i don't think it is possible to feel perfectly fabulous on a monday.

there is just something about weekends, perhaps you let your guard down a bit and then

WHAM! you're slammed back into the week, reality sets in as you stare vacantly into a closet full of clothes and nothing to wear.

and you're often late. or sluggish. or daydreamy.

i was the last two today, a bit sloth like but still singing to myself when no one was around...

then it rained. and i didn't have my umbrella. or my cute raincoat. or a pair of shoes that wanted to get wet (despite having 3 pairs at work). so my feet got wet.
and i listened to the cure.

when i got home, i took a hot shower and decided it was a very good evening to make a big soup.
i can smell it simmering now.

i'd almost forgotten how therapeutic cooking can be.

peeling the skins of fresh cloves of garlic
the smell of raw cauliflower
karapincha

the mechanical ease of the knife slitting open a bell pepper, seeds spilling out onto the cutting board
stained water flowing down the drain as cool water runs over potatoes: rich, red earth: fingers scrubbing gently

onion tears

i'm not even hungry, it's a soup for the soul.

bon appetit