Before we moved, we talked about making more soups. We thought- hey, a whole food genre yet untapped - and one that will most likely taste particularly good when the cold hits (and I KEEP hearing about how it will it and hit hard - hard enough that I've been advised to buy SNOW BOOTS- no, the regular stylish leather boots won't do). But, about the soup (because soup really is more interesting than snow footwear). Tonight, we made a broccoli sausage bean soup. Ed copied the recipe from Rachel Ray's "30 minute meals." He said it looked "SO GOOD." Well, it's on the stove right now, heating up - and I gotta tell you, I JUST HAD TO make some brownies to inspire me to eat the stuff. It looks ghoulish - all green and smelly. I'm sure it's good for me (otherwise, what's the point). I feel like a second grader, needing an after dinner snack to inhale quickly (so as not to taste) dinner.
As this is my main complaint, you may guess that things indeed are working out. Nothing is secure (OF COURSE- I'm beginning to think nothing is EVER secure - despite all of our efforts to create such an allusion), BUT- I did pick up some freelance editing work and connected with a reputable (and, dare I say, pretty cool) temp agency whose clients include publishing companies. So, with the editing gig (two weeks and about the same amount of pay I'd make teaching one class for four months- ??X@#@@!!), the online SATs coming up next week and the temp work, we at least have legitimate income coming in for the next few weeks - which was more than I could say last week. After that, who knows, but it can't be any worse than the last few weeks.
Maybe it's because of all the hammering, sawing, drilling, and pounding that I've jumped at the chance to get out of the house. The other day, I practically slobbered all over the mom from upstairs when she asked if Jack and I wanted to go with her and her three girls (4 years, 18 months, 2 months) to Sears and iparty for baby clothes and halloween costumes. I was so ready to leave the house that I forgot that the woman who hired me for the editing job was going to call with details about the job (yeah, I missed the call, but it's okay thanks to email). Today, we drove out to a small "farm" with ducks, turkeys, a fox, otters, and turtles. The kids loved it. Just as we turned onto the street home, upstairs mom said her motto comes from Dori (?) on the kid movie, "Finding Nemo." At some point, Dori chants, "just keep swimming, keep swimming." I feel like Ed & I have been doing the butterfly stroke (or the hardest stroke there is) the last six weeks- but we get moving, not looking back - just plugging away at life and adjusting to change. This last week it began to feel more like the line from Jodie Foster's directorial stint, "Home for the Holidays" when Holly Hunters' character is sitting on the toilet, emotionally spent from Thanksgiving Dinner with the family. She's talking to her daughter (gal from "My So Called Life") who is telling her to remember the fish (from a vacation) and to "just float." We're beginning to float along instead of swimming upstream. A lot sooner than I thought, I tell you. Of course (to absolutlely drown in the metaphor), we'll hit some heavy currents and sharks, but for now, I'll lay back and float.
Oh, and eat soup. The brownies only have a few minutes left to cook, so I'd better get some hot nutrition before I eat the chocolate for dinner.