Tonight Richard is doing up one of his amazing dinners. While checking on his turkey, he commented that we had a ways to go as it wasn’t yet registering on the meat thermometer. I asked him if the oven was working. He laughed, yet said that wasn’t funny. This is an inside little joke of ours that goes way back.

You see, when we first started dating (I use the term dating loosely. We were rarely apart.) Richard had decided to cook for me. He was going to do something fancy. I was to show up after work and do nothing but enjoy the meal. I was excited! I had never had a man cook for me before! Of course, I had never been on a date that involved a meal… Anyhoo. So after work I raced home and changed into the tightest t-shirt I owned and threw on some jeans. I made the 50 minute drive over to his place in a nervous state. I had no idea what to expect, and felt kinda bad that he was cooking and going to so much trouble. When I arrived it was a scene I’ll never ever forget.

I knocked on the door. I heard him tell me to come in so I opened the door and looked around. There was Richard, in a tank top and his underwear.

Wait, it’s not like you think… You are so durteh!

He was actually in the kitchen, squatted in front of the oven, and cursing/praying. He stood up and apologized. Apparently he hadn’t yet used the oven much and didn’t realize that it didn’t quite work. It turned on, but didn’t heat up much past 25 degrees. He was at that moment hoping that the oven would heat up. He hadn’t taken the time to finish getting ready because he was so wrecked over the potentially ruined meal. I assured him it was no big deal. We laughed, kinda.. He was still upset (so cute). He ended up asking to borrow an upstairs neighbors oven. It was crazy, yet one of my fondest memories. Sheesh! Can you believe we are heading for year number ten together? That boggles my mind. 

tagged: richard memories oven turkey