five year plan

+ another recipe for you lucky readers, you

In five years I will be 28. A horrid number, far too close to 30, that I’m sure most people flinch at when they meet it. Five years ago I was 18, parading around like I knew everything to know about adulthood. Now, perfectly balanced in the middle, I am 23 and my five year plan is to have an apartment with a big kitchen and French windows. I want to take care of my household appliances, my clothes, my window curtains with a reverence usually reserved for the body. The life that I’ve created will be an extension of me. I will wash its hair, apply its retinol, tuck it into bed at night.

In five years, I’d like to have gone to a music festival to see what all the fuss is about. I’d like to have eaten octopus and lots of squid and sea urchin. In five years, I will have mastered the art of taking off my makeup before I get too tired but not too early that I have to put it back on when someone calls to go out. I want to be able to speak a bit more French than I do now, maybe even be fluent. I’d like to have been to London. At 28, I won’t get annoyed when babies cry on planes, or when people walk too slow, or when my hair gets caught in the strap of my purse. I’ll know how to file my taxes on time. In five years I’ll know how to be a person a little bit better.

In job interviews, when they ask what my career goals are, I smile and spit out a script I’ve rehearsed and repeated so many times I know it like the back of my own hand. What I don’t tell them is all I really want is to have learned how to cook steak medium rare. To be able to baste it properly, serve it to my friends around the dinner table, not start sweating when the oil splatters. Oh, I want a career I love, too. Of course I do. In five years I want to tell someone, “sorry it’s been a busy week, work has been crazy” but be smiling. I want fulfilling work, creative and challenging work.

What I’d love in five years is to be able to do my hair in a way that suits me. I’ve never been able to get that one down quite yet. Five years is enough time to learn how to slick back my hair into a cute up-do, right? I’d also like all my socks to have a matching pair, no more single ones floating around my closet. In five years I want to be able to schedule appointments and email people back without a shred of anxiety. I don’t know when everyone else around me started to figure things out but I hope I’m leading the pack at 28.

Are we all supposed to have ambitious five year plans that show a clear passion, a direct route to success, a goal? Let me come very clean to you for a moment: I don’t really have anything I need to achieve. Sure, a job and maybe a published novel. But all I’d really like is friends to call and talk to while I paint my toenails in the bathroom. Head pinning the phone to my shoulder, hair sliding over my neck. I’d like to say “hold on a moment,” and pour myself a little more wine. I’d like to go to New Orleans and the bayous in Louisiana like in the books I’ve read. I’d like to try gumbo.

In five years I’d like to not view 30 as the end of my life. Really, truly, seriously who the hell convinced me that life ends after the big, dreaded 3rd decade? I’d like to be excited for the middle age and then the inevitable old age. I’d like to not be so scared of not having a plan. I’d like to just enjoy the ride.

The problem is, all I’d like to achieve in five years is to be drunk all the time. Drunk on experiences, on movies, on books, on food, on, yes, wine, on the wonderful experience that is life. A human, being. That’s what I’d like to be.

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Evie’s Divine Chicken and Potato Soup

1 large leek (white and pale green parts only), halved and chopped

1 large carrot, chopped

3-4 cloves of garlic, chopped

2 bay leaves

1 lemon, zested and juiced

1 bag of frozen organic (or not, you freak) sweet peas

3-4 large potatoes, peeled and cubed

1 tablespoon of butter or olive oil

4 chicken breasts, cubed

1 carton of chicken stock

1 teaspoon onion powder

Various amounts of salt and pepper

1. Brown the chicken over medium heat in a large pot with salt and pepper. Set aside.

2. Soften the garlic, leek, and carrot in butter in the same pot you used for the chicken. Add in another knob of butter while you’re at it. Salt and pepper generously, along with the onion powder and lemon zest.

3. Add in the cubed potatoes and chicken, tossing with the aromatics for 2-3 minutes.

4. Pour in chicken stock and add in water if the stock is not enough to cover the ingredients.

5. Bring to a boil, then set the heat to low, cover, and simmer for 30-35 minutes.

6. When the potatoes are soft and fall apart when forked, pour in the bag of frozen peas and stir aggressively. The potatoes should be slightly mashed, making the soup quite thick.

7. Remove the bay leaves, stir in lemon juice, salt and pepper once more to taste, then serve with a hunk (or two) of crusty bread, buttered.

This soup tastes like chicken pot pie filling and is even better the next day. Technically, my big sister taught me how to make it, but I’m claiming the rights to the recipe.