The names of my cookbooks say it all. With titles like, 1001 Short, Easy, Recipes and So-Easy Slow Cooker, it isn’t hard to see that my talents aren’t typically showcased in the kitchen. My worst fear came last spring when my soon-to-be sister in-law (who, by the way, knows how to roast a turkey) had a bridal shower, complete with blank recipe cards. It would have been embarrassing to share all I know about chicken strips, so I instead gave her a recipe for BBQ sandwiches. It just occurred to me while typing this, that my brother-in-law and eater of the said recipes, doesn’t even like BBQ.
My domestic instincts follow me all over the house. Just this week, while going the extra mile on our laundry, I melted the bedspread. I have spent much of my free time scraping it’s remains from the back of the dryer with an X-acto knife.
All I’m saying, is that I better get it together. I’m hoping to have fifty-some more years of this wife business, and I’m not showing much promise. Growing up, if we complained about what was for supper, my mom would say, “Fire me.” Rather than putting that one on the table for consideration, I better check into something from Don’t Panic — Dinner’s in the Freezer.