weekends in socorro aren't nearly as bad when carmelita and steve are here. actually, as much as i love carmen, i think the real difference is having ol' captain wasson back.
steve tends to fix things while he's here. and he cleans, too. it's really nice living in a house with clean things that work. plus, he's always hanging out in the living room, so carmen and i are less likely to go sit alone in our respective rooms and opt instead to all be together. and this is his house. it has been for a long time. when he's not here, something always seems a little off.
and, of course, we eat a lot better when steve is here, too. have to mention that. if those two had been in albuquerque this weekend, i probably would have ended up making up my own ramen noodle invention (my latest is "lemon-pepper chicken"). but tonight steve made us greek chicken with rice and cheese and broccoli, and even made up some dr. suess-ish rhyme to go with it. i'm a sucker for dr. suess.
over this delightfully not-ramen meal, we got into a conversation about cooking and being married. steve was telling me that it's been interesting, because neither he or carmen are big on cooking (which you'd never guess from reading the previous paragraph, right?), and neither of them really has time to learn.
in my family, my dad cooks. that's good, because he's great at it. my mom does not cook. in fact, if my dad is out of town, my mom settles for her disgusting carbless food and we poor hungry children have to fend for ourselves.
okay, it's not that bad. we're old enough to make our own food. my sister and i can each make about four dishes really well. but the real gem is my brother. he can put food together and make something truly awesome. if he has all the ingredients. and if he's not working at the restaurant. and if you can get him to actually do something besides edit pictures of my little brother so he looks like he's dueling the neighbor kid with a lightsaber (which, admittedly, he's also very good at).
and wouldn't you know it, my granddad is also an excellent cook. to tell you the truth, a lot of his food is exotic and tends to freak me out, but my family brags about him.
seeing a pattern?
okay, so the men in my family cook. i think i need to marry a guy who can definitely hold his own against this crowd. and he needs to be a good cook for his own sake, so the poor guy doesn't end up eating lemon-pepper chicken ramen four nights a week.
marriage criteria # 11- must be a good cook.
wondering what the first ten are? well, that's another story. :)