I can’t cook. Or I guess I should say I can’t cook well. I mean I make dinner every night - my family eats. But I pretty much only do it to keep them alive. I don’t have a "feel" for it. And I can’t improvise, which is the true hallmark of a good cook. Someone who can make up a recipe on the spot and have it actually be fit for human consumption. Someone who, when you ask them where they got the recipe for such-and-such, they say Oh, I just whipped it up! Someone who also can’t tell you at what temperature and for how long to bake said dish, because they do it a little differently every time and they just KNOW when it’s done. Jerks. My mother- and sister-in-law are like this. It drives me crazy with envy. I am forever in awe of their domesticity. These are women who host and prepare Thanksgiving dinner, while I am asked to bring booze and dessert (they know my strengths!). My sis even caters her own business events for God's sake, to such rave reviews that an article was published with her recipes. Hah! Can you imagine? And these are the women who fed my husband when he was growing up – how the hell am I supposed to compete with that?! I can’t, and I’ve given up trying. I just stick to what I know (teriyaki chicken anyone?) and hope I'm good in bed. I try to tell myself I do other things well, although that is a complete lie. I have no womanly skills, I bring no wifely wisdom to the table here. I’m the mom who stands on the periphery at Girl Scout meetings leering at the craft projects and wishing they served beer. And since I can’t compete with the other moms, those Grand Master Ovaries, I prefer to poke fun at them instead, to mask my inferiority complex. But I can’t poke fun at my in-laws, because, unfortunately, they happen to be ridiculously awesome women who I absolutely adore. They manage to make crafts and cooking and having ovaries look cool. Plus... they always share their food. Hey, I’m no dummy. Chicks who can’t cook know better than to bite the hands that can!