Scott kept himself busy today working up a delicious dinner. I got home to fresh baked cookies.

There were homemade hamburger buns, hamburgers and bacon from our local Butcher Shop (which only sells locally raised meat).

Throw in some homemade potato chips.

We had the canned jalapenos from the garden, and mayonnaise made from our own chicken’s eggs.

Oh, and he made the little guys some hard-boiled eggs on top of the new wood-burning stove.

The main reason why I could never be a food blogger is that I am not the one doing any of the cooking around here. I got myself kicked out of the kitchen within the first year of our marriage.

It feels like I’ve told this story before, so I’ll make it brief. As a newlywed, and new mom to two teenaged boys, I was doing everything I could to be a happy little homemaker. I’d waited until I was 36-years old to become that blushing bride, so I had all sorts of dreams to fulfill.

Cooking didn’t turn out to be the thing that kept our family together around the dinner table. One night I made a spaghetti sauce from scratch that didn’t seem red enough to me. It was a meat-based sauce. At the last minute, I threw in some red food coloring that turned the entire pot a sickly shade of mauve.

I have been banished from the kitchen ever since.

Scott was telling this story to one of his clients one day, and she exclaimed, “Well Played!” I really didn’t do anything on purpose, but it sure is nice that he stepped in and took over cooking.

 

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