A couple of Saturdays ago, I woke up at 6 a.m., a little late for me. Zack the Wonderdog was snuggled under the covers next to ThatManILove. I stealthily crept into the TV room, popped open the Mac (another story in itself) and started returning e-mails. I worked on this hard for about an hour.
And then, I lay back down on the couch and crashed.
At 9:30 a.m., ThatManILove came in to the room, concerned that he woke up and I wasn’t by his side. He said, “Babe, your phone’s been ringing off the wall.”
He gave it to me, and, dang. The voice mail was full AGAIN - 14 messages, and 15 e-mails. He started laughing. And then, he said, “Well! I checked my phone, and I have two messages, and three e-mails.” I just looked at him. He said, “Well, okay, yeah...they’re from yesterday.”
He is so funny.
He asked me if I wanted to go eat breakfast somewhere. Did I? No. I wanted to bury my head under the covers, but I knew that I could not do that. I had to get busy.
We compromised. He offered to make cinnamon toast...a comfort food that hails back to my youth.
So off he went to the kitchen, dogs in hot pursuit. I hear him banging around, and before long, I smell cinnamon and butter. Yum. In a second, though, I smell something burning, and I cry out to him. He quickly assures me he’s got it, and in a minute, he comes back into the TV room bearing cinnamon toast. His is burned, but mine is not.
He sits down by me, and grabs a piece of toast, and bites into it. Immediately, his face screws up. Something’s not right.
I say, “What’s wrong?”
He smells of it, then reaches out for my plate.
He says, and I kid you not, “I put salt on it instead of sugar.”
And off he goes to make the real thing.
ThatManILove is a gourmet cook, I swear.
But this time, the Wonderdogs wouldn’t even eat it.
|Cinnamon toast= SUGAR, cinnamon, butter, toast...|