Sushi

After our appointment with Dr. O, mom and I went out to sushi for lunch. As far as I know, this is the first time in over a year that she’s had sushi. The restaurant is a local chain and employs a conveyer belt which marches the tempting dishes past your table. I chose dishes for us, and we enjoyed our meal mostly in silence. Our only dialogue was:

  • Mom commented, as she did last time we had sushi, that “…I have never had so much trouble with my (chop) sticks.” I saw her watching how I held mine, and then try to adjust her grip, with limited success. 
  • She shared with me that she didn’t care for either the seared ahi or mackerel (both things she’s enjoyed in the past) because they didn’t taste like anything. 
  • The conveyor belt, which wound around each table, made mom a little dizzy. I offered to switch sides of the table with her, but she turned me down. 
  • Mom generously paid for the meal, but said, “Well, I don’t have to tip.” When I asked her why not, she continued, “There’s no table service.” We were seated, had tea delivered, and were constantly checked on by our waiter. By the time mom was signing her credit card slip, she asked me how much to tip. I told her the 20% amount. She didn’t bat an eyelid. I tucked my cash back in my wallet.

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