Late Bloomer...in Progress

When I was in high school, I think my mom started getting a little worried about my lack of enthusiasm for all things kitchen related. I didn't like to cook. I didn't have any interest in cooking. I didn't have any interest in learning how to cook.
I did like to eat. I was good at it too. Some things haven't changed.
In order to give me a little push of encouragement in the cooking realm, Mom started buying boxed brownie mixes for me to bake. You know the ones where you basically add an egg or two, some oil, stir, pour, bake, and then wha la! Ooey, gooey, chocolatey goodness. It's a simple, no fail recipe for the most basic cook. I failed. In fact I managed to fail on countless occasions. That whole greasing the pan bit was my biggest nemesis. More than once it dawned on me part way through the baking process that I hadn't greased my stinking pan. I would yank the dish out of the oven scrape the contents back into the bowl, wash my pan, grease it, pour the hot brownie batter back into the bowl, and return it to the oven all the while hoping nobody would catch me in the midst of my fiasco.
My other favorite was to mis-read the directions in some way or another. I'd either skip a step, omit an ingredient or add one twice. There are PICTURES on boxed mixes. I know. In my defense, this was a more frequent occurrence after I graduated to recipe cards.
I'd just like to say that despite my slow start, I'm getting along alright in the kitchen these days. It's where I spend most of my time. I'm still not batting 100 on the whole greasing my pan thing or getting the directions right every time, but progress is moving in that direction. Today I made a meal I couldn't even pronounce. Mom says I'm not allowed to make things I can't pronounce, so I renamed it: "Chicken, Veggies, and Some Wine Over Pasta." Then I made it. Then I ate it. Now I need a nap.
I'm going to dream about ice cream. Mmmmmmm, ice cream.