Keeping things hot

This post is rated G, I promise

Neither Chad nor I are big V-Day celebrators. I have been single nearly ever February 14 of my life and Chad sort of tends to push back against traditional ideas of romance.

Except when he proposed. He knocked that one out of the park. Man, I’m a lucky girl.

Anyway, we had discussed not celebrating and decided not to buy gifts. We planned on steak for dinner (not that special for us, really – we are both total carnivores) and called it good.

But the day started out special when the alarm went off at 6 AM and Chad turned it off and said “let’s skip the gym and snuggle.” Well, duh.

Then, we found out about iloveinomaha.com.

Aw. The only thing sweeter would have been if I was wearing my I live in Omaha shirt in that picture.

I came home to steaks ready to go on the grill, some yummy wine and, wait for it, dark chocolate covered pretzels. Ah! I die. LOVE those things. And him.

I made berry parfaits for dessert. Fresh strawberries + frozen blueberries and raspberries layered with cream cheese + vanilla greek yogurt = yummy and safe. I say safe because I am a total chicken when it comes to baking. Not even joking. I make brownies out of a box, and I can rock a “hot dish” like a Mennonite Girl Who Can Cook, but when it comes to ingredients with actual chemistry, like baking powder and soda and yeast…yikes. No thanks.

Thus, the parfaits. I did, however, buy some pie crust to make little hearts to stick in the top of the parfaits. Cause I’m cute like that.

Cutting them free hand was not my smartest idea ever, nor was leaving them to cool on a few paper towels on the stove. I’ve done that a million times, but I never will again. I bumped the burner dial with my hip and lit the whole darn thing on fire.

I pulled the hearts off the paper towels – priorities, people – then screamed for Chad, then did the only thing I could think of and put the pot lid on top of the burning paper towel. Good idea, except there was oxygen flowing in from the bottom and it didn’t put out the flames. Chad took care of it with a couple glass of water (my fireman is sexy) and the whole thing was over in a minute. The stove cleaned up fine but the kitchen still smelled like smoke a little this morning. Life goes on and I’m smarter for it.

And he loves me still.

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