All things considered, it was a sufficiently creepy Halloween weekend.
First Sarah pointed out these terrifying mutant eyebrows:
We shrugged it off as another pre-birthday sign of me turning into an old man. But by Saturday night the situation had grown considerably more serious and it was clear that I was becoming something else entirely.
I wandered the streets under the cool light of the autumn moon, filled with an ancient yearning to scamper, crazed, into the darkness that lay just beyond each streetlight, to run into the silent shadows that struck warily in from every grove of trees. Howling in delirious wonder at the understanding that I was leaving the crowds of civilization forever, I would be free to roam the wild places. Free from the eyes of any who would look for me among the ever-passing multitudes of humanity, I would never be found again.
Anyway, Food Diary, I don't remember much of what I ate on Saturday.
I woke up Sunday with a little indigestion, since you asked, like someone who'd spent the evening eating sugar cookies and drinking Blue Moon from a keg.
Why must you always be so disapproving?!
You'll be glad to know that Sarah and I collaborated on an excellent meal Sunday night, after she got home from work and I'd enjoyed an afternoon of leisure.
Sarah made a spicy fall-themed peanut butter and pumpkin penne dish, while I chimed in with a garlic/onion/mushroom-stuffed tomato. We continued the fall theme with our beverages. I had apple cider and a Schell's Stout while Sarah enjoyed a hazy Blue Moon.
Sarah had just come up with the pasta idea Saturday, after mentally merging the elements from a couple of separate Food Network segments. It turned out tasty for a first try, but we'll probably add edamame and garnish with scallions next time we make it.
...I guess that's it for now, stupid judgmental Food Diary.
Your Friend,
Matt
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