I really like the people who work at my two local grocery stores. They're just solid, likeable folks. When things aren't busy I stop and talk to them for a few after I've got my stuff.
I made chicken noodle soup today, with orzo pasta and a leek and thyme and a finely chopped onion and black pepper. I also made fresh cornbread. Unfortunately we were out of eggs so I made the cornbread about 15 minutes ago when I got back from the market. But we had a delicious carrot and cabbage salad with a basil olive oil dressing. Cooking is a good place for me. It has a beginning, a middle, and an end. It's a made thing, that I can make well. And I can share it with others and get an ego stroke when it turns out well. There's nothing else like it for me. It's my refuge.
Beauty is bad for me. Really, really bad. I can't have it,, I can't stop wanting it, and I know I shouldn't want it and beat myself up about it.