Life grabbed me by the hair and dragged me away from this blog for a couple of weeks, but I’m back.
By “life” I mean LIFE: the big stuff, like a friend’s father’s cancer diagnosis, but also the small stuff, like Saturday breakfasts with my husband, late-night talks with my daughter, and quiet afternoon strolls with my mom.
Hamlet continues apace at Georgia Shakespeare, and remains one of the finest productions I’ve ever been in. (Get your tickets here.) Home is cluttered but comfortable – a sure sign that I’m busy with creative pursuits.
I’ve done a bit of cooking and baking lately. Someone recently asked me if I’m a foodie. I had to say no, because I hardly ever cook gourmet dishes or go to fine restaurants. But in fact, I’ll admit to foodie status in one category: I’m a soup and sandwich connoisseur.
I’ve loved a hearty bowl of soup and a two-fisted sandwich since I was a little girl. Mom made all our bread from scratch, and she had a vegetable soup recipe to die for (mostly leftovers, of course; she was frugal). Dad liked his soup chock full of meat and veggies, so he had a tongue-in-cheek test for soup perfection: he’d stick a wooden spoon into the pot, and if the spoon stood up, it was soup. It the spoon fell over, it was broth. If you couldn’t get the spoon through all the ingredients, it was stew.
As fall begins in Georgia, I’ve felt called to make real soup that would pass Dad’s test. And I’ve paired it with bread, muffins, and cinnamon rolls – all the comfort foods that make rainy days tolerable and crisp autumn nights even more delicious.
Good food, good work, good family and friends. These are the things that fill my life. How could I be anything but grateful?