I don't know how many of you have heard about my hatred of cooking, but today it comes into place once again. I hate cooking because I could never do it right growing up. There was always something wrong with what I cooked whether it was something I made up, or whether I followed her recipe. The noodles might be over cooked, or the sauce might be this or it might be that. All in all it didn't take long and I hated cooking. In college I made up several dishes that I liked, though they didn't really have names. My roommate thought I was a good cook, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't like it. My husband likes my cooking, but my mom still doesn't like it.
This has been an issue with my mom living here. After all I cook, and she complains. Today, we haven't even eaten yet and the complaints are out. She saw the hamburger and the sauce sitting on the counter. When she found out I was making my favorite pasta and not spaghetti, she was disappointed. "Oh, we aren't having spaghetti? I thought dinner was going to be something I liked." Oh my gosh!
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