When I was in college I had a reputation. Not THAT kind of reputation, silly — I was known for my lipstick habit. Because very, very rarely was I ever spotted around campus without a bright-pink pucker.
(Well, once on spring break in Daytona Beach, I forgot to put it on. But I had mono and I was staying in a roach motel and I was really, really unwell.)
But nevermind that. I LOVED the day-glo pinks and fuschias of the 80’s. A roommate of mine once said, “Ah’ sway-uh, Leah, do yew keep yo-wah lipstick on yo-wah naht-stay-und?”
I went to college in South Carolina. Did you catch the accent?
I’ve said it here before: I have a problem with Mexican food. The problem of course, is that I could eat it nearly every single day of my life and never tire of it. I’ve passed this genetically on to my punks thanks to the cravings I had during my pregnancies. I dragged my poor husband out for steak enchiladas and guacamole nearly every weekend throughout the gestation of all three babies. They can be happy they got their love of Mexican food from me. Because I’m sure they’ll blame me later for other not-so-fun qualities I’ve passed on to them, attributes which we will not discuss here today – unless I have too many margaritas…hic!
I’ve been about the farthest thing from composed today. In fact, I’ve been…I’ve been…well, I’ve been (and remain) a blithering ninny. Going about my day with tissue wad in hand and sobbing at the drop of a hat, I’ve bent the ear of any friend (or stranger) who has regrettably (for them) hazarded a guess at the reason for my bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks.
I’m an absolute fool for a good Cobb Salad, which is what I decided to make tonight. Light and fresh, they’re the perfect warm weather dinner. I adore them so much in fact, that I ate a Cobb Salad from the North Shore Bistro every single week for the full nine months that I was pregnant with my third kiddo.
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