The other day I read a quote by Kate that went something like this: Make supper first thing in the morning because then, no matter what happens the rest of the day, at least you have supper.
So yesterday morning, right after breakfast, I washed lettuce, chopped veggies, and boiled eggs for the evening’s chef salad. And it’s a good thing I did, too, because then I invited my daughter-in-law to go on a walk with me and afterward we sat down at the table to eat lunch together (toasted olive bread and cheese, gazpacho, and iced coffees) and ended up talking until after four o’clock! And then my husband and I ran out the door to play Ultimate. Limping into the house afterward, hot and sweaty and bone-weary, I was so thankful for my early-morning thoughtfulness.
Once again this morning, with the same bulls-by-the-horns energy, I made supper right after breakfast. This time: vegetarian groundnut stew.
Supper made, I feel ridiculously smug. I can sit here on the couch, absorbed in my other projects, knowing all the while that no matter what else may come up, a full, nourishing dinner awaits.*
*I still need to cook the brown rice in the turkey broth, and stir the peanut butter into the veggies…
This same time, years previous: yogurt, the water-bath method, hill of the martyrs, in the kitchen, injera and beef wat, a trusty skirt, the quotidian (7.28.14), rest and play, the boy and the bike ride, July evening.