Oct. 28: Spaghetti face

You’ve heard me say it many times, and if you were at the party in July you found out for yourself: Dawn is wonderful. She is amazing. She is generous too. Tonight Katie ate dinner over at their house and when Darby brought Katie back he handed me a container of spaghetti. Spaghetti that Dawn made. Spaghetti that Dawn knew I would love.

See why I love her? She reads my mind.

Here’s exactly how the next few minutes went...

I open the container. “Oooh, there’s garlic bread in here. Yum.”

I take a bite of the garlic bread, which is still warm and has a little marinara on it. It’s a little crispy and herbed on the top, and has just the right amount of butter. “Oh. Oh, this is really good. Does she put crack in this?”

The other two bites are just as delicious, although the last one is not quite as good because the depression over it being the last bite has slightly diminished my capacity to enjoy it. Damn. I hate when that happens.

I grab a fork and dive into the spaghetti. Yeah, I already ate dinner. I ate a freakin’ bowl of cereal, okay? I am totally eating this spaghetti. I meet resistance with the fork. “What is this big thing? Portobello mushroom? Oh. Oh, my. It’s. A. Meatball.”

And then I collapse on the floor. I begin to hallucinate. Oh, if only I wasn’t married and Dawn wasn’t married and gay marriage was legal in Oregon! I would totally stalk her until she agreed to marry me because I desperately want to live with this woman cooking food in my kitchen forever and ever. Amen.

Oh my lord, it turns out Dawn puts crack in the meatballs too.

I’m really sorta snobby about marinara. I don’t order it often in restaurants because some places make it too sweet or tomato-y. I like it flavorful—garlicky and on the salty side. Dawn’s marinara is perfect. Dawn is perfect.

I eat the whole container of spaghetti and am considering calling Dawn for seconds. How do she and Darby NOT weigh 600 pounds each? Maybe they’re doing meth when they’re not eating the crack-laced food. I guess that keeps their weight down.

And now I look like this and I don’t care:



Thank you, Dawn. You are my knightess in shining armor.