Last night while reading in bed, I developed a hankering for sweets: specifically, cookies or cake. Almost enough to get out of bed and make something.
So I said, "Steve, I really want some cake. Or a cookie. Almost enough to get out of bed and make something." Then I added, "Why don't you call the Fattalehs and ask them if they have any cookies at their house."
In very uncharacteristic fashion, my husband picked up his phone and asked, "What's the number?" I told him and he dialed something else and got the wrong number, and then I told him again and he dialed right the second time. He then got David on the phone and asked if they had anything sweet that we could come get because I felt like eating something sweet. Jami the hero always has delicious offerings at her house that she has made and that she is willing to magnanimously share with others, so David the hero said, "We do! We have brownies and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. We'll make you a plate right now." So Stephen the hero who was wearing pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt put on some slippers and got in the car and drove to pick me up a plate of delicious offerings. He brought them home and I meant to take a picture of him in his pajamas coming in the door with a plate full of cookies for me, but, alas, I'm not very good with the photographic documentation of life, so I didn't. Then I proceeded to eat four (4!) of Jami's fabuloso oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, in blatant violation of my No Eating After Nine policy. They hit the spot, bigtime.
And so I honor the heroes in my life who made this special occurrence possible. Steve, you are seriously the best husband. Jami and David, you rock and I'm going to the kitchen right now to make cookies for you to replenish your supply. Mwah!