My husband adores chopped liver. I inherited his grandmother's recipe, and once or twice a year I set aside my visceral dislike of that particular organ meat, and make him a batch.
I'm prepping a turkey for the Super Bowl*, so I had some liver on hand. Might as well get to work...
I finally diced the hard boiled egg while the liver cooked. I added some salt and pepper... it was coming together.
And then I realized that I'd overcooked the liver.
And then I remembered that spouse only likes chicken liver, not turkey liver.
All things considered, I may have just spent twenty minutes making a treat for the dog.
The famous letter to the Corinthians goes on and on with the many things love is. Here's my Friday night version.
Love can be less than pretty.
Love is compromise.
Love is making things work, even when things aren't perfect.
Love is at least taking a taste, knowing that it might not be exactly what you were hoping for.
Love is sharing a treat with the dog.
*For supper. Not special teams.