We embraced it though. We put on our jeans and the only sweaters that we brought with us. We bought umbrellas, and marched through everything from a drizzle to a downpour, loving that we had our own Rainy Day in Paris.
about a year ago - a day that had a similar first Fall chill in the air. It was a hit, and since then I have made the classic combination several other times.
Last night it tasted better than ever though. Without taking away from the integrity of Deb's wonderful recipe, I improvised a bit. I added sage from our garden when I was roasting the tomatoes.
It was delicious.
I had the same feeling yesterday morning while rapidly folding laundry before heading off to work. All of a sudden the dreaded chore of laundry was fun, because it wasn't his laundry, and it wasn't my laundry, it was our laundry. And I liked seeing our clothes, neatly folded on the bed, together. Last night I realized I wasn't cooking dinner in Peter's house anymore, I was cooking dinner in our house. And serving it at our dinner table. On our plates. And it felt really, really good.
Influenced by Borat and his friend, Bro_Cal, Peter keeps calling me "my wife." (And occasionally, he'll tag on "strong on plow.") While I don't like the visual comparison between Borat's beefy wife and me, I do love being Peter's wife. And being strong on cooking, cleaning, and making my husband happy, makes me very, very happy.