An Ode to Wifery
The other night I decided to make one of our favorite dinners.
Grilled Chicken Pesto Pizza.
Easy. Simple. Done.
I could make it with one hand tied behind my back.
Blindfolded. Earplugs. It's a gift, really.
The summer I grew 4 inches ruined me for all eternity.
I tripped and dropped the jar of pesto.
No worries. I salvaged about 99% of it.
Out of the broken jar. Onto the dough. Into the oven.
My street-smarts weren't quite up to par that day.
Two hours later, we were crunching on some pizza.
Literally. Crunching. Tiny. Glass. Shards.
I can barely keep a plant alive.
Now, I'm barely keeping my husband alive.
Oh. Woe is me.
Happy Kitchen Adventures to you (and me)!