My Plans for Friday Night (tonight)

I am giddy that it is Friday: A REAL Friday.
In the past Fridays have seemed more like Sundays for me. Fake Fridays. 'Mind-fuck Frydees', as Mama used to call them.
"OH Friday" I always said, "You seem like SUNDAY."

Being a wedding photographer means that Saturday is work day (WEDDINGS ARE ALWAYS SO HAPPY AND WONDERFUL, LA LA LA), making Friday the prepare-and-feel-stressed-and-refrain-from-going-out-late-or-drinking-too-much day (aka: Sunday).

However, I now find myself bound in holy matrimony to a person (he's a man, I'm sick of playing the pronoun game with you) with a job requiring "traditional hours."

Watching him in his normal routine has been like my very own wildlife channel -- a private channel to observe his bizarre, foreign behaviors.
Behaviors like setting his alarm for 6am, only to then use the snooze button for 45 full minutes. Why not just sleep the extra 45 minutes, I think to myself, not mad at all from being woken up every 5 minutes every morning from 6am-6:45am.
Why, I'm a non-traditional job holder, I realize. I couldn't possibly understand. You know nothing, Jon Snow.

My man works hard, often coming home much too late, bleary eyed and so exhausted that he cannot remove his suit and tie without some help (he is SO sexist - also the new JT album is fantastic). Sometimes we attempt some conversation in this strange, pre-collapse twilight.

"How was your day?" he might ask, "What did you do?" Rude.

I might respond, "Nothing. It's Tuesday. What did YOU do?"

He might then tell me he is SO glad to be home and to see me, and give me a giant hug and pull me into a perfect French kiss (get it?), and then say with a sigh, "I worked. All day."

So sexist, right? I mean, how does he think his working so hard affects ME in my non-working state?! I can't believe him.
He obviously has a lot of growing up to do.

Despite his endless selfishness, I forgive him, and am giddy that it is a real Friday.  Friday means two full days with my (rude) man... and of not waking up every five minutes from 6am-6:45.

The plan for the night involves extremely comfortable lingerie (it's for ME you perv, stop imagining Arnaud in lingerie... but seriously, I know it's hard to stop), dinner about 50 feet from our front door, here (the tag line makes me laugh: So Tasty So Italian), followed by Arnaud making me my new favorite dessert.

He should never have revealed to me that he could make it.  He calls it, Chocolat Banane Vodka Yum

Chocolat Banane Vodka Yum
All you need to make this recipe is:
1 French husband
3 bananas (which I normally hate in desserts)
Chocolate
Vodka (which I normally love in everything)
An oven

Directions: Tell the French husband you are dying for his special dessert, and wait 30 minutes.

MMMM, yummy!  So easy!  

Comments

[Ploughyourownfurrow.wordpress.com]

I can only imagine what would happen if I told John I was dying for his special dessert! Yay for Fridays!!! Love you, miss you and all your non-traditionalness.

[Charis Brice]

Hahaa - you should try it and find out...
I miss you too!!