Shrimp a la Susan Spicer

I had a slight breakdown yesterday, readers. It's been a hard few weeks, at times during which even the comedic relief provided by viewing my photo of J's "night-vision goggles" hasn't cut the butter thoroughly enough. Suffice it to say that it's been a loooong time since I cried as much in a six hour period as I did yesterday. Frankly, it was comforting to know I still had it in me; sometimes determination and attempted positivity act like a dam against a rushing current (not that that's good, but it is helpful). As such, I lost my will to deal with dinner in any way sometime around 4p. T stepped up to the plate masterfully and made a Susan Spicer shrimp recipe I'd flagged. All of five ingredients, it was delicious. Pimenton, sherry, basil, shrimp, oil, a touch of butter... We sopped the sauce with bread and drank a nice rosé alongside.

Today has been a series of stupid and inordinately frustrating events, commencing with a mind-boggling experience at Staples. Because roadwork on Wisconsin Avenue has reached the stage where no one believes there is any plan to ever finish the job, getting to this dumb Staples takes a ludicrously long time. In order to gain back some time once there, I last night took advantage of the Order Online-Pick Up At Store option. Doesn't that just sound fabulous? I love this feature. The Container Store offers this as does Barnes & Noble. They even text you when your order is complete. From the get-go I had infinitely less faith in Staples but really, how hard is it to see that Customer Emily wants a Label Maker refill, walk to aisle 6 and grab said refill, and put it behind the desk that says "Online Order Pick Up Here."

It's not hard.

However, when I arrived at Staples, my order was not ready. The manager sent her colleague to aisle 6 to get the refill cartridge and concurrently emailed me (literally, RIGHT THEN AND THERE) a confirmation that my order was complete and ready for pick up. Colleague ambles back empty-handed; the look of confusion on his face almost made me feel bad for him. He looked utterly flummoxed. "Mrs. Manager, there aren't any cartridges." "Well, Colleague, let's do this together." So we ALL go over to aisle 6 -meanwhile I'm reading my confirmation email again; have I been punk'd?- and sure enough, there's a little tag on the hook that says "item out of stock: please re-order." Starting to feel vaguely like Steve Martin in Father of the Bride, when he can't but just six buns, I bought the $25 double-pack and headed home. Grr.

I am happy to say that the rest of my project went swimmingly, but then I did my one squirt in each nostril of Nasonex (per doctor's orders since I have chronically inflamed nasal passages; terrific) and immediately got a nosebleed. This gusher lasted for 25 minutes. 25 minutes, people.

I pomodori d'estivo

Summer tomatoes are one of my most serious and favorite obsessions. I like to eat them plain, as I would an apple; on a BLT; on white bread with mayo and salt a la the ultimate Southern tomato sandwich; with pretty much any cheese; in a tart; on a pizza; or as the star of a good salad. Such was my lunch today, and boy was it superb. I was making a batch of Peach Pie Jam (of the gods) so needed a quick, simple, forgiving meal. Oh, shite, gotta get Jack to camp. More later. Voila!

Chicken soup

I must say the first of my farmers market chickens was put to good use this afternoon: soup. I love the idea of chicken soup when sick because in addition to its purported healing powers, it also helps keep you hydrated. I struggle to do so on the best of days and when I'm feeling under the weather find my resolve to down those eight glasses weaker still. I didn't have any celery but leeks, spring onions, roasted garlic and carrots sufficed nicely as my base. Salt, pepper, bay leaves, and lemon, thyme, cinnamon, a touch of nutmeg and a late addition of wide egg noodles rounded things out. The noodles alone scream "comfort's a'coming" and when in a good soup, well, I feel pretty satisfied.