What does he mean?

My dear husband TF "almost wants" to do a lot of stuff, as in,

"I almost want another helping of that pork roast."

or

"I almost want to keep fresh basil above the sink all the time. It smells so good."

or, the most annoying one my personal favorite,

"I almost want to break Lent and have just one beer."

I fail to understand how you can almost want to do something. I mean, either you want to do it, you don't or you are confused. His "almost" means something else entirely. Usually, he does in fact want the full-fat pork/beer/third Krispy Kreme/tickets to his umpteenth Morrissey show very much, but he wants my permission. I have three children, not four, so I refuse to entertain this sort of behavior. He can either do it or not. Not my decision. In the second example listed above, he wants me to do it. In that particular case, he hopes I will voluntarily obtain fresh basil every week, keep it in a cup of water and make sure it stays fresh for his smelling pleasure. I don't want to do that - not almost - just don't. So, like the grown-up that I am, I...um...don't do it. His mother would probably oblige, as this seems like the sort of thing French people do, and this is just fine by me. But I won't do it. I also won't passive-aggressively not do it when it might be convenient, because I am either passive or aggressive, rarely both at once.

Speaking of being passive, I'm not much for dragging myself to the gym, but I have to go, because I am old, have three children and eat like a trucker. And I like booze. I teach Pilates so I can get a free gym membership and also so I will be forced to go there. Unsurprisingly, I like to chat while I teach. I talk about any number of things - trying really effing hard not to cuss - including food. People in gyms love to talk about food. After all, our love for food is often what brings us to the gym in the first place. I try to keep it healthy, so of course I had to talk quinoa. One of my totally awesome clients passed on this recipe, from something called the Sonoma Diet, and as she expected, I love it. So did my kids. And, given that I almost want to wholeheartedly endorse, nay* insist on cooking quinoa a second time before serving, I had to alter the recipe just a little. This is my so-close-to-the-original-it's-not-even-really-different version.

So-Close-to-the-Original-It's-Not-Even-Really-Different Sonoma Diet Southwestern Grain Medley (Catchy, huh?)

Put some olive oil in a big pan and heat it.

Add a heaping half-cup of frozen (or fresh, you go-getter) corn and a heaping cup of cooked quinoa to the pan. Sautée them for a little bit, until they're brown. Sautée them long enough to add the following to a large bowl:

1/2 cup cooked brown or wild rice. I use the frozen kind in the little pouches from Trader Joe's. How freaking lazy is that? Bite me.

1/2 cup canned black beans, rinsed and drained.

1/2 cup chopped red bell pepper.

1/2 cup chopped green bell pepper.

1/2 cup chopped and seeded cucumber.

a thinly sliced green onion.

a whole lime's worth of lime juice.

a big splash of olive oil. I recommend using lemon-infused olive oil if you have it. Good stuff.

a little bit of finely chopped fresh jalapeño pepper.

a bunch fresh cilantro. I love cilantro, unlike TF, who almost hates it, but has managed to narrowly avoid hating it. Even though he almost does. So I don't add too much, but I put it on the table so the rest of us can go nuts.

Now that the quinoa and corn are lightly toasted, add them to the bowl with the other stuff and mix it all together. Season with salt and pepper. Or not.

Now eat it. So good, so healthy. Do you still like me? I still haven't had any caffeine. I think it's been a month. Wheeee!

Namasté, y'all!

* Nay. Another word I hate. I once heard it used in casual conversation, by someone not even almost British who tried to play it off as totally normal. I could barely contain my laughter, nay, my hysterical guffawing. I almost wanted to let loose. But I did not.