Fire-Roasted Tomato Chicken Pasta

I didn’t plan on showing you pasta two days in a row.

Also, I just spent an annoyingly long time just now trying to figure out which word to link to yesterday’s post. First it was “plan.” But that looked weird. And then it was “showing,” but that made my noggin hurt. Couldn’t be “you” because it felt like I was chest-butting you or slapping you in the face. And then I thought about “two” since this is the second day of showing you pasta, but that felt jank as well. So then I landed on “days” but the voices in my heart . . . okay head quickly guided me away from the malarkey. So after that I tried out “row.” And it made me laugh. Because it’s clearly the winner, but I was afraid it would hurt your noggin. So then I went back and reread the sentence and realized I had completely overlooked the word “pasta.” And I was like, ohhhhhhh. The end.

Wait what was I talking about?

Guess what else.

I’ve got freaking bulbs sprouting in my front yard and a daffodil ABOUT TO BLOOM. This is bad, y’all. I keep running out into the yard with duct tape and a gas mask, screaming NOOOOOOO and pushing them back into the ground. But they keep on a comin’! Are we going to die? I mean, I know that Mr. Groundhog Pootenanny or whatever didn’t see his shadow this year WHICH BY THE WAY, that whole thing has never made sense to me. If he SAW his shadow, that would mean sunshine, which to me means spring. If home fresh does not in fact see his shadow it would mean overcast days which to me would indicate the looming of winter. I don’t understand this. Will you explain it to me? While playing with my hair? Too much? Okay. Why must these things in life offer such perplexity and paradoxilityoxymoronality . . . ness?

Ugh, I guess this is why I’m showing you pasta two days in a row. Stress-posting!

And I definitely should have linked “row.”