Saturday, June 13, 2009


Marty brought home beautiful blackberries Thursday night. Friday I asked him to pick up some vanilla ice cream, "because blackberries need ice cream." And Marty said, "No, blackberries need cobbler." We compromised, I would make the cobbler, he would bring home ice cream to go on top.

I had the cobbler in the oven in about 20 minutes. I then called to tell him what a perfect wife I am. And he laughed. He brought home the ice cream and admired my gorgeous cobbler.

Around 7:30 I took the chicken out of the oven for supper. I turned the oven down to 180. And then I put the cobbler in to warm up. Because it needs to be warm to melt the ice cream and it tastes best warm.

We had supper, I cleaned up the kitchen, and turned off the oven. Then we went into the living room and watched TV. Around 11:30 I remembered the cobbler.

It was still in the oven, no longer warm. The perfect wife forgot the dessert. We ate it at room temperature with the ice cream on top. The ice cream did melt, it just took a little longer,

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