October 04, 2008
Filed Under (Free Hugs, Good Times) by svana

Everyone has an alter-ego of some type, be it in Facebook, MySpace, MSN or a list of some sort. I have to take it one step further. I have to make it real and a bit larger than life.

I am Super Soup…

Well now, that just begs an explanation, doesn’t it? Since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you.

My dear friend, Rose, calls me Soup. Why? I guess I am soup for her soul…that’s just a dandy compliment. Warm, soothing, filling and fulfilling. I had better stop before I get a swollen head.

Despite our best efforts, we had not had a chance to get out on a weekend and see her for about a month. That’s just too blessed long for me, I was feeling kind of grumpy as a result. While MSN-ing Rose one day, I noticed she wasn’t her usual self and asked her to call me. A few minutes in to our conversation, I threatened Rose. “Don’t make me go Super Soup on you!”, I said. Through laughter and comments from Rose about hot pink tights, my wee cranium was bursting with ideas as the conversation moved on. We made plans to get together on Saturday and said our good-byes.

At this point, my brain was awash with all sorts of ideas. With help from my all-too-willing Minions, Super Soup became clothed in her costume of hot pink leggings, striped pink and black knee socks, blue and white Grinch boxer shorts, a white shirt emblazoned with Super Soup in blue crayola marker, a cape, my monkey skull shoes and the crowning touch…heart shaped antennae on a headband. I was good to go. Not too bad for a quick run through Walmart.

The drive to see Rose was uneventful…not too much happens on that quiet strip of highway. Except, of course, when you pass the farmer who is partaking in his Sunday drive…on Saturday. A couple of those farmers did do double-takes as they could see my cape and antennae as we passed.

We pulled into our usual parking spot outside of Rose’s apartment, I clambered out of the van and set my costume to rights. We could not have timed our arrival any better as Rose was coming out of the front door and saw the nose of our van and came around the corner to investigate. I struck my best Ta-Dah! pose and watched the astonished, unbridled glee on her face.

It is a joy when the universe co-operates so fully with our hopes. The rib cracking hug I was enfolded in radiated a giddy and glorious energy that topped up my happiness battery to the point that I was luminescent. We walked across the street to the store, which is where Rose was heading before her very timely discovery of our arrival. Rose lives in a small town where everyone knows everyone’s business…yes, it is that small. As people drove past us, goggling at my resplendent costume and the goofy grins on our faces…it was pretty clear….I did not care about what they thought. My Rose was grinning hard enough to split her face open, and that was the goal. Score one for Super Soup! It only got better as I flew, flapping my cape, back across the street.

Now, it should be said…Super Soup bears gifts. While the laughter that my appearance as Super Soup brings, I prefer to leave something more lasting. A large straw bag stuffed with goodies, just for Rose. A fuzzy blanket; a pillow with goofy frogs, monkeys and cats; apple pears; truffles; hot chocolate; tea; some creative undergarments; plush socks; and of course…soup. All these treats were met with a similar enthusiasm by Rose, but nothing matched the delight of Super Soup’s timely arrival.

After posing for a couple of pictures to mark this splendid occurrence, Super Soup retreated and I came back. After all, a cape can be very dangerous…haven’t you seen The Incredibles? Our day was filled with discovery and laughter. Blend that with a delicious supper and more laughter, we were replete.

Watching the sky turn from pale blue to violet as night crept upon us on our journey home, I had time to reflect on our day. The warm, contented glow that permeated the van of a day well spent. A day of love, laughter, unbridled joy, silliness and hugs.

We just don’t have enough of those days.


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