Cooking makes me feel sexy: my secret weapon is no longer how smoothly I underage drink, but how I can roast a fatty piece of meat into something succulent. And braised short ribs make me feel particular good.
Some days I let gratitude slip away. I forget to be thankful for all the amazing little things in my new life. But most days I pinch myself when I wake up, just to make sure I haven't passed on to another world.