I never told you about the time my ex-husband came home from work to say, “Hmmmm, something smells gooood, what are we having tonight?”
Watching him looking at the blue granite roasting pot on top of the stove with the most wistful expression on his face was one of the better highlights in my failed marriage of twelve years.

“What time we gonna eat?”

“In about an hour.”

“Damn, that smells so good, can’t I just taste it?”

“Sure! But it’s hot as hell.”

“I love your cooking, honey; I can’t wait!”, as he rustles through his underwear drawer.

“Where’s my shorts? All my shorts are gone!”

“Hey, I’ve cooled this off enough for you to have a taste.”

I know women don’t boil their whites in a pot full of Clorox anymore, but do it just one time and you’ll remember it forever.