Yes, I need to post...

...but the only things I can think of to write about are my love for yakisoba and watching butterflies getting wasted on pear juice.

I went to my very first Japanese restaurant earlier this week. I was fascinated with the decor, and I vowed to sit at the hibachi grill next time (the place where the chefs cook the food right in front of you). I didn't get any sushi, though...and when I told my dad I wanted to try some next time, he decided to tell me all about the dangers of raw fish and my cousin's horribly painful experience with pinworms after eating some raw oysters. In stomach-turning detail. Thanks, Dad. I may never eat raw fish. Heck, I may never eat seafood again...

Anyway, I decided to get the yakisoba, since I'd heard about it. Jennifer got teriyaki chicken cause that's the only thing we recognized on the lunch menu. But this is not about the teriyaki chicken. This is about yakisoba. Yakisoba is awesome. It's fried yellow noodles with some other vegetables in it and either chicken or shrimp. I was happy. Especially since starving in Japan is one of my qualms of going.

Now, for the butterflies. My grandma's yard (the one down the road, the one where I was running from the cat in that dream) has this big pear tree, and near the end of summer, the branches are weighed down with pears. When you get about 10 feet from the tree, there's this huge, overwhelming scent of pear. And of course, there are the butterflies. Most of them are these big, beautiful black ones, and they're positively in heaven. They just flit around the tree lazily...I swear I've seen one do a loop-de-loop. And some are on the ground, so smashed they can't even fly anymore, and they just sit there, flapping their wings slowly.

However, my sister can't stand the scent of pears, for some reason. "That tree stinks!" she said in finality as we got to her car.

"Does not!" I said petulantly. "It's the permeating, cloying scent of pear. It smells like that Pear Glace body mist I got for Christmas a few years ago."

"That stunk too." I look appalled. "That's not sweet. It smells...vinegary."

I pause, then make shifty eyes and grin. "Why do you think I said they're getting smashed....?"