Just Keep Showing Up & Making the Soup

Some days, it's all you have the spoons to do

My dear, darling husband long ago came up with a way to let me know when I was getting carried away in geeked-out conversation, as I tend to do. It’s an occupational hazard. As a mostly remote/from-home worker since 2004, I get way too excited at an opportunity to chat with someone who “speaks my language.” 

And so when rambling on about the fine points of SEO, web design, editing, or some other such topic that has zero appeal in social situations to anyone except those who do said thing for a living, I’d hear Trevor pipe up from the peanut gallery, doing his best Simpsons Ralph:

“I make soup!”

That was his way of saying, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, have nothing to contribute here, and find it kinda rude to exclude someone from the conversation like this.”

He was right, and it became a running joke between us. I got to use it, too, and have on many occasions when the hockey talk or golf chat threatened to bore me to tears. 

Eventually, the soup theme made its way into conversation in other ways. One night, overwhelmed and exhausted from work, I blasted Trevor when he came in the door from work. His “How was your day?” unleashed a torrent of near-hysterical, blow-by-blow recounting of a super shitty day at work. “And then… and then! AND THEN!!”

It was bad. So bad I asked him, and myself, if I shouldn’t just quit and do something different. 

If that’s what you want to do, he said, you won’t decide it tonight, like this. He was right. (Don’t tell him… I hope he doesn’t read this and let it go to his head, but the man is right. Sometimes. On occasion.)

“Do you think every day is great for me at work?” He asked. I mean, no… but he seems to handle everything like water off a duck’s back. Cool as a cucumber. Nothing fazes this guy. 

(I, on the other hand, hover somewhere around Level 6 on the 7-point nuclear meltdown scale most of the time. Level 11 on a bad day. Absolutely no poker face whatsoever, either.)

Some days, you just have to go in and keep making the soup, he said. 

Some days, that’s all I can manage. But it’s something. 

His job is high-pressure, too. No doubt. As a chef in a mental health program, Trevor has the inherent stress of food service with a layer of people work on top. Some days, he gets to have brilliant ideas and big wins, and be super productive. Some days are a total shit sandwich. We all have days like that, but it surprised me to hear him say it. And at the bottom of the roller coaster, on the days when energy and morale are lowest, “I just keep making the soup,” he said. 

Thankfully, soup is a metaphor and his people are better fed than that. 

But I get it, and it’s relatable, and we still use it to this day. For Trevor, it means showing up, cooking the food, and keeping his head down. Nothing extra is happening that day. Mine looks more like making it to the meetings, avoiding any major public-facing errors, and answering the emails if only to buy more time until the better productive and creative work can happen. This isn’t a day for big ideas or planning or tackling major projects.

It’s your MVP (minimum viable product). It’s just barely keeping the lights on. It’s the day you call a win so long as your truck got from A to B, or no one cried at the till, or you kept everyone in the house alive. 

Some days, you just don’t have the spoons for much else. (See what I did there?)

I had one of those days yesterday. It was going well enough until the tell-tale ache of an impending migraine started behind my eyes after lunch. By the end of the work day, the screen was burning my eyes and the ache had spread to the back of my neck. I didn’t want to cancel dinner plans — and that was a mistake. My evening ended face-down in the toilet bowl after bolting before dessert, my field of vision narrowing, just barely avoiding a very embarrassing incident all over the neighbour’s table. The rest of the night was a blur of cold sweats, dry heaves, and a freight train doing donuts in my skull. 

And so today, I made the soup. 

Okay but like… I literally made the soup, y’all.

I finished the basics at work and left creative writing and strategic planning for another day. 

It was 33 degrees today, and I have a crockpot of soup on. 

It sounds counterintuitive but the crockpot is magic in tropical climates, where you don’t want to turn on a stove burner even long enough to boil tea water. Especially when you’re having a crap day and it’s making you miss home and family, and you want to go back to bed but can’t. For years, I’ve packed a mini crockpot in my suitcase for longer trips and housesits, and it’s served me well on many a day like this. 

At least tonight, we’ll have a nourishing meal that reminds us of home and hopefully sets my angry post-migraine belly straight. 

We cannot go at 110% or even 80% all the time. And there’s something meditative about the process and familiarity of mindlessly peeling, chopping, and dicing when you’re not feeling your best. 

Here’s a deliciously simple soup for the next day when you don’t have the spoons to do much else. 

Chop fine and throw in your crockpot:

• ½ an onion

• 1 medium carrot

• 1 red or yellow pepper

• 1 medium potato

• ½ a jalapeño (more or less depending on your tolerance for spice)

• 2 cloves garlic

• 1 knob of ginger, minced or grated 

Add:

• 2 tbsp curry powder

• ½ tsp turmeric 

• ½ tsp oregano

• 1 tsp salt 

• ½ tsp ground black pepper

Carnivores: Throw in a couple chicken bones. 

Vegetarians/Vegans: Leave bones out. 

Drizzle with a few tablespoons of olive oil, stir, cover, and set on high for an hour. 

Go outside and stare at the sky.

Come back and stir. Cover ingredients with water. Set on low for 2 hours. 

Remove chicken bones. For vegetarians/vegans, add canned or cooked lentils. Carnivores can add cooked, shredded or cubed chicken.

Top with ½ can of coconut milk and salt and pepper to taste. 

Cook another half-hour (or until you’re ready for dinner) on low.

Top with fresh basil or cilantro, and Greek yogurt or sour cream for an extra creamy soup. Serve with a great, big chunk of bread, swallow any regrets, and forget your shitty day.