William isn't feeling well. He is suffering mightily with allergies - worse than usual. What's blooming? Any major change in diet? Is it the altitude now that we're no longer in Phoenix?
"Honey, stop asking."
He's curled up on the couch under blankets with kittens draped across him. I do what makes sense to me: give him space and cook him food.
We have an organic roaster chicken - our lazy dinner courtesy of Whole Foods. We dug into it last night and I decide to cull the meat and use the carcass to make homemade chicken stock. I imagine an anti-inflammatory, herb-forward chicken soup to nourish my man by decreasing inflammation and down-regulating his system. Yes, in our house, food is medicine.