The comfort of food

As I was languishing in my hospital bed last week, Daryn, a woman with whom I work was having a child. She was in labor for 3 days. Sunday to Wednesday. She went through 3 doulas. On the one hand I hate being shown up in the suffering department, on the other, labor for 3 days. Jesus.

I made her a chicken pot pie (and chocolate chip cookies). What could be more comforting?

AJP are his initials, and he’s a third, as in Sr, Jr, III.




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