There isn't a moment that I don't want to spend with the lady. That doesn't mean I won't enjoy a solitary day apart. Or, in the case of this long holiday weekend, three. Does it make me a bad boyfriend opting out of a home-sick, Minneapolis bound adventure? Sending my wife-to-be on her own? There must have been some reason or a commitment I felt obliged to honor.
Our lives have been non stop lately. Weekends and weeknights are packed with social engagements, concerts, or babysitting. We are taking Ju-Jitsu, learning Japanese, planning a wedding, and our honeymoon. Simply, the schedule is overloaded and about to burst. In the last two weeks I've had this anxious, spinning out of control, nervous break down feeling. I went to the doctor, and he told me to stay home this weekend, plan nothing, and eat pizza.
For you, the average dairy and wheat tolerant community, pizza is not such a rare, anxiously anticipated moment. While the lady and I concoct a suitable pizza substitute from alternative materials, the commonly used pizza ingredients: 1) Wheat and 2) Cheese, are poison to the lady's belly.
She'll never make a fuss like a child turning their nose up a brussel sprouts or meatloaf. That's why so many people make a fuss for her; My family always has glutten-free desert handy, to top off any meal. Visited friends always purchase items to satiate her wheat-free cravings. If her allergies are forgotten or unknown, the lady will dine within her diet, without the slightest deflated or fussy peep.
That said, the pizza never tastes as good as a day spent with her.
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