Baked Gnocchi Alla Puttanesca (Kinda)

Sometimes when I have to make a first impression I freak out.  Just a little.

In protest, I put off getting ready till the last minute.  And when I can’t any longer, I run around the apartment with such fervor you’d think it was on fire.  Hair thrown into a sumo bun, trying on clothes that never seem to fit me the way I want and wondering why I just don’t invest in spanx already.

I get wound up.  I start…to sweat.  Especially when I’m freaking out in the bathroom because the light is too dim to actually see my face to put makeup on.

“Stop it Lys.  Seriously, stop sweating.  STOP. IT.”

“Are you having a breakdown?” Roo calls out from the living room.  He’s already dressed, shoes on and car keys in hand.  He’s been ready for thirty minutes.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Talking to yourself while looking at yourself in the mirror stops underarm perspiration.”

“I don’t think it -”

“It’s a thing!”

A Simple, Warm Breakfast Bowl

I am not the most pleasant person to share a bed with.  I sleep with my mouth open.  I drool. I steal blankets; winding them around me, making them impossible to take back.  And if you try to wake me it’s like poking an angry bear.

Don’t even get me started on how I look first thing in the morning.  Let’s just say I’m notorious for not removing my eyeliner and by 6 a.m. I look like I spent the whole night crying and fighting with myself.

It wouldn’t surprise me if Roo left me in the middle of the night, but he’s been a good sport.  We rarely get up without one another unless he has to get up early for extra help before school.

Roo’s currently on April vacation, and when I rolled over at 5:30 this morning I wondered what he was doing up so early on a non-school day.  Pre-coffee and bleary eyed (again, I hadn’t removed my eyeliner), I wandered out into the hallway.

Was he in the bathroom?  I knocked on the door, ”Love?”

“Yeah,” Roo answered from the living room.

I walked over and sat next to him on the couch, “Oh good. You’re alive.”

“Hmm?”

“I thought you didn’t come back to bed was because you were in the bathroom.”

“How long did you think I was in the bathroom for?”

“Well, that’s why I came out.  I was worried that you had died. On the toilet….Like Elvis.”

“So, I guess I should be happy you’re comparing me to the King of Rock?”

“And ignoring the fact that I thought I foresaw your death, woefully on the toilet? Yes.  Anyway, why are you up?”

“I have a headache.”

“Oh…do you want breakfast? Sometimes I get headaches when I’m hungry.”

“If by breakfast, you mean 5 peanut butter and bacon sandwiches, then yes.”

“Five?”

“I mean, you did compare me to Elvis.”

“I know…You really want me to find you dead on the toilet, don’t you.”

“Having you explain to my mother how you found me would be worth it.”

“You’re so dead to me.”

Mushroom Soup

“Someone fell on me on the train today.”

“So they knocked into you? Doesn’t that happen all the time?”

“No. Someone fell on. to. me.  I was on the ground face up, with them on top of me.”

“What?”

“He was too busy eating a delicious looking lemon poppy seed cake out of one hand and a drinking a coffee out of the other to hold the rail.”

“Well obviously it was because of his delicious looking cake. I mean, lemon poppy seed? Screw. that. rail.”

“Really?”

Roo looks up from his iPad, “Are you ok babe?”

“I cried.”

“Cried and didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought?”

“No, this isn’t an episode of HIMYM on what makes a Real New Yorker. This is real life. “

“Meaning -”

“The anger cry.”

“I know that cry. It’s kind of…confusing.”

“Yes, a snotty nosed, yelling to getoffofme, anger cry occurred as soon as I realized he was on top of me…And that he was still holding his coffee and cake.”

“Not a drop spilled?”

“Not a single drop.”

“He must have gone to UMass.”

“So not the point Roo. So not the point.”

Lovely Lemon Cake

“Remember when you called me after your job interview and you said you were ‘so going to work there’ because it was next door to a Whole Foods and across the street from a Starbucks?”

“It was probably the best day ever.”

Roo stops washing the dishes, ”When was the last time you went to Starbucks?”  He looks over to see me hugging myself.  ”You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you hug yourself like those sad monkeys we saw on PBS.  You’re obviously upset.”

“Well, that’s the last time you’re watching Frontline with me. I am not a sad monkey.”

I am so a sad monkey.

Back when I was delusional and living beyond my means living in Cambridge, my apartment was across the street from a Starbucks.  I would go there so often (ie twice a day, everyday), they started making “my drink” as soon as they saw me walk in.

“Grande, skinny, two pump vanilla latte for Lys.”

Sometimes it got awkward when I wanted a different drink.  And by awkward, I mean awesome as they would just give me both drinks for the price of one.

It pays to be nice to the baristas.

“Why are you shaking?”

“I’m not shaking.Youcrazy.Oh!Side note. Igottwolattesforthepriceofone!”

“It’s 2 p.m.  You are shaking and talking like a college kid on ritalin during finals week.”

“Wha?”

“You should lay off the ten shots of espresso in the morning.”

Besides the obvious self-induced caffeine overdose, my love for Starbucks was a $40/week habit.

They’d always find a way to draw me in.

“Buy one beverage in the morning and get any drink for only $2 after 2 p.m.!”

“Starbucks Happy Hour (ie half off frappuccinos between 3 – 5 p.m.)”

And lemon cake.

Yes, lemon cake.