Proof I Can Be a Good Wife

And how.

David had a breakfast potluck party this morning.  I made the Lemon Blueberry Poppy Seed bread, which, I believe, first made its debut appearance at Tiff's bridal shower.  (Kel is the one with the memory so she will probably correct me on this.) 

I thought I ought to document the moment.  Just to be fair.  I was afraid the jamba juice incident might have left a bad impression.

You'll notice that I took the picture in the girls' bedroom.  The light is best in there in the morning.  And I wanted good, solid, and also, lovely proof.  There you go.

And now for your reading enjoyment I will give you the conversation that got us to here, along with the interpretation in italics of what was actually said.  Pay attention, it's subtle:

Last night as we were leaving Olivia's concert,

David said casually, "They're having a breakfast potluck for my boss's birthday in the morning.  I think I'm going to pick up some donuts."  (Don't be angry.  Please.  But I need you to make something fabulous.)

So then I said, "When is this potluck?  (Grrr. )

David:  Tomorrow.  (Yikes.  This is already going badly.)

Me:  You need to give me some notice.  (There's a whole unattractive rant here about how I'm just supposed to be able to whip up something wonderful at a moment's notice.  I'll just leave that out.)

David:  I didn't want to add anything to your plate.  (Earlier this week you were positively scary to live with.)

Me:  I guess I could make the lemon poppy seed bread if you go to the store.  (That's true.  I have been hard to live with.  But still.  A little notice.)

David:  I think I'm just going to sleep in.  (Thank you, sweets.)

I know you think I got that last line wrong, but I was dead on, as evidenced by the fact that as soon as we got home, David got out the cookbook, made a mental list, and went to the store.

Now that I reread that, I'm not sure what I just proved.  Just look at the picture.  That part was nice.