life is just a bowl of soup

standing here, dusk falling, twenty-three years on, stirring tonight's offering: the beginnings of a rainydaysoup. inhaling the sweet fragrances of olive-oiled red onion and parsnip, melding together in caramellygoodness, sprinkled with salt to sweat. the whiteness of leek, a three musketeer sort of start-up.

this time of year, the nostalgia of that big black thundercloud we got married under, stood under, stayed under. my belly not-yet-swelling, filling with beauty. fast-forward to nose prickling as the grapevine takes on a sour mustyness, leaves shrivelling under the late late summer's heat, still umbrellaing untasted fruit. five kids and hangers-on rendezvousing chez nous for easter jazz, a trio of boyvoices suddenly turned from soprano to rich tenor-baritone.

now adding thick wedges of roasted pumpkin with two litres of chicken stock that you've lovingly boiled down from a family roast and frozen for future daze, a dash of seasoning for international posterity, extra water to make it go around.

reminiscing all the years you've held my hand, held me up, held me in this balance of motherhood and teacheriness, of making babies and making stuff. it's quite insane when ya do the math (yeah, the americans have got to my grammarian sensibilities): we've lived together longer than we've lived apart. time stands still, heals all wounds, love makes the world go around.

soupyness is at the boil, turning down to a gentle simmer, summer. so thankful for your goodness in and around my entire existence, photomoments flashing in and out of my consciousness.

buzzer sounds, the moment has arrived. time for a spin, whizz the lumps away and serve with hot, crusty bread. butter dripping down wrists of offspring we've made. the marriage of soup and bread, sustenance of souls around the world.

still together: bound by the bonds of love, and nothing can track that.

mind games

i haven't had much time for the blogworld of late. since bloglines quit on me and my rss feeds went south and i started teaching in the classroom and my blog community and i went to facebook, i've hesitated to upload my head here.

it's hard to put the jedi mind whammy on sharing my soul here: i feel it's not particularly professional to post vignettes/pics of the charges in my classroom-care.. we have a class blog for that. also, since my previous subject matter went to skool, they're at the point in their lives where i value their privacy more than my desire to blog every second of our happy existence. plus at the end of the day, i'm all emotional-creativitied out.

but in the past two days i've come across this blog, and the question was asked, what crazy, absolutely pointless, and downright fun games do you make up with your kids?

and i remembered this little space, and then i missed it.

so i wrote:
"three games come to mind (we have teens)
1. the movie lines game: someone surreptitiously drops a movie line into the convo at which the conversee grins and says the next line in the movie. it started many years ago with the best movie of all time (the princess bride) and has just evolved..

2. someone says a word... usually prefaced by "you're a... (silly monkey)" then everyone spontaneously joins in the convo by offering a word that rhymes with the last syllable of that word.. tree.. sea... bee... pee... (it's a bit like your poop game)..

3. the song lyrics game: someone unwittingly says something that reminds the conversee/s of a song lyric, which they grinningly say/sing... then someone else offers a song lyric with the same word in it... a very merry christmas, and a happy new year... mary had a little lamb... old king cole was a merry old soul... etc
totally love the spontaneous games that make each family so unique, so special."

and i really do. so i wrote a few thoughts for this weekend, the culmination of twenty-three years walking together: yep, it's our wedding anniversary again. this year we've bought two ukuleles to mark the occasion: even though the harmonies of our songs are changing, we're still singing the lyrics loudly in unison.

sam's iTunes: hammock-time.