The second time around I'm going to marry my mother.

I've heard it said that the people we choose to marry tend to resemble our parents in one way or another. I've decided my next husband is going to remind me of my mother.

Mom, you see, is a fantastic cook. Above and beyond making fabulous meals she can also bake like nobody I know. Growing up she would occassionally delight us with her sweet treats but usually whatever she baked was a chocolate chip cookie look alike that was really loaded with vitamins raisens and other healthy crap.

Blech.

Now though, now that her hungry sweet-toothed children are grown and living elsewhere, she doesn't bake fake goodies she bakes the real deal now.

REAL chocolate chip cookies, people.

Heaven. Pure heaven.

Over the holidays she sent me home with 20 different varieties of cookies that she baked in her spare time.

You know, between her full-time job and her part-time job.

I learned at a young and delicate age to bite cautiously into anything appearing to be a sweet treat from my mother knowing that there was a good chance that it was laced with something good for me.

Today I had something that was disguised as a Rice Krispy Bar but its shape was more round than square. I have been leary of that one, inpecting it often to determine what she might be trying to trick me with.

Perhaps there is an apple in the middle.

Today I felt brave and bit into the treat. I don't know exactly what I ate but I would like to place an order for 20 more of those, please.

YUM.

Maybe I'll skip getting married and just move back home with mum.