My house is plagued with soy products: tofu (acceptable), soy sauce (also ok), Powerade soy (sweet!), natto (not acceptable), Vegemite and Marmite. I don't want to talk about natto, it's gross. The mites both taste o.k. albeit kind of overly stimulating and sodium-packed. Sometimes when I am feeling anti-American I have a strong desire to fake an Aussie accent and try to eat them with crackers, but I can't get past their appearance. They look so suspect; non-flashy and understated, austral style, nestled in jars too big to naturally hold tangy condiments* but too small to hold liberally applicable spreadables**. To add to the intrigue the jars are made of tinted brown glass. The average human being can't really see inside. But I think the mite can see out. And I think it's looking. And waiting. To pounce. Like a wildcat . . . pccccoooow.

This weekend was pretty great. I wrote some awesome cover letters, celebrated my friend Haruki's birthday with a good crowd and events including flamenco and salsa dancing, Spanish food, sangria, ipai karaoke, my first daikon oden experience, and a trip to the horse track. I've been wanting to plan a racetrack excursion for forever, but tiredness overruled all so we went really late and were disappointed by the distinct lack of real live horses. But we got to watch some Kyoto races on a big screen and I picked the winner of this race. Number sixer. Wahoo!

My brother is coming to visit Tokyo in like three weeks. Hurrah. Since my parents couldn't visit I will consider Dave to be my Miss Congeniality sash, just as the Grand Canyon will be my parents'. And for that, I guess, we should all be grateful and congenial by association.

*horseradish, mustard, chili sauce, etc.
*Peanut Butter, Jam, Jelly,