there's hope after all

Who knew I had mad chili-making skillz? Certainly not me. Yet the proof is in the freezer. And the fridge. And my distended tummy. And my apartment smells great. Fresh tomatoes and white corn, secret seasonings...for a woman who has to look it up every time she wants to boil an egg, this is exciting news.

Of course, my perception may be slightly skewed by the half-bottle of Sierra Nevada, last survivor of a long-forgotten six-pack, that didn't go into the pot. Well, you wouldn't want me to waste it, now would you?

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