Plain noodles

was a book my children read over and over at their Nana Alisons. They loved it. I have pictures of them fresh out of the bath in pajamas with that book firmly clutched.
It has been stormy and cold here for most of the past week.Today Mackenzie made porridge and it felt like a snow day.We were all tucked up inside breakfasting together and one of my old favourite songs was playing..I want to be a mysterious woman off 'philo so far' a compilation album. It was a moment that took me back and made me feel joy and sadness simultaneously.
I have been dreaming of my old house when the kids were small and grieving for all the change that has occurred in this year. I am not one to ever want to go backwards and I don't mind aging..it has its benefits. But I miss the small bodies that tucked into mine and the smell of warm pajamas and snow days when I stopped the clock and we stayed inside and played. Routines abolished.
That sense of forever and wishing the days away because I thought I had so many to spare.
Last night the darling Sue asked us over and she cooked noodles which were delicious. She made me my own special bowl of rice noodles and I felt cared for. I made them for myself tonight and they were still yum..
Rice or udon noodles cooked
I dressed mine with a little sesame
I minced lamb steak because thats what I had and browned it then added in some homemade tomato sauce Kecap manis, a dash fish sauce and some kataia Fire(hot sauce) spinach and wilted it and some cilantro..
Sue used soy and sweet chili
So simple and so yum.
For my girls I would use tofu
Not quite plain noodles

My small stones for today are things not so much on the outside of me but observances on the inside.
How i am a bit raw and unfiltered at the moment with my speech
how i am a text book example of Elizabeth Kubler Ross's grief process and how I can almost watch it as a projection
and how things I see that stand out are almost always about light and colour
the lilac of the hosta flower that I bought with phili
the end of day sun on the macrocarpa trunk- it is indian yellow
my chickens bright apricot foot in the dirt next to the wood pile I was shifting
My sons hair..to paint it I need cadmium orange red oxide and the tiniest bit of umber..