Ain't nothing Like a man who can COOK!

One thing I will always love:

One thing I know for sure...

T'ain't nothing like a man that can COOK!!

A few weeks ago, my work computer crashed.

(I know this may seem like a hard left turn in topic, but just bare with me...)

The IT chick showed up and said she didn't have time to get to it. She and I walked down to the IT room and she assigned me a bootleg laptop computer. I joked with the other IT chick, asking, as I have done for years and years, if my new fancy computer with television capabilities had come in yet. I clutched my mini-laptop in my arms and headed back upstairs to my desk.

I was not happy with this. I wanted my computer. So, I locked up the laptop and went and sat at the empty computer next to Hen-Dog. His cubicle mate was out of town for the week on training.

It was peaceful, sitting next to that dude. Made me realize that me and my cubicle Cowgirl Cre are typical womens (we yack, yack, YACK.) Hen-Dog was pretty quiet. (Maybe he wasn't, since I usually have my earphones on while I do paperwork).

There was no tapping on the shoulder, shaking of chairs to get one's attention, none of that... Although Cowgirl Cre did clock me in the head a couple of time with expertly hurled pieces of peppermint candy to get my attention. (I'ma get you back for that, Cre).

But one day, while tirelessly crunching data, I noticed MUCH commotion all about me in my peripheral vision. I wouldn't have really noticed this from my normal cubicle. I was in the middle of the cubicle spaces instead of at the back (where I like to be).

People were getting up, rushing to the cabinet where we keep our spare plastic dinnerware and plates.

Then I smelled cinnamon...

I turned around, and one of my favorite chemists, "T-Luv", was standing in the midst of us with a loaf of fresh cinnamon raisin bread.

"What's that, boy?" I asked.
"Some bread I made!"

I thought he was lying. I thought his wife had made it. But that probably wasn't the case. He had it in one of those resealable plastic bags. A woman would've placed it on a beautiful plate and included a real butter knife for cutting. LOL

He and Hen-Dog exchanged a few words. Turns out Hen had had some before, and requested a loaf.

Now, even though it smelled good, I was still suspect. I grabbed the bag containing the loaf (after people had cut off their peices) and held it in my hand.

It was heavy. It was REAL bread.

Now, I was not hungry, as I had just eaten lunch, but I decided to cut a sliver and test the product. It melted in my mouth. It was the best cinnamon raisin nut bread I'd ever tasted.

"That is good, T-Luv. I can taste the ginger and the nutneg all up in that, boy."

Dr. Sunshine, one of my fellow docs, had come out from around the corner with her plate. "I heated mines up, girl!"

"I don't need no heat," I said.

I squinted hard at T-Luv. I took another bite. "You sure you made this? Or did your wife make it?"

"Yeah, I made this." He frowned. He stomped the ground hard with his Air Jordan clad feet. "I put my feet into it."

He made a move with his elbow like he had an imaginary person in a headlock, and stomped the floor a couple more times. "I put my elbow in that bread, Sweetie!"

*LadyLee steps back and braces herself, as she recognizes T-Luv is getting a bit too excited*

I decided to believe him. He was passionate about that bread.

And, he's always the man in control of the Egg station during the holiday brunches we have downstairs in the conference room every Christmas. He does scramble eggs PERFECTLY.

Hmmm...

Made me appreciate him more...

Cuz t'ain't nothing like a man that can cook.

Made me reminescene on my men in the past who could cook. Most could barely cook something remotely basic, and they even needed work on those things. The ex-hubby could cook very well, but it took him a LONG time. Dinner would be ready at 10 or 11 o'clock at night. That was much too late to eat, but I ate (didn't want to offend him, you know.)

Anyway, the loaf of bread stayed in our cubicle area all day, in the middle section between me and Hen-Dog. No, I didn't have any more. But I would hear the plastic rustled every once in a while.




(Hen was not as quiet as I thought he was. LOL.)

Now, if I could only locate a man who can crochet.




Cuz t'ain't nothing like a man who can crochet.

*Lee cheesing REALLY REALLY hard*

To be continued sometime soon.