Nothing makes me feel as cozy as comfort food does. Is it just a southern thing? Why is it that as soon as it drizzles and drops below forty degrees all I want to do is start cooking down celery, onions, and carrots in a heavy bottomed pot?
Today was a drizzly day and I got nothing done.
But I did make stew.
I am still in my pjs, laundry is not put up, but stew was made and stew was ate. These are the days I cherish the most and the ones I'll miss the most when I move from my family home. Today the whole family probably ate three times their weight in stew, I know I did.
These days before spring semester are going faster the more I try to drag them out. After this semester I am moving, switching schools and basically moving on, starting on my own.
Today stew that burned my mouth made me happy. Maybe all we need sometimes is stew straight off the stove.
