My jokes trump my cooking

I'm known to laugh at my own jokes. The loudest. What can I say, I'm funny. Right? Say right. Well, whateva. My jokes, comments and stories are entertaining to me and if you're cool, you get me and laugh too. I can't promise that I won't laugh the loudest or hardest though because, well, it's hard to deny my comedic genius. So what if only me and my 3-year old niece get it.

Last week, Steven and I decided to make dinner. It was the first time we've cooked together since we got married 75 days ago. I know, we are so not domestic. Correction, I am so not domestic. As I began preparing the rice and uncorking the wine bottle, I mentioned to him that I already had preheated the oven. Knowing that my only specialty in the kitchen is wonderfully toasted bread, he looked at me and said "Ummm, who's cooking? Me or you?" I attempted to prove him wrong and magically whip up a gourmet meal, but I had to be honest, we'd probably end up at In-n-out had I taken a power trip. I would have burned everything. So, yes, my husband cooked us a yummy meal that night. And I'm okay with that because I look a lot better sipping wine than I do wearing an apron. Plus, I'm funny. And who needs to cook when you're funny?

Since I'm still reeling from the workshop I attended a few days ago, here's an image taken of me by the amazing Meegan, another photographer I was blessed to meet. Happy Thursday!