Inconceivable

I’m calling in sick today.
I’m skipping out on yoga.
I’m counting my blessings.

Hopefully those who are happy about how Trump did in the election last night will repudiate those among their ranks who spread hate, fear, and violence. Because right now, I’m concerned about my safety, the safety of my family, and the safety of my friends.

You know it’s serious when I’m skipping out on my weekly beer and cheese date at The Cheese Traveler. I’m going to stay home and recharge. How?

Comfort foods.

Yesterday I went to Slidin’ Dirty and got a half order of Fravos to go with the Dirty Po Boy. There was also some classic macaroni and cheese that I split with the kiddos. The children didn’t want the fried onions from their Dirty Pig pulled pork sliders, so we got those on the side. Cleverly, I took those beautifully fried, crispy, sweet, and savory threads and put them on my bites of cheesy pasta.

That hit the spot.

Last night, as the election returns were coming in, I toasted an english muffin and spread it with cultured French butter. That was comforting too.

Today, I really want to make chicken stock. I feel like there might be some metaphor there about taking scraps, and with patience and time, making something glorious from them. Plus in then end, you can have a rich base in which to put noodles. Noodles and soup may be just what the doctor ordered.

Or maybe I just crawl back into bed.