I Cried While Making Chili

This afternoon, while Little Girl napped, I made a huge amount of chili.  Four batches to be exact.  That's a lot of onions!  They were fresh onions and very strong.  I diced them in the food processor but the fumes still got to me.  Why did I make that much chili?  Because it's freezer meal swap day on Friday and I chose to make chili this month.  I will offer up my 7 frozen bags of neatly stackable chili with a side of cornbread mix (they will have to come up with their own egg), and I will come home with six different frozen meals made by the friends in my freezer-meal group.

I always feel a bit awkward at the checkout line when I am buying enough beans to feed a small army. (And to provide gas for a small army)  Sometimes I explain.  Sometimes I let people wonder.  This time I explained my situation to the woman behind me and I asked the check out clerk if she wouldn't mind coming home and helping me open all those cans.  She laughed and easy Jamaican laugh and said she'd be glad to.  I told her not to worry, that my husband could help and she went into an impromptu freak performance of a woman yelling at her good-for-nothing spouse to get up off the couch and "cum an help out 'er far once!" It was very entertaining and I had to smile at how much I am entertained by the people here.

So I was making the chili, tearing up, and wiping my eyes with tissue, listening to This American Life with Ira Glass, wondering what he actually looks like.  I can't get enough of This American Life and listen to it often when it's quiet in my kitchen (it's not usually quiet enough to permit this).  The other night I enjoyed listening to funny tales of sleep walking by Mike Birbiglia.

The most recent episode is called Iraq After Us, and soon my tears were no longer due to the onions.  Interview after interview with local Iraqi people painting a picture of despair over their current circumstances.  I lost it when during one interview the snake oil shop owner notices that someone has left the store without her bag and he must quickly go and check it for explosives.  It was just a forgotten bag, but still.  I can't even imagine living like that.  Of course I was reminded of when my husband was there for just a mere 6 months.  Six long months.  Also heavy on my mind was the decision we are trying to make in faith.  Whether to get out of the military or stay in.  Both provide security and risk in one way or the other.  And then there were more tears.

So please forgive me freezer meal gals if the chili is a bit on the salty side this month.