Since moving out of my house I've discovered something kind of funny, I'm a pretty decent cook. You may ask, now why is this funny? Being a good cook isn't really a generally funny thing.
I am Italian. I am approximately 66% Italian (the rest is mostly Irish. Which explains my impressive alcohol tolerance, and maybe extreme love of potatoes? No, potatoes are just delicious.) I grew up in a household where my mom cooked every single night and she cooked damn good. I actually used to tell her that if she kept it up, I would never move out. She kept cooking like that. I moved out eventually anyway.
So when I moved out, I knew I would have to cook for myself and I always figured it would just be one of those things that I did because I had to, not because I enjoyed it. (Like laundry. I really truly hate doing my laundry.) Turns out, I like cooking and I'm pretty good at it.
So now... my mom gets text messages like these.
These are usually preceded by me saying "It's so pretty!" I promise they're prettier than my crappy Droid pics show. :)
I am Italian. I am approximately 66% Italian (the rest is mostly Irish. Which explains my impressive alcohol tolerance, and maybe extreme love of potatoes? No, potatoes are just delicious.) I grew up in a household where my mom cooked every single night and she cooked damn good. I actually used to tell her that if she kept it up, I would never move out. She kept cooking like that. I moved out eventually anyway.
So when I moved out, I knew I would have to cook for myself and I always figured it would just be one of those things that I did because I had to, not because I enjoyed it. (Like laundry. I really truly hate doing my laundry.) Turns out, I like cooking and I'm pretty good at it.
So now... my mom gets text messages like these.
These are usually preceded by me saying "It's so pretty!" I promise they're prettier than my crappy Droid pics show. :)
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