Dear Group, This is something I wrote back in January 1999 when around here we were knee deep in snow up to our belly buttons. I never got around to posting it until now. Those of you who live in the frozen north and who are experiencing scary heavy snowfalls, high winds and sub-zero wind-chill factors might know what I'm talking about. Those of you who live in the warmer areas might not quite understand what I'm talking about. But this is what my observations have been this past week or so. This year, once winter REALLY hit us, it brought out an urge to cook up a pot of something. A great big pot of something that would fill the house with a warm and delicious smell of good home cooking. Now I have no children, I live alone, and I have no one who expects me to cook anything whatsoever. Nonetheless the urge is a very strong one. And tonight I kinda figured out what it's all about. You see, I think it has to do with a sense of security. No matter how scary the situation is, when you find that you have finally managed to struggle home in the middle of a blizzard from school or from work and you find that "Mommy" is there with dinner on the stove, all is well with the world. Or even if you are the "Mommy" and feel panicky over the impassible roads or the actual impossibility of even getting out of the driveway, there is nothing more soothing than being able to cook up a pot of something with whatever ingredients you have in the house. It makes you feel that you can survive, no matter what. And I have an idea that our ancestors would know what I'm trying to say here. Something like no matter what the danger is to the family's survival, as long as you can cook up a bit of food and put it on the table, somehow today wasn't all that bad and tomorrow will be even better. Vee from NORTH of Buffalo, NY!