The Thing About Plagues, or Weird things happen to Weird People

I have been horribly lax in writing, dear readers. I've been thinking about it, and just the other day, I logged in! But then I logged out. Logging in seemed enough at the time.

Also, I've been down with the plague. Some sort of plague.

I seem to always be on my way or recovering from some sort of exotic plague, but THIS IS THE LAST TIME. And I know I said that when I had strep throat and then caught scarlet fever, but everyone knows I was working through some prairie girl issues from my last lifetime, and now I'm done. Except I might try to bring bonnets back.

Anyways. Plaguing makes me think about how I am often in the middle of disastrous situations that start in a well-intentioned adventurous and optimistic spirit.

And THAT reminds me of a particular time and recipe.

Seriously. Don't.

When I was twenty, I was all about adventuring through seasonal jobs. My friend Ashley and I had concocted a plan that meant we would move, sight unseen, to the Delaware shore for a beachy tourist job. Only, Ashley went one week ahead of me, and when I showed up later, she explained that the people we were supposed to be working for were CrazyPants. Not to be deterred, we left Dela-ware?! (you have to say it like that) and drove along the coast until we ended up in Virginia Beach. And we decided that we would get jobs there, and in a day, we did!

Because my life is incapable of normalcy, the jobs we got were at a old-timey photo booth, where on our first day, we were told we could wear either the company terrible-neon-fluorescent monogrammed tshirt OR costumes. So I spent my days dressed as a saloon girl and French maid and a Southern Belle. Going with the general plague theme, I passed out in a corset my first week. Ladies back in the old days had it tough and I love cotton undershirts with a new fervor.

Ashley and I moved into a lovely house equipped with some bunk beds, and acquired an even lovelier Rose of England roommate. A few weeks later, we gained, as if by magic, 8 Russian roommates, 3 Slovakian roommates, and 2 more roommates in the form of an Irish couple. This was in a teeny tiny 3 bedroom beach cottage. The bunk beds were not enough. There was one bathroom, and the shower was always clogged with sand, probably because I may be mis-estimating the number of Russian roommates. Some of them had been sleeping on the beach, and instead moved unofficially onto our living room floor. And who am I to kick out young adventurers who want to work crappy jobs all summer with me?

We were incredibly poor (sluttin' it up in old timey costumes surprisingly does not pay well), and everybody ate everyone else's food in the fridge so it was ridiculous to try to store food.

Surprisingly though, we had plenty of those beautiful gypsy moments where somehow everybody manages to feed everyone else in a stone soup fashion.

And the Slovakian roommates in particular gave me the recipe to a delicious soup I am still intensely fond of. It reminds me of grammas and home and rocking chairs and snowy afternoons.

Stone Soup, Hold the Stone.

2 chicken breasts, or the equivalent amount of chicken in the form you desire
1 head of cabbage, sliced
1 head of broccoli, sliced (sliced, you say!? Yes. Sliced.)
*a bunch of carrots, sliced (there's a theme here)
1 large onion, sliced (yellow is my preference, white still works. purple tastes weird.)
Salt & Pepper to taste

*Now, up until a couple weeks ago, I would recommend buying and chopping up baby carrots, because they're pre-washed and the gross parts are shaved off! But then I started reading (reading IS dangerous), and found out this: Baby Carrots Turned Out To Be Evil This information breaks my lazy heart a little bit.

In a pot, cook the chicken until it is cooked through (about 20 minutes). Poke it with a fork to check 'n' see. Then pull the chicken out of the pot and set aside.


Throw in the onions and carrots into your new chicken stock water, let cook for 10 minutes.


Add cabbage, cook 3 more minutes.


Add broccoli, cook for 3 more minutes.


While you are waiting, slice up that chicken, then throw that back in the pot.



That's it. Seriously. This is the easiest soup in the world, making it perfect if you are cooking for your own plague-ridden self.

Although sometimes, the Slovakians threw in a tablespoon-sized blob of mayonnaise as they were spooning out servings. That sounds like the grossest thing in the world, and kind of is, EXCEPT - it gives the soup a richer & saltier texture, and you don't notice when it's stirred up. ...but it still grosses me out visually, so I skip it. It's great when you don't feel well. You get your veggies and protein and liquids and it doesn't take much brain power. Unlike the finagling out of that particular seasonal job situation Ashley & I found ourselves in, which included adventures in legally avoiding rooming house situations, accidentally acquiring 2 Belarusian roommates (this was later), exploring New Age labyrinths, and acquiring diner pie at 3 am. There's just too much to cover over a bowl of soup, even with mayonnaise to stretch it out.