A couple of months ago, I fed my husband some dirt. Literally. I decided to venture out and put clams into the soondubu jjigae instead of meat. Well, I've never dealt with clams before, so I had no idea how dirty they were. So I just quickly washed them in water, and then plopped them into the boiling water. As I tasted it later on, I noticed a kind of murkiness to the soup, but I couldn't quite place it. I just thought, "crazy seafood."

Then when the moment came to serve dinner, I had him sit down and wait for me to present the jjigae, as I always do. I like how the restaurants serve them, straight from the kitchen and still bubbling. As I eagerly awaited his reaction, I noticed that his eyebrows furrowed slightly. It wasn't exactly the response I wanted.

"Is it good?" I ventured.

"Mm..," he mumbled, with a subdued smile and a raise of the eyebrow. "It's pretty good."

He took a couple of more bites, but chewed very slowly. By this time, I knew something was up.

"Just tell me. What's wrong with it?"

"Well," Danny said hesitantly, "it tastes dirty."

"What!?! Let me see." I took a spoonful, and sure enough, that murkiness I had witnessed while it was stil on the stove was indeed, dirt. It was the most embarrassing moment of my cooking career. I had served dirt. There. I admit it. I served dirt to my husband.

They say "diamonds are a girl's best friend." I'm not sure about BEST friends, but I'd say a close second. Perhaps the first bridesmaid spot, but not the maid of honor.

On to other thoughts, I'm so glad that more of my friends are blogging, so I can take a peek into their psyche.

Danny practices electric guitar every other day now, since he's taking lessons. He is the star student. If his teacher gave out stars every time he sees excellence, Danny would have a million by now. Anyways, I'm glad that he's pursuing his passions. It makes me want to pursue piano lessons or more language classes.

Tonight we went to Saizo for a Valentine's Day dinner. They serve Japanese tapas - very good! I said to the waitress, "Sumimasen, ochya o kudasai." (Excuse me, I would like tea.) And she understood me! Woohoo.

I found my lovely black coat! It was at my gym, hanging innocently on the coat rack. I left it there last week when I went directly from work. I felt so relieved when I got off the phone with the person there who confirmed that my coat was there. I took it as a sign that I should go to the gym to work out again this week.

This morning I decided to wear my lovely black coat along with one of the only three pairs of pants that fit me right now, the black modern fit flare from GAP. As I was rushing out the door, I couldn't find my lovely pair of black shoes! I lost my shoes! HELP.

I lost my black coat! I looked for it in the closet this morning, and I could not find it. How can this happen? The last time I remember seeing it or wearing it was sometime last week. My lovely black coat. The one that kept me warm this winter. The groundhog has seen his shadow, so we have more winter. I need that coat back! Where could it be? Anyone seen it?