8 29 pm pst [ it's my birthday too, yeah ]
Work was lousey. I probably should have told them it
was my birthday, but instead I sulked. I don't like the way my supervisor
speaks to me. And I can't afford to stay at this job, even if I loved it.
When I got home, Matthew called frantically to
appologize -- he was just leaving the office. I didn't mind the time to
unwind, but he was fairly upset, because he had told his boss that it was
my birthday and that he would thus be leaving early, but Mr. Boss kept him
extra late despite the information. Oh well.
When he finally got home, Matthew whisked me away to
the foggy city for a divine dinner at Greens restaurant. What was blah turned
into magnificent with the a rich scrumptious ginger crunch cake I
couldn't believe tasted as perfect as it did.
Matthew had the "Fall Gratin" which was artichokes, portobello
mushrooms, grilled onions, roasted tomatoes and garlic layered with
asiago, parmesan reggiano cheese, gaeta olives and basil -- served with
tomato zinfandel sauce, grilled Japanese eggplant and sauteed broccoli di
ciccio with walnuts. I had the "Fall Salad" which was butter lettuce,
watercress and treviso radiccio with roasted red peppers, sourdough
crouton, ricotta salata cheese and champagne mustard vinaigrette (no
radiccio or cheese). I also had the "Pasta" which was garlic parsley
linguine with broccoli rabe, sun dried tomatoes, almonds and parmesan (no
cheese). We also learned what galanga is.
When we returned home, Matthew immediately crashed in
bed. I have a birthday tradition with my mom where she sends me a bunch
of little individually wrapped gifts and I open them on the phone with
her. Since I was too late to call he when I got home (she goes to sleep
at 9) I decided to save them for the next day. But then I got a little
sulky about not opening any presents on my birthday. So I sliced open the
box.
I selected one small gift and tore into it. It was two
pairs of socks.
December 1997
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December 2001
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