclusive, INSPIRING finely crafted words:

“We are Virginia Tech.

We are sad today and we will be sad for quite awhile. WE are not moving on, we are embracing our mourning.

We are Virginia Tech.

We are strong enough to know when to cry and sad enough to know we must laugh again.

We are Virginia Tech.

We do not understand this tragedy. We know we did not deserve it but neither does a child in Africa dying of AIDS, but neither do the invisible children walking the night to avoid being captured by a rogue army. Neither does the baby elephant watching his community be devastated for ivory; neither does the Appalachian infant killed in the middle of the night in his crib in the home his father built with his own hands being run over by a boulder because the land was destabilized. No one deserves a tragedy.

We are Virginia Tech.

The Hokier Nation embraces our own with open heart and hands to those who offer their hearts and minds. We are strong and brave and innocent and unafraid. We are better than we think, not quite what we want to be. We are alive to the imagination and the possibility we will continue to invent the future through our blood and tears, through all this sadness.

We are the Hokies.

We will prevail, we will prevail.

We are Virginia Tech. "

And so today, I am prouder than ever to say: I am a poet.

For who better to galvanize and motivate and draw out the pride and love we humans can display than the poet?

I am a poet.

And thank you, nikki g, for reminding all the poets how relevant we are.


(And the crowd rises to its feet to chant with pride...we ARE poets)

The "news" trilogy

Monday through Thursday, if I'm up for it, I watch what I like to call the "news" trilogy: Daily Show, Colbert Report and a flip over to MSNBC's Countdown with Keith Olberman.

As soon as I see two snazzily dressed, uber polished automatons standing in front of a graphic design replication of the new Bunker Hill Bridge and talking about a house fire or drunk school bus driver r how the new govinah has messed up again, I say to whomever has the remote, "Can we put it on the real news?" And the channel is changed to Comedy Central.

Indiana Unversity conducted a study that showed the Daily Show actually has as much or more substantial news than network news. (Article from IU).

I oscillate between which show is more entertaining: The Daily Show or the Colbert Report. It is pretty amazing what Stephen Colbert does every single episode. Stewart marveled over Colbert's ability to do improv in real-time as the character of Stephen Colbert, the emulator f Bill O'Reilly. I read this comment in the "Rolling Stone" interview by Maureen Dowd (I was about to say Molly Ivins--I mix up my fiesty liberal redhead reporters, but--as noted in a previous blog--Molly Ivins is no longer with us).

My dream job would be to work on the Colbert Report or the Daily Show. If only I knew someone who knew those guys. Someone who owed me big time for doing something horrible, like dumping me on Valentine's Day.

(Okay, I know it was fourteen years ago and we were only dating for a few weeks, but still. Who does that?)

After my hour of entertainment cum pseudojournalism, I switch over to Countdown with Keith Olberman (YES! Yes! I DO know that he was once on ESPN. Did YOU know that he does a radio sports show with Dan Patrick that airs at 3 PM on AM 620 in Bangor--along with other nationwide cities and towns? See? I know about sports! AND I am a girl! Imagine!)...okay tangential tirade over.

Olberman's format is to countdown the top 5 news stories of the day. He has many guests to extrapolate the situation at hand. He also has regular segments like "Worst Person in the World" and "Oddball." WPW usually involves someone from what Keith likes to call "Fox Noise Channel." The "Oddball" segment has, well, odd things. Usually something from Japan with a skinless cat walking through a waterfall inside a mall or something like that.

When Olberman is out for the night, Alison Stewart hosts instead. I feel like it's 1994 and I'm watching M T V news-you here it (bung da dung dung) first.

So, if you're a hippie like me and you want some lefty news you've got 2 solid hours to kill...blah blah blah.

wait, what's today?

Just kidding! Of course I know what today is:

HAPPY OPENING DAY!!!

Welcome to Friendly Fenway.

In honor of Opening Day, I got out of work early. Well, that's not why, but I'll take it.

So, how is it? It's okay.

It was getting a little boring, winning in such a landslide but then it got all Kung Fu fighting with Guillen and the new Red Sox pitcher (my newest fake husband--he's a combo of my 2 favorite types: guys who wear glasses and guys who have short hair/ shaved head and are buff--I know, I know; I'm a geek), Brendan Donnelly getting in each others' face. After that Donnelly hit Johjima with a pitch and got ejected.

I swear they staged that fight because they could sense viewer boredom.

Anyhoo, Remy's tie is puke on a tie. I hope that was a sentimental gift from a dying fan or something.

Robert Guolet was random.

I am not sure about the replacements for Jerry Trupiano. I must admit, I miss the terrible puns. These other guys, Dan and Glenn, they're okay. I like Glenn more than Dan. Dan sounds very vanilla, very plain and safe. (I sound like an Idol judge.) Glenn's better if not a little bit dorky.

]sigh[

Well, there's plenty of games left to decide.

Tomorrow, Rene and I are going to get sushi in honor of Dice-K. I'm calling it "Dinner for Dice-K."
You can come if you want, too. Just email me. We're going at 8.

Final score: 14 to 3. A very good start to the season.

Intellectual guilt

Every time I write about my love for GH, I feel intellectually guilty for indulging in my braincandy even further than my 3-4 or 10-11 M-F viewing or the post-party 1-6 Sun AM binge.

So, okay, think of something Important and Smart to say...

Um...

I know I know of some important news...Oh, right! Did you hear that Howard K Stern said that he would give over custody of Danni Lynn if Larry Birkhead is the father?

Oh poop. That's not very intellectualist.

How about this, I shall talk about the theatre (and spell theatre the British way):

Mo Rocca will be in the Broadway premier of "The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee," which, due to the theatrical insights of my Uncle Ricky, I have seen while it was up in Boston. You see, Uncle Ricky is the head usher at a theatre in San Fran. The Bee was at that theatre for the longest time (not starring the ubiquitous Mo, yet); therefore, when I talked to Uncle Ricky on Thanksgiving, he recommended the show because it was now in Boston.

By good golly, is it freakin' funny contemporary musical on the trials and tribulations of being a child these days. Adults play in the roles of stereotypical overachieving 8, 9, and 10 years olds. There's the uber-perfect, over-involved, over-extended Asian girl, a hippie homeschool kid, a Jewish boy with a mom, a step-mom and multiple allergies, a pre-pubescent Boy Scout, some other characters (I don't want to give too much away) and a few audience members "compete" for a while. When we went, one woman from the audience did too well. She correctly spelled a word she was supposed to get wrong, so they gave her something like "dimethylbenzenesulfonate," and she almost had it but she forgot the "methyll" part.

Also, I hear they have "dirty words" spelling night, too.

So, now I've talked about theatre, which balances out my General Hospital blogging, not that there's anything wrong with that.

#42- the Cultural Figure story

This Saturday, in the run up to to Jackie Robinson Day on April 15, Jackie Robinson's daughter was interviewed on Weekend Edition Saturday. She told stories about her father, her father's legacy, baseball and civil rights. It was a fantastic interview.

Sharon Robinson on Weekend Edition Saturday.

My favorite part was the story she told about her father leaving the dinner table to take a call from the Little Rock 9, who had called him for inspiration on the day before they went to school. I also found it so inspirationally, humblingly wonderful that he was surprised those brave kids would call him for strength.

This is from the website: http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1157/is_4_62/ai_76402508/pg_1

Nevertheless, segregationist sentiment remained strong, and in September 1957, Arkansas governor Orval Faubus barred entry of nine black students into Little
Rock's Central High School despite the existence of an agreed upon school board plan to integrate. On television, Faubus announced that he could not vouch for the safety of the nine if violence arose in protest of their arrival. Faubus told his amazed audience that he therefore planned to call out the Arkansas national guard to turn the students away to avert bloodshed.

The NAACP, the local school board, and federal courts worked to defuse the situation and force compliance, but in the short term, Faubus was successful in doing what he wanted. True to his word, he sent state guardsmen to the high school and posted them to block the entry of the black students. In addition, a large, menacing crowd of white onlookers gathered at the school to ensure that segregation was staunchly upheld. Reluctantly, after several fruitless weeks of negotiation, Eisenhower ordered federal troops into the city and federalized the Arkansas national guard.

The president did not want to take such an extreme measure, but as a former military officer, he knew that such bold resistance to federal authority could not be tolerated if the federal union was to endure. Ironically, this radical step was undertaken by a conservative president who at heart was "a state's righter" who saw only a limited role for the federal government in most racial matters. Initially reluctant to assert federal authority, Eisenhower now was caused by what he termed "extraordinary and compelling circumstances" to mobilize federal troops to defend the rights of black citizens in the South. This was the first time federal troops were used to support black Americans since the days of Reconstruction.

Jackie Robinson had urged the President to act vigorously in this crisis and commended Eisenhower for his ultimate decision to do so. Robinson considered Eisenhower's action an appropriate response to what he charged were massive and illegal efforts by white southerners to resist integration in that region. He and other prominent black Americans wanted strong advocacy from the White House for the civil rights movement and were apprehensive about what they regarded as Eisenhower's unnecessary temporizing. Meanwhile, Eisenhower's advisers urged him to meet with a group of constructive black leaders, which included Robinson, to discuss strategies and policies.

While Robinson applauded the administration's actions in Little Rock in September 1957 to intervene on behalf of the nine black students, the following year in a letter to the President, Robinson chastised Eisenhower for his inaction and calls for black patience. Neither as patient nor as reticent as he appeared to be in his early years in baseball, the ex-ballplayer and social activist was increasingly impatient with what he regarded as Eisenhower's lack of willingness to face up to the hard facts that massive racism still existed in the South. Robinson realized that white racists would do anything to maintain segregation. Segregationists would willfully break laws in a conscious effort to physically intimidate black Americans who insisted on obtaining rights guaranteed by the Constitution.

Tomorrow, I'm finding some books to put on display for Jackie Robinson Day.

#42

April 15 is Jackie Robinson Day. Annoying ol' Joe Morgan started to say that the young people did not know about Jackie Robinson, which is totally false. That's just Joe Morgan being clueless. Like the time during the ALCS in 2004 when he went on and on asking why was Mirabelli catching during this important game (game six or something). Meanwhile it was quite obvious to everyone in New England and anyone who bothered paying attention to baseball why Dougie was catching --that is, because Wakefield was pitching.

Seriously.

Joe Morgan on ESPN Sunday baseball=put my TV on mute and put on the radio because even the timbre of your voice makes me want to vomit in frustration.

Anyhoo, Clueless Joe Morgan is postulating that young kids don't know about Jackie Robinson. I say we all email Joe withs stories of inspiration that the young people we know garner from Jackie Robinson story.

I'm such a trendsetter

Honestly, I am such a trendsetter. No sooner did I write my blogs about my love for all things Tudor, than Time magazine does a three page spread on their growing reprisal.

Apparently, Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johannson (not my fave) are playing the Bolelyn sisters in an upcoming movie.

My cousin, Cate Blanchett, will be playing the Queen again as a sequel to "Elizabeth."

And Time wrote about the Tudor series on Showtime that I blogged about a smidge ago.

MAJOR TANGENT: Ooo, watching "Countdown" with Keith Oberman right now. A Portland, ME guy named Eric Taylor is the "worst person in the world."

He divorced his wife but never paid alimony. He owes 700,000+. His ex-wife is dying of cancer. He said, "The only reason why I agreed to the terms of the divorce is because the lawyers said she wouldn't live that long." Awesome.

No seriously. Awesome.

Anyway, Tudor fever is in the air, which is nice. I'm thinking cake and ale on Shakespeare's Birthday, April 23.

Can you hear it?

It's sixteen hours until the start, and all I can hear in my head is the marching band playing that gloriously inappropriate school song. (From memory-not copied and pasted. Honest):

Fill the steins to dear old Maine
Shout! Til the rafters ring
Stand and drink a toast once again
Let every loyal m(f)an sing!

Drink to all the happy hours
Drink to the careless days
Drink to Maine our alma mater
The college of our hearts always

I could go on and do the verses, but I'll spare you.

According to University of Maine administrators, it's NOT a drinking song. It's a CELEBRATION song.

Right. Right.

All snowmobile drivers MUST retire their vehicles off campus before Saturday's championship game, should the Black Bears win tomorrow. This is the only link I could find to the 1999 incident. My friend Mathy is quoted in it, too. It's a perfect quote for her, too. Link

Anyway, it's so nice to be a fan of a team that is always in the playoffs.
GO UMAINE!

Also good today, the Red Sox kicked butt. Lurvely. Ah spring, I love your random snowshowers and end/beginning of my fav sports.

Not Just Homophobic. Army Homophobic.

When Mom, Dad and I watched this story on Paula Zahn while eating our dinner of shrimp scampi--Dad's shrimp scampi is the best, BTW & National Shrimp Scampi Day is April 29 (I'll explain why I know that in a future blog)--we began discussing what will happen to Sgt Marcia Ramode, AKA the Biggest Closet kd lang Fan Evah now that her eloquent email have gone public.

Click here for the link to the story.

I must add that I really wasn't happy to hear that the insulted threw some American Indian slurs back at her. That was unfortunate, but it still doesn't excuse her behavior.

I wasn't bothered as much with the homophobia as I was with the grammar and punctuation. Listen, Sarge, you need to brush up on your writing skills. No one wants to read poorly written hate speech. That's just adding insult to ignorance.

Let me just list some style books for you. I've recently added a World Cat search bar at the bottom of the blog, so you can find them at the local library. Let me qualify this with a description of your local library, since you may not know.

(I must again qualify the derision in the last sentence. It doesn't come from Marcia Marcia Marcia being in the Army. General Petreaus has a PhD in international affairs from Princeton. The Army has plenty of intelligent people. My derision comes from her being an ignorant piece of sh1t.)

Here is the description of the Jersey City Free Library:

Serving the second largest city in New Jersey and located on the Hudson River across from lower Manhattan, the Jersey City Free Public Library system consists of a main library, four large regional branches, and seven smaller neighborhood branches to provide access to a diversified collection of 400,000+ pieces of printed, audiovisual, and electronic resources that addresses the needs of the truly multicultural clientele of the city's 240,055 population. *

(*good to know that the library is more open than the Army Recruitment Center. If only budgets were based on openness...)

And now, the list (I'm starting with the elementary level stuff):

Put it in Writing
Painless Grammar
Writer's INC

Once those are studied

Eats, Shoots & Leaves: the zero tolerance approach to punctuation (now there's something to be intolerant of!)
Elements of Style
MLA Handbook

Once you've read those, I think you'll be better equipped to spew hate mail.

Oh, forget it. I'll just do it for her.

I'm sorry. I just can't help myself. Once an English teacher, always an English teacher.

Instead of what Large Marsh the Sarge wrote: “YOU ARE DEFINITELY UNQUALIFIED, NOW TAKE YOU GAY SELF SOMEPLACE ELSE WE DO NOT TOLERATE GAY PEOPLE LIKE YOU IN ANY PART OF THE MILITARY”

She should have written (corrections in BLUE): You are definitely unqualified. Now take your gay self someplace else. We do not tolerate gay people like you in any part of the military.

The parents and I were discussing what might happen to her for these email. Mom said fired. I said, "Shoot, no. She'll probably get a medal if-uh- what's him name--" Then Dad said, "General Pace." "Yeah, Gen. Pace has a say in the matter.

This is what Gen. Pace said last month:

Speaking about the military's ban on homosexuals serving openly, Pace told the Chicago Tribune on March 12 that "homosexual acts between two individuals are immoral and ... we should not condone immoral acts." He compared homosexual behavior to adultery, which is also prohibited by the military.

http://www.cnsnews.com/ViewNation.asp?Page=/Nation/archive/200703/NAT20070315e.html

Sushi Love

Oh dear heavens, I'm in love. Yes, it's true. With a lovely eat-in or take out sushi restaurant in East Milton Square, Ichiro Sushi.

Here's the story:

Yesterday, I was absolutely craving sushi. I was thinking I would head down to Fuji 1546 (waddup Dan?) in Quincy Center on my way home from work. Amanda and I got spicy tuna rolls on St Patrick's Day--actually, it was after midnight, so it was no longer St. Patrick's Day. Eating sushi on St Patrick's Day is a bit sacriledge, idden'it?--and they were soooo good.

However, before I could even make it out of Driving Hell AKA the Over Pass/One Way Street/ Traffic Light-ridden/ Double Parked-adled/ Aggressive Driver-strewn/ Calgon Take Me Away Monstrosity that is East Milton Sq., I came upon Ichiro Sushi and an empty parking spot right across from it at 6:30 PM, no less. As if God Herself were saying, "Come. Come to Ichiro."

I was like Rachel Ray's $50 a day because I got the miso soup (1.50), the spicy tuna maki (4.00) and the sweet vegi maki (4.00) and splurged on the peach Japanese soda (2.50), which provided for entertainment because one needed a PhD in Japanese soda opening to open it. Everything came to a total of 13.13.

The Red Sox game was on (I don't even want to talk about it) and I sat at the counter and read while waiting for my dinner.

It was very tasty. So tasty, I want to go again today, but that would be inappropriate, budget and palette-wise. Variety and moderation should be the watch-words of everyone's diet.

Anyway, I recommend the tiny casual dining eat-in place if you're ever in Driving Hell and want a break after enduring your fifteenth stoplight in 100 yds.