Love is patient. Love is blind. Love is knowing when to bust out the old
rolling pin chilled wine bottle and flatten some cookie dough. Love is rummaging to find a makeshift cookie cutter out of a Mason jar lid because cut-outs are more labor intensive (i.e. special-occasiony) than drops. Love is going the extra mile by dying the dough and speckling the sugar even if cookies taste fine without color. Love is treating him to cookies made with real cream cheese even when you know good and well Neufchâtel has a third less fat. Love is about compromise; buying 1% instead of skim, resisting the urge to sneak in more ground oats in place of flour, and replacing just half the sugar with Splenda instead of all (even though it’s your first time baking with it and you’ve been dying to sample a finished product.) Love is leaving well enough alone by not swapping out half of the oil for applesauce if that’s the way he likes his cookies. Love is abstaining from your little cooking experiments long enough to make him a decent dessert. Love is letting him lick the beaters. Love is saving him the cutout scraps. Love is stocking up on his favorite processed meat when they’re Ten-for-Ten at Kroger (even though you just ran in for red food coloring) so that he can add pepperoni to his pizzas, calzones, and omelets at a fraction of the cost. Love is being deep in thought, writing, about those you care about most, but snapping out of it briefly for a Subway-5-dollar-foot-long commercial dance duet. Love is renewing your vows (resigning your lease) on Valentine’s Day and promising to not kill each other for another year. Love is doing the dishes (and remembering not to submerge the “Airbake” cookie sheet in water) while your girlfriend is in the shower. Love is publishing to LifesLemons before you hit the shower, telling him to read it while you’re in, and hoping that he knows you meant every word (especially about the “Airbake.”)
Happy Valentine’s Day Hounie…can’t believe it’s almost been half a decade.