Every time I ask if there’s more corn out there in the garden, the answer is, yes, there’s still some we can use or take to someone. Can’t believe how a week of rain on top of a hot dry summer plumped and sweetened it. Still seems like a miracle to me — the only… Continue reading Corn keeps coming; best corn soup yet!
“It doesn’t matter whether the Addict is white, black, yellow or green, rich or poor or somewhere in the middle, the most famous Person on the Planet or the most unknown. It doesn’t matter whether the addiction is drugs, alcohol, crime, sex, shopping, food, gambling television, or the f**king Flinstones. The life of the Addict… Continue reading Addiction always; kale-sweet potato-cannellini bean-sausage soup
Elizabeth Taylor in her old age said the elastic waistband was a girl’s best friend. Diet gurus, though, advise “The elastic waistband is bad for your diet” so I’ve been trying to wear real waistbands with buttons and zippers and stuff. And clothes that fit, not caftans suggestive of a camel ride. I feel, in… Continue reading Planet Fatso; tortellini slow-cooker soup
When I repeated something I’d read about never seeing any old fat people, Stoic the Helpful suggested, “Santa Claus.” OK, besides a really fat and really old guy with a Downton Abbey-worthy household staff, who else? Anybody? Anybody not on a walker because of their abused old knees or hips? I can’t think of anyone;… Continue reading Tubby oldsters and slimmed-down broccoli soup
My pipers piping are the redpolls (purple finches) at the bird feeders. Wikipedia says they’re native to the arctic tundra so they should feel right at home in the Carolina Piedmont this morning. Also mentions they “migrate erratically,” which is funny to think about. I guess I’ve done that throughout the holidays — from the… Continue reading Eleventh day of Christmas and, baby, it’s cold outside!
I’m so ready for hibernation. Since my 50th high school reunion in August 2012, I’ve packed back on 30 pounds. Bring on the stinky cave — I am re-insulated and ready to live off my hips for a few months. Some of that’s a lot of sitting in office chairs since then. Some of that’s… Continue reading The bear went into the mountain; beef-barley-vegetable soup
My father’s mother was so Pennsylvania Dutch she spoke it. My mother’s mother, so Northeastern WASP she spoke that! My father loved Pennsylvania Dutch food so my passive-aggressive mother never fixed it. (Her friend Doris G. made this soup.) She loved struggling with cranberries to see if she couldn’t get her smooth sauce to gel… Continue reading Chicken corn soup and cranberry-orange bread — who I am