My sister Ellen likes to tell me I am a good plain cook. Rather than be offended by this, I take a pride in getting the basics right. It doesn't matter how fancy you are if it doesn't taste ... [+]
There's a moment in every young boy's life when a wave of bravery washes over him, and he proceeds to do something so extremely bold, so intensely daring, and, of course, so mind-numbingly stupid. For me, that idiotic moment came on Valentine's Day in the seventh grade. Her name was Chloe. She was a new student that year, changing school districts as a result of a tough divorce. From the moment I first laid eyes on her, I was infatuated. Her wavy brown hair that she would play with constantly. Her deep blue eyes that gave off the slightest essence of sadness, and in which you would get lost an