define 'gift'

Sunday, February 13, 2011

I was all set to write about celebrating Shaya's birthday.


(This pic of the birthday girl is from when we were at Daikokuya in December. That was the last time we saw each other. So glad she was able to make it up to SF this weekend!)

I was going to write about how great it was to get together with my friends from the college paper to toast Shaya and reminisce about those early journalism days: The Team Snob vs. Team Grub undercover shopping survey in which we dressed according to stereotypes and went to South Coast Plaza to see if the store employees would treat us differently; the feature story about a polyamorous group on campus (and how they invited me to join after I finished interviewing them); Shaya's waterpolo curse -- every time she went to a game to cover it for the paper, the team lost. Ah, good times.

I was also going to write about the ramen we had at Suzu tonight and how I was kind of disappointed when I asked them to add an egg, and their egg was just a regular hard-boiled egg -- real ramen eggs are slow-cooked!


And I was going to write about the photos we took at Pika Pika. That's right -- we finally figured out how to work those ridiculous photo booths!


And then after the photos, we went to Sophie's for crêpes -- and they were light and fluffy and wonderful. (Todd ordered the Japanese crêpe -- green tea gelato, red bean paste and matcha sauce. Clearly, it was a hit!)


I was going to write about all of this. In a lot of detail. But then I came home and discovered that one of the cats had pooped in the bathroom sink.

That's right. Pooped in the bathroom sink.

And now all I can think about is which of these little monsters is the guilty party.


Maybe they wanted to give Shaya a birthday present too.

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