Honey, can I help?

On most days, there is nothing I'd like more than to hear Chad say, "Honey, can I help with dinner?" However, the other night I had about 9 minutes left on the elliptical and about 10 minutes of crunches. I knew dinner wasn't going to take long to fix, so I just said, "No honey, it's fine. I'll start on it when I'm done." And yes we do always call each other honey. I blame our parents- they do it too.

Anyway, for some unknown reason - Chad was really jazzed to begin dinner. Sheesh - it was only like 5:45. Perhaps it's because he knew I was making Pioneer Woman's 'Marlboro Man's Favorite Sandwich.' He was pumped to be getting a "man dinner" because I usually stay far away from meat. I can't help it. Pasta + veggies are all I need in my life. Unfortunately, Chad was raised with a good Southern mama - and his dinners usually included a meat, a starch and two types of veggies. It makes it fun when I go to the in-laws for dinner because I get to fill up on the side dishes (the woman makes a mean butterbean). Once she learned that I'm not the biggest meat eater, she began making dinners of salad and baked potatoes - just for me. Chad is bitter and insists she NEVER used to do that, but she likes to make me happy. I really do adore my mother-in-law... love her like my own Mama.

Okay focus Caroline - meat. Yes, the man likes his meat. We have a guy in our Bible study group that has a coworker nicknamed "Bacon." Chad LOVES that. He asked me to give him a pork nickname. So sometimes when I'm extra-loving, I'll call him "Porkchop." He likes that.

So back to meat sandwich. Chad was determined to start dinner. I give him a simple task - I ask him to slice the onion into strips. He asked how to do that - so while on the elliptical I'm trying to demonstrate that you cut off both ends, cut it down the middle, put the flat side down, and just slice it through. Harder to type - but I promise I was doing the hand gestures and everything. So Chad goes into the kitchen to Iron Chef those onions.

He finished slicing his onions, and goes to get the Pioneer Woman website up on the computer so I could follow the directions for the rest of the recipe. He screams from the kitchen, "Oh no! I did the onions wrong." I can't help it - I am laughing while I'm typing this. He walks over to my mat and holds up an onion slice that looks like one of those petals from an Outback Bloomin' Onion. I don't even know how he did it! I don't think I could carve onion petals if I tried! It was like masterfully cut - just not the way I told him to do it. Bless his heart. He does try so hard.

So I gave up on my crunches. He was obviously desperate for a sandwich and tears of frustration (or probably onion cutting) were in his eyes.

Regardless, an onion slice is an onion slice - it didn't make a lick of difference. I sliced the onion petal-like slices length wise to make them a bit thinner. We proceeded to finish the recipe - minus him fussing at me for trying to cut the amount of butter in the recipe. I succeed, by the way.

The sandwich turned out great - not exactly my cup of tea but Chad was in heaven. He brought leftovers to work and showed some of his coworkers the Pioneer Woman website so they could make their own!

A day in the life, I'll tell ya...

A haiku moral of the story:
If man wants to help
Onions will be cut his way
That's okay with me