Some­thing is wreak­ing havoc on my sys­tem right now. The cul­prit is likely the soup I exca­vated from the depths of the fridge on Mon­day and blithely ingested assum­ing that heat would kill any­thing toxic. It did not.

Yes­ter­day was our anniver­sary. Three years since we were very blurry but my dad was in focus.

Ryan and Rebecca with Dad in foreground
Lessons I have learned from three years of mar­riage: don’t eat ancient soup. Make sure the per­son you marry will be nice to you in case you do.

Once I get my appetite back, I may ven­ture into the kitchen with one of these recipes: spaghetti squash gratins and apple cider donut holes (wait, would donut holes make me feel worse?) or two tasty com­bos of corn, leek and pota­toes. But right now, it’s chicken noo­dle soup time.