The cat. 
Not the president. 
Although, that wouldn’t be so bad either, except for the whole.. he’s dead.. thing. But that beard… am I right?
Anyway. Garfield the Cat. Loveable, affable, orange cat. And although I am a ginger (of sorts) like he is, and although I am hairy (mental vomit anyone?), and although I have whiskers (I do keep the Vandyke in check however), these are not the qualities I am speaking of.
No, our kinship is much more heart mattered then those physical aspects. The topic of our twinsy-ness is that of lasagna.
That meat, cheese, noodle and sauce concoction that is the ambrosia of my existence. The kryptonite to my Superman, the silver bullet to my werewolfness (ok, another hairy joke), the garlic to my vampireness (am I really going down this monster type casting?), the flame to my Frankenstein monster (yep, guess I am)… Ok.. enough…
But just look at the photo. The way the cheese and meat just meld together, the way the layers of noodles create a cake like affect, the way the sauce just….
And now I’m hungry. Great.
The thing about lasagna though is this. It is good that first day. Oh… so good.
But the second day, when it has had time to congeal and to become the sum of all its parts. Oh, that day is the day that I truly hate myself the night of. I engorge myself on this meal and sit around for the next three days bloated on pasta and sauce, waiting for the cheese to finally process through my system and the coma caused by the concoction to cease.
It is a horrible thing. It truly is (ok, it’s not.. it is a glorious thing, coming close in magnitude to the angel’s breaking forth in a chorus of Hallelujah).
Yeah.. I got it bad. I know. But, like my buddy Garfield says best….
(This post brought to you by the overuse of the word ending… -ness.)
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Food for the Soul (and the Stomach).”
Thoughts from the Front 
I used to make a killer lasagna. Like whenever I made lasagna, people would hear about it and come from miles around to get some. I’d always have to make two pans, and there would be nothing left. That was ages ago when I had four kids at home and had tons of friends. Now that it’s just me and the hubs and we haven’t really made friends here in Seattle yet, so I don’t make it anymore because he won’t eat leftovers. Bummer.
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You are making me want to come visit Seattle!
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Whenever we move out of this apartment complex… come on by! ^_^
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I am in the absolute opposite side of the continent, so it might be a while. 🙂
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I’ll tell ya the same thing I tell all of my friends… If you’re ever in the neighborhood, come on by.
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I LOVED this post Todd! 🙂
I didn’t know you liked lasagna so much. I can make lasagna, different kinds and I don’t know why, it never fails, it doesn’t matter what I put in it, it always blends perfectly, like a mathematical equation 🙂 (And I have no idea how the ones with meat are because I never eat them but every time I prepare them, there is rarely some leftovers :))
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Yep, love me some lasagna
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Brilliant Piece of work – I always said I must have landed wi Caesar on the british shores – as I can’t get enough of this yummy pasta.
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Lasagna is the best.
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