Physician, Heal Thyself

The worst part about being The Mother and The Cook in the family is that when I get sick (like I am now) and all I can think about is gulping down a big ol' bowl of Jewish penicillin (in my house, that means not only chicken soup, but also big, beautiful matzoh balls), I'm the one who has to drag my ass to the grocery store, buy the ingredients, peel and clean and season the brew, and then wait HOURS (because no chicken soup should be served before its time) for it to be ready in all its chickeny, veggie-ish, matzoh-balled glory.

Where is my mommy when I need her? Oh, right. All the way across the country. Sigh. [Waving at my mom, who is reading here now...Hi mom!]

The good news? I now have two huge containers of the stuff in my fridge. I plan to eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner until this plague I'm infested with (coughing, sniffling, sore-throated goodness) is gone.

And, no, you can't have any. I'm saving it all for me.