From the chronicles.

The Soup Chronicles, that is:

And verily, she did arise from her bed of affliction: and lo, there were squashes and onions, peppers and garlic galore on the tops of the counters. And she found it was Wednesday, yea, the Wednesday of pulses, and thus she must soak the remainder of the Yellow Nightfall beans in the water that ran from the tap, yea, the water that ran clear as rain.

And the chopping of the peppers, onions, and garlic was terrible to behold, but greater still was the immensity of the hellfire, aka the sauteing, though the medium was the purest of olive oil, yea, the olive oil which is called "Extra Virgin."

And suddenly, there was with the cook a multitude of the heavenly host, saying: Glory, there is soup!

IN OTHER WORDS, the people, it is again Souptopia at the Megastore, one day after another. Chili, then roasted butternut squash soup, and tonight, carrot soup with red lentils and basil.

And lo, her refrigerator yieldeth all for the good of the soup.

Amen.

The historian quotes scripture. Plus bonus video.

Me: . . . because I'm at an age where sleep is harder to come by.

Historian (doesn't understand this alien language I'm speaking): Really?

Me: But you don't have any problem sleeping, do you? That's because you have the good temperament.

Historian: That's right. Saint John the Good.

Me: Good temperament, I said. Besides, you are good. You're not venal.

Historian: As opposed to you. You wouldn't say you're venal, would you?

Me: I sure am. I am quick to anger and consumed with envy.

Historian: Just the opposite of what you're supposed to be.

Me: (quick to wrath, therefore fuming)

Historian: You're supposed to be . . . what is it the Book of Mormon says?

Me: . . .

Historian: Slow to anger and quiet as an . . . owl? And wise as . . . a goat.

Me: Wise as a goat.

Historian: . . . or maybe that's the Bible, but not translated correctly.

New video:

Market. from lisab on Vimeo.