You guys are awesome! I’ve got an e-mail box full of soup!
I decided that rather than sitting on them before I add them to my family’s cooking website (nothing goes on there without taste testing) I’m going to put them on the Kitschin Logic cooking website that I almost forgot I had. That way anyone can try them and let us know what they think.
Give me time to post them. I got a lot of recipes. A lot of good looking recipes! Keep them coming – email@example.com.
2011, The Year of Soup! Join in the soup fun!
Totally different subject now.
A cousin of mine sent me a list of names yesterday that links me to Charlemagne, through my maternal grandma. The same grandma that links me to Celine Dion. I was so relieved to be able to stop dropping Celine Dion’s name at every party I went to. I don’t like Celine Dion. She sings too hard. I don’t care if we’re cousins. I don’t have to love all of my cousins. Even the ones I never met.
But now I can name drop Charlemagne at every party I go to over the holiday season. Too bad I didn’t know this before I attended the last two parties! Dang!
Except, I didn’t know who Charlemagne was until my cousin sent me the list, asking me if I knew we were descendants of Charlemagne.
“We are?!” I asked as though I were impressed because just the other day, I’d been wondering about Charlemagne and what ever happened to his (or her, I really had no idea who Charlemagne was) ancestors.
“Through our grandmas,” he said.
So I googled Charlemagne and found out that he was The King of the Franks! Who knew?
Who are the Franks? I am so behind in my early monarch history.
He is also the founding father of the monarchies of France and Germany. And very Catholic.
There’s been a lot of watering down of the blood line between me and Cousin Charlemagne.
Oh. I could use this. Against my husband. Who is merely a descendant of Mary, Queen of Scots.
“Dude,” I said to The Big Nugget, “I’m a descendant of Charlemagne. That trumps your Mary, Queen of Scots!”
“Charlemagne was the father of Europe. The British Isles are not part of Europe. You are not the boss of me!” he said.
Dang. He has me there.
Just read this about my cuz in Wikipedia:
He was heavily built, sturdy, and of considerable stature, although not exceptionally so, since his height was seven times the length of his own foot. He had a round head, large and lively eyes, a slightly larger nose than usual, white but still attractive hair, a bright and cheerful expression, a short and fat neck, and he enjoyed good health, except for the fevers that affected him in the last few years of his life. Toward the end he dragged one leg. Even then, he stubbornly did what he wanted and refused to listen to doctors, indeed he detested them, because they wanted to persuade him to stop eating roast meat, as was his wont, and to be content with boiled meat.
We are so related. Bring me my meat!