“Oh, look! You’re taking pictures of food again!” Hah, hah, Better Half, very funny. Or not. I’ve been doing all sorts of things I used to do again. Like, oh, say, cooking dinner. And then taking pictures of it. For that to be “normal” is a judge of how far off I’ve been.
As far as dinner goes, this is really a mish-mash, a “holy crap, I need to make room in the fridge for Thanksgiving” kind of dinner. Frozen tuna steaks, thawed and baked in a mayo/lemon zest/lemon juice/black pepper mush (a rip off of some “preserved lemon aioli fish bake” I saw in last month’s Food and Wine, I mean, come on, aioli is mayo), with some TJ’s brown rice/black barley whole grain blend, and some baby spinach tossed in hot olive oil until wilted in a saute pan with a whole mess of chopped parsley, red pepper flakes, and the tail end of a jar of capers.
I am grateful for the little man who sells hot-popped popcorn at the entrance to the subway station near my work. I don’t always buy it, but it always hits the spot, and at $1.00 a bag and a sweet smile as he scoops it all in, who cares if you finish the bag.
Overheard on the train today. “Yeah, that’s the problem with child support, man. They’re always after your Lexus.”
Is it pathetic that instead of just tossing these trouser socks I was wearing today that kept falling down, and wearing my shoes barefoot all day (after all, I wasn’t going to be seeing clients), I actually got out some rubber bands and slipped them over my socks to make them stay up the rest of the day? I made sock garters, internets. It’s either pathetic, or a sign of how badly my work neighborhood needs a drugstore with a hosiery aisle. Maybe both.