last night, the rich scent of lentil soup floated over the house, drawing inhabitants and their guests from all three floors down to the flourescentlit kitchen. we added potatoes and mushrooms over discussions of vegetarianism, activism, and harmony versus melody part, ladled thick brown mush into mismatched bowls. all previous protestations melted away mysteriously in the steam and the doublebatch left us with very scanty leftovers.

tonight, we opted for vegetable soup instead, sixteen bean though we only counted twelve. zucchini and yellow squash, cabbage, thankful that i am impervious to oniontears.

"i want to be a mom who cooks," i said, "but i don't want to be a housewife."
"well," she offered, "you could always be a stripper and cook during the day."