Is it any wonder I love this man?
I cooked and knitted all day yesterday. Made cheese biscuits, onion soup, and stuffed squash. Got a late start putting the actual dinner together, as I took a nap, which I guess I needed. Ray came home about 6:30. The squash wasn't yet done, and he needed to catch up on some work. By the time we got to dinner, it was 7:15. I told him I thought just the homemade soup with a little shredded cheese on top would be enough. He took one look at the biscuits and agreed. When he'd had a few spoonfuls, he announced, "Now this is the perfect dinner for the first day of winter!". Who wouldn't be happy to cook for someone like that?