This morning the sky is a fresh white and there is s snowy sleet on the ground. These are my favorite winter days because I know that Lucia and I will most likely be home from school tomorrow and I am giddy over the prospect of taking all the vegetables in the fridge and throwing them together in a huge pot of soup. A soup that everyone will eat because, hey -- there is nothing else in the house to eat and hell, it is cold outside, so we are supposed to eat soup anyway.
So soup it is.
will stress over the consistency of it -- either it will be too thick
and porridge like or it will be too thin and soup-like. It will be quite
the conundrum. I will also talk to myself while pouring the soup into
the blender to blend it all up, promising that one day I will just get
an immersion blender and next time the soup will not be so bloody
difficult to make. It's soup for God's sake. I will think of my friend,
Sasha, who has watched me make soup, because I make it for everyone
because it is just what I do, I make soup. I will even hear her saying,
"why don't you just get an immersion blender, they only cost thirty
dollars, Sarah." Except next year will come and I will have the same
conversation with myself and I will hear her saying the same damn thing
in my head all over again, just like she said three years ago.
winters eve next year, I will host a soup party with an extra special array of fancy soup garnishes, because - hey - I make soup and I make it pretty -- and I will have to use the blender twice as many times because so many
people are coming over for the soup that I will have doubled the recipe that I made up in my head. And there, in that moment, again, I will curse myself for having to
transfer all the soup into the blender and back again to the pot. The steam will burn my hands and if I do not hold the lid tight enough on top of the blender, bits of soup porridge will splatter the wall. And
then it will be over and I will clean the blender up and not think about
it again until the next soup day comes along -- because it is below freezing outside -- and I have extra carrots on hand.
finally get the soup on the table, I will ask Matt a thousand times if
it is good, "Is it delicous? Is it good enough? Do you need something
else with it? Do you feel like it is hearty? Too thick? Should I have
added more broth? It is more like mashed potatoes than soup, isn't it?"
And he will try to have all the right answers and be just dodgy enough
with the wrong answers that he can sway my mind back to the middle. But I
will fret and stew some more. Then I will promise grilled cheeses with
the next batch because everyone likes grilled cheese with their soup and
maybe it will be tomato -- I have a really great homemade tomato soup
recipe that I have been wanting to try -- because won't that be good,
Matt? Homemade tomato soup with grilled cheese? We will definitely have
to try that. I have never made my own tomato soup before and I wonder
how it would turn out -- most definitely, at least better than a can of
tomato soup. Right, Matt?
Where is Lucia? She needs to try my damn soup. And someone please pass the salt.
03 February 2014
12 January 2014
10 December 2013
Best days ever.
11 September 2013
26 May 2013
Father John Misty's vinyl humming in the background; I at the stove with brussels sprouts sizzling and Matt and Lucia on the patio grilling burgers - with the occasional plea for supplies: buns, cheese, hey, could you bring me a serving platter in a few minutes? These requests to me in-between spouting fatherly reminders to Chee - mind your pretty blue dress, if you want to play in the dirt, at least disrobe before running a muck!
Lucia asking to watch Aristocats eight different times over the course of dinner. The two of us finally convincing her that our company is more favorable. And she, finally giving in, and dancing to Daft Punk while we cleared the dishes from the table.
Not long after, she was sneaking away to play dress up in her room, only coming out on occasion to model an outfit change. The girl and her unmatched ability to create - skirts over her head, one shoulder exposed, layered beneath it another skirt of bright colors; ribbons draped in various ways; and always a different stuffed animal at her side.
Then the quiet night settling in over us - a blanket of Oklahoma heat.
Teeth brushing, strawberry face scrubbing.
Soon to say goodnight.
Counting our blessings one by one.