There’s just something about pasta that makes me happy. I am not sure what it is, maybe simply because CARBS, but nothing has ever made me happier. Even as a child, when my mom cooked up a pot of spaghetti with a bolognese sauce, I’d be a happy camper. When I graduated from high school, I was allowed to decide what we’d have for lunch that day…and pasta it was. How can something so simple make life so perfect!?
Last week, it was my mom’s birthday. I was pretty upset I couldn’t be there, but that’s just how life goes sometimes, I guess. I myself am very big on birthdays, and therefore I’m always upset when I can’t be there when other people are celebrating theirs…but, I made up for it this week. My present was that I cooked a 3-course meal for my mom, and I must say it was super special to spend one-on-one time with my mom like that. Turns out we haven’t done that in ages!
The menu I cooked was very allergy-friendly, as my mom suffers from quite a few food allergies. The menu is soy-free, nut-free, milk-free, glutenfree, refined-sugarfree, and it still tasted delicious. Don’t believe me? Have a look:
A week before I moved, I was really out of it. My boyfriend was out of town for work, and I didn’t have a lot to do, excepting a little bit of packing and some minor organizational stuff. My parents were also out of town, enjoying a vacation, and the result was that I felt utterly alone in the world. It’s fair to say I was slightly depressed, feeling the weight of all the “new” things that would be coming at me as if they were already coming at me…and I just really don’t do well not having anything to do to distract me from those kinds of feelings. I know it’s irrational, I know there’s absolutely no point to fretting over what “might be”, but it’s a very common pattern for me.
Boy, am I having a slow start today. I haven’t really been sleeping very well – for whatever reason, I have woken up around 4 or 5 am the past two days, and not been able to fall asleep again properly. My boyfriend gets up at 6, which obviously wakes me even if he makes sure not to disturb me, and at 8 am the painters working on the walls on our house start (and I wouldn’t need to sleep past 8 if I were able to get some proper sleep before). Needless to say, it hasn’t been the best morning.
I have not nearly achieved as much as I had planned for this morning. Some days the time runs out and you’re not even sure why. Well, I do know why, it’s mostly because I called a dear friend of mine who has just broken things off with her boyfriend…and that kind of trumps cleaning the bathroom. I then had to run to the grocery store because I’m making a buttload of salads this weekend: it’s my boyfriend’s grandmother’s birthday today, and my dad’s birthday on Sunday, both of whose parties require some salads, and I gladly obliged. 🙂
Usually, on a normal weekday, my boyfriend and I have a warm, cooked dinner. I always try to cook enough so that he can take some left-overs for lunch the next day. Sounds like I’m some good ole housewife, right? Well, the things you do for love…in his defense, he often cooks if I don’t feel like it. I know – gasp – that rarely happens. At least it rarely happens when I’m not preparing for exams. 12 days until my first four-hour-examination – that’s how much time is left. Are you all freaking out with me? Thanks, I feel so much better now!
I have an obsession with giving my dishes names that end with “bowl” lately. Don’t believe me? Take a look at the following titles:
So, have you all recovered from celebrating into the New Year? I have, and I’ve bounced right back into hitting the books…to my utter despair. I’m down to counting weeks until my final exams, and have been over-obsessing about how long I sit hunched over my desk. Ugh, it’s the first week of the New Year and I’m already throwing a pity party.
I am procrastinating ironing a huge pile of clothes. Usually that’s my boyfriend’s job, and he normally does the ironing on Sunday afternoons, but, as were both singing a concert on Sunday, that didn’t happen. The pile has grown so large that every time I glance at it, it seems to look at me reproachfully, as if it is somehow my fault that it continues to grow (I mean, I guess it is my fault, but the more it grows, the less I want to start).
I am still amazed as I am writing this: I just had the greenest Pesto I have ever seen – or perhaps the greenest food in general I have ever seen. It’s so green it actually looks unnatural! Even mixed with the pasta, it was still glaring at me like a green monster greening with envy…