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Sunday mornings are usually our “big breakfast” day of the week. We had been at our place off the grid and came home early so I was going to fix breakfast at home instead of in the camper, but the day just got away from me.

A couple of days ago Mark had stopped by the store and picked up bananas, but we’ve had our windows open and the bananas just don’t seem to last as long when the windows are open, especially if the weather has been a little warm.

So. I was watching football and noticed that Mark had disappeared for longer than normal. I had no clue where he’d gone, but at the end of the first quarter I thought I’d go take care of those bananas and get some banana nut bread made. When I walked into the kitchen Mark was at the stove frying up some bacon.

I’ll just let that sink in for a minute for those of you who know Mark.

Mark was standing at the stove, holding kitchen utensils in his hands, and he was cooking! C-O-O-K-I-N-G! I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that, but decided to not interfere. I picked up the bunch of spotted bananas and proceeded to get the batter going. Mark began just chit chatting with me like it was the most normal thing in the world for the two of us to be COOKING together! He starts half singing (such as it is) and half talking, “Banana bread. How I love banana bread. I couldn’t make baNANA brea-ea-ea-ead!”

Should I be concerned?

He finished cooking the bacon and was going to put the eggs into the frying pan. He goes, “Shall we have scrambled or fried eggs?” I said that I didn’t care and I’d let him make the choice. He goes, “I normally decide based on how the cracking of the eggs goes.” Good call, I suppose.

Just as I was putting this in the oven:

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He goes, “Well, here’s your breakfast, for better or worse!”

I think I'll keep him.

I think I’ll keep him.

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