I missed my turn today as I drove into Northeast Minneapolis and ended up in downtown.  I wound my way around streets that used to be so familiar, trying to figure out the best way to get to my destination without accidentally going the wrong way on a one-way street.  Then right in front of me was Moose & Sadie's.  A restaurant I'd never seen before but had just heard about because my friend Jessy works there.  I pulled in and stopped for lunch, hoping she'd be there.  I ordered the pasta special (linguine, white beans, kale, cherry tomatoes, garlic, olive oil, feta, parmesan) and peered into the kitchen, hoping to see here.  And there she was.  My friend that I haven't seen in years.

"What did you order?" she asked.

"The pasta" I said.

"Can I make it for you?" she asked, a phrase filled with love.

A few minutes later my plate arrived and so did my friend the chef.  She's just the same - lovely, smart, funny, face filled with expression.  She was my roommate during my last summer at Ruttger's.  We traveled together for a few weeks in Europe, even after she lost her Eurail pass upon her arrival (she got a replacement, then found her original pass safely tucked away in her bag).  We had Thanksgiving dinner in Salzburg.  We ate goulash soup in Budapest that was so spicy that it made me hiccup.  I've seen her lift a 50-pound bag of cement and hoist it onto her shoulder like it was a dishtowel.  She single-handedly lifted a golf cart off of a mound of woodchips.


And now in just a few short weeks she's getting married.  Lucky guy.  I mean really, how many guys are lucky enough to marry someone who can really cook AND can do all the heavy lifting?