Chicken Soup and Muddy Shoes

Once, I was riding in the back of a pickup truck, holding on for dear life as we raced through a muddy field.  My brother-in-law made a comment about me being a city girl, and I could not deny that fact.  I very much enjoy the outdoors-I love hiking and camping and such, but only as a break from the “real” world.  I don’t know how I would do living the country life that Hubs grew up with.  When his family came to visit, they were amazed:  A Rite Aid on BOTH ends of the street?  A Dairy Queen?  7/11?  Food delivery past 9pm?  WHAT?

Anyway.

I was at the store a couple of weeks ago and looking for chicken noodle soup, as M can pretty much survive solely on that substance.  Also, I love me some soup-I think it’s the most underrated of all foods.  Problem is, the hiccup in the supply chain that day happened to be soup.  There was none to be found.  So I, with a head full of hope, decided to make my own.  I bought all the supplies and went home, and spent that Saturday whipping up what I believed would be the best chicken noodle soup in history.

So, you are NOT supposed to cook the noodles with the broth.  Did you know that?  Because I did not.

What I ended up with was a suspiciously creamy, noodle-free soup.  I ate a little.  I made Hubs eat a little.  Even L was brave enough to try it.  It was tasty enough, but its consistency due to the boiled down noodles was just too weird.  I tried to pawn it off on my mom.  She wasn’t interested.

I decided then that this life was not for me.  I was not meant to be a homemaker.  I’m not my mother, who knows how to decorate and organize and keep everything neat and together and cook amazing meals.  I have a few things I cook amazingly, but honestly very little of it is from scratch.  One time, and only one time, I made a cake from scratch.  It did not come out how it was supposed to.  That’s when I discovered baking wasn’t my jam, either.

Hubs and I go on a lot of hikes.  We start in the spring and hike until the snow falls, always on the lookout for new trails.  Our first hike of this year was to Hobuck Flats, a lovely fishing spot with a little waterfall you can climb to.  It was nice, until my foot completely sunk into some mud and it seeped through my sneaker to my sock.  I was completely grossed out for the remainder of the day and furious with myself for not wearing my boots.  “It’s just a little mud,” he says.

I am not a country girl.

I am not a country girl.  I am not Susie Housewife.  I am fortunate to have a husband who understands these things and does not make fun of me when I do stuff such as screech like a banshee when I see a leech, or get mad at me when I forget to vacuum for a week.  I am also fortunate enough to be able to go to the grocery store at 10pm and buy a can of soup.

Y’know.  Usually.

My point here is that while we are always growing, learning, and changing, some things are harder to change than others.  I don’t think I will ever be comfortable with mud in my shoe.  I don’t think I will ever make gourmet soup or from-scratch cakes.  But I’m okay with that, because there are so many things that I can do.  I can perform on stage.  I can write a novel.  I can cook an amazing ham.  I’m great with kids.  I can try new things, even if in the end I find they’re not for me.  We should always be trying new things, and it’s okay if it doesn’t work out in the end.  You can pick yourself up and try again, or, you can say “screw it, I’ll wait to buy soup in a can.” Either way, it’s okay.  We all have talents and faults.

 Embrace both.

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