Yesterday morning I woke up to the sound of a song. My hub often plays music for me to help me wake up, but this particular morning, I was confused. He was playing a song we don’t have on our iPod. And we don’t exactly have English radio stations, so I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. I opened my eyes to see him standing there with a tray of biscuits and fruit. He had made me breakfast and was bringing it to me in bed. He also bought a new song off iTunes and loaded it up to play for me. He knew that it would wake me up. (Smart guy.)

Let me brag on the biscuits now. He has a real talent for these. No, I’m not talking about the kind you pull out of the freezer or the ones you make from a box mix…. my hub makes them from scratch. This involves cutting butter into the dry ingredients with a pastry cutter and mixing to just the right consistency. Mix too much and the batter is smooth, but the end result is tough. Mix too little and there’s pockets of powdery flour in your biscuit. He knows just the level of batter lumpiness that will produce a perfect, light biscuit. (For those of you from the UK, we are talking about biscuits from the American South…. those lovely, yummy, crumbly bread things most similar to your muffins. But infinitely better. Yum yum!)

So, I’ve decided on our retirement jobs. We’ll open a restaurant called Ray Ray’s Biscuit Shack. We’ll serve biscuits & gravy, pancakes, hot dogs, cakes, and pies. Fried chicken available on the days mab feels like it.  If you’re ever here at our house for a weekend, be really nice to my hub on Saturday. He might decide to get up Sunday morning and make you some biscuits, too. But, I will object to him buying you sweet songs on iTunes and bringing you a tray in bed. That’s just for me. Got it?