I must admit. I was a TAD nervous for tonight's cooking class. I was pacing back and forth in the apartment while my bf sat on the couch. What should I wear? Will the other students be nice? What if they don't talk? Will I make a ton of friends? What will our first meal be? What if the instructor spends two whole hours talking about utensils?
But after 15 or so minutes, I gave up caring about what I looked like, settled on my gray grandma sweater (for comfort) and headed out the door. An hour later I was knee-deep in raw pork and onions, wishing I had worn a T-shirt in the sweltering heat of our home-ec classroom -- and loving every minute of it.
