a dinner story

This Monday the stars aligned and pigs flew and hell froze over because I was done teaching at 3:45. Usually I'm starting my fourth or fifth class out of seven around that time, but this Monday decided it wanted to be more like a cool Friday so there I was, done early and definitely not complaining.

Being done early meant I got home before Freddie. Before! Not 1.5 hours after! The possibilities were endless! I could squeeze in a Desperate Housewives episode (or seven), or put on real non-spandex clothes (this possibility got me the most excited), or get seski and wait for him to walk in the door...buuuuut none of those ideas won because I, Emily the non-cooking housewife, decided that I was going to cook dinner for Freddie---for the fourth(ish) time since we were married 453 days ago.

Me

Cooking

Dinner

Us

Eating

Said

Dinner

Whoa

I got on Pinterest, pulled up 1 of my 297 food pins, and got to cooking. 1 hour and 1 Hey, Freddie! Just grab a beer and sit down (and please stay out of the kitchen so you don't tell me everything I'm doing wrong) later our sesame shrimp noodles dinner was served.

Be Our My Guest, Be My Guest they were actually pretty wonderful. This is the part of the story when pigs were flying. I mean, the more I think about it though the more I've decided it was so good because good 'ole Pioneer Woman had me add 3 tablespoons of sugar to the noodle sauce. 

#sugarreallydoesmakeeverythingbetter #evencavaties

Regardless, I was on a real housewifey high. Like Get at me, World! I can boil noodles and add sugar to soy sauce! What can you do?! 

Then came Tuesday. And Tuesday was not like a cool Friday, but it was most definitely a cool as in cold Tuesday because when I waltzed in the door around 7 the temperature outside was something close to the complete opposite of hot (so around 38 degrees). 

There was Freddie. Dinner ready and already washing the pans. This meant the only thing required of me was to sit on my sitter and lift my fork. After dinner I decided a hot chocolate would warm up my toesies.

That's when Freddie made me homemade whipped cream for my hot chocolate because Emily, it's really easy. Watch. 

And in the moment of standing there with a full belly on food I did not have to cook and waiting for my homemade whipped cream for my hot chocolate, I decided that I shouldn't mess with life too much because I am living THE life. I mean, if I hadn't married Freddie I would be living off of grocery store sushi, peanut butter sandwiches, and store bought whipped cream (which yes, are all still delicious things). 

Horrors.

I'll cook for you in another 5-6 months, Freddie. In the meantime, I'll take plenty of hand whipped cream, please and thank ya.