Chicken Noodle Soup

Here is a chicken noodle soup that I prepared yesterday and got to enjoy today.  Those are tofu pillows floating on top.  Bird soup reminds me of Thanksgiving leftovers and the Christmas in Guinea when visitors traveled to my village.  My friend killed a couple of chickens that were given to us by the chief.  As I was scrubbing chicken pieces with soap and water, grabbing a chicken head scared me half to death just like the time I put a ladle into a Chinese banquet soup suppressing a scream when I pulled out a whole dead turtle- head, shell, feet, and all.     It was a perfect day for soup, cold and rainy.  Now that I have become a sweater knitter, I appreciate cold weather.  Today I pulled on a warm sweater, dug out a cowl, and stuck my wool sock covered feet into a sleeping bag.  As a knitting addict, I am not sure hot climates are for me anymore.   Tonight was the second night I got to go to a live concert of Polish and Western music.  Four voice harmony is so beautiful.  Showy contrasting dynamics played on a piano are wonderful.  Acapella blues make us all smile and tap our feet.  The intense, room-filling weeping of the erhu touches the soul. I realized that the bigger the audience, the louder the music has to be.  Pop and rock music play for crowds of thousands at full blast.  Classical music is meant for smaller audiences.  It feels like a music for the privileged few who has the money to purchase the limited expensive seats.  In China, the audiences are HUGE and audience noise is loud.  To drown out the cell phones, the kids, the commentary, and the conversations, the performance volume is turned up.  This is why I need ear plugs whenever I go to a Chinese concert, whether it be a dance performance, opera, a play, singing or traditional instruments.  Tonight's choir of twenty foreign guests was hard to hear.