I made a roast for dinner. We sat down to the table together. He made a gravy I could eat, I made the roast moist enough to melt in the mouth. We haven’t made a dinner like this in awhile.
We discussed our day, the menu for the Thanksgiving holiday, and compared gravy and mashed potatoes to how our grandmothers’ used to prepare them. It will never be the same. Close, but not quite.
I headed to the stove for seconds. I put my plate down on the counter and turned to rinse off a spoon. When I turned back, my plate was gone. I was confused at first until I noticed my husband happily talking and piling his plate…MY plate with seconds. Looking over at the table his plate was sitting there. The man can’t keep his mouth shut for one second to realize he took my plate.
Before I could say anything he had sat down and with a mouth full of mashed potatoes, pauses. And there it was. The complex moment of confusion of an additional plate.
“Why do I have two plates? Ooooh I must have grabbed your plate!”
“Ya think?” I said….he laughs.
Then he said, “well the plates look the same.”
I gave a look, titled my head and sarcastically said, “Really? You think the plates look the same? Oh my gosh, imagine that!!!”
Realizing what he said, he looks down at his plate, turns it a little and matter-of-fact and child-like, states, “they do, my plate is exactly like yours! It has the same design, with the same red leaves!”
We laughed. This is what I love about him. In one month we will be married for 27 years. We rarely fight, but when we do, it’s sraight up War of the Roses. I am not kidding. And if you haven’t seen that movie, I suggest you see it.
27 years and he still makes me laugh.