For argument’s sake.
Let’s pretend that tomorrow at approximately 6pm, you had to squeeze yourself into a SIZE TWO. (yes. ONE plus ONE = TINY) Brown, shiny, highly form fitting Calvin Klein dress.
To go to a formal. With the boy who you made sweet potato pesto lasagna rolls for last week.
!!!
Right?
How does one explain to a normal, sane, not-indoctrinated-into-the-sweet-potato-loving-cult-in-which-you-live, person that you’ve put sweet potatoes in their lasagna rolls?
That orange vegetable consumption is a way of life around here?
That yes, there are, in fact, more orange vegetables out there than just carrots?
An oldie but a goodie, though I originally posted this recipe for a tropical and delicious vegetarian version of the Cuban classic, picadillo, last year, this warm weather has convinced me to relive its deliciousness and share it over at Marcus Samuelsson’s blog! Please go over and check it out!
The minutes before the gun goes off are some of the most excruciating.
It’s like they’re somehow passing both in slow motion and at warp speed, time simultaneously ebbing and flowing so that you’re not really sure which way is up or down, past or future.
And while it seems like you have forever before you really have to commit to this act of insanity (putting one foot in front of the other for 13.1 miles – who does that?). Suddenly, without warning. It’s time.
You can feel a change in the crowd as you and everyone else in your corral move, as a herd, forward.
Towards the start. Towards the beginning. Towards who-knows-what.
For a girl who drinks sparingly at best…
…these moon pies pack a seriously alcoholic punch.
Bailey’s, Guinness, and whiskey. All wrapped up in one marshmallow-filled, chocolate-covered TRIPLE.DECKER. cookie sandwich.
Suffice it to say, these are not for the faint of heart.
Or the diabetic.
Or the recovering AA member.
Or any child under 21 years of age. (18, if you’re my mother who still believes that that is the legal drinking age. I’m neglecting to tell her otherwise. For my sister’s sake.)
Crazy things are afoot this week.
This morning, I ate peanut butter and jelly for breakfast and didn’t taste test the entire jar in the process. Strange. And unusual.
Yesterday afternoon, I told myself I only had to run 4 miles. And then I actually only ran. 4. Miles.
Welcome to Eats Well With Others, where we take a vegetable-and-cupcake laden approach to life (always with a bit of laughter on the side)!
