“My girl has got a bun in her oven, and I guess you know who did the damn cooking.”

“Got to be the worst place in the world, inside a oven. You in here, you either cleaning or you getting cooked.”

“So you're her brother? Says Linn. I guess we know who got the good genes.”

“Want to get Chinese?""I though you cooked.""Like I know how.""That's my girl.”

“Something occurred to me, and I sat up to face him. "Earlier, I asked you if you brought the guitar everywhere," I said, "and you got kind of wierd. Why? It's not like you're one of those jerks who always has a guitar but can't actually play it." "Don't you know?" "No." He grinned. "Everyone knows that the whole point of learning guitar is to impress girls. You can't just say, 'sorry, I'd love to show off, but I forgot my guitar at home,' can you?" Now it was my turn to laugh. "I guess not." "So now you know my secret," he said. "Did it work?" I pretended to think about it. "Yeah, it worked.”

“Baking was a science, precise, just mix it all together and let the oven do the work. But actually cooking, she couldn’t cook a tasty meal if her life depended on it.”