Tonight, Chris and I had dinner at Brushstroke, David Bouley’s venture into Japanese kaiseki cuisine. It was an incredible dining experience with some very unique flavors. We had probably the best and richest miso soup; it was made with a guinea hen broth and a bright, clean white miso. We ate snail-shaped ferns for the first time. I also had my first soy milk-based panna cotta, as well as an unconventional affogato made with matcha green tea ice cream and a white chocolate and nigori sake. Even the cocktails we ordered were some of the best we’ve ever drank.

One odd thing about our dining experience was the couple sitting next to us. Since being with Chris, I have a higher tendency to half eavesdrop on surrounding conversations at restaurants here and there. So I was half listening to their conversation and observing their moments. Sometimes, they seemed very loving and affectionate. At other times, they seemed distant and strained. They were discussing a child I assumed was hers but not his. And I think they were married. And the biggest shocker came at the very end of their meal when I realized that they were getting separate checks.

If you are married, or at least in a long term relationship with someone you love, why would you ever split a check down the middle and pay with separate credit cards? They even consulted on how much each should be tipping. I understand the need to be “equal” and want everyone to contribute, but isn’t splitting a romantic dinner check down the middle a bit of an overkill (and a mood killer for the rest of the evening)? There is something to be said for going overboard on keeping track of everything down to the last cent – lifetime partnership should operate like human relationships, not business transactions.

I’ve been addicted to Ken Follett for the last month or so. I began reading his historical fiction novel Fall of Giants last month, and that quickly became an obsession that led me to not only finish that monstrosity of an audio book (over 40 hours of listening – God bless walking and subway commutes, as well as lunchtime walks), but also to reach part four of four of the second book in the century trilogy, Winter of the World. While Book 1 goes over the period of WWI, this second book goes over WWII in every majorly affected country. We learn in great detail how Nazi Germany affected the day to day lives of everyday people, from the methods that were used in hospitals to dispel the country of everyone who was in any way disabled, crippled, or elderly, to the killings of innocent people who merely wanted to speak out loud. It’s like as I am reading this book, I can feel the pain that they are feeling, and when people are beaten to death by the Gestapo or die as civilians during the attack on Pearl Harbor, I become grief-stricken and tear up myself.

The world in which we live is not perfect. It’s quite far from it, especially when events like school shootings become an everyday current event when I look at Google News. But maybe what we live in is not so bad when we realize that the concept of a world war is so foreign to us, and known to us only through textbooks or historical fiction novels like this one. We’re really lucky in a lot of ways that we take for granted. This book reminds me of it.

I’m on the phone with my dad this evening, and in the midst of our conversation, he awkwardly asks, “Are you trying to lose weight?” No, I respond. Why do you ask? He then explains that my cousin in San Jose and his wife came over for dinner with my parents and aunt, and my cousin told my dad that I had a “weight problem” and was trying to lose weight. My dad, in his awkwardly cute and defensive way, exclaims to him, “Yvonne doesn’t have a weight problem! We just saw her last week and she’s still skinny!”

About a month ago, my cousin told me he and his wife were trying to lose weight, as they’d visibly gained a lot of weight together since they got married five years ago. I told him supportively that I also changed my workout habits last year and started reducing my lunch portion size in an effort to get more toned and fit last year. My intention in telling him this was to be supportive and let him know that getting in shape was possible as long as he put in some reasonable effort. However, I’m no longer in that mode anymore, but still am trying to keep up my workout regimen (struggling because of the cold, but hey, we all need a hiatus…). Somehow, that got translated into “Yvonne has a weight problem and is still trying to lose weight.” This is why telling my extended family anything will always get me into trouble.