I've always heard that's the most important night.
For running, that is.
In high school, the McAlister family was on a pretty strict pasta diet during XC and track season. All thanks to Mark and his all-star running habits. We were on a rotation - lasagna, pesto, lasagna, pesto. Unless Mark started getting superstitious. Then it became
pesto, pesto, pesto...pesto.
Well, I can't have Mom's lasagna tonight. And I can't have Mom's pesto. And I certainly don't have the kitchen for this.
But next time I do, you can bet it'll be for dinner.
The other day one of my friends had a bit of mint in her drink - and it made
me wish the pot full of herbs in our backyard at home was actually
sitting in my windowsill here at Sewanee. Guess it's a little too
late to bring this idea to dorm living, but wherever
I am next, I know I'll be growing green.
On the wall.
Inside the house.
Outside on the porch.
Either way, I'd like to have it.
Because if nothing else, it'll make things seem fresh.