We share the responsibility for the row that began Friday afternoon … both cranky for different reasons, exacerbated by a major, mutual disappointment.  We’d planned a couple of play days in one of our favourite US cities this weekend.  He was going for business meetings Monday and Tuesday, and I was going to tag along, something that rarely happens in our hectic lives.  But I got hit by a bug so severe it required a trip to the clinic and drugs that are almost worse than the illness. Our plans screeched to a halt, my plane ticket cancelled, his rearranged and hefty penalties paid.

Needless to say the atmosphere has been heavy indoors this weekend, weighted down by moody silences.  I’m a terribly patient.  Is there such a thing as a ‘good’ patient?  Lying in bed makes me ache, top to bottom.  So I converted the family room, the hub of activity in our house, into a temporary sick room, where I could lounge on the loveseat, feet up on the ottoman, cozy under the afghan, surrounded by newspapers, books; the guest bathroom just down the hall and my home office right around the corner.

Manger, manger …

This morning I felt well enough to pull together one of our favourite breakfast meals that always requires his help … only my guy knows how to grill peameal bacon to perfection.  Accompanied by fluffy scrambled eggs (10% cream instead of skim milk – just this once) and thinly sliced field tomato lightly dressed and sprinkled with chives freshly snipped from the remains of my summer herb garden.  I ate little but was able to keep him company at the table.

Why does food make us happy?

I’m not talking about the science of happiness but if you do want the technical scoop go here.  And, Dr. Willie Ong lists 11 foods that make us happy but I swear I did not put chocolate or broccoli in the eggs. Comfort food perhaps? I think the answer Dr. Oz gives is getting warmer:  Comfort food makes us happy psychologically … because they’re linked to [good] memories.


My opinion … working together in food preparation requires co-operation and focus (and gifted space management skills depending on the size of your kitchen) that distract us from our worries.  Intuitively I knew the tension had evapourated as soon as he asked if I’d like a glass of our favourite breakfast drink, swamp water (a drizzle of cranberry juice floated on top of freshly squeezed, ice-cold orange juice).

Happy Endings and Pea Soup

So, we’re good.  The sun is shining, and he smiled as he left for the golf course to get a few holes in before his evening flight.  Me?  Back to my cozy nest with occasional forays to the PC.  Writing makes me happy, but not as happy as anticipating a bowl of the ham and pea soup I’ve got simmering on the stove.  He’s going to be so surprised!