Yesterday, a funny text message conversation occurred around the Crock Pot Loaded Potato Soup:
Me: Thank you SO much for the soup, it’s DELISH.
Soup Delivery Friend (Paula): Well, it better be, it came from your 1st cookbook.
I realized the soup has never been shared here on the blog, so for your endurance of sitting through the following fainting sob story, I’m going to share with you the soul soothing soup.
Crock Pot Loaded Potato Soup
- 6 large baking potatoes cut into cubes
- 1 large onion chopped
- 1 quart chicken broth
- 1/4 cup butter
- 2 1/2 teaspoons salt
- 1 teaspoon pepper
- 1 cup half-and-half
- 1 cup cheddar cheese
- 3 tablespoons chives chopped
- 8 slices bacon fried and crumbled
- Combine the first six ingredients in a large pot, cover and cook on high for 4 hours or low for 8 hours.
- Mash the potato mixture against the sides of the crock pot until the potatoes are coarsely chopped.
- Stir in the half-and-half, cheese, chives and bacon and serve.
This past weekend was a doozie. I’d file it in the days that I’d like to omit altogether, but there were moments that were so sweet and humbling that I’ve realized I need to just pick myself up, dust myself off, and carry on.
Let me paint the picture for you.
Saturday morning, I volunteered with our church Laundry Love outreach mission. Brian was in Arkansas for the LSU game and it was a fun opportunity to do some good with my day. Laundry Love consists of surprising people at the laundromats and blessing them by paying for their laundry. You wouldn’t believe how excited people get when they figure out you’re really telling the truth, you want nothing in return, and you just start loading quarters into their machines for them.
I had been up during the middle of the night with tummy trouble but thought it was just the ice cream I had before bedtime (sorry- TMI), but didn’t feel too bad otherwise. I skipped coffee and had a Gatorade and headed for the church. It was cool outside, so I threw on a t-shirt and LSU pullover with my tennis shoes ready for a day of comfort. I felt fine the entire time we were dropping quarters into the machines. We finished early and a friend was heading to the high risk foster home for their regularly scheduled Saturday playdates. Since I was still feeling fine, just a little tired, I hopped in her car and tagged along.
Somehow, within the next hour, things turned South. Nausea hit me and I became very warm and faint. The children had all gathered in the dining room for lunch, and I hung back in the living room on the couch. I asked my friend for some water and before she made it back to me, I was out. And not a little nappy nap out. I had fainted. I woke up to a team of volunteers hovering over me and 911 being called.
EMS came in, a stretcher was wheeled in, my finger was pricked, a portable EKG…..it was just AWFUL.
I have an issue with vasovagal syncope (my heart and brain don’t communicate properly in certain situations) added with low blood pressure. I see a cardiologist regularly. I’ve fainted enough times to know that my vitals would return to normal, I was not dying, but could understand everyone’s worry. I refused the ER and instead sat there with a cold rag on my face, sipping some water and promising not to drive myself home.
Here comes the humble.
Still feeling warm, I yanked off the pullover forgetting all about the chosen t-shirt underneath. Y’all. As if this situation could not get any more embarrassing, I had on the absolute worst t-shirt. It’s no less than 10 years, says Bloomington-Normal on it (a small town in Illinois where I used to frequent for work) and a giant tractor. It’s super thin from years of washing and has a hole in the arm pit. I love wearing it underneath sweatshirts because it’s the softest thing I own.
So, there she was in all her sheer and holey tractor glory for all to see.
Moral of the story? When you remember to always wear clean underwear for fear of a car accident, you need to remember to leave your holey t-shirts for non-public viewing.
I was so upset that I potentially caused more worry for the foster home kids in transition. I made it my mission, to go home and get enough rest to enable me showing up for church on Sunday and proving to them I was ok. Sunday morning, sure enough, I was greeted with hugs and smiles as I rounded the corner towards my seat. Omitting the episode entirely would’ve meant I didn’t get the hour prior to fall in love with those kids.
The past few days have been a sea of phone calls, drop ins, and deliveries. I am so grateful for the people in my life. I am also so, so fortunate that my in-laws were at my house within 20 minutes to take over dog walk duties so I could rest. And eat soup.
Speaking of soup, I’m still waiting for Louisiana to get the memo that it is November and it should be cold enough for soups and gumbos.
Is it cold where you are?