Omigosh every one: I smoked a cigar last night.

I have never smoked anything in my life, which is something I've always been pretty proud of. Last night, though, Bryan got a wild hare and decided that we should stop by this cigar place on the RiverWalk and try one together. Now, the actual smoking of the cigar was not altogether unpleasant. We sat at a nice bar and sipped cognac as we puffed, me giggling like a twelve year old each time I brought the cigar to my lips. This morning, however, I swear I cannot get the taste of tobacco out of my mouth! Bleck.

When I called my mom to inform her of my night's exploits, she quickly had me convinced that my lungs are black as tar this morning. Not really, but when I told her she should try it out, she seemed genuinely worried that I might take up cigar smoking as my new hobby!

I do not intend to take up cigar smoking as a hobby because right now I think I might gag.

I am planning on becoming a good cook instead. One of our board members recommended that I find a cook book that I really like, and work through each recipe in it until I've mastered it. So, that's the plan. Tonight, I'm starting with a simple pasta arrabiata. Wish me luck, put please, no cigars.