Yet today, I think I am coming to terms with the noodle. In fact, I can't stop thinking about the stringy pasta. For everyone else, that's entirely normal. Here's what's not entirely normal: I have not wanted to look at any form of pasta for over a year without hurling. Eddie doesn't even bring it up anymore as a possible dinner choice when we make our weekly menu. He knows, without looking at my face in disgust, that I will reject all forms of pasta. Spaghetti has been exiled from our life. How could I hate a complex carb so much?
Ah. My in-laws. Let me tell you about them. Over a year ago, I was student teaching, but my placement was over 45 minutes away from my house. It was only 10 minutes away from my in-laws' house. Naturally, I moved in with my in-laws for the brief 8 weeks of my student teaching placement. Keep in mind, Eddie and I were not married at this time-just engaged. Eddie lived in the school dorm, while I lived with my future in-laws. Just me, Ed Sr., Lois, and Sparky, their butt-faced dog. Part of me wants to tell you more about my in-laws, but then my brain derails and says things like, "like the time Lois accidentally bear maced her family because she thought she was opening a newfangled water bottle?" or "like the time when Lois bought you a t-shirt with Spanish written all over it, and she said, 'I thought you might like this because you speak Mexican.'" (Side note: I don't even speak Spanish, let alone "Mexican.") Please, don't think I hate my in-laws because I absolutely love them. It's just that watching Mama and Papa Peters bumble around is akin to watching a television comedy. Once, Eddie came home to find his mom watching Reno 90210. She was crying, not out of humor. Out of sadness. She simply couldn't understand why people were so corrupt and evil. After all, this was her favorite show, Cops.
Okay, what the heck did that have to do with spaghetti, Brittany? I'm getting to that. While living with Mom and Pops, I was trying to decide if a gluten-free diet would help my stomach feel better. Immediately, Mama and Papa Peters drove to Amish country to build a stockpile of gluten free pasta that would last us through the Apocalypse. (Side note: Amish country is the only place that sells my favorite Thai soup. Because when you're thinking Thai food, you immediately think of the Amish, right?) Day in and day out, the Peters asked themselves, what is a gluten dinner that we can then make non-gluten for Brittany? Chicken breast with green beans. Nay, they said. Too easy. Corn tortilla tacos with turkey beef and veggies? Nay to that too. Stir-fry with beef? They scoff at such an idea! So, after 8 weeks of gluten free spaghetti with the occasional night of bean soup, I became anti-pasta*. Can I face it? Can I dig into a plate of spaghetti? Or will I be haunted by my 8 weeks of carb-over-hydration? And should I ever "fess" up to the ol' in-laws that my intestines have been scarred for life?
*Not the salad.
Btw, I got new glasses!
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