In the Soup

It has been nearly 72 hours since I have been back in Boston, and the whirligig of occurrences and the confluence of pithy matters?  Result: Fatigue, perseverance, a longing for pasta.

The menu has not varied much: Pizza, turkey cheeseburger, chicken and apple sausage sandwich on bread with sambal oelek.  The one new addition, influenced by Japan, is a really delicious, umami-rich dressing on mache and romaine hearts.

The dressing: A half teaspoon of good miso (Hokkaido) with bits of barley, a teaspoon of sesame paste, about an eighth of a cup of mirin, water to dilute.  Stir.  Wow.  Trust me: Wow.

Not that this nor the sparrows, screeching bluejays, and frantic squirrels compensate for what’s missing.

But you know what?  There is always something or someone missing.  That’s a kind of thinking that leads to some sorta phil-os-o-phy, y’know, y’know.  The idea being that contemplation is in itself the act rather than an action.  Apply that to all sorts of situations and you will find, you just might find, you’ll find, you get what you need.

After all, to the dramatic, emotionally charged among us: It’s called Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and not Emotional Behavioral Therapy (EBT).

You can’t cook with emotion.  You need a plan.


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