Pastabilities.

I don’t know how the Italians do it. I’m referring to their fine tradition of fine pasta. For some reason I’ve been on a pasta kick for the past week or so, indulging in some ziti and some linguini, all with Earl’s homemade sauce.

While quite tasty, it hasn’t been the healthiest approach to eating by any stretch of the imagination. And I’ve got the higher numbers on the scale to prove it. If the scale still worked. I may have drop kicked it one time too many this morning after ringing up a number I didn’t like.

I’ve only gained four pounds in the past week. But to me that’s a lot. Earl assures me it’s within the margin of error as far as the scale is concerned, but I don’t buy it. The scale is evil and therefore pasta is evil too.

When did pasta become evil? Growing up we had spaghetti at least once a week. And that’s not counting the cans of spaghetti-os I had as a kid. In the summertime we had limited choices for lunch: spaghetti-os, peanut butter and jelly or peanut butter and mayonnaise. I occasionally opted for the latter, thrived on the pb and j from time to time and would eat spaghetti-os when it was raining.

Come to think of it, I had a pasta pot for a gut when I was a kid. Maybe I should have learned my lesson back then.

Earl is out for a business dinner tonight and then tomorrow night he’s out of town so he’ll have a full menu to choose from (undoubtedly complete with a server named ‘Dirk’.) Me? I get leftover ziti or a bowl of popcorn, unless I hit a take-out menu. My server is named Amana.

I think I’ll be popping my supper tomorrow night. So healthy.

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