on sunday nights at my home, i make soup. i have been doing this since last February.. i usually make a brothy soup; fennel and onion, parsley and bok choy and whatever else i have left over in my fridge from the week. It’s a very grassroots process for me, getting out the big stock pot, cutting up herbs and veggies, drizzling in some oil, drinking some white wine, watching everything soften under the heat and filling my kitchen with delicate flavors.
last night, while making the soup, i ran into an issue i have had every time i have made it, which is annoying enough to stick a fork into my zen cooking moments. our hand-crank can opener needed some attention. every single thing i have opened with it in the last year, has be a bear to crank, but i just rushed through it and just put it back in our very well organized kitchen drawer. this time, i stopped. i asked brian to help me clean and oil it. in three minutes, i had a brand new can opener, which glides along can tops like it’s figure skating on butter. and i was suprised how taking a few moments to embrace an opportunity to make something better, had made me better. it forced me to slow
down, to stop moving in auto pilot and to be present in the little (not so beautiful) moments.
the donor we chose has agreed to do a cycle with us. (she just completed two cycles with other couples) i am waiting to hear back from my nurse on timing. i have done a lot of fun stuff the last few weeks. We took a trip to Lake June, Florida where we foilboarded for 3 long very warm days out in the sunshine and fresh air with our retired friends who winter there. The husband of the couple was diagnosed with cancer 2 years ago, is in remission but recently had to do another round of radiation. Every day since then, he has been out there, on the water, his wife driving the boat, throwing the highest jumps, wakerolls and flips that would blow your socks off right into the washing machine. He is an amazing teacher in what it means to be alive.