My big kids are home, and I have been baking and cooking while they sleep in until I wake them at 2:00 in the afternoon. This morning when Paul got up at 4:00 (he gets up early to avoid the dealbreaker traffic on his commute, but now can’t break the habit on days he doesn’t go to work), Rob was still awake, and didn’t go to bed until 6:00. I am trying not to be concerned, but that really doesn’t seem right. *forehead fret-lines deepen*
This morning Paul made cinnamon buns, which was delightful, and such a perfect smell to wake up to, and such a nice addition to breakfast before I start on another day of cooking. I want to say all that first, so you know I know what a lovely thing this was, because NEXT I want to tell you that he put raisins in them, which is not the weird thing: the weird thing is that he put raisins in them FOR ME.
Reader, it is tempting to exaggerate here and say that I HATE raisins, or to say “That man has never seen me eat a raisin,” or whatever, and neither of those would be exactly true, but they have the FEEL of truth when what I am trying to convey is how close I came to adding this to the “Evidence of early-onset Alzheimer’s?” list. I WILL eat a raisin, and in fact a couple of decades ago I used to add them deliberately to Grape-Nuts, and I did enjoy that combination; I also used to eat Raisin Bran, so the case against my claim of not liking raisins has weak points. Also, recently I had lunch at Panera and they had an oatmeal-raisin cookie concept to which they had added dried berries, and I chose that on purpose and paid money for it and ate it. But the idea that anyone would ADD RAISINS to something, on purpose, FOR ME, is…extremely odd. I would say my USUAL reaction to “things with raisins in them” is shudder/avoid. I appreciate that other people like/love raisins, and I understand it because there are similar things that I like that other people don’t like, but if you LOVE raisins in cinnamon rolls I do hope you understand that that information is relevant only if you are explaining why Paul added raisins for YOU.
When Paul first told me he had added raisins to the cinnamon buns had not yet revealed that he considered that An Act of Love, I reacted with an incredulous “WHY??” After he explained it was for me, I said “But we both hate raisins in things? Especially WARM raisins?” and he said that HE hated raisins in things but that I was always choosing food that had things in it that he hated. I’m not sure that explanation improved anything.
Well. I ate a cinnamon bun with raisins in it, because it is not possible to wake up to Cinnamon Bun Scent and then not consume cinnamon buns, and it was fine—especially because Paul does not normally cook with raisins (because we both dislike raisins, particularly warm raisins) so he doesn’t know you have to soak them first if you want them to retain moisture during baking, so they were small and shriveled rather than squishy and plump. Which, for someone who dislikes raisins, particularly warm raisins, is a good thing.
I just want to say again, because I think this kind of thing is difficult to explain without inviting misunderstanding, that I am not sharing (1) a story of how I don’t appreciate that I am married to someone who makes homemade cinnamon rolls, or (2) a story of how I don’t appreciate that I am married to someone who tries to do something he’ll think I like (especially nice when it’s something HE doesn’t like), but rather: (3) a story of how surreal it is when the partner of OVER HALF MY LIFE does something such as add raisins to something because he knows how much I love raisins, when I do not in fact even LIKE raisins, and he never sees me eat raisins, and he and I have discussed on multiple occasions how much we dislike raisins (particularly warm raisins).