Yesterday, B came home with a big smile on his face. I was in the kitchen, making lunch, when he opened the door and came in to greet me. "I have an idea," he said. "I think we should make something, something fun." He paused, and leaned against the door frame. "But I don't know if I should tell you my idea yet."
"Oh, tell me!" I said, waving my wooden spoon. I really like my wooden spoon. "Please, I want to know. At least give me a clue or two. Unas pistas."
"Well, okay," he said. "It involves rice. And comes from the sea."
"Paella?" I guessed, and watched his face fall a little.
"No . . . guess again."
"Um, my mom's shrimp scampi?"
His smile was just a shadow of its former self. "Maybe I shouldn't guess anymore," I said.
"It's sushi," he said, and my grin (forgive the sentimentality, please) was big enough for the both of us.
Yesterday, we hatched a plan. Today, we went to Chinatown and picked up all the necessary goodies. Tomorrow, I'll give the full report in ample detail.
Until then, goodnight.
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