Brooke | And 2 Makes Crazy

Of course I have a job. It’s called Facebook. And Blogger.

I mean, daily I empower thousands of people with my written word. I am, after all, a renowned journalist, no?

Okay. So what I really meant was that near-daily I impact hundreds with words that I thoughtfully type on my computer. After all, I am a brilliant philosopher and professional mother, right?

No.

So, what I meant to say is that every once in a while I randomly pick letters on a keyboard that make words that make sometimes coherent sentences that run together to put simple thoughts onto a blog that impacts 10s of people, eh?

Right on, Brookie baby! Right on.

See. I told you I have a job.

What’s that?

Who are these people?

Why, that’s my hottie husband and my three wee ones.

What’s that?

No. They are not my job.

They are my life.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have a job to do. After all, I haven’t finished “Liking” what everyone ate for breakfast yet this morning on Facebook 😉

“I will do anything for love…”

Richard and I had barely started dating the month before. So, to this point, our relationship included awkward conversations, competitive tennis matches, fumbling kisses, basketball games of P-I-G, and getting to know one another.

And then that big red day hit—Valentine’s!

My husband is a total romantic. How he ever asked out such a tomboy, I’ll never fully understand. Perhaps I once did my hair? And my makeup? Perhaps I once DIDN’T wear sweats? Who knows. It’s all foggy to me.

Due to his romantic nature, I should have expected him to do something phenomenal for Cupid’s Day.

And he did.

A beautiful setting, under a gazebo, near a small creek. Flowers. Balloons. Rich in a suit. China place settings. And raw chicken?

Raw chicken?!

A million thoughts were swirling through my mind.

First and foremost—oh no!

You see, my husband’s family is full of mega-watt healthy eaters. Like Raw Foodists (not nudists), Vegans, Vegetarians (are there any more categories?).

Yes. I know chickens are not vegetables. But I didn’t know if eating “Raw” chicken was a new way to “Go Green” (on your plate). You see, I am a meat and potatoes (meaning—hamburger and french fries with an XL Coke, please) type of gal. And I really evaluated, mentally, “How much do I like this guy? Enough to eat one small piece of raw chicken?”

Seriously…Eating raw chicken literally crossed my mind.

Crazy?

Perhaps in love???

Back to the chicken.

So, as my “date” was serving up the food—all of it raw vegetables (again—family of raw food eaters), he got to the chicken. That’s when he asked, “How much chicken do you want?”

And I gulped, said a silent prayer, and also made a mental note to myself, “Remember, Brooke, if you get salmonella poisoning, let the ER know immediately that you ate raw chicken…All for a man.”

Then I looked up into his green and sparkling eyes, his bright and beautiful smile, and I said it, “One, please?!”

Slip. Slide. Raw chicken meat now on my plate.

Gulp. Sigh.

“I will do anything for love…???”

He sat down across from me—so happy and proud. And we held hands while he prayed.

Well, at least I think he was praying because I was busy in my own mind hollering, “Dear Lord God—save me from salmonella. I know I am foolish to eat raw chicken, but I REALLY like this guy. He went to all of this work for this beautiful Valentine’s dinner. SAVE ME, LORD!”

I think I heard an “Amen”. So I looked up and smiled sweetly (probably batting a few eyelashes as well).

Where do I start? Perhaps I can nibble on a raw carrot while I see HOW he eats his chicken? Perhaps I can eat all of my raw veggies, requesting more, and then “filling” up on raw veggies and discreetly toss my raw chicken over my shoulder when he isn’t looking? Perhaps I can…

Wait. What’s that? What is he doing…

He’s pulling out a lighter.

He just lit something on fire.

And then I noticed something on the table that SHOULD HAVE been quite obvious before.

A fondue pot.

Slap my head and call me insane. I was about to eat raw chicken. For a man. On Valentine’s Day.

I remember being in a Tom Sawyer play as a 5th grader, and one of Tom’s lines was, “I’ve been such a fool, Becky. Such a fool.”

Well, I think that I can officially rephrase those lines today, “I was nearly such a fool, World. Such a fool!”

A fool for love…

“I would do anything for love…even eat raw meat!”

And fly in small tarp planes with new pilots.