Love is …

… well, yes, this, of course.
But love is also a pound of extra lean ground sirloin, cooked in a pan with brown rice, and served to the dog (not the DOG) on a pretty plate in honor of his anniversary.
I cannot remember the last time I bought meat (other than shish kebab for Taxi, when he asked nicely and I realized I would be passing a street-cart anyway). I cannot remember the last time I handled it. (And here, boys, is where you wink at each other and indicate your own shrink-wrapped packages with a nod.) I know the last time I ate it was in 1979.
What makes this even more of an event is that I don’t cook. (All of my food comes in special non-gelatin capsules or astronaut-like squeeze-paks.) I can cook, and quite well, I must admit. Taxi already knows. But I just don’t do it.
Ahhh, the things we do for love!
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must consult with my sous chef. Enjoy not being able to get this song out of your head.
Good evening.
P.S. Yes, Shana will get some as well.