I really, really don't like cooking. I’d rather clean a one thousand toilets than cook one meal. Seriously.

I dread the question, “What’s for dinner?”

My mom always found it appalling that I made so little effort to have a nice dinner prepared for Bob when he got home from work. Which made me feel awful. 

It wasn't until this past year that I finally admitted to Bob that, really, there's not much that makes me happier than for him to come home with a full belly. 

Why did it take me 35 years to come out and say that? The admission resulted in him saying he really doesn't mind picking something up that’s easy to make or is all ready made.   That it's no big deal--at all!

When Bob and I were first married and on a road trip, he never thought of stopping to get something to eat and I’d never say outright when I was hungry. Before passive-aggressive became such a buzz word, I think I must have been the queen of passive-aggressiveness. 

For example, rather than coming out and simply saying I'd like to stop and eat somewhere, I'd see a sign for McDonalds. “Oh, look...there’s a McDonalds at the next exit.” Bob would zoom by the exit.

I’d see another sign, “There’s a Cracker Barrel at the next exit.” We’d zoom by that exit, too.

This would go on for miles. But it wouldn’t happen today. I don't have any problem telling him when I feel like getting off the freeway and eating--because God for forbid I ever feel a pang of hunger.

As a child, the only time I experienced hunger was when my mom made split pea soup for dinner. As much as my parents thought it was pure theatrics, the soup literally made me gag. As soon as I smelled it cooking, I knew I’d be sitting at the kitchen table for hours trying to eat a few bites.

“There are children starving in Africa, you know.”  Well, is there anyway we could get this to them? Because nothing would make me happier.

The vast majority of Americans haven't a clue what it means to be hungry. 

I’ve had passengers who act like their entire world is caving in because they didn’t get their first choice of an entree. Some petulantly slap their tray table back up and refuse to eat at all. Little do they know just how happy that makes me, because I eat everything that comes down the pike (that's prepared by someone else).

I don't think I'll ever learn to enjoy cooking, but admitting to Bob how much I dread hearing him ask me what's for dinner and learning how good he is with stopping and picking something up has made all the difference--I don't need to feel like a terrible wife for not preparing dinner. It's okay that it's not my thing.

What a load off it's been to shed my passive-aggressiveness and instead communicate clearly, without fear of hurt feelings or misconceptions.

Another one of my dad's oft repeated phrases, "Say what you mean and mean what you say. There's no need to beat around the bush."

If only I would have taken more of my dad's words of wisdom to heart earlier. But there's no time like the present. 

"For the Present is the point at which time touches eternity." --C.S. Lewis