dancing in the minefields: the cheese to my macaroni.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

the cheese to my macaroni.

Anyone who knows me well, knows my strange and complete obsession with macaroni and cheese. It stems, I believe, from my time as an only child after both of my sisters moved out. By that point, mom didn't want to cook anymore--so she didn't. Several--I can't emphasize that word enough--nights were spent at Wendy's. And on those other nights, I often fended for myself; most times in the form of some good ole Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. That is one item I will not skimp on in the grocery store. Kraft all the way.

Macaroni is still my fallback option for meals. On nights that Hunter and I do our own thing, I often resort to the mac. Days when I'm home to eat lunch (which is every day now), I often resort to the mac. Hunter even told me the other day that I was "like a mouse in the kitchen, and my presence really couldn't be noticed. You're like, 'Oh, let me just boil some noodles and I'll be good.'" It's also my major comfort food. It always makes me feel a little more like me. I just love my mac n cheese.

Now, the point to all that jabber you ask? Hunter, my loving, adorable, hilarious, caring, handsome, proud, hard-working, determined, stubborn, goober of a husband, is the cheese to my macaroni. He is my safety net on which I can always fall. He is the key ingredient to my life. He's my absolute comfort. And I really just don't know what I'd do without him.

So here, on Valentine's Day, the day that the world takes a minute to think a little more about who they love (sadly, it's often with cheap impersonal trinkets...), I'll join in the hulabaloo with a tribute to my cheesy compadre.