I moved to Los Angeles exactly four days after I graduated from college. The only reason I didn’t start my drive West the day after receiving my diplomas: graduation-party-drunken-barefoot-tennis-broken-foot happened. It was my left foot, and I drove an old-school stick shift Pathfinder at the time, like a good Southern gal. So, like any amazing mother would, mine flew to Dallas on a whim to drive my broken ass to L.A. Thank God, as that drive alone is brutal.
I heart-a-chockes. Yep, nothing like one of my favorite vegetables to bring out my really good “dad jokes”. No shame here. “What did the green bean say to the eggplant?”…ok, no, not really.
I recently befriended a lady who apparently performs a front flip out of bed every morning, to get her day started in a positive way.
I know. I just barfed too.
I’m sure I’m not the only one, but if I could eat pasta for every single meal, I would. Even brown rice pasta, millet, farro, barley, couscous, quinoa, whatever. As long as it’s a carbohydrate that I can combine with a sauce or fresh ingredients, I want it.
A few things about my dad: he grew up in Tulsa, Oklahoma, attended Oklahoma State University, and still proudly wears black and orange on game days in support (in the privacy of his own home of course; dreadful color combination any day other than Hallow’s Eve).
Oh, and he hates asparagus.
Truly, truly hates asparagus.