I would say that most of the time I'm a pretty good cook.  Sometimes the recipes I try aren't fantastic, but most of the time they are at least worth having again.  Sometimes Martin even tells me "that was a good meal, mom" (and sometimes he tells me that the bottled taco sauce was "delicious", so I don't know how good of a judge he is). 

Last night, I didn't have a lot of time to make dinner so I threw a frozen pizza into the oven.  After getting everyone to the table, Marty pulled out the pizza and sliced it up.  He seemed to be having some trouble... then said "hey, hon - did you forget something?"

Seriously, how could I forget to take the cardboard off the bottom?  We had to scrape the pizza from the bottom of the cardboard to eat the doughy crust and toppings.  Martin still said it was a good meal.

The worst part is that this isn't the first time I've done it, either.

On the table tonight:  Mexican chicken, black beans with tomatoes