My mom is really funny. More so now than in the past, she doesn't realize that she is funny. And I never know when she will pop up from her apartment in our basement with some funny question or anectdote. But Saturday night, much past what is normally her bedtime-she popped upstairs, and asked, "Did you make some cornbread?" "Hmmm...........", I thought. What would give her that idea? I know the cooking smells in my house somehow fall, in addition to rising. And in the basement you can always smell what is cooking, but I had made stir fry for dinner; not cornbread. I am glad my mom likes my cornbread. Please don't go thinking "Well, yeah-she's trapped in your basement-she would like anyone's cornbread cause she can't make it anymore." My mom loved my cornbread before she forgot how to make it, and came to live with me. I never mastered her home made buttermilk biscuits (although, much to my hubby's dismay, I tired!), my firs