As I mentally reviewed my weekend, I realized I have nothing to talk about. Not really. I doubt y’all want to hear about the spectacular lasagna I made. It’s one of my “signature” dishes. As though I’m a franchised restaurant or something. I’m not. I cook a few things, but those things I do very well.
I doubt you want to hear about how my youngest nephew has learned to nod and shake his head seemingly overnight. And he also talks. It’s all babble, but he seems very confident in his vocalization skills.
So…the only thing I have to talk about is my sudden addiction to jalapenos. Or, well anything hot. I love the spicy food. Nachos you get at football games or the movies? Mine should be called jalapenos with a few nachos on the side. Ordering a sandwich at Subway? “Could you put a lot of jalapenos? A little more than that please.” I’ve gone through three jars of jalapenos in two weeks at my house.
But it doesn’t end there. If you go to a Thai restaurant (which is one of my favorite foods ever), my sister and I always stun the server because they give you that 1-5 option for heat. 1 being no heat, 5 being the hottest. We both opt for 6. Yes, we like to cry and clear our sinuses when we eat. It’s not great if it doesn’t leave you with a lasting impression. Like a numb tongue.
So while some people like it hot. I like it hotter. Go figure I write muy caliente romance.
How about y’all? Do you like your food with spice? None? Want to split a 5 gallon jug of jalapenos with me?