The aftermath of a bike ride from JR Fukuma to back home, in a torrential downpour.
The basket on my bike, half broken. Later, fully broken. Here being held in place by a carefully arranged bike lock. Riding the Jeep dai-ni, till I can swing a new one. But they don't have the kind I need for the Costco/US style bike at Rumie/Lumiere/I don't know the proper romaji here... so where I'll pick one up is probably a crapshoot, till I hit the city or something.
I don't even know what this is... organ meats/hearts maybe... it was "try something new and random" day. It all tastes the same when you grill it.
The sauerkraut turned out okay, I guess. Don't know if it's supposed to taste the way it did, but it wasn't anything special. My Polish blood is probably rebelling as I write this.
Bought cause I know the Mrs would like them. Yes, she is in America. Shut it.
I will never go hungry teaching in Japan. Leaving from one of my elementary schools on Tuesday, they insisted I take some local produce they had just picked. My job rocks so hard.
Same elementary school... during lunch, the new vice-principal serenades everybody. Too cool. [Also, it was a Sound of Music song, for which I blame Sandy for even knowing.]
If you figure out what kind of basket you need, I could look for ya. ;)
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