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When I was growing up the big joke in my family was that my future husband would have to know how to cook because I didn't even know where the kitchen was. I hated cooking, I hated being in the kitchen. I'd rather have helped Dad with the farm work and the chores then help Mom in the kitchen. So when I got married, my family (even the extended family) gave me cook books. Lots of them. The black binder is from my Mom and that has all the recipes I grew up with, the blue binder is one from my Aunt, and I use one recipe from it (I wasn't every really fond of her cooking), then I got all those Companys Coming ones, and a few other ones. The magazine holder on its side holds all my old Taste of Home magazines, and there are misc books on top of that stack. I guess the cookbooks did their job, because now I love to cook, and not just normal fare - I like to entertain, try new foods and recipes, set the table with formal place settings, fold the napkins all neat and pretty..... So there you are - the rest of the story.


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