I made soup today. The sort that sticks to your ribs. Meat and hearty vegetables, I let it simmer for three hours so the bay leaves and the other spices could really infuse the broth with their richness. It’s what I had for dinner. It’ll be what I have for lunch tomorrow. And dinner. Probably lunch again on Monday as well. Perhaps Tuesday.... I made soup today... for eight people. It’s not my fault really, if you cook at all you know how difficult it is to cut recipes in half or in my case eighths. Actually I don’t use recipes too often. I’m a pinch of this, dash of that sort of cook. That is when I cook, which due to the aforementioned is not very often anymore.

I used to be a live-in care giver for two people with disabilities. I had an apartment in the basement and they lived upstairs. Two gentlemen (which I will always love) lived upstairs. They were in wheel chairs. Every night another staff person (generally male) would come to the house to help the guys in the evening and into bed at night. What I discovered in short order was the majority of people whom I was staffed with would do anything I asked of them, as long as dinner was my responsibility. So I cooked, sauteed, broiled, and baked for four people every night for two and a half years until I lost my job.

When I finished my first round of soup tonight I went for a sneak preview of “The Holiday” by myself. I don’t say this so you’ll feel bad for me, I actually enjoy going to movies on my own. I leave knowing exactly what Ithink of the film. There was a line inside the theatre, when we were finally allowed into the screening area the only decent seats left were the second row from the top. I’m lowering the volume on my cell phone like a dutiful theatre patron when I hear quietly from behind me “Ahh so there is another guy in this theatre” I half turned with a smile catching the chagrined wife who explains how they trade off viewing movies every Saturday. I told her good for her, to which she replies “yeah but that means next week I have to watch one of the shoot-em-up ones.” Which elicits a stream of playful banter between the two till the opening previews flashed up on the screen. “The Holiday” is a great movie of it’s genre. I left the theatre with the target quota of isn’t-that-so-sweet sighs and exclaimed “AWWW”s. I watched the couple leave together, the were probably in their forties, pleasantly plump, and content with each other. Contentment like a hot bowl of soup on a seriously bitter night.

When people ask me if I plan on getting married I often reply “ Only when I’m hormonal.” But the truth is when it really hits me is the domestic moments. I’m sure I come across as a strong independent woman. Is it so bad that I want to cook for four and sit around the kitchen table watching people enjoying the meal I’ve prepared for them? When I’m in my forties I want to have someone to quietly chid with in a darkened movie theatre or bake something for like the domestic goddess that I am : P Now’s the time I silently remind myself there is plenty of time before I’m knocking forty. For now I’m going to tackle soup bowl No.2