How it all began...

So here's the thing. I don't cook. If you know me at all, you know this about me. Why don't I cook? Aha, now there's a story...

Almost 28 years ago, I married the already handsome and soon to be wonderful and fabulous Randy. (Duh, it was because of me he became so wonderful and fabulous!) I digress... During the first week of wedded bliss, I brought out the big guns. I made tuna casserole. The next night I made meatloaf. The next night we ate the tuna casserole left overs. The next night we ate the meatloaf left overs. Then I made tuna casserole. I think you see where I'm going with this. About day seven, dear hubby came into our shoebox size kitchen and looked at me with much love in his eyes and said, "I can't take this any more. I love your tuna casserole and I love your meatloaf, but I can't continue to eat just these two things for the rest of my life." How rude! I didn't know how to make anything else! As he hugged me, I confessed to him that tuna casserole and meat loaf were the extent of my cooking repetoire! He once again looked at me with love in his eyes and said, "Not to worry. I'm a good cook." This is the precise moment when he became wonderful and fabulous! I now looked at my wonderfully fabulous, brand spanking new husband and said, "Honey, if you kick me out of the kitchen now, you will cook the rest of our married life." He threw his arms around me, kissed me passionately (we were newlyweds, remember?) and replied, "I'm willing to accept that responsibility!" (Okay, so maybe it was not quite THAT dramatic, but...) Anyways, 28 years later, we're still in love and he's still cooking... I will occasionally make meatloaf and tuna casserole, but those nights are few and far between...