Whe did this happen?

Watch out, there's another one. She's sneaky, and she can cook too. As much as I don't like to admit it my baby sister is a grown-up, I think she turned into one with out my permission. I guess she has been one for a while. She's lived on her own since she turned eighteen, but she wasn't a grown-up. Now she's been teaching for four years, but that doesn't make her a grown up. The fact that we share recipes, that makes her a grown-up.

Now, anyone can share recipes. They would probably be your run-of-the-mill type fare. Not my sister and I. You only pass on what you know is good. You cooked it, you've severd it, and your sweetie has made themselves sick from eating too much of it. We can't help it, it's genetic, we were born into a good cooking family. Both of our grandmothers could take a dishrag and make it taste good. Mawmaw was the counrty cook-no measuring, no real recipes, just cook by smell and feel. Gran is a recipe lady, very organized, and tries new exotic foods on a regular basis. Tabba and I are a combination of the two.

I am much less on using recipes. It's why I rarely bake. It just feels wrong to slow yourself down with measuring, use your hands and feel when it's right. Tabba has the patience I lack. She has made the best deserts I have ever eaten. Her talents are not limited to sweets, she cooks it all, and all of it's good.

The fact that I can call her for advice or to swap ideas, that's what is making her a grown-up. I have fought feircely to keep my baby sister little. It broke my heart when she figured out who was the real Santa Claus. It didn't really bother her, but it killed me. She is always supposed to be the beautiful little girl who followed me around when we were little, my best buddy. I think I selfishly wanted her to stay little so I could protect her. But, despite my best efforts, she's now a beautiful woman who follows her own path.

Tabitha will be married this November. I didn't cry at my own wedding, but I don't know if I'll be able to help it at hers. Not sad tears, tears because it's one of those moments where all the past rushes back. Every fort built, every camping trip, every giggle, every boy cried over, every thing that I love about my baby sister all wrapped up in a beautiful white dress.

She deserves the absolute best. She found her true match. I hate to get mushy, but I love Jesse more than I will ever admitt. He makes her happy. He makes us all laugh and he fits with the rest of us. He is also the best Uncle Turner could ever have. He loves my son like he was his own sibling's child. It's really import to me for Turner to have that, I did. My Aunt Marsha and Uncle Larry are that for me. It never occured to me that my Aunt Marsha was not blood related to me. She always loved Tabba and I like we were her sister's kid's. She just fits too. We spent so much time at thier house we could've been their kids. Uncle Larry played with us, he never treated us differently because we were girls. That's what Turner will have from Tabba and Jesse and I am so happy.

OK so I admit maybe the snow falling outside is making me a little mushy. Maybe it's the hormones. Poor Brad, I know I am nutty as a fruit cake when I'm pregnant, and now there's written proof. Oh well, might as well ride the waves of craziness. I am off to eat the best potato soup I've ever tasted, I'll write down the recipe in my book, and when I fill out the "From the Kitchen of" line I'll write down Tabba's new last name.