Japanese and Rome

Quote of the Moment: When marching, a little girl - "Are they from Narnia?"

Well, took my Restoration Literature exam on Friday. I felt darn good on that one. It was mainly identification, explication, and connection. Some of those connections were "out there," but I think they'll liven things up a bit. Also, I got away with using a naughty archaic term (useful for the Earl of Rochester, that swiftly-embered libertine).

And getting my paper back... A-. And it was the most positive A- I've ever gotten. She said pages 3-5 were a little weak (they were), but the argument still held together, I raised the bar in the class, and to not hesitate to ask for recommendation letters for graduate school! The last part made me skippy for the rest of the day. She's the second one to either implore or implicitly assume that I'm aiming to be a starving scholar. It makes the starving part insignificant.

(By the way, if you want to write like a bad literary scholar, just write that last sentence as "It insignifcantilizes the starving part." Because "diminish" is used too much.)

Anyway, because I was feeling so skippy, and I was already dressed up (ah, laundry day, you bring me out in ties), I decided to take Leslie to Misaki's!

Formerly Miyabi's (they apparently just felt like changing their name), we entered early and got an instant seat at a table. Seven year old and mother at the left. Two college guys on the right. Leslie and I in the middle, gazing expectantly at the hibachi where the cook would soon spin his pepper shakers.

It's standard Teppanyaki fare, which is quite delicious for the most part. Steak, shrimp, chicken, rice, zucchini made somehow edible, onion, other vegetables, and onion soup rounded out the selection. All tantalizing. The salad wasn't personally appealing, about a class 2. The waiter had a good rapport with both the staff and us, and was always there when the glass was half-empty to make it half-full and more again. The chef seemed less experienced, and he had less flair for most of it... until the end, when he twirled those pepper shakers in a tremendous display of ambidextrous passion. He made the food succulent, which is what mattered most to me.

After that, Leslie went with me to the mall, where I got Scott's present. He should like it. With few exceptions, he's the easiest person to shop for. Just get him what I want.

Anyway, yes, Rossini. It's an Italian festival in downtown put on by the Knoxville Opera. Good food, great shopping, fantastic music.

I get there Saturday morning, and two tents are already set up. Which is good, because it's... well, pouring outside. The tunic keeps me relatively warm, but it gets dry fast. When it clears up a little bit, Robert (our centurion) orders us into armor. I end up taking the lorica segmentata, the armor most often associated with Roman gear, even though hamata (chain mail) was used for the duration of the Republic and the Empire. After accidentally putting the shoulders on backwards, I'm able to get my balteus (belt) on, a good gladius and scabbard, and a shield.

Sadly, it wasn't my shield. We weren't able to get the bosses on yet, because we didn't get any electricity, due to the rain. Maybe I'll have it sometime this summer.

We marched for a while, in a few small (5 person) parades. There were a couple of orators that went with us, though they weren't loud enough, their sandals weren't authentic, and ... well, okay, they were still good, and they did know what they were talking about.

However, we couldn't earn any money or get much attention because we weren't even along the main strip at Rossini. Thus, we ended up leaving a little early.

Best part was probably walking around trying to sell t-shirts. We only sold a few, but it was fun to get out and see the other vendors.

Salad classes:
Class 1: No dressing, desirable vegetables (lettuce, croutons, onions, other greens). Safe to eat in moderation.
Class 2: No dressing, undesirable vegetables (tomato, cucumber, most zucchini). Avoid.
Class 3: Dressing, desirable vegetables. Make the obligatory effort to try the dressing, and then try to markedly eat around it.
Class 4: Dressing, undesirable vegetables. Bitterly sip a drink and stare, betrayed.
Class 5: Cannot identify more than fifty percent of the ingredients - destroy immediately.