Zucchini Stuffed with Basil Caramelized Onion Pesto and Fresh Croutons

I turned off the television as Roo walked into the living room.

“What were you watching?”

“Nothing.”

“It was obviously something,” Roo said, sitting down on the couch.  He motioned his hand towards the remote.

“Don’t judge,” I said, handing it to him.

Roo turned on the television. A loud Yuuuuuuup! emitted from the speakers. Roo smiled. “Storage Wars?”

“I can’t help myself. It’s like a redneck treasure hunt.”

“Well, that guy who has something against sleeves, is hilarious.”

“That’s Darrell,” I laughed, “I pretty much love everything he says.  His voice? Classic.”

“Who’s the one in the hazmat suit?,” Roo said, pointing at the screen, “He looks like he walked straight out of American Grafitti.”

“That’s Barry. And I’d totally buy him a drink.” I paused, “I wish I didn’t like these shows. It’s bad enough that I make you watch The Biggest Loser every fall.”

“Honestly? I prefer this, than watching that ex-marine yell at obese contestants. It gives me heartburn.”

“Watching that show after eating dinner is a bit masochistic.”

Roo muted the television. “What are we having for dinner by the way?”

“Do I even have to tell you?”

“Something from our CSA?”

I nodded and started walking towards the kitchen.

“Using up some of the zucchini?”

“Yuuuuuuuuup!”

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Buckwheat (Soba) Noodle Salad with Chili Lime Dressing

“Did you ever have rules when you were first dating someone?”

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Really? Because I feel like all girls have rules. Especially when we’re younger, in our 20s.”

“Like what?”

I paused, wondering if I should tell Roo all the ridiculous ‘rules’ my friends and I had while in undergrad. “Well…” I decided to start off slow, “Never display any sort of bodily function in front of them, like burp or fart.”

“Right, because girls don’t poop.”

“Yes.  And we also don’t cry while looking in the mirror.”

Roo nodded as he scooped up a piece of broccoli with his fork.

“Also, don’t laugh so hard that you snort or God forbid fart.”

“Didn’t you once -”

“No.”

“When we were walking back from Thai Red Pepper -”

I grabbed a napkin to blot my mouth, “No. That never happened.”

Roo stifled a laugh, “Ok, what else?”

“Don’t sleep with someone before the third date,” I replied, half focused on getting a few sunflower seeds onto the tines of my fork, “And if you do sleep with that person -”

“After the third date of course.”

I smiled, “Yes.  If you sleep with that person you must wake up before they do so you can freshen up.”

“Like get rid of swamp mouth?”

“And that oily mess you call your face, yes.”

“Well, what about dinner? You went from talking to that person to sleeping with them. Makes me think you were a bit -”

“Hey! Hey now. Alright, dinner. Well, never order noodles because no one wants to see you slurp and sputter sauce everywhere.”

Roo raised an eyebrow.

“I know, I know. They were ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“What?”

“That last bite you took of soba. I think you got some dressing on your shirt.”

I glanced down to see a giant stain on my right breast.  It looked like I was lactating.  “Great. See? This is why we have rules.”

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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.”

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