Made With Love

  Sifting through my recipe box is like rummaging through a time capsule filled with culinary memories. Card edges are lovingly crinkled and soiled by splatters of food prepared with love, honored by tradition. Throughout the holiday season my little treasure box is "loved" on even more! I frequently reach into my crowded pantry to pull out the box adorned in a vibrant print of grapes and pears. I place it on the kitchen counter so that I can sort, sort through moments photographed in casseroles and cookies. Even the box itself was a gift from a dear friend. She gave me the box as a birthday gift and put a few of her stand-out recipes inside. Recipes like Shortbread Sugar cookies; actually, she taught me, hands-on, how to make them during the Christmas season so that my girls could leave goodies for Santa.
      My mother didn't cook...ever. Every dish or dessert I've ever prepared has come from someone or somewhere else.  Recipes are collected like postcards, I choose the ones that best represent the time and place of a moment.  Sometimes I wonder what recipe box I would own if the cards were my mother's, but I don't dwell on this long because in that fantasy kitchen I wouldn't possess the cornucopia of delights I have now.  Like the recipe for fudge borrowed from Country Cooking, the First Baptist Church of Smalltown, Texas' cookbook or a recipe for cornbread dressing taken from an excellent cook with whom I used to work; I might not have Nana's green jello salad delight or Donna's pecan pie.  Some of my favorite recipes have been given to me by The Cheryls, women who have positively impacted my life, significantly changing its course for the better. My pseudo mom, Cheryl T's recipe for breakfast casserole is the perfect brunch dish for a family gathering; my sweet Step-Mama, Cheryl C's recipe for lasagne, or comfort roast, or the holiday delight, cherries in the snow are all crowd pleasing recipes. I cannot imagine a collection without these dishes in its repertoire.
    As Christmas approaches, I plan to cherish every recipe, every dish made.  To cook with love means to honor the recipe maker, and mark the memories with good food and loving family.

Loving You From Olney

For the first two years of our relationship, Matt and I lived apart.  We commuted back and forth from Dallas to Lubbock (345 miles) every weekend and believe me, it was brutal!  On our journey to see one another we'd pass through an itty-bitty town named Loving, TX.  One day I had the thought to send him a text that said, "Loving you from Loving."  It became our thing--when one of us traveled through town we'd send the other a text.  Eventually, we texted "Loving you from Olney."  Matt and I discussed the reason for the change a few days ago, and I think we did it because Loving is such a blip in the road that Matt would forget to text.  So when he stopped at the light in Olney, he would text me. [I won't tell you what Matt said....he thought we changed it for a different reason...a loving reason ;)]

This past weekend I drove to Lubbock to pick up Madilyn and sent my love to Matt.  On the way back home to Dallas, I sent it again.

Although, my favorite part of this message is that Matt asked about a Pitbull concert!  My husband adores Pitbull. (Weird, right?  My forty-two year old, born and bred, small-town Texan thinks that Pitbull is da man!) Matt had traveled to California for work Monday morning and his first message to me once he arrived was about a Pitbull concert!  I guess we're going to see "Mr. Worldwide" in October!  Ah, I love you honey. 

Two Years!

       Yesterday, Matt and I celebrated our second anniversary in what some might consider a rather lackluster commemoration of the big day.  We, however, thought the day was perfect in all its quirkiness and practicality. 
       The day began the day before, on June 4th, with a phone call to the Overton Hotel to cancel our reservation.  Sweet Matt had booked a suite for us, but when he told me about the surprise I suggested that we cancel.  I reasoned we should save our money for our upcoming vacation with the children to Disney World, and instead of leaving for the night we could spend our special day with them.  Having no qualms with my decision, he happily canceled.  Later on in the day, just before bedtime, he said he needed to run to the store to grab something.  I knew that was code for "buy an anniversary card so that I have it for Marsi in the morning."
     Now some women might be offended by this last minute purchase, but I didn't mind because I hadn't bought him a card.  In fact, I went to the store with him!  So there we were, standing in the card aisle at United picking out the perfect card for one another.  Matt seemed more upset by the situation than I, saying that our apathetic action was an bad omen for things to come, but I disagreed.
     "Listen, we like to have original moments, don't we?  This is unique to us and we'll always remember this anniversary, above all others, the one where we stood side by side to pick out our cards for one another."  I explained, but he still seemed unconvinced.  I knew I must appeal to his practical side and remain excited.  
     "I found yours!  It's perfect!" I enthusiastically announced.
     With that, he selected the envelope to the one he was reading, placed the card inside, and returned my sentiment.
     "Let's exchange here, then we don't have to buy them!" I emphatically stated.
     "RH-EALLY?" he said, looking around to see if anyone was watching.  Though cautious, I knew he liked the idea of saving money.   When he was sure the coast was clear, we gave each other the card we had chosen.
     He had decided on card that beautifully described our relationship and I had chosen one about his fine qualities as a husband.
     After we read them I said, "Okay, now tell me what you would have written inside."   Matt thought for a moment before offering up the most encouraging, appreciative words that made my heart smile.  On my turn, I attempted a poetic rendition portraying my undying love, but poetry isn't birthed inside a supermarket; thus I turned to prose.  I described how he is the most giving and unselfish man, who possesses patience and kindness, and I thanked him for being such a strong and successful provider for our family.  I felt more love for him in that moment, than one in which I would have simply opened and read a card.  This was authentic, this was a first, and this was us.  We hugged, put the cards back, and hurried off to the bread aisle.

        And what did we do on the big day?   Matt worked but took a break to have brunch with me at IHOP.  Yes, IHOP.  It's what we wanted.  For dinner I made spaghetti, and we sipped Merlot.  The children ran screaming from the dining room when we stood to dance in the kitchen to our song,  "She's Everything" by Brad Paisley.  He kissed me when the song ended, and with that kiss our perfectly practical anniversary concluded.

Truly,
Cinderella