This last week I got slammed by some sort of virus; the kind where the cats even took notice. Rather than caterwauling to go outside, they lay on either side of me while I slept the week into infinity. There’s no greater comfort than the love of a warm, furry being. Except, maybe soup.
Whenever I’m feeling out of sorts, either from a head cold or the stomach flu my body craves soup. Piping hot broth-based soup. Chicken soup most often, from scratch if I can manage to make it myself. But when my body makes that task almost impossible to achieve I opt for wonton soup instead.
There’s something about Chinese soups that screams medicinal healing, and whether based in fact or fiction — I’m ever so grateful for the kick in the seat of your pants induced sweat lodge session that rids my body of its impurities and nurses it back to health.
modern vintage ink 