Chicken Soup with Rice

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How are you today?

Over here, today is a chicken soup day. Well, the making of the chicken soup day. I’m on the cusp of not-quite-vegan. However, the other people in my house feel connected to consuming animal products so I do the best I can with local, organic, sustainable things. I recognize my privilege in being able to even make that statement.

I do not judge anyone for eating animal products, or using them in other ways. It is a matter of my digestion which sketchy at best, does better without the meat. For a long time I was very vegetarian. At some point in my 20’s I kept thinking about how old cultures use every part of an animal, or as much as they can, showing respect for their sustenance. In contrast, I couldn’t eat, prepare or cook most of an animal, much less harvest one. If I had to kill an animal for food, which one would I be able to kill, clean, prepare and eat? The only thing I could come up with was fish and I’m not even sure I could do that on my own. If I couldn’t hold myself accountable to the animal kingdom by being willing to harvest and prepare them, then I was pretty sure that I did not deserve to eat them. So I gave up eating meat. I was/am privileged enough to not eat meat.

When I became pregnant, and was able to carry to pregnancy beyond 4 months, MrexH, my family, and my obstetrician told me that I had to eat meat in order for my pregnancy to continue and for my baby to be healthy. BrotherHerisme told me I was being selfish if I did not do everything I could by eating meat to help my growing baby. It had been such a long and trying road to get to that point in my life-long dream of having a baby, that I gave in and ate meat. It tasted like gritty hot bloody fat, chewy dry fat, and pork reeked of sewage (still does) to me, but I did it. Then it became a default through my terrifying separation and divorce since so many family members were in and out – I just ate whatever was there, and the people love the meat.

Then BrotherHerisme Ben Franklined up by having gout flare-ups (which is painful and not funny, yet funny bc gout and Ben Franklin), and became a vegetarian teetotaler meat-shaming ass. *sigh* Such is the life with an adult sibling of narcissistic abusive parents from the 70’s/80’s… He’s still funny sometimes, though. Space and grace, space and grace y’all.

Off and on I have thought about letting go of my meat habit because it was not serving me – it was hurting my body. I finally let my meat consumption go again late last year. Which explains my rice/spinach/pickled beet/roasted corn/falafel/baba ghanoush/housed in a cereal bowl lunch and currently being consumed. I have a spinach problem (Which I believe I have mentioned before), so it is in everything … almost everything. Spinach and cauliflower are life! Cauliflower crust pizza with spinach, basil, diced tomatoes and pesto popped onto a pizza stone on the grill, is life… plus some of that hard core chocolate oatly! Woot woot! Pizza Friday is just a few days away! I am not vegan, obvs bc pizza IS life fuh reals. I am careful with my diary consumption to be kind to my gut which hates diary no matter what hard sale my brain tries to cajole it with. My brain is the top tier sales person of the forevers to my entire being, except for my gut. The gut is strong and unwavering in it’s dedication to reality. Uncooperative guts.

On that note, I am off for the making of the chicken soups for the people(for neighbors too! Imma red pepper mushroom soup it up for myself). Leftover Hurricane Ida storm bands are on their way – not devastating when they reach us – we are safe. {{{hugs}}} Gulf Coasters

Tummy bugs, flu bugs plus COVID are afoot as well. Safe and healthy wishes to you!

Soup up y’all.

Happy Once
Happy Twice
Happy Chicken Soup with Rice!

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

Check Marked

(unknown origin, will credit once identified)

You guys – I watched a movie.

non-Marvel? CHECK

non-Star Wars? CHECK

non-kiddo friendly? CHECK

fiction? CHECK MATE

As you know, this is huge for me. Then, as I was brag-texting about my accomplishment to an Inveterate Optimist, I got sick to my stomach – twice. So, maybe not that huge of an accomplishment. F it – yeah it is. #checkyourselfbeforeyouwreckyourself

I tried to watch this same movie at some point last Spring and made it about 2 minutes in before I recognized one of the actors who does not sit well with me, although admittedly I am not very familiar with his work. I am sure he is lovely and fine and his family and friends love him very much. I knew of him from a documentary kind of show I watched a few episodes of at the beginning of COVID quarantine. I had to stop watching that because I would just absolutely break down and cry – sob ugly cry. At the time I figured it was because they were having so much fun in the show going around to the places, learning the things, drinking the things and maybe I was jealous or grief feeling how much I have missed enjoying things in my life. They were having fun (yes, I KNOW it is produced, directed, contrived etc even in a “real life experience” kind of show), and I… I was… I am not.

Anywho, I decided to open the rusty ol’ Netflix app on my phone when I couldn’t sleep (something was growling outside – it’s a thing as I live in the woods which are occasionally spooky), and the movie was still sitting there asking to be resumed. I restarted it and I watched it. It was short, maybe 90 minutes or so, very quirky, no emphasis on falling in love, and it has Toni Collette (I do know of her)! Even though I did cry at points, ultimately I felt such a sense of relief that I made it through the movie.

Then the afterwards arrived and, well, I need to find therapy y’all.

The innate worthiness factor and my parenting with SonHerisme are super concerning for me. He’s still in virtual school until next school year when it looks like most of us will have had vaccines. Ill MotherHerisme and I are all he has to engage with most days. Oh, and MotherHerisme’s two un-socialized little minature schnauzer dogs. SonHerisme is lonely and he deserves so much more. He is such a great kid.

Post spinach lunch (again, I know – its like a drug), seed sewing (not a euphemism – actual plant seeds needing tended), a bit of laundry and driveway power walk, I am going to at least look up some therapist contacts. I don’t think I’ll return to the woman I was seeing pre-COVID. She’s too lovely, compassionate and kind. I think I need someone a bit more detached, or rather someone I feel more detached from.

Sort of like watching any show. If I feel any kind of anything other than it’s silly and entertaining, I just cannot watch the program. At all. My brain and body just do not handle any feeling above numb very well, unless I feel some control over the situation or it is so very deep into the sillyzone. I would like to not be like this anymore. Disassociation is my superpower which is super exhausting me and super impacting my ability to help SonHerisme grow (and not in a positive way).

However, I would really like to go down to the NGA DC because it is a great comfort to be surrounded by impactful artwork which I can internally interpret and walk away from at any time without feeling any obligation or need for explanation. I don’t think the buildings are open atm – maybe by reservation (?).

*dream break* I like to walk around the sculptures first – Romulus and Remus, African Allegory, the lady with the veil, the little politicians’ busts, Paul Revere, Little Dancer – you know, the usual. Then say my, “how-de-do’s!” to George on my way upstairs to see sweet Ginerva, count the Ruben’s lions, Napoleon, the boating party, the ice skater guy and girl in the white dress (whom I believe come to life for a secret after-hours affair then spend all day staring at each other across the galleries – it could be true). The Civil War memorial, which is noble and sad at the same time. The central fountain with its seasonal arrangements… The steps up from the mall where you can pretend to be Kung Fu Panda pulling your dim-sum cart up the mountain for the festival (sweet SonHerisme memories). Then back down to the basement for coffee and a lot of “no, we are not buying that”‘s at the gift shop, before heading over to the East building to see Bellow’s boxers, Calder, Rothko, Mondrian, Pollock and the sitting Buddha outside with the fantastic giant blue rooster. Return to the basement for a treat and then a short walk through the sculpture garden, avoiding the Natural History Museum because by then it is too crowded, before heading home.

I hardly ever go through the first floor gift shop, only the basement one and I don’t know why. The lady’s room is much nicer on the first floor. Hmmm… maybe a pivot for next visit. That’s sad, dreaming about clean lady’s rooms in museums. That’s where we are on the COVID mental health scale atm, I suppose.

Onwards to check mark off the things needing the doing.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps meet me post-COVID at the NGA DC for a cuppa and we can walk, walk, walk, not talk, together. Not too long on the verso of Ginerva because I will cry because da Vinci is almost too much. Also, there’s a sparkly walking sidewalk in the basement! sys

pps Birthmarked is the movie and now that I’ve thought about the experience for a day or so, I think I am okay with it – yay!