Despite nine hours of sleep I'm still exhausted. My back hurts. I have to go to the dentist today. We're out of chicken scratch. The garden is all weedy. We need some goats.
No we don't.
I've had my walk. Two and a half miles of torture. Thank you very much, I have now suffered mightily and can enjoy the rest of my day. If I can stand up.
What else can I bitch and moan about?
Not last night's supper which was lovely and good. Yep. That recipe works for me. I think it needs a little sitting time though after the cooking is well and truly done for it all to set up and thicken some. This is not the recipe for you if you are avoiding gluten although I suppose you could use gluten-free pasta. I don't know. I sort of want to use high-gluten everything these days as a backlash.
"Can I get you anything else, m'am?"
"Yes. I would like a side of gluten, please. And do you have any extra-gluten-y beers? I'll have two of those. Thank you."
Anyway, the addition of spinach was good and so were the extra cut-up cherry tomatoes and the diced peppers. If you like that sort of thing. You could add squash to it. Yellow or zucchini. You could add olives or capers or both. Instead of Parmesan (which I skipped anyway), you could add some nice goat cheese at the end. You could do anything!
So what I guess I am saying here is, it is a terrific recipe. Go forth and make it.
If you want to. I'm not the boss of you.
I'm hungry. Walking always makes me hungry. After the nausea passes. Well, there are plenty of leftovers. Now I have to figure out what to make for supper tonight. It never ends! Never! We are souls attached to mouths and digestive systems. You know this is the truth. Forget sex. Well, okay, maybe not entirely. But it is food and what we eat and where it comes from and how we make it and eating too much of it or eating the wrong things or not enough of the right things or TOO MUCH of the right things which we are obsessed with.
Me as much as anyone. Me more than anyone.
Perhaps I will make a nicoise salad. Yeah. That sounds good.
See? I'm obsessed.
Fuck. I'm exhausted. It's hot. How long until I can go back to bed? Hours and hours and hours. Last night I dreamed I was dancing with a man. I thought, "This is a dream and if it happens, it happens. It's just a dream." In the next dream scene, there were two Catholic priests. They were dying of AIDS. Talk about a buzzkill. So no, it didn't happen.
How crazy do you have to be to dream something like that? How monogamous? How faithful? How guilt-ridden?
I never dream about eating.
I might buy a new bedspread today. This could happen. I might go to play with the boys today. This, too, could happen. I am getting my teeth cleaned. I have already suffered and so now I can enjoy myself. Well, not at the dentist. They always try to give me an apple when I leave my dentist's office. I always refuse it. Who wants one of their crazy Red Delicious (now THERE'S a misnomer, at least as applies to the "delicious" part) mealy apples with no flavor? Who is that going to convince to eat more fresh fruit and vegetables?
See? It's all about food.
I'm bitchy. I'm whiny.