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How I know my husband loves me … sort of

Because I have a bunch of work to finish up tonight, Mike, my wonderful husband, is making me dinner.

We’re having Mac ‘N Cheese ‘N Peas, one of my favorite dishes (seriously, no sarcasm).

“How many peas do you want?” he asked.

“Ummm, 167,” I said in true smart-alec form.

“OK,” he replied and began counting.

That’s how much he loves me.

But then he got bored and said, “If you want me to count your peas, you’re not going to get very many peas.”

Understandable.

And I’m pretty sure he loves me a whole lot, just not 167 individual peas worth.

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Time limits

Another coffee shop day.

On this occasion, a dad, mom and their two kiddos (the boy likely three, the girl obviously just started walking) walk into the shop. The little girl starts tottering around and the pacifier drops out of her mouth.

“Ooops, 30-second rule!” the dad hollers.

Obviously, this is his second kid.

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Peas please

Our kitchen is small.

Small enough that when I pulled a bowl of peas out of the toaster oven and turned around to put them on my plate that I inadvertently ran the bowl into a wall, thus sending little green balls rolling across the kitchen floor.

Sigh.

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Learning to cook

I put a couple notches on the ol’ cooking belt tonight after making some superb chocolate chip cookies (plump, thick, chocolatey, awesome!) for a good friend and the homeless kids that she helps out.

I took a notch out of my belt when, upon putting the first batch into the oven, I found some wedding leftovers that were burnt to a crisp having (apparently) been in the oven for the past month. Even my scientific-minded husband hasn’t figured out how we didn’t see the dish any of the numerous times we used that appliance.

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Difference of opinion

It’s fairly well known to our community of friends that I’m frequently the one picking on Mike: Convincing him to eat wax fruit, dog food, soap, etc.

Despite this fact, I often joke that Mike is antagonizing me, that he’s the antagonist.

Yesterday, when I was poking Mike, I said, “I’ll get you my pretty,” and followed it with an evil laugh.

He goes, “See. I told you that you were the villain.”

Hmmm … touché.

Picture from trawin on Flickr.

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Perspective

The other day, Mike and I were riding our bikes when a guy carrying a long stick carelessly walked out in front of him.

Thankfully, Mike has cat-like reflexes and was able to deftly swerve and miss the pedestrian.

Despite the catastrophe’s avoidance, Mike was about to verbalize his considerable irritation in this man’s direction, when he realized what the guy’s stick was for.

He was blind.

Oops.

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