Antonia is a "creative" girl. She likes to cook. Creatively. Antonia doesn't always like to follow directions. She is a culinary genius. She puts her talent to work on dinner for new husband. Husband shall be healthy and content after scrumptious healthy dinners each night of the week.
Husband sits down to supper. Gazes dolefully at plate full of creative dinner. Takes deep breath and faces the inevitable. Each forkful is a study in perseverance and silent suffering. Antonia notices long pauses between hubby's bites of food. Starts giggling. Shakes with laughter. Husband laughs, relieved, no longer having to hide his dismay. Antonia has light bulb moment. Realizes recipes books offer untapped potential in realm of creative cooking. Acknowledges the benefit of having a McDonald's across the street. Admits she is a dietitian with years of cooking experience.

(For the record, though, I thought it was pretty good and I still love to cook. It's just more fun when someone besides yourself thinks it's yummy. Less awkward, too.)