- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!
Friday, April 03, 2009
I don’t think it’s supposed to be that color.
What do you think? It was greener when I drank it [reluctantly] at my desk.
Might be helpful if I told you what it is: Central Market Organics Free Range Chicken Broth [Low Sodium]. I realize that organic chicken is better for my body than the cheaper stuff, but I wonder if the chicken is any happier to be soup?
I took a quart of this to work yesterday, with the idea of quaffing it a cup at a time throughout the day to speed up my recovery. They don’t call it Jewish penicillin for nothing! I don’t know if it would taste funny to anybody else, and I realize that my sense of smell and taste buds are seriously compromised, but I was underwhelmed. And I have five more litres of this in my pantry. Which I certainly will not be using to make risotto, or my potato leek soup, or anything else that relies on chickenliness.
Because chickenliness is next to godliness, at least in my kitchen, assuming I don’t have to touch raw poultry to achieve it. I think I will take the last of Wednesday’s chili-thinned-with-Rotel jollop to work today and mix it with this chicken blah-th and see if that will redeem it.
[If this cantankerousness is any indication, you may safely assume that I am convalescing.]
Knitting happened. When I stepped off the train last night, I was ten rounds shy of the gusset increases. When I went to bed, I was here.
Not bad for a day in which, if a co-worker asked how I was, I responded, “Vertical.”