"How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways"

Tom hates peas. I would venture to guess that seeing a pea on his plate creates a feeling roughly similar to the one I experience when I see a snake on our deck. Although perhaps without the terror. Just the revulsion.

So, I don't serve him peas. But there is this pasta salad we both like. There is only one tiny, minuscule problem. It has peas in it.

The first time I bought it, I didn't notice the peas on the cover of the box. Once I realized there were peas in it, there was only one thing to do. GET THEM OUT.


So. When we have this salad, I have to first pick out the peas before I boil the pasta. And some of those little suckers hide IN THE PASTA.

So I have to pick them out after I boil the pasta. I wait for it to cool. Then I pick out all the peas.

This is the true measure of my love for him.

That I will pick out all those frakin' peas. Every. single. one.

Check out my new Herald-Leader blog post at: Eating On The Patio