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Click hereI returned to school a few days before Jeff.
He was finishing his work for the summer. I wanted the chance to show him I could be a domestic asset.
I quickly realized that as far as cleaning our apartment I had little interest in domestic competence, let alone excellence. I hired a cleaning service to get the place in shape.
Food shopping took me almost a day.
I had to plan everything we would need. I stocked up on staples. I filled the freezer. I got carried away with that and had to return the things that wouldn't fit.
I got the canned foods and the boxes, cereal, rice, pasta and all the things that would let us get into the kitchen, make it and be done so we could have time together.
My inexperience may have led me to be a tad unrealistic.
Jeff drove up on Saturday morning. When I heard his car I went to the door to greet him. After a kiss appropriate to our lengthy, three-day, separation he took my hand and headed for the bedroom.
I was too excited about my preparation and led him to the kitchen to show him what I had done.
He looked it over and told me it was wonderful and how easy I had made things for both of us. He gave me a powerful hug.
"You are an amazing woman," he said.
Then he went shopping "just to get a couple things."
He returned five hours later with six bags of groceries and two large guys wheeling in an upright freezer they put in a hallway off the kitchen.
Jeff went with them to their truck and returned with a large pot, a very large pot and a huge pot. He emptied three pounds of dried, red kidney beans into the large pot and covered them with water.
"Are we hosting a convention?" I asked.
"Just cooking ahead."
He put the very large pot on the stove and brought out a bag of onions, a bag of green peppers and a large bunch of celery.
"Gumbo?" I asked. "I thought we were making chili."
"I like the 'we.' Gumbo today, chili tomorrow. What we don't eat …" He gestured toward the freezer then started to peel an onion.
"I don't know how much free time I'm going to have so I may not be able to help much in preparing meals.
"I thought there was a chance you would feel you had to do it to prove you'd make a worthy wife. That would be unfair, so I figured I'd make, hopefully with help, as many meals as I could before the work starts."
I started to protest but didn't even get to start.
"I know we could have packaged stuff," he explained, "though it would taste better than dorm food, but with the exception of last year, I've always had real food. This should be a good three weeks worth of meals.
"When it starts to get cold out we can make cauldrons of soup for even more ready-to-thaw meals. Sam and Mom taught me how to make some amazing soups."
I laughed.
"My busy beaver. Don't you ever do anything like a normal person?"
He shrugged and I had to laugh again. I don't think he was brushing off my question; he genuinely didn't know the answer. I doubted he could pass even a multiple-choice test on what normal people do.
"We could have dinner out or order in, you know," I said. "We're not exactly impoverished."
"I know. I just wanted to be prepared."
"Obsessive," I said.
"Potayto, potahto."
"Let's call the whole thing off," I sang.
Jeff just laughed.
I helped him with the cutting. There were items higher on my priority list than waiting for him to finish by himself.
I made the broth and cut up the chicken. He cut the Andouille sausage and prepared to make the roux.
Suddenly he turned, took me in his arms and kissed me. He kissed all around my neck and moved lower to my chest. Then he stopped.
He moved to the stove to start the roux.
"I just needed a break from cooking." He had a devilish smile.
I started to move toward him.
"Uh, uh," he said. "I don't want to have to start the roux all over."
I would have my chances to get even.
When the chicken gumbo started cooking in the very large pot, I took his hand and led him out of the kitchen.
I said, in a grave voice, "We have something to discuss."
I led him to the bedroom and started kissing him. After a bit, I pushed him down on the bed, got on top of him and resumed kissing.
When our lips finally parted, he said, "I thought we had something to discuss."
"Oh. Did I say discuss? I must have misspoken."
While the gumbo cooked we took care of my highest priority. We took our time so it would cook thoroughly.
Jeff took me out to dinner Saturday night.
The rest of the weekend we spent cooking, freezing, making love and just enjoying being together as though we had no other concerns or responsibilities, which was true until Monday.
Orthodox Jews follow kashrut (the rules of keeping kosher). Conservative Jews may or may not. Reform Jews generally do not. I don't have any sense of Reconstructionist.
I have noticed in the cooking scenes, they are using sausage, which though proper is a pork prduct, yet they are Jewish and under the Jewish law they are forbidden from eating pork or anything that has touched pork
Thanks, you seem back on track, I am enjoying your story. I remain always concerned that it will blow up in their faces, but at the same time I am really enjoying a "nice" romantic story.
No complaint about one-page per day from this bookworm!