Have I told you how much I hate cooking?

Well, I hate it with a passion!

It’s not that I’m a bad cook. In fact, I am a very good cook if I apply myself to it. My daughter constantly reminds me of the dishes I used to cook for them when they were growing up. She makes these dreamy eyes trying to trick me into feeling guilty and cook something again.

But I’m strong and I resist the temptation of those beautiful big black eyes…

Which is NOT an easy thing to do…

I didn’t always hate cooking that much. I never enjoyed it either but at least I was neutral about it.

But as my neurological symptoms become more and more obvious I just abandoned it all together. I was getting all sorts of cuts and burns. I couldn’t stand the heat. I was breaking a lot of plates and glasses.

A home-cooked meal is not worth such physical discomfort. I’m quite OK with throwing something in the microwave (or the oven in the winter time) instead.

Every now and then, my daughter and I cook together, which means she does ALL the chopping and I supervise. I do the washing of vegetables and stuff. Help decide how much of this or that we put in the pot or the pan, stir here and there. It’s fun but I don’t want to do it all the time. And we definitely don’t do it in the summer. The heat generated by the stove is enough to send me into heat exhaustion. It’s sort of our winter thing to do together.

Fortunately for me, the Bear actually likes to cook (either that or he lies beautifully). So, instead of eating pre-packed food, I get to enjoy delicious meals two or three times a week.

I have to say, it is really convenient that the Bear Den and the Daisy Digs are in the same building, only one floor apart.