We had a full weekend planned of time with family and friends, celebrating the 4th. What we didn’t have planned was our water heater kicking the bucket. It was a lovely surprise Saturday morning, as I found a nice sized puddle in our laundry room. Thankfully, I am married to Mr. Fix-It himself, who jumped right in to replace it. Because he’d worked so hard, I decided to make him “brownie cake” (which is a delicious treat his grandma would often make) as a token of our gratitude. His love language is quite possibly baked goods, and mine is letting me make them for you, so it works out nicely.
I have the recipe, handwritten by Ma, that she gave to me when we got married. I love handwritten recipes. Someone keeps telling me I should scan all my recipe cards into the computer, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I know it would be easier to find things, but I don’t care. I love recipe cards. I love holding them with all of their dribbles, smudges, and stains. I love having recipes written by our family friends, grandmothers, great aunts, and moms. I love looking at them and thinking of them taking the time to write it down for us, and how many times they’ve made the recipe for loved ones. I am not sentimental about many things, but I am very much so about handwritten recipe cards. E-mail me a recipe, and I’ll maybe I’ll print it out, or accidentally delete it and ask you to resend it again and again… but write it out for me and I’ll keep it forever.
As if he wasn’t already impressive with his handy man skills, yesterday morning he put new brakes on a buddy’s car. He is either A) just being a good friend, B) trying to get me to make him another treat, C) a true jack of all trades or D) all of the above