It's getting warmer. At least here in Cincinnati, Ohio it is. See, about this time of year, we'll have these random warm, sunlit days. So warm that you'll have to pull the blinds midday because the sun is so strong and you aren't used to it. Yesterday was one of those days.
During the summer, my husband and I tend to eat dinner really late. Like about 9 or 10 pm. The sun is long gone, it's slightly chilled in the air and we can use the oven with the back door wide open. By the time we go to bed, usually about midnight, our tummies are full and the house is well-lived in.
My husband made spaghetti and meatballs with a side (just kidding, several sides) of Chianti. The kitchen window was open the whole time and the back door was too. Our dog Hairy laid on a very worn, and very plush dog bed in a corner of the kitchen the whole time. I tell you, it's nice having a great puppy dog at the end of the kitchen napping while you cook.
I sat at our butcher block table/island with a legal pad and pen. This was my time to go through notes from the week and tie up a few loose ends. It's also the time when I can catch my husband at one of his most creative times.
He'll tell you that he hates when I ask him questions while he cooks. But I'll tell you that this is prime time for that. See, while he's cooking, he's in one place. He can't get distracted and leave the room. He focusing on one thing; the methodical methods of preparing a meal but yet part of his mind is available for creativity.
What have you come up with on that pricing strategy for the boutique? I'll ask.
How do you think we should package these items? I question.
While our conversation may not interest you, dear reader, the point is that those late night dinners are not only productive for me, they are some of the most special times in my marriage that I treasure. They are, if you will, a time when I can really take advantage of all the little quirks I know about my husband. Quirks that only I know.
Late night dinners are fabulous.