Pasta and Paws

I don’t know if anyone else has this particular genetic disorder: Pasta Perplexia. My perplexia usually manifests itself when adding noodles to a pot of boiling liquid, such as in the case of soup or dumplings. The dry egg noodles will expand in liquid. However, at the point of dumping noodles in liquid Pasta Perplexia wipes this out of your brain – you are simply rendered incapable of estimating how much to put in a pot. So I add and add and add and the noodles expand and expand and expand. I’ve been doing this for as long as I’ve been cooking. Someone should shout out “Walk Away From the Noodles” when handling them. I believe I have a gallon of noodles now living in my refrigerator. It’s the dogs I look to for my compass, my true north. When everything else begins to cloud and get icky, including the noodles, there is my big, lovey Golden Retriever with the big lion shaped paws. Vegas can be oblivious to almost everything around her except the one thing she’s fixated on such as the swimming. I am like this. But when my universe starts to tilt, she knows it. She brings me her formerly stuffed rooster, lies by my computer in her bed sending me her good vibes and reminds me that some days, it’s all just a bunch of bad kibble. Other days, it’s tennis balls and squirrels and dog parks. One paw at a time.