In today’s version of The Skimm, I clicked the link about the rising cost of Diet Coke. The writer interviewed someone who drank 4-5 cans a day, and their wallet was feeling it. I puffed up my chest for just a moment, because while I love the vice that is Diet Coke, I certainly don’t drink four cans a day. Don’t we know that aspartame is bad for us! And then my smugness dissipated as I went to pour my third cup of coffee.
Each week I’ve been watching the price of bacon jump up – last time I checked a pound had gone up a dollar fifty since I started paying attention in October. Inflation isn’t new – we’re talking about it, we’re feeling the impacts, we’re curious about what’s going to go up in cost next.
And, we use our little vices to keep discomfort at bay. November turned to December quickly, and days were filled with meetings, meal planning, perhaps paying too much attention to the rising cost of things. And in my conversations with friends and family, shifts and changes continue to happen as the world rumbles across the ocean. One friend is quitting her job, another trying desperately to get pregnant. Kitchens are getting remodeled, grandparents moving to nursing homes, and our neighbors got Covid again.
I told Dylan last night I’m having a hard time filling my container with my own worries. I’ve gotten porous again, taking on the fears and hurts of others because I just want the world to stop. being. in. so. much. pain. And then I wonder, is it the world’s pain, or my own?
This weekend I got out my mom’s splattered recipes and stocked up on Chex Mix supplies. I poured dry cereal, pretzels, and nuts into my grandmother’s old roasting pan. I melted the butter, found the Worcestershire sauce, added salt and poured the hot liquid over the mess of carbs. I let baby stir, and together, we watched comfort soak into the open spaces in the cereal. Nuts became glossy and we stuck the pan into the oven to bake slowly, with intention.
Once done, I scooped the mix into Ball jars and sent the gifts out into the world with love.
Perhaps it’s silly to connect Chex Mix to love, the pouring of fats onto cereal as a way to rub balm into our wounds. When things are shifting, I turn to the kitchen. Salt helps. Butter is consistent. Let’s fill up our holes with love this season. We need each other.
May your snacks be salty, full of butter, and of love. Chex Mix – that, too, a beautiful thing.