Otherwise known as...The Best Chicken Noodle Soup... Ever
I had a full weekend. A very full weekend.
The full weekend started on Friday... I worked until five (2+ hours past contract time but... ) freshened up, and met up for a social with members of My Formerly Rural County's Counselor Association at the Food Truck Bazaar in the downtown area of the Bigger Town next to My Small Town. For Florida it was rather chilly, but I was wearing a hoodie, complimented by a black pea coat.
My favorite coat.
We spent a comforting couple of hours sharing battles with students, parents, others. We have lost battles, but not the war. That's why we do what we do... we believe we make a difference.
Close to eight o'clock, teeth nearly chattering, I told the group I needed to take off. Class was looming, and I still had a bit of reading to cover before bed.
Class at Stetson was the usual gambit of law, interesting anecdotes, and a bit more. During our morning break, I made a beeline for Starbucks for my weekly skinny latte. I had a suspicion my routine would be foiled, and I was correct: the Annual Spring Yard Sale at Celebration would prove to be my undoing: The line was just too long, and I returned to class with my buddy-in-crime, a math teacher in a magnet school (MTM) in My Formerly Rural County.
At lunch, we got takeout from a sandwich shop and MTM suggested we try Starbucks one more time.
I really needed my caffeine.
Soooo... our little lunch group trekked on over to Starbucks. I queued up behind an older gentleman wearing a suspiciously familiar purple argyle sweater.
It looked just like the sweater Mom gave me for Christmas. It is a great sweater! I smiled. I love your sweater.
He told me it was a hand-me-down from his wife, who felt it would be better served on the golf course than in her wardrobe. It looks great! I love argyle.
I was just being friendly. I love cute old people, and was met with the quip, I wish you'd love what's in the sweater!
Oh myyyyyyy.
I laughed and patted his shoulder, and his wife walked out of the washroom a minute later.
About an hour later I was in class and our professor began to tell us about frontal-lobe deterioration, where folks have very little filter to sensor what comes out of their mouths. Everyone in my little lunch group started laughing and pointing at me. Professor inquired, and I shared the story. A good laugh was had by all.
Always glad to entertain.
After class, I freshened up, and met up with Jack, an old college friend who had a reprieve from his girlfriend for a night out with his favorite spinster. We stayed out until close to midnight. I didn't turn into a pumpkin, but felt mighty tired by the end of the evening. Around 11:30, he looked at me and was kind enough to tell me I looked bored. Jack, I'm exhausted. It's time to go home.
I hadn't been home since eight in the morning. It was well past time for flannel pajamas and my cozy bed.
Yesterday morning I woke up at seven, and worked on a project for my next class literally ALL day, minus brief Facebook breaks.
Everybody needs a little distraction, right?
I drank lots of hot tea, read lots of statutes and administrative codes, and attempted to make sense of them for my classmates.
I collapsed into bed around 9, and woke up this morning with a decidedly scratchy throat.
No bueno.
After all the time I spent in the chilly air this weekend, plus having been around folks under the weather, I could hardly have expected any other outcome. My health lasted long enough to get me through the half marathon last weekend. I really couldn't have asked my body for anything more.
When I left work this afternoon, I drove straight to Publix, and purchased ingredients to cure what ails me: Garlic, ginger, a jalapeno pepper, boneless skinless chicken thighs, and... chokusoba (otherwise known as ramen) noodles. (I already had low-sodium chicken broth in my pantry.)
Every time I make chicken soup, it tastes like the best chicken soup. Ever. Today I am sure of it.
I may be a spinster with a miserable cold, but I am in my favorite flannel pajamas, listening to the This American Life podcast, having eaten the most amazing homemade chicken noodle soup ever.
It's not bragging if it's true... life is good.
Author's Note: Even though her life is exceedingly full, the author wishes for readers to keep her in mind if they know someone who appreciates an amazing bowl of chicken ramen goodness and a youngish spinster. ;-)
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