Yesterday marked our four year anniversary and we’re all just as silly as ever.
While Andrew was at school Karen made a banana cake—which was really just banana bread in a cake pan since we don’t have any loaf pans. He came home and hurriedly wolfed down his dinner before deserting us in favour of homework (the semester is over now, so hopefully that won’t happen again for a while).
“Oh, but there’s cake!” I said.
Andrew peeled off the tin foil covering the pan and peered inside.
“What kind?” he asked.
Karen and I looked at each other. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up.
“It’s cucumber cake,” I told him sweetly, “But you should try it!”
Andrew made a face.
“No, really. It sounded like a good recipe and we had all those cucumbers in the drawer that needed to be used up so we went ahead and tried it.”
“That is so gross.”
“You only have to have a little piece. It would be rude not to try it.”
Andrew went back to his computer.
“If you Google ‘cucumber cake’ you’ll find the recipe that your mom used.”
Obediently Andrew typed ‘cucumber cake’ into the search engine. Much to my surprise a bunch of recipes and pictures popped up—I hadn’t been expecting many results for that search.
“Yeah, doesn’t that look good?” I asked.
“Come and try it,” Karen said.
“Either you cut your piece or I cut you a piece and you just might not like the size of piece I cut for you,” I said with authority.
Andrew sighed and cut himself a piece of stingy proportions.
“Wow, what a big piece!” Karen and I said with much sarcasm.
Andrew cut that piece in half and popped it in his mouth. He gagged and made a face. At that point I was quite positive he was joking.
“So, what does it taste like?” we asked.
“Cucumbers,” Andrew bellyached.
We burst out laughing.
“It’s banana bread!”
I swear he ended up eating half the pan…silly guy.
We went out to dinner for our anniversary—at La Sombra, of course, in spite of what spicy food does to poor Miriam’s tum-tum—and ended up walking home. While we were walking Andrew told me of the dream that he had that he thought could possibly come true.
“I dreamt that there was a young married couple at BYU-Idaho that was thinking about coming out here to go to AUC. And they emailed the Spencers and the Spencers emailed you and then you emailed them.”
“Andrew, that wasn’t a dream.”
“No. I told you that last night right before we went to bed. That actually happened.”
“Oh. I’m tired.”
Me, too. I don’t know what it is but I feel like it’s constantly 4 AM. It feels like 4 AM at 4 AM and it feels like 4 AM at noon and it feels like 4 AM at 8 PM. It just always feels like 4 AM. I’ve been making Freudian slips and metathesizing things left and right.
We went shopping at Carrefour the other day, and something wasn’t going our way. So what did I say?
“We’ve been bushswackled!”
It must be hereditary or something because the other day at lunch Rachel said,
“I want another panswich, sease! Oh! I said panswich but I didn’t meaned to! I meaned to say sandwich!”
Four years of marriage + 2 new family members = daily silliness
The next four will only bring more silliness, I’m sure.