Chicken Soup and Sledding

I couldn't wait to get home. There I was with the opportunity to hang in Manhattan, spend another day even, and I passed. I skipped Manhattan and the extra day. I just wanted to get home.

Why? Some of my kids were sick. I wanted to make chicken soup. So I did. Daughter #7 set the poultry "a stewing" so the stock and meat were ready for me when I arrived home in the afternoon. In no time onions and celery were chopped, a full bowl of carrots were "pennied", and soup pasta was added. A bit of generous seasoning and, voila!

I sent some soup to Daughter #2 and her family because she had been under the weather. Daughter #1, who had a cold as well as her kiddos, headed her crew this way for soup. And Daughter #5, down with the flu for several days, was well enough to join us at the table.

And today I sent some of the soup to a young man down the street who is also showing symptoms of flu.

So, the soup was made. Hooray!

I also was happy this morning to see snow falling. Spring was bursting on the scene in New Jersey with rain and mild temps. But not here. We had giant snowflakes filling the air outside my window. And why, you may wonder, did that make me happy!

I called out to Merrick, "Hey, buddy! Have you been sledding at all this year? I was sad yesterday when I realized that we hadn't taken you sledding!"

"Nope! Not this year," came his quick reply.

"Well, this afternoon. It's a plan!"

So Rick and I donned our wintry garb, filled the vehicles with snow tubes and saucers, gathered grandkids from hither and yon, and went sledding! Up and down the hill, carrying little Aubs with me. She wouldn't wait for a sled; instead she all but catapulted herself down the hill on her tummy! Sun in a blue sky, packed snow crusted with ice, plenty of sleds and happy faces! What a blast!

Who needs Manhattan when you've got a soup kitchen in Madrid and the best Big Hill ever!