!Thai pumpkin soup --- agk's diary 27 November 2023 @ 14:40 UTC --- written on ThinkPad X61 (2007) with hp pavilion vf 15" monitor (2003), Unicomp Model M keyboard (2022), cup of jun jun mei, and WEVL blues show on radio --- Evy's at work, first daughter sings in the living room. "Oh ah no-no had a farm, ee-ah-ee-ah had a farm..." She narrates "I'm a dinosaur. This is my bag! Cover me, ok? Where did my bag go mama? I think it's in here...I find it! Mama I'm gonna put it on your door ok? I'm going to the grocery store for babats. Oh! I open the bag. I'm very very short. I'm a beautiful kid. This is my stool step. Stool step!" I bought a thai pumpkin from our friend Ruwen at farmer market. Her first son's first daughter's best friend. We swap kids one or two days a week. Evy coached me making Thai pumpkin soup. We're sick and tired, which necessitates soup but decreases ability to follow written recipe. Recipe: Preheat oven to 400 or more. Quarter pumpkin; scoop out middle. Save seeds to make pepitas. Rub oil on it and baking sheet. Salt and pepper; bake. After 25 or 35 minutes, it should be soft enough to easily poke a knife through. Cool; remove skin. Sautee onion and garlic in a pot. Add pumpkin, can of coconut milk, cup or two of beef broth, some ginger. Evy says I use too much ginger. More salt and pepper, a couple tablespoons of peanut butter. Puree. I use an immersion blender. Cook til thick. Serve with hemp seeds, sriracha chili sauce (which I've called cock sauce since I was a young punk; there's a rooster on the bottle). Put salt or fish sauce on the table, because I don't salt enough. --- I tied empty cans that used to hold pineapples and coconut milk to first daughter's shoes. She stomped awkwardly around, proclaimed "These are my can shoes! I'm very very tall. Here's my bunny. I think she's pink. Oh! I fell down! Hug me mama. I need you to hug me! Can you take my can shoes off please ma'am?" We're staying in the house because Evy, her sister, and first daughter shared a car two hours up and two hours back to Thanksgiving. Daughter vomited all that night, sister tested covid+ Saturday. The rest of us remain negatron but coughing, fatigued. Test again tomorrow, then back to life. Covid counts are up again. Rich people get out- patient remdesivir at Evy's hospital. No way insur- ance covers that. "Two more remdizzys today." Poor people admitted with covid pneumonias. My hospital hasn't gone back to masking or screening, but my kids are coughing. Walmart doesn't sell KN95 masks or N95 masks. They have a big display by the makeup section with cough syrup, zinc and vitamin C supplements, paracetamol syrup, surgical masks. Sold-out covid test display is buried deep in pharmacy. Daughter eats a huge persimmon. The sweet orange fruits fall from still-loaded leafless branches. Mama eats a cinnamon applesauce-tasting medlar fruit. We eat more pecans. The persian walnuts we pick up on walks to the creek are tough to crack. The last four days were brightened by beautiful video clips of the hostage exchanges. Hamas in camo fatigues, 3 AK magazines on MOLLE vest, rifle over shoulder, arm protectively around anxious Israeli boy. Whisper in his ear, he relaxes. She lifts him into the Red Cross land cruiser. Carrying elderly women who kiss the captor on the cheek, wave. A glimpse of humanity. Homecoming by Palestinian kids long held in Israeli prison is beautiful too. Even bittered by testimony an unreleased Palestinian kid was beaten to death for asking about the truce. Israeli troops barrack in a captured school & hospital. Prisoner families' houses raided, sweets taken, warned of fines & re- arrest if they display joy. The truce may be extended a few more days. More water, flour, and fuel may arrive. It's too cold to sleep under plastic sheeting, but the whine of drones and shock of artillery and bombs are paused. It's a chance to play on can shoes, check the farm for Thai pumpkins, cook warm, sweet, comforting soup.