I have a grand love affair with food. It started as a teen and then became fanned into flame by the rejection of my ex-husband, which began the first half of the first year of our marriage (when I was a beautiful size 6, but that wasn't good enough for him). Food became my lover, a source of comfort and joy.
That's not to say I eat junk or I'm constantly eating, but when I eat, it's pretty darn close to a religious experience. As I write this, I'm debating if I should get some pizza - or a whole pizza for a late dinner tonight. I typically either forget or get so busy during the day that I don't eat until I am tear-your-hair-out hungry, and of course by then I am too cranky to cook. Such is the case tonight, when I am once again hungry. NOW.
I am not a professional cook, but when I throw something together, I eat well. That doesn't mean that I eat large, calorie-laden casseroles draped in cheese (though that sounds pretty good, now that I mention it), or gourmet dishes. It means I eat very healthy and mostly I guess you could say I enjoy Mediterranean-style food. It's inexpensive, doesn't require 500 ingredients and usually hits the spot without becoming a permanent part of my physique.
If I get pizza tonight, I can pay for it by the pet care I sometimes do. If I don't, I will be down in the kitchen grumbling as I look for something quick and filling to eat. I know, while the world is inundated in tragedies such as the economy, the weather, and earthquakes, I'm ruminating about what to eat next. But it's hard when your culinary paramour calls your name, and your stomach is in hearty agreement.
Just a moment, my love...while I find my phone to place an order.
Maybe my next post should be about how my phone seems to have a mind of its own.
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