Day 1: The Way to a Man's Heart

"There is one thing more exasperating than a wife who can cook and won't and that's a wife who can't cook and will." Robert Frost

Contrary to popular belief, having the last name Kitchen does not automatically make you a fabulous cook. I've tried my hand at cooking in the past, and haven't always had the best results. For example, one time I made brownies. They looked incredible, they smelled like heaven, but they tasted like garbage. How did I pull off that amazing feat, you ask? I accidentally substituted meat grease for vegetable oil. In my defense, the grease was in an oil bottle and I had poor eyesight. When you can't see the meat particles floating in the grease, it looks exactly like oil. Seriously.

Anyway, I decided that step one to becoming more "marriageable" is to become an excellent cook. I had the fixings for taco salad so I went for it. Before you judge me and say that cooking taco salad is not really cooking, I want you to know I seasoned the meat myself and I made my own tortilla chips out of corn tortillas...impressed? That's what I thought.

So there I was, cooking away. I sauteed the onions, diced the tomatoes and avocados, browned the meat to perfection, adding just the right amount of seasoning. The chips were coming out crisp and salty. I was listening to Eric Hutchinson and dancing around the kitchen like a fool. And I thought to myself, if a man walked into this kitchen right now, he'd be enchanted with me.

Then there was a knock at the door...

My attractive neighbor had come over to drop something off. I couldn't believe my luck, it must have been fate. As my sister opened the door and invited him in, I got ready to graciously invite him to dinner. And then I smelled smoke. I checked the meat, and it looked fine, so I kept chopping and stirring, looking like the charming chef I was. Right as Hot Neighbor came around the corner into the kitchen I opened the oven door to pull out the chips, which happened to be on fire. I started screaming "Fire! Fire!" and threw the chips into the sink. Then, sweaty and smoky but still wonderfully composed, I turned to Hot Neighbor and invited him to dinner.

My cooking skills weren't as impressive as I thought they'd be, but my fire extinguishing skills obviously were. At least enough to make him stay for dinner. Cooking will have to be an ongoing project.