I realize that it’s not the sleepover you have with your two friends at the age of six that makes you a "big girl", but at the same time, I’m not sure it is your age that makes you older either. If anything, I feel like I have regressed to the whiny sixteen-year-old girl who I used to be. Is it possible to hate who you were at sixteen when you are nineteen, but become her at twenty?
Looking for a way to spend a Sunday afternoon? How about listening to some contemporary jazz music? And, while you’re at it, grabbing some great and hearty classic American continental dishes? If this...
