When I awoke bleary-eyed at 12:15 am last night, I rolled over to Jeff's side of the bed to discover a still-warm, empty spot. Fearing he was ill, I immediately walked to the bathroom. Empty. I walked into the kitchen and there he was, standing in the darkened room lit only by the bluish glow of the refrigerator light. His cheeks were bulging, and he was holding a big slice of leftover eggplant and caramelized onion pizza.
"Watcha doin'?" I asked.
"Noffin," he said, trying unsuccessfully, to hide the ball of pizza stuffed in his mouth.
"Doesn't look like nothin'," I said, "Looks like pizza."
"You're dreaming. Go back to bed," he said.
If ever there was a pizza worth getting up in the middle of the night, it's this eggplant, caramelized onion and prosciutto pizza with smoked mozzarella.
I knew I would regret the Wall Street Journal’s expanded leisure section! Before, I was free to read the home sections of any newspaper knowing my darling husband, Bill, would never notice if there was an article on how to be or do a better anything (even dominatrix sex), but the Wall Street Journal - that’s different. He habitually reads it cover to cover. This Saturday’s paper had a recipe for POT OF GOLD (“serves 16!”), and that is when he said– in a moment of early morning intimacy – “You never made me Pot au Feu!”
I resisted Facebook for years, but the ease with which I could share and view pictures of a high-school reunion compelled me. So like most
people my age, I found myself using the site to
reconnect with a past I had previously ignored or forgotten. Then, when
my husband passed
away suddenly a little more than a year ago, Facebook became a strange
lifeline during my first
year of grief. Frankly, being on Facebook makes me think about what it
must be like to be dead,
floating like a ghost into and out of people’s lives, into and out of
all the worlds we’ve inhabited. The compression and conflation of time
that Facebook provides makes way for the beguiling draw of nostalgia.
We love chili. Enough said, really.
As football fans gear up for Super Bowl Sunday, they'll buy more than 50 million pounds of avocados, almost all of which will be transformed into guacamole. How will all this guacamole get eaten? With chips, of course. 15, 000 tons of chips.