THE NEXT MORNING was a Saturday morning, but I couldn't sleep in.
Nope, cause we got an interview at 12:00 and it's live. Which puts more pressure on us, because there's no editing. Once it's done, it's done.
"C'mon sleepy head, we have work," I prod her sleeping form. She groans, tucking her face in my chest.
"I don't get up before seven."
Smiling, I put a hand on the small of her back. "You do now."
I stand, effectively tossing Red on the bed. I get ready, start breakfast. She's not getting up. Not till seven.
Starting breakfast, I stare at my refrigerator. Then my cabinets, and my freezer.
It is then that I remember an imperative fact about me regarding this breakfast I'm supposed to be making:
I don't know to cook.
Father, with his misogynistic, backwards thinking refused to l
