Sentimental Sunday--Who made the noodles?

     I remember Sundays being a day of having relatives in after church or going to their house. And always, there were noodles--noodles stretched out, rolled flat, floured so they  completely dusted the person making them, and carefully picked up to be put in the steaming broth. Always there were noodles. We just didn't know for sure who would be fixing them. If it was at Aunt Virginia Benell's there would be cooked egg yolks with them and the noodles would be yellower than ours.  If  at our house, they were thinner and whiter, no egg yolks included,  and always there were mashed potatoes to put them on. Once Grandma said to me as she stood powdered white by the noodle flour--don't you want to learn to do this? "Aaaaaa--not right now Grandma, not right now." I  never did take the time and the art of noodle making in our family has gone on  by. Now we don't say "Who made the noodles?" but instead "sure wish we had some".