My husband and I fight once every twenty-eight days. For the other twenty-seven days in between we are kind to each other, we express our love for one another, and sometimes we even do nice things for each other. And I cook lots and lots and lots. Especially the seven to ten days leading up to our almost once a month fight when my cravings really hit. I make brownies, ice cream, steak, cheesecake, lasagna, you-name-it-if-it’s-sweet-or-fattening-or-both. I cook like a chef on caffeine. Wait. I am a chef on caffeine.
Then we have a huge blow up over something trivial like his folded clothes that have been sitting on our bedroom loveseat for the last thirty-one days.
So I feel badly and whip up him some food, because well food is my comfort, and also apparently his too.
In the last eight years, eight months, and eight days that my husband and I have been mostly happily married, I have fattened him up by a grand total of twenty-eight pounds. But that is what he gets for doing silly things like coming up next to me while I am cooking Velveeta scrambled eggs for breakfast and patting me on my tummy while I am in one of my cooking moods.
He gets major payback with Dr Pepper Peanut Pralines.
We all know Dr Pepper plus peanuts plus praline goes right to the lovehandles (or in my case right to the hips and let’s face it–the butt). But they are so irresistible there’s no stopping once I get started.
Then I think: Wait. My mother-in-law’s name rhymes with praline. I may never be able to think the same way about these babies again. Oh wait. She thinks cokes are evil and poison. Plus she hates sugar. And milk is mucous. In other words, she’d be wetting her pants if she saw me serving these babies to my kids as an after-church snack right now. So praline is like a pissy Raylene. Okay, I can eat these things again. Chomp. Take a bite out of mother-in-laws.
Anybody with me on this one?
Brings a whole new meaning to the term comfort food.
The Hubs and I Eight Years, Eight Months, and Eight Days Ago kissing on the steps of the Manti Temple the day of our wedding:
Me and the Hubs Yesterday:
Me Trying to Sneak a Kiss on the Hubs:
Heck, Even the Dog Resists Me (ya know, that’s pretty bad):
PS: I’m sure I brushed my teeth. Pretty sure.