It's no secret that I simply adore cooking. I live for preparing meals. It relaxes me and invigorates me and cheers me up all at the same time. And I am incredibly lucky to live with someone who lets me have free reign over the kitchen...my kitchen. Hubb has his responsibilities around the house, some of which I grudgingly hand over (being the fireplace king) and others I hand over willingly, thankful for the fact that he lets me have my cooking. Hubb eats anything put in front of him, and has only twice questioned the edibleness of a meal (both of which were experimental meals and were well deserved to be questioned.) As a food and cooking fanatic I couldn't ask for a better husband.

But sometimes I feel incredibly guilty at the control I demand over our meals, like I am depriving him of the same thrill and enjoyment I hold so dear when I am creating things in the kitchen. Am I setting him up to fail when I am gone someday? Am I enforcing some sort of dependency on me by being the primary meal preparer? It's not that Hubb is totally helpless in the kitchen, he makes a damned good pot pie and is perfectly happy with Kraft Mac and Cheese on occasion. It's just that I know how happy I am at the chef's wheel and I feel terrible for hogging it all.

I say all this and at the same time I know that I could never totally give it up...but I'm willing to hand over an occasional meal or two. I feel a New Year's resolution coming on: Work on giving up control of the kitchen once in a while. I can already see that this will be difficult. I may need to stock up on wine to get me through it.