There was a video about how to make apple roses that looked easy. Slice them into wedges, soak in lemon juice, soften in the microwave and wrap in pastry dough with jam. Nestle into muffin cups and then bake at 350. What could go wrong?

 

Last summer the twins and I had the giggles while we tried to follow the directions. The video said to slice thinly. It did not specify paper thin, but that is about what it takes to enable a crunchy red delicious to go around a curve. We fudged. It was also tricky to transfer the doughy flower into the muffin tins without them dropping petals. So we laughed.

 

In the end all of the ingredients made it into the oven, and although they were not Pinterest worthy they did taste cinnamony and warm. 

 

Did it work? 

 

The finished apple roses bore only a slight resemblance to the ones in the picture. But we ate them, and will remember the afternoon in the mental file marked  "playful."

 

The picture many of us had of marriage bears little resemblance to the dialogue that bounces across the kitchen counter, or over our shoulder as we rush out the door.

 

This morning John took Ben to yet another doctor, and was running late. I reminded him about insurance cards, and directions. But did I remind him that I love him? That we are in this together? 

 

I don't take many pictures of the two of us, because frankly we don't usually ride in gondolas, or clink crystal by the river. Our marriage is not Pinterest worthy.

 

But it works.