I’m not a good cook. I felt like I’ve tried (my hubby would argue against that), but just cannot get it down pat. I don’t know if it is a fear of getting hurt or just a lack of understanding of all things culinary (my mother never cooked either so I didn’t grow up in a kitchen), but I’m pretty terrible. I plan on continuing to make attempts, as I’d like to be able to cook something for our future children, but I digress.
Something I am good at is baking. I really enjoy it and find it to be therapeutic, especially while done listening to amazing music and sipping on good wine. It also makes me feel very girly and domestic for some reason, and every now and then, I like that. And for those fun baking-related therapy sessions of one, cute protective wear is needed. Cue Be My Clementine!
