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There's Not Enough Oil
Doomberg, "the gold rush."
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Nor Are There Enough Chopsticks
I can't make this stuff up.
The restaurant has, of course, nice, one-time use chopsticks. Fancy but not incredibly fancy.
I never, never, never eat sushi or any Japanese meal without chopsticks. They did not give us chopsticks, just a fork.
We asked for chopsticks; normally the server carries dozens in their apron pockets. Our server did not. She went back to get us three pair. When she returned with the chopsticks, she explained that there was a shortage of chopsticks -- I kid you not.
Knowing that Sophia would either not use her chopsticks or could share mine if needed, we offered to give back one of our three pair of chopsticks. The server was very grateful and took the chopsticks back.
A shortage of chopsticks. That cargo ship must still be anchored off the coast of southern California.
Which reminds me: my wife and I have any number of really, really nice chopsticks, more decorative than functional. But from now on, I'm going to carry several pair of chopsticks when we go out to eat. I'll just keep them in the car. In fact, I might also bring our decorative soup bowls.
Isn't this something? Even without knowing the words, one just knows this is an incredibly sad song.
It begins:
I look up when I walk
So that the tears won’t fall.
Remembering those happy spring days,
But tonight I am all alone.
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