100 Words on Love, by Joanna Schroeder
I started cooking for Thanksgiving on Wednesday.
Rebekkah and I drank beers and chatted while I accidentally cut twice as much butter than I was supposed to into the flour for pie.
When we looked into the little window at the baking crust, it was a sludge of bubbling grease.
I pulled it out, mixed in more flour, and hoped for the best. What I got was something close to the worst, so we abandoned the idea and converted the materials into cobbler.
I was disappointed. But when my husband came home, he looked at my sad mottled mess of dessert and said, “It’s perfect.”
More love, in 100 Words
Photo: Flickr/Daniella Segura