To un-depress myself after yesterday's CRAPACIOUS day, I'll yap about what I did on Thursday.
It was our 14th wedding anniversary. I had no idea what to get for the Dear Husband since he goes out and buys stuff for himself all the time, so around Monday or so I decided to do something that the poor boy never gets: dinner cooked at home. I decided to add to the fun by dressing up like a housewife, too.
Luckily I found a site that loves all things vintage, The Fedora Lounge. I stumbled upon it while I was trying to find a way to pull off the whole Nurse Ratchett hairdo for Halloween. There I researched the best way to do my hair. This is what happens when I do pincurls:
Holy crap do I look old! I'm asking for botox for my birthday!
I then had to figure out what exactly I was going to cook. It's not that I can't cook, I'm just horribly inexperienced. I happened to have a cookbook at home, and after thumbing through it about a hundred times, decided on chicken cacciatore. I've never had chicken cacciatore before in my life, but I wasn't going to let that stop me, and it looked fairly easy.
I did the smart thing and did a quick search on the internet about chicken cacciatore, and before I even started I found vays to customize the recipe I had so that it would rock out loud. Of course, with Italian cooking it's easy...when in doubt, just add more garlic.
When the DH left for work, he mentioned something about going for sushi for dinner. I acted noncommittal and told him to call me before he came home. As soon as he left, I sprang into action.
I went for a beach skate to get my exercise for the day out of the way. Then I sat around and goofed off on the internet, then went shopping for foodstuffs.
After setting my hair, I got to cooking. Did dessert first(an apple crisp thing that was merely an excuse to get ice cream to put on top of it). Then started on the main course.
I mentioned the part where the DH was supposed to call before he came home, right? Well, he didn't.
I hadn't even started on the pasta portion of dinner when I heard his motorcycle roar up the driveway. Dammit. I ran off to get my shoes(high heels, no less) while he put the bike away. I step back into the kitchen to check on the food, and I see the DH staring at me from the garage, looking in through the kitchen window. He looked...confused.
But I guess that isn't surprising when he sees THIS in his kitchen:
I handed him a Cosmopolitan when he got inside(which I have been told by the derby's art department that Cosmos are totally gay drinks. I don't agree, and it's my house, my anniversary, so there!) and got back to finishing cooking. The DH HAD to get a photo:
And finally, dinner is served:
Yes, we sat at the dining table like grownups and everything!
The DH claimed that he liked it. Of course, if he didn't, he would've faced dire consequences!
There, blogging about this has cheered me up. It doesn't hurt that I've been watching the WFTDA Nationals on the internet and have been almost keeping up with what's going on with that. Wish I was there, but that's OK.