Category: Food

The Bet

I love football. Looooooove it. I don’t generally care who’s playing, I’m just happy to sit and watch a good game. I was turning on the Super Bowl when a text came whistling in from NotCalifornia.

My first impression is that he’s tipsy fabulous this evening because he’s taking things in a direction they have not gone. He’s usually respectful to the point I’m not exactly sure if he’s attracted to me, or my farm skills. I’m flattered, but a bit bored by it as a result. I’m not an attention whore, but after begging a man for his time & his body over the past 6 months, I’m ready for the shoe to be on the other foot. I’d like to be the focus of that same debilitating need.

NC- I miss your pretty smile…… Watching the game? Who do you want to win?

Hmmm…. I do believe this man wants to flirt with me and I’m an Olympic athlete in that division. May I offer my “Biggest Flirt” picture from junior high, as proof and for posterity.

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J- I always root for the underdog. I can’t cheer for Tom Brady…

NC- I just really don’t like LA.

J- I’m shocked.

NC- You should think of a wager to make it interesting.

J- Like what??

NC- What are you thinking? Something fun.

J- I’m game. Realistically though, my team is probably going to lose, so be nice. Ideas?

NC- Hmmm. You decide. Something fun. What comes to your mind first?

J- That I need some guidelines, lol…

NC- Hahaha. No way. No guidelines. That’s what makes it a good idea. First thing that came to your mind. What is it?

Lots of inappropriate shit, if I’m going to be honest. I’m not going to be, so I have to come up with a girlfriend answer. I think about taking him to the Follies, but I’d rather go with my friends. I think of a safe answer… which slightly disappoints me in myself, but whatevs… this is how you play this dumb game.

J- Dinner with you.

NC- So if you win then dinner? What if I win?

J- I had to pick, so it’s only fair that you do too. First thing that came to your mind?

NC- Haha. Ok well how about if I win then you have to cook dinner.

J- That means waiting until Grandma is home to collect?

NC- Well I can wait.

He won and my big mouth offered to make sushi. So consider this an invitation to all of you to come on over and help me perfect my rusty rolling skills.

I would be lying if I didn’t admit to having an unfair advantage in this department. I’m a really good cook. My Husband soup was named after the many proposals it garnered and my lemon custard tarts have made me a small fortune. I’m lethal in an apron and I have perfected the fine art of using it to my advantage. One of the first things Miss Lovely asks me when she knows I’m expecting company is:

L- Mmmmmm….what did you make?

It’s a strength of mine… but also an ENORMOUS weakness.

A man in my kitchen?

Elbow to elbow, playing with food and this respectful man who is determined to pursue me?

What could possibly go wrong?

yep

Cravings

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Professionally, it’s been a banner month… but with great power, come some ugly responsibilities that have forced me to grow in ways most uncomfortable for me. For a girl who can’t sleep without writing, I have a horrible time saying the difficult words. I hate hurting people and I am absolutely happy to swallow my own heartache to spare someone else. I internalize a lot more now, because I used to be reckless in lashing out with anger or righteous indignation. I’ve calmed down, if you will. I’ve learned what’s worth fighting for and over.

The Dumpling gets the grateful version of my mothering. I was so worried about barking orders and having “good” children with my first two, that they heard far too much nagging. I’m not surprised my son hasn’t come back. I don’t miss that old hag either. I’ve learned how vital it is to chill out and read with her. Even if the house goes to hell and she eats pasta 3 nights in a row. Nobody dies… in fact, they thrive in exactly the way and time frame they should. I say yes a lot. She eats a lot of popsicles and I cave far too often when she begs for crab legs. I learned the hard way how fast and fleeting childhood is and I am treasuring every second of getting another chance to be better, kinder and more involved playing instead of ruling.

I got hit by the worst migraine of my life yesterday. I’m alone in the office for the next two weeks so leaving wasn’t an option and it’s lit up like the top of the Chrysler building. We were exceptionally busy for a usually slow day and it was definitely a grueling push to get it done. My boss came in twice to rub my neck and bring me ice packs while urging me to go but I’m a masochist and can’t leave things half-assed or unfinished. I started thinking and realized I’ve eaten about 600 calories in 2 days and ran for 3 miles last night with a beer.

Maybe not the most healthy dinner, albeit delicious………and definitely the perfect storm for brewing a migraine.

I’ve been fantasizing about steak and barbecued chicken… so I know I need protein. The biggest hurdle to being hungry and indecisive is that I just eat a handful of almonds and ignore the struggle, but I find myself daydreaming about a pound of perfect Wood’s bacon, a rotisserie chicken and a pound of jumbo cocktail shrimp. Talking about food is sexual to a starving woman.

I would do some pretty questionable things for fettuccine alfredo.

I’d consider anal for a pint of coffee Häagen-Dazs.

See what happens when you allow your mind to run wild? Anal is awful, but starvation does weird things to you and I love coffee ice cream. As soon as you open that door and allow yourself to fantasize about the things you can’t have and want, it’s somewhat stunning at how much time your brain can spend torturing you.

Food is easy for me to manage, lately. I make dinner for the Dumpling and a salad for myself. I’ve lost my inspiration to bake. It’s a consequence of being single, as disgustingly 50’s housewife as that is. I’m Catholic, with Mormon roots… practically born in an apron. I’ll tie it back on at some point, but the absence of inspiration is helping my diet, immensely.

A text from Incredicock has me running through the highlight reel at work because I have hours to think. Craving him is a delicious guilty pleasure that keeps me inspired while I’m juggling too much stress. I was doing paperwork this morning when I was hit by the recollection of him biting my lips when he kissed me. I had a full body shiver. Goosebumps. Damn it. It’s difficult to have your body utterly betray you when you’re doing your best to put your celibate, cat lady panties back on. Christ on the cross, the first person to create a pharmaceutical cure to stop these barn-burning flashbacks will top the Forbes 500.

Take. My. Money. Please.

I find myself sympathizing with crackheads, meth addicts and heroin junkies. He’s more habit forming than an opioid and I’m a terrible quitter. I’m doing my very best to knit, run and masturbate him out of my system. It’s not working very well, but I get a solid C+ for effort.

If only I were craving a day of vacuuming and dishes, because I can make THAT happen.