chicken soup and the gods

i've spent the last couple of hours making chicken soup from a chicken carcass, and i've maybe begun to understand why some people act so proudly of their chicken (or turkey) soup.

being a god involves (among other things) taking inert matter—dirt or dust, for all intents & purposes—and making a living being from it:  a bird, for instance.

making soup, on the other hand, involves taking a cooked (and therefore deceased) bird and slowly & carefully pulling it apart, bit by bit, until all that's left is . . . well, not quite just dirt or dust, but nasty enough that the soup-maker is ready to toss the lot into the trash with no hesitation.  and while pulling the bird carcass apart (and learning more than anyone ever really wanted to know about all the little meaty bits & connective tissues & miscellaneous bony bits), the soup-maker has "created" a pot of delicious (if you like that sort of thing) homemade chicken (or turkey or whatever) soup.

so of course they're going to feel somewhat god-like in the process and be proud of their creation (and expect anyone else who happens to partake of it to give proper thanks).

making soup has given me a little sympathy for the gods, who (understandably) want some praise for their creations, after all the messy work they did.

so have a little sympathy for the soup-makers and for the gods.

and enjoy!