My mom is an incredible baker - most famously known for her pecan miniatures. Baking, unlike cooking in my opinion, takes a lot of patience and care. This describes my mom perfectly. I, however, seem to be missing the patience gene. When I cook or bake, I fail to follow recipes exactly, I'm nonchalant about the order in which ingredients get mixed, and I often think it's perfectly okay if I don't have enough flour, or if I need to substitute one ingredient for another. In short - sometimes my creations turn out well, and sometimes they don't. One of my dear friends in Philadelphia is a total blast for me to cook with - because she shares my lackadaisical attitude towards cooking. Even if the final product doesn't turn out well, we always have fun. Tonight, we were baking mini cheesecakes with Reese's peanut butter cups in them. As we were spooning the cream cheese/flour/sugar/vanilla/egg mix into the graham cracker crusts, we kept wondering if we were putting in the right amount. We decided it didn't really matter, and then ended up laughing hysterically - because we both knew that our mothers would be shaking their heads at us in that moment.