He has a way with words. It's one of the many reasons we've made it to four days after our seventh anniversary. He also has a way with making ground meat into puppets while he's working with it, which is only slightly less endearing than his impressive lexicon.
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I didn't eat any of the vegetables, and I don't feel guilty at all.
We've all had those days: you're stuck at work later than you'd like, you're tired, you're not sure what you feel like eating, you don't have the energy to conjure up that good ol' pantry juju, and your kitchen still smells like pureed fish.
We all have go-to takeout for those days - pizza, pad Thai, General Tso's chicken, bean and cheese burrito, whatever. Mine comes from Jersey City's locally-famed Ibby's Falafel: lamb shwarma, baba ganouj and a sweet, creamy namoura pastry to top it ...