for a bowl of pasta?
Two years ago, I might have had to stop and think about that.
Although I am pretty sure I would have probably arrived at the same answer....NO.
But, there would have been that one little moment of wonder.
I might have drooled a bit and got a little woozy at the thought of living life without pasta.
Those days are over.
Today--there is no thinking involved at all.
Not one brain cell of thought, not one iota of longing or desire or whimpering.
As much as I love....and I mean...love, love, love.....pasta.....I am okay with never eating it again.
Ever. Ever. Ever.
Never. Eating. Pasta. Ever. Again.
I spent 47 years, 7 months and 17 days eating a million pounds of pasta.
I ate every shape, covered with every sauce, nestled or layered between every meat and vegetable and cheese.
Wagon wheels with meat sauce---yep, I ate it.
Penne with marinara.....sure did.
Linguine with pesto.....why, of course.
Yes, I ate it all.
For 47 years, 7 months and 17 days.
I experienced the best there was---from my Nana Dip's kitchen to my mother's kitchen to my own kitchen....I was blessed with the best pasta in the world.
Italian ceramic bowls overflowing with beautifully smothered pasta.
Infused with herbs and spices that made my taste buds sing.
Cooked to an aldente perfection--the mere thought of it would make my heart go pitter-patter.
Artfully dusted with tangy, sharp cheese.
Steam wafting up into my face, carrying with it the promise of something so passionately tasteful that the anticipation was almost too hard to bear.
The dripping, oozing splendor of a bowl of pasta was my heaven on earth.
Make no doubt about it, my life as a pasta eater was supremely rich and superbly satisfying.
Beautiful and comforting.
Filled with joy and rapture.
Tantalizing and delicious.
Yes, it was lovely and sweet and absolutely bellisimo!
So, why am I telling you that I wouldn't trade it all for more of the same?
Sometimes a girl just has to move on.......