The sumo weekend was fabulous. Other than the funny, skunk-smelling rental car (sure there's a story about that somewhere), it went off without a hitch.
Ms Scandiwaiian was our pilot, and got us situated in Pasadena, where we ate here:
When you go to Sushi of Naples, and you will just because of the name, order the maki called "Banana Island", an unholy combination of avocado, unagi and fried bananas, wrapped in soy paper. Ms S called it breakfast sushi. It was delicious.
Is there anything better than digging through boxes of 78's after a sushi dinner? We went to a record store and did just that. I purchased a cd of 78's by Billo's Caracas Boys instead. This cd became our soundtrack for the rest of the trip.
Then off for a mai tai at Damon's, a tiki restaurant in Glendale. Ooo. The customers were rowdy and the television was loud and "What's the matter with loving balls!!" was their rally cry.
They take meticulous care of their fish tank.
Off to bed, to dream of sumo.