Today, I’ll take that. All of it.
It’s not gluten-free or vegetarian. The cheese is real and brimming with dairy. There is oil and wine and fats of all flavors in that thing.
And I made it.
No self-effacing. It’s gorgeous and glorious and the smell is almost as good as the feel of the fork sinking into the pasta. Yes. I’m writing soft-core food porn now. Just wait until I get to the garlic orgasm.
Look. I don’t do perfectly proportioned meals, overflowing with organic vegetables. My proteins aren’t lean. We won’t broach the offensive amounts of sugar in my kitchen.
Some days I regret that and want to do better.
But not today.
Because my gods, does the divine, oozy, succulence in that picture taste as good as it looks. An Italian mother would think I’m good enough for her son. (That and my baby-making hips.) That’s how good I did with this thing.
It’s awkward for me to say out loud when I do well. It’s painful and awkward and I only do it when…well, I don’t. But I’m trying.
No. I know. It’s not a win/lose. It’s not a succeed/fail. It’s a journey and a trying and…
Who am I kidding-
Some days I suck without limits.
Today I made lasagna.
I did something really well and I’m saying it.
So I win.