The very first time I went out with my husband, who was of course my then non husband - we went to a movie. After the movie, he offered to take me out to eat, but soon realized he had forgotten his credit card.
"No problem!" I said "Let's just go to my place. I'll make dinner for us."
When we got there, I decided to make spaghetti. I am a pretty good spaghetti maker. (In fact, my oldest boy has requested that I pass on the sauce recipe I use.) We dished it up, and my then non-husband asked me if I had any Parmesan cheese. Yes, of course I have Parmesan cheese, what kind of the place do you think this is? I procured the cheese, which was one of those super jumbo extra tall cans from the big box stores. Think SAMS club.
Because the Parmesan cheese container was so big, it had an annoying tendency to clump in the bottom. When my then non-husband tried to dispense the cheese, nothing came out. He shook and shook, and nothing happened.
"Give it to me, and I'll fix it," I said. He passed it over, and I rapped the container sharply on the counter. Turned it over and shook it – nothing happened.
I was very pissed off at this point, embarrassed, and more than a little flustered, and so without thinking I took that Parmesan cheese container –
And smacked the bottom of it on the floor. As hard as I could. And to no one's surprise except my own, the bottom of the container flew off, and everything and everyone around was bathed in Parmesan cheese dust.
And yet, he still married me. It *was* a miracle.