If I come up to visit you ever, I will bring you soup, or something, because my new outlet for boredom seems to be cooking. [As in, I spent four hours today making soup. Three different kinds of soup.] So... tell me what you like, and I'll do my best.
If you come up to visit me ever, I would love soup. Especially your soup. And you and cooking are both fabulous, so I am not surprised that you have found each other. Mostly, my thing is that I do not like beans, and not even you and soup could make me - which is saying something.
How about carrots? I recently bought fifteen pounds of carrots. I still have ten left, more or less. I'm not quite sure why I did that. I guess I thought I'd be making a lot of soup. And I have. And there are still carrots.
Carrots are my friends. Even ten pounds of them. Carrots are one of those things with a dimension to themselves - like socks with no match. There are always more somewhere, even when there weren't when you checked a minute ago.
... Or maybe that's just at my house.
I feel silly telling you that I love you again, and yet - it's still true.
If I come up to visit you ever, I will bring you soup, or something, because my new outlet for boredom seems to be cooking. [As in, I spent four hours today making soup. Three different kinds of soup.] So... tell me what you like, and I'll do my best.
Love, darling.
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If you come up to visit me ever, I would love soup. Especially your soup. And you and cooking are both fabulous, so I am not surprised that you have found each other. Mostly, my thing is that I do not like beans, and not even you and soup could make me - which is saying something.
I love you.
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Oh my.
Love you too.
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... Or maybe that's just at my house.
I feel silly telling you that I love you again, and yet - it's still true.
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Love.
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And in my brain, I'm saying, "PO Box 1008, Norwich, VT, 05055."
Love.
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