Hubs has taken to making dinner lately:
Needless to say, I’m in heaven. His culinary skills are wayyyy beyond mine, mostly because his cooking mental process goes like this (as far as I can tell):
- I’m hungry.
- Oooh, I can make some steak.
- Steak alone will diminish my rock-hard abs.
- Vegetables, too, then.
- I’m bored.
- Oooh! Chili powder!
- Butter makes things taste good.
- Bored again.
- Oooh! Cheese!
- Hey, I didn’t know we had Cajun seasoning.
- On TV, I watched someone rub salt all over a steak.
- I’m totally trying that.
- And I’m adding the Cajun stuff.
Compare this with my mental process:
- Oh my goodness I have to make dinner. It’s got to be ready in 45 minutes. What can I have done and on a plate, ready for him, in 45 minutes? (Spend thirty minutes reading Betty Crocker.) (Decide to grill steaks because now I only have 15 minutes to do everything and grilling is easiest.) (Foil packets with olive oil, salt, pepper. Just like every other time I cook dinner.) (Collapse from too much brain exertion.) (Pat myself on the back for cooking a dinner with both protein and veg.)
- Oooh, TV!
Obviously, his stuff tastes better. I am in love.