Married, mother to the multitude. I never know how many I'm going to be serving at dinnertime. My motto is: I can always put out one more plate. I don't know how someone can cook every day and stay slim. I guess my will is weak, if I cook it, I have to taste it. I had lost 50 pounds before my remarriage, but Ed won't live on Power Bars and salads and you can tell by my pic, I do a lot of tasting. Ed, meanwhile, stays at 170 pounds on his 6' frame. When I start fussing about my weight, he just says he'll put in double doors if he needs to. I don't know whether to bless him or bless him out. My Irish/Dutch/Indian family celebrates everything with food. I've tried to change that tradition, but I get hurt looks and whining if I mention not cooking. How can you be a memaw and not bake cookies? Comfort foods, of course. The holidays. Everyone brings their specialty and I provide the meat. Predictable, yes, but reduces the pressure on everyone so we can enjoy being together without me being worn to a frazzle. My greatest triumph is that my son cooks. The second would be the wedding reception my daughter and I did at church for 200 people, with 3 days notice. A friend had went on a mission trip, but had gotten married the night before she left, and called back so we wouldn't all have heart attacks when she showed up with a husband. My first birthday cake. I had made it for my neice. I was 16, and hadn't cooked at all. I made it from scratch, not knowing my mom had two kinds of flour. It was the prettiest, flat cake you ever saw.