Live-blogging the Bolognese, in non sequiturs

Beast: I think I’m going to start a Twitter account called @QuestionsForChanning.

Foodie: Channing Tatum?

Beast: Obviously. I’d ask him how to get a thicker neck.

Foodie: [Silence]

Beast: I’d also ask him what kind of milk he drinks. Like, 2% or homo?

Foodie: May I ask you something?

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Around the world, turning 40

The Beast and I were reunited late Friday night after being apart for two weeks. (I was half way around the world on a work assignment.)  As I walked up our stairs, he grabbed my bottom, as couples are wont to do after being separated  for so long, and felt something unusual.

Beast: What the hell is that?

Foodie: It’s a maxi pad.

Beast: [Silence]

Foodie: Can you believe that I got my period right before having to take three flights and crossing the International Date Line to come home?

Beast: Why didn’t you buy tampons?

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Strada and steaks: the cottage edition

On a recent Saturday afternoon during an autumnal walk at the cottage:

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Beast: Let’s talk about your birthday.

Foodie: Uh, okay. But it’s still a bit away.

Beast: I’ve already got you your present.

Foodie: This was my present! All I wanted to do was visit the cottage before it was closed for the winter.

Beast: Well, I got you something else. [Pause] It’s a House of Cards-endorsed rowing machine.

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Cheap eats: chicken fingers and poutine (on sale)

I took my mom to Costco in London, Ont. on Saturday. As we walked the aisles I saw her smiling at everyone she passed. This is typical behaviour. She’s a very amiable woman. But this time, something was different. It was as though she was attempting to will people to acknowledge her intense gaze, not so that she could share her enthusiasm over the contents of her shopping cart–“the shepherd’s pie is to die for!“–but so she could say, “Yes, yes this is Jess from The Social. And she is my daughter.”

Someone finally bought into it, and my mom couldn’t have been more thrilled. “I saw you looking at her,” she whispered to a  lovely young woman who was  picking up Thanksgiving provisions along with the rest of the city, “and I wanted to tell you it really is her. She’s my daughter, you know.”  The woman smiled, told us about the Brie on sale in the next aisle, and was on her way.

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A dispatch from Italy in 1,200 words and 28 photos

Nobody likes hearing too much about somebody else’s vacation, so let me tell you about mine.

I checked into my Roman hotel, a converted convent, and napped for two hours because it was raining. By the time I woke up, the sun was out. I stopped for some pizza al taglio in Trastevere. The zucchini flower, fior di latte and anchovy slice was a hit.

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The trips to Italy and lemon pasta

I leave for Italy in 10 days. I will be away for just over two weeks. It will be, by far, the longest the Beast and I have ever been apart. He keeps joking that he’s going to move back in with Marg and Dave, his parents, to get him through the separation, so he won’t starve.

This will be my sixth trip to Italy. The first time was a 1992 high school trip with Becky, Julie and my mom, who came as a chaperon. It was one of those whirlwind rides through Venice, Florence, Siena, Assisi, Rome and Pompeii. I remember listening to Paul Simon’s Rhythm of the Saints over and over again on my walkman on that tour bus.

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Project home decor, plus pork chops

There has been a lot of home decor improvements going on in this house. Or, as we’ve been calling it,  project #homedecor.

We cleaned out the sunroom and moved in two new reading chairs that the Beast brought home from work.

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