As long as you switch out the side dishes you can call it a whole new meal, no?

I'm in the process of scanning some of our old photos and since Valentine's Day is approaching, I thought I'd share a few of them this week if I can make myself get around to it. But that's gonna mean that I have to start my posts before my eyelids start getting that heavy feeling. So, more like around 6ish... I have the bedtime of an eighty year old.

Back before M to the Izz-A had twin peaks (our term of endearment for his receding hairline) and before my unfortunate forehead was given the gracious gift of side bangs, we had our engagement pictures taken on a local beach. Actually, I really love these particular photos because we look so young and clueless carefree. Well, while looking at these photos, I was reminded of our dating days and our first year of marriage.

By the way, I don't think I've ever shared with you all the fact that the boy bought a ring and proposed to me before we had ever mentioned anything about marriage or even brought up the idea spending forever together. Looking back, he must have been nuts. I mean, who in their right mind would do that without having first talked about it or at least mentioned it in conversation with the other person??

In the spirit of honesty, I must tell you that I do know part of the reason he fell for me. It was during our first month of dating when I made that third trip back to the lunch buffet line with him one Sunday after church that he knew I could hang. I guess he assumed that if I liked to eat like that, that I could also cook.

Oh, the folly in assuming, it gets even the best of us at times.

He quickly learned during our first year of marriage that while I did enjoy cooking, my list of recipes was sorely lacking. Although he never mentioned it back then, he now likes to frequently make fun of the fact that I cooked pork chops five out of seven days a week. I can't even defend myself with that one. I mean, what? I like pork chops and so I cooked them often. I baked them, fried them, George Foreman grilled them and mixed them into any casserole I could think of. They were my safety meat of choice if you will, because I wasn't yet comfortable with making fancy roasts or anything else for that matter. I figured that as long as I changed out my cooking method (Monday-fried, Tuesday-baked, Wednesday-grilled, Thursday-fried again, Friday - he better take me out to eat for pulling such pork chopping stunts) and as long as I changed out my sides, it was a whole new meal. Kind of like when you wear that same favorite shirt all the time but change out your jewelry, it's a whole new outfit. They're called staple items people, embrace them.

Well, I'm happy to say that I've made definite gains in the cooking department and I honestly cannot remember the last time I made pork chops. I do still love them, but obviously I tend to get on kicks, and right now I'm on a crock pot kick....what a wonderful invention! I'm gonna send a Valentine to whoever invented it and I hope mine makes it to them before Matt's does.