As a child growing up in Orange, Texas, I loved to cook. This skill was imposed upon me at the age of nine when my mother was hospitalized with diabetics. I remember a meal of giant meatballs, gravy and rice. My father praised this meal and I just knew that I could cook. After mother returned home from the hospital, I continued to cook. Other meals consisted of vegetables and dessert. I can still remember that first cake with white frosting created with just regular table salt. Mother always complimented my meals. The more they voiced those compliments, the more I cooked. When I married, my first husbands just didn't enjoy my Louisiana/Orange flair of cooking. As a result, I turned to tuna helper. One day after almost a week of tuna and hamburger helper, he told me that I could not cook. As a result, the love for this art died. Although my second husband, complimented my meals, the love for cooking just was not there anymore. For some reason, I just did not believe tha...