Word of the year.

Have you ever had a “word of the year”?

Every December, the local Christian radio station does a campaign encouraging people to choose a word for the coming year. It’s supposed to be something that challenges you in an area you need to work on, kind of a daily kick in the pants to not be a slacker. I’ve never picked a word before, mostly because I can’t decide—among the myriad things I need help with—which one is the most important, but also because I’m just not a bandwagon kind of girl. I’m not one to do what everyone else is doing just because it’s the new “thing” to do.

But for whatever reason, I chose the word “worship” to focus on for 2014. I felt like I was kind of in a rut, going through the motions of sing a hymn, pray, sit down, stand up, sing another hymn, listen to the preaching, sing, go home. So I started each day by reminding myself to find instances when I could worship. I looked for beautiful things, helpful people—anything that was positive. And I learned two things: (1) that over the years I had begun to notice the bad before the good, I had come to expect the bad, and that the good almost surprised me; and (2) that I had a lot to learn about worship.

I learned that worship is not just when something good happens and you say, “Wow, that was awesome! Thanks, God! You rock!” It’s more of a whatever and no matter what comes my way, God is wonderful and holy and magnificent and all-powerful and full of grace and mercy, and my goodness, don’t we need to remember all of that every single day? It was a daily reminder of all that God is, all the time, even when I’m not thinking about him because the car broke or the boss is crabby or somebody cut me off on 95. Worship is an action that reflects a constant state of mind that I am his and he is mine no matter what else is happening in my life, good or bad or terrifying, and how comforting that is! No matter what, the Lord is worthy of worship all the time.

And the best part is that when 2014 ended, that time of focusing on worship did not. It became a habit. “Commit thy works unto the LORD, and thy thoughts shall be established” (Proverbs 16:3). If you want to establish a new way of thinking, start DOING first, and eventually, your thoughts will follow. In the beginning, I had to always be looking for opportunities to worship—a beautiful sunrise on the way to work, the great garden fire in the middle of the night that did NOT burn my house to the ground, safety for my son and daughter-in-love while they were deployed in hostile places around the globe. But by the end of the year, the worship was just spilling out of me over little things—a great cup of Wawa coffee, a good night’s sleep, a husband who can fix things and save us thousands of dollars. And then the big things became even bigger—that I have a God who loves me in spite of what I am, a faithful husband for 31 years, five kids and three grandsons all healthy and happy and leading productive lives.

The Lord is worthy.

Is this the longest week ever?

You just never know what a day is going to bring, and while you can't sit around fretting about what-ifs, it would be nice if you could be prepared in some teensy way. These things always remind me of a story Corrie Ten Boom told her sister about grace. She said it was like a train ticket. She told Betsy that Father never gave her a train ticket until the conductor was coming through and wanted to punch it because she didn't need it before that. She said grace was the same way—that God didn't give it until you needed it, and then he gave all you needed. So true.

Also, I've been on a music downer lately. Christian music choices on the radio where I live are pretty limited, and I just can't make myself listen to most of it. But today after some pretty stinky news, I flipped on the radio and heard this line: "Your hands are holding me even when I don't believe it." Good job, God.

And that's all I'm going to say about THAT.

In happy news, we got a call from our eldest today that he is back in the US. It was so good to hear his voice.

Also, I planted kale and yellow and green squash yesterday, and my little tomato plants are trying valiantly not to die before they're big enough to put in the ground. Come on, little babies! I've tried for several years to grow plants from seeds, and every time has been a colossal failure that ended with a trip to Lowe's to buy plants. I'm trying to get my average up to .250 this year.

And now after a conversation about yeast die-off symptoms with my daughter, I'm going to quit this day.

Picture in your mind a frail old lady hobbling across the living room, hunched over leaning on her cane. She doesn't actually pick her feet up, but her movement through the house is more of a shuffle.

Welcome to my life.

Ben is going on a mission trip later this year in which he will be hiking in the mountains, carrying a 40-pound pack with all his worldly possessions including tent and sleeping bag, food, stove, water, clothing, and maybe a few band-aids if he can fit them. And because he is a smart man and knows his limitations, he has begun training for this trip, meaning he puts on his boots, straps on his pack, and walks. A lot. Mostly he goes at 4:30 in the morning and since I don't want to disturb his solitude at that hour (yes, that's it), I stay in bed where all normal people are when it's still the middle of the night.

So yesterday morning while I was grocery shopping, he went for a seven-mile walk, his longest one yet. I was duly impressed. Then later that day when we had to leave the house so people could come see it, I suggested we go drive through a nearby park that has a beautiful seven-mile road with almost no traffic. It's scenic and quiet and one of my favorite places to run. He loved it so we made plans to walk the whole thing after church this morning.

Well.

It's been a little while since I walked that far. And I wasn't wearing heavy boots or carrying a backpack. Tomorrow is going to be rough.

Life lesson #28.

Today I did something I never thought I would do. If you'd told me this morning when I woke up that I was going to do this today, I would have laughed in your face. It was so bizarre, I almost couldn't pull it off. I walked around CVS for a good twenty minutes trying to work up the courage, and then I couldn't stop fidgeting while I was standing in line. I was filled with an irrational fear that someone I knew would walk in at that very moment and see me standing there holding it. My reputation would be ruined. No one would ever take my healthy-living advice again. I would be a laughingstock. (I just learned that laughingstock is one word, not hyphenated.)

I bought a Diet Coke.

I KNOW, RIGHT?

It wasn't for me. I bought it for a friend who had spent the day in the ER after she injured her back bending over to put food in her dog's bowl. And since I know that the more stress she's under, the more she needs a Diet Coke, I figured she could use one. I'm an enabler that way.

So the moral of the story is don't bend over to feed the dog or you might wind up drinking a Diet Coke in the ER.

Life lessons you can't live without.

And miles to go before I sleep.

I have a love/hate relationship with my bed. I love my sleep, but my current mattress isn't conducive to much of it. Over the years Ben and I have had two different water beds and six or eight innerspring mattresses, from Guido's discount cheap-o to a fancy Kingsdown pillow-top that made us feel like we were sleeping in matching canyons within the first six months. I've been threatening for years to buy a foam bed, but I keep shying away from them for various reasons, most of which involve me not wanting to part with many thousands of dollars. Ben is willing to get whatever I want since he can literally sleep standing up, and has. His Fitbit routinely tells him that it took him zero seconds to fall asleep.

I've been on a mattress-research kick for the last few months, knowing our current sleep situation is precarious at best. Fourteen hundred dollars only gets you two and a half years worth of mattress these days, and the last two years are iffy.

So yesterday when we were talking finances, I mentioned that I had opened the IRA and had paid the taxes that day which has pretty much wiped out any semblance of a savings account balance we had. I lamented that I'd really enjoyed the security of having $10,000 dollars in the bank.

Ben commented, "It was a nice month."

And that's the story of our life. But like I said yesterday, our needs are met, and as Ben says, it's only money.

So today I stopped at Sleepy's (the mattress store) after work and told the salesperson my sad tale of insomniatic woe (I just made that word up). She immediately led me to the second-most-expensive bed in the store, a Tempur-Pedic Flex Hybrid Elite, which I now want.

I would love to hear your opinion if you have experience with a memory foam bed. I've only slept in one, and while it was quite firm, I didn't mind it. My friend explained that you don't get in it as much as you get on it, and that's an accurate statement. But I'm leaning in that direction. And while I love doing research, I'm approaching information overload and will need to just make a decision at some point. Hopefully soon.

Jehovah Jireh, God the provider.

You know how I feel about taxes? Yes. Yes, you do.

I've always done our taxes. With a degree in finance, I had no excuse not to. But when we moved to Virginia almost eleven years ago, our situation became more complicated. We had five kids, one in college, a rental home in another state, and then I started doing freelance work from home. So we decided to hire someone to do the deed for us. Being new to the area, we didn't know who to go to, so we asked for and got a recommendation.

S was probably in her sixties when we first met her, but many years of smoking made her seem closer to ninety. Every time she coughed we feared it would be her last, and every year, the ceiling and walls of her office were noticeably darker with nicotine. For the last three or four years, we were dumbstruck that we could owe the government money. We had two, sometimes three kids in college, Ben or I or both of us were taking classes at the master's level, we showed a loss on our rental home, had the max withheld, etc.

Finally in the spring of 2014 a co-worker got sick of listening to Ben complain and recommended someone else. So we took our last year's tax return and went to meet J, our new accountant.

Did you know there is a huge difference between a tax preparer and a certified public accountant?

Turns out there's about a $10,000 difference, that being the amount we overpaid for the last three years. So we stashed that money in a savings account and forgot about it, thinking it would probably go toward a downpayment on land in North Carolina.

Let me stop here and quote a verse. "And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear" (Isaiah 65:24).

That $10,000 was an answer to a need we didn't even know we had.

When it came time to file a tax return for 2014, we knew we were in trouble. Too much income, sale of the rental house, only one kid in college, and down to one dependent. The only way we could get out of paying an outrageous sum in taxes was to put the maximum in an IRA, and guess what—there it was, right where the Lord left it.

He provided before we knew the need. My God is wonderful.

Adventures in Pittsburgh, or don't worry, there's another bridge on the next block.

I am currently in Pittsburgh for the annual American Copy Editors Society conference. (I'm just going to go ahead and not write well, okay?)

I left home this morning and, after the obligatory stop at Wawa for coffee, discovered my right-rear tire was dangerously low. So the first 45 minutes of my trip was spent in a waiting room while the friendly tire technician removed a roofing nail from my almost-brand-new tire. I hate when that happens. And on my way up 95 I stopped in Aquia to kiss Ben one last time. So by the time I started driving in earnest, it was 10 am.

The drive wasn't bad—a little less than 5 hours—and Mapquest's directions were good. All went well until I was literally (literally literally, not figuratively literally) a block from the hotel, just coming off a bridge, with too many choices before me, when I hesitated long enough to miss my street (which, in my defense, was not marked), and I said right out loud, "That was my turn." With that, I found myself on one of Pittsburgh's many bridges headed who-knows-where (but I did get a glimpse of PNC Park as I whizzed by). So when I got to the other side (Why did the tourist cross the river?), I pulled into a parking lot and summoned Siri to help. She patiently recalculated several times while I found a place to do a U-turn (okay, three) and I found the hotel in short order.

Did you know that $150 a night in downtown Pittsburgh does not get you a place to park your car? But no worries, they offer valet parking for $30 a night.

Thirty. A night.

I opted for a parking garage two blocks away where I will pay a mere $16 a day for a parking space.

But enough complaining. After I checked in and deposited my luggage, I went out for a walk with my camera.

I know! Real photos! Not from a phone!

There is a beautiful park right in front of the hotel that sits on the triangular point where the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers meet, original site of Fort Duquesne, and it was a balmy 65°. I walked and took pictures for an hour. I would love to go run there in the morning, but it's going to be raining, so no thanks.

There were (I'm guessing) 50 or 60 editors at the freelancers' social, and I talked until my throat hurt.

May I just say that these are my people? It was so interesting to hear what people edit, how they got started, how they grow their businesses, etc. I even met my favorite writer of style books, Bill Walsh. Except it was at the very end of the social, and I hadn't eaten for seven hours, and I was on the verge of a sugar crash, and I may have abruptly turned and run down the stairs looking for food. And now I'll have to explain all that to him tomorrow.

In the meantime I'm going to turn the temperature in here down to 60° and sleep.

In which I ran out of emotion over this eternal winter.

6:31 pm, March 4, 2015. Happy Grammar Day.

It's going to snow again.

I left work today, bought two rotisserie chickens at Food Lion, and then drove out to the farm for milk and eggs. I will bake bread tomorrow, and I have enough toilet paper. I think that covers everything you're supposed to have for a storm, doesn't it?

I am, at the moment, quite over winter.  I am, however, trying not to join the ranks of "darn complainers" (long story), so I'll post a few things that made me happy today.

1. Rotisserie chickens. God bless the person who first thought of slathering that goodness all over a raw bird and cooking it slowly. And in most cases, they are no more expensive than buying a fresh bird and roasting it yourself, and way more satisfying because no cooking!

2. A woodstove when it's cold and rainy out.

3. Abbey's ability to get a flight out of Nashville a day early, before the snow and ice hit.

4. An honest translator who corrected my too-high word count on her PO. Yay honest people.

5. A sick co-worker who has stayed home the last three days instead of bringing her germs to the office.

6. Hail Merry macaroons. The chocolate ones. (Except I just went to their website to grab the link and found out they also have caramel sea salt? How did I not know this?)

7. Reading an article that says cardio is not the way to lose weight. I'm glad to get out from under THAT load of guilt.

8. A hot bath at the end of the day.

(Insert break here while Ben comes home, eats dinner, and we talk about living in a tiny house.)

(What?)

9. A husband who knows when I need a proverbial kick in the pants to get myself to the gym. He has laid down the law: Starting Monday, we don't eat dinner until we have both worked out. Hello, diet.
Oh, I kid. I'm looking forward to it.

10. When great songs get stuck in my head and I'm forced to go look up the lyrics. The latest is His Robes for Mine.

Snow day tomorrow. Woot.

More on crowns.

So remember the temporary crown? The one that covered two teeth right next to each other? Well last week while I was eating a black bean burger—the soft kind, nothing hard, crunchy, or sticky—part of it broke off. I knew because it was the only crunchy thing in my burger. It was only a tiny piece so I didn't worry too much about it, but then yesterday morning a bigger chunk broke off while I was eating cottage cheese and bananas, and no I'm not even kidding. I wasn't in any pain so I figured I'd just deal with it.

Confession time: I am normally very tolerant of pain, but going to the dentist makes me ill with anxiety. I hate tooth pain more than anything in life. Give me natural childbirth any day—at least you get a baby out of it. And because I have somewhat sensitive teeth, every visit is an occasion for dread.

So yes, I was going to spend the next 3 1/2 weeks with a gigantic hole in a temporary crown.

Then it started aching.

Just shoot me.

So I did the sensible, adult thing and called the dentist. They got me in this morning at 7 am and without too much drama, replaced the one big double-crown with two separate ones. Almost no pain, 30 minutes, in and out. I was so relieved I went next door to celebrate with a Wawa coffee on the way to work.

Then this afternoon I felt one of the crowns move so I bit down hard, panic-stricken that it would fall right out and I would be trying to jam it back in there. So far it is staying in place, but right after that happened, the dentist's office called to tell me my permanent crowns were in and when would I like to come have them installed?

Um, right now?

I had to settle for Thursday, at which time I hope all this mouth drama is over for good. It's exhausting.

Sunday update.

We are home this morning because of the freezing rain and icy roads. Ben is using the time to finish painting the living room, and then all that's left to paint is the kitchen. It will look lovely when I leave.

Every time we buy a house, we vow that we will paint and fix-up while we live in it so we can enjoy it looking nice, and not wait until we need to sell it. And every time, we fail.

I am using this extra time wisely, trolling on Twitter and reading articles posted on LinkedIn. (I am also trying to figure out how to use LinkedIn. What is its purpose? What am I supposed to get out of it? It's all so unclear.) I could be paying bills or cleaning windows or the bathroom, but where's the fun in that?

So, a few things I found interesting or funny this week:

1. I found this article on Twitter and thoroughly enjoyed it. Apparently I am geriatric.

2. I follow a person on Twitter (can't remember who) whose bio says he is engaged daily in "deskly arts." I just love that and told him so, and he replied that I could use that phrase but I would have to say it in my Harry Potter voice. I have no idea what that means. Is "deskly arts" a reference to HP? On that note, I tried once to read the first book in that series, and after 50 or so pages, I gave up. Just couldn't get into it. Please don't hate. Also, I am currently trying to read Persuasion by Jane Austen for a book club and would rather have my toenails plucked out. What on EARTH are they saying?

3. Since I started my self-imposed Facebook fast, I have popped in just a couple of times to answer direct messages and the more I pop in, the less I miss it. There really is not much of substance; very little, really.

4. I did a little binge-watching of Word Sneak with Jimmy Kimmel on YouTube the other day. So funny.

And now suddenly I find myself the possessor of a terrible headache, so I'm going to drink more coffee and take some Tylenol.

Enjoy your Sunday!

Thoughts on a Facebook fast.

A short while ago, I saw something on Facebook that was horrific to me. So much, that I turned away looking for something to throw up in. It affected me profoundly and I instantly vowed to stay off Facebook until I knew certain family members were safely home (which will be a few months). I pray for them many times a day, and every time I wonder what I'm "missing" on Facebook, I am reminded of the brutal reality of the world today, and to pray for them more. Kind of a fast.

In the beginning, I found myself picking up my phone and looking at the familiar icon before I remembered not to touch it. I was surprised at how many times each day I did it. It has gradually happened less and less.

But I've made some other discoveries too. I've discovered that, although I have somewhere in the neighborhood of 350-400 "friends" on Facebook, I probably couldn't name 75 of them. And outside of Facebook, I would have no contact with them. People come and go in our lives, we move, they move, and I believe that's by design. God gives us the people we need—or those that need us—in certain seasons of life, and that's okay. We don't have to hang on to every thread of the past. Sometimes we need to let our memories be enough.

I've discovered that I do not lack for encouragement in my life, which indicates my encouragement was not coming from Facebook. So what am I there for? I've always said it's to keep in touch with old friends, see my kids' photos, things like that. And while I think those are valid reasons, the good I get from Facebook is not equal in value to the amount of time I let it suck from my life. (At first I wrote "the amount of time it sucks from my life" but the honest truth is that it only gets the time I give it.)

I've discovered I have forgotten how to communicate. "Like" is not communication. I once read the headline of a post that challenged users to actually leave comments rather than just hit the "like" button, and I think that's a great idea. If we're going to make ourselves slaves to social media, let's at least remember there's a human on the other end who wants to hear words, not just count clicks. What if, instead of giving us his Word, God had just sent a giant, cosmic thumbs-up sign? It's words that give hope and help and comfort. Words that make us laugh and cry and think deeply and express love and worship and admiration. We've forgotten all this in our haste to keep scrolling. When I read the headline of that article, I did not stop to read it through. I didn't have time to stop and be challenged to be a better human, a better "friend."

Ben told me today that tomorrow is his sister Dawn's birthday and my first thought was, "How am I going to wish her a happy birthday?"

Really? I'm embarrassed that I have fallen so far I can't even figure out how to communicate a simple message to my sister-in-law. Before Facebook we had texting. Before that we had cell phones on our person every moment of the day. And before that we had this miraculous contraption that was connected to the wall with wires that carried our voices around the earth, and long ago the handset was connected to that with the curly cord we used to sit and wind around our finger while we talked. Remember that? Sitting still while you talked to someone? Giving them your undivided attention? Not splitting your time between them and the grocery shopping? I kind of miss those days. My mother (80 years old) and my aunt (76) still write letters to each other every week. Nothing earth-shaking or pressing, just sharing their lives and some laughs, but connecting over the miles in a tangible way.

My time away from Facebook will last at least another month or so, and I'm trying to decide what to do about it when I pick it up again. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Twelve days.

People. I have so much to say.

In our last episode, the new PC was packed up and ready to be shipped back from whence it came. It has since then been returned and credit has been received for that errant purchase. A few days later, I went to Best Buy and bought another Mac and can I just say how amazingly awesome it is? I can operate it. I can find things. I can back it up. It took me under two hours to transfer all my photos, music, and Firefox bookmarks. And dang, but that retina display is some kind of beautiful!

I also had to get MS Office for Mac and this newer version is much closer to what I have on my PC at work, so it's all going to work out and I don't have to complain about it any more. Aren't you glad?

I had a conversation with my brother about this whole evolution, and he asked how much more, percentage-wise, did it cost me to buy the Mac. The answer is 74% more. And it's worth every penny. I've drunk the Apple kool-aid and I'll never go back. They just make a vastly superior product.

In other news, I had two teeth prepped for crowns this week, and if that's not as bad as a root canal, I hope I never need one. Once you're numb you (obviously) don't feel anything, but the SOUND is horrific and I'm an anxious wreck the whole time. And once the novocaine wears off, your mouth feels like an army of tanks has plowed through. I'm still recovering. The one good thing about it is that you don't feel like eating much.

And speaking of eating, Ben and I are in a food rut. You know how you suddenly realize you hate everything you cook, nothing tastes good, and let's go out to eat? We are SO there. This morning I went to the commissary (which I do only once a month now since we have no kids at home), and what did they have on sale but huge, beautiful briskets! Have you ever cooked a brisket? Do it the way my Jewish grandmother did—easy, peasy and it will make a party in your mouth (better than an army of tanks).

Put the brisket in a 13x9 pan, fat side up (I trim some of the fat off, but leave enough to make it tender). Put uncovered in a preheated 500° oven for about 20 minutes to brown. Reduce oven heat to 300°. Mix half a bottle of chili sauce with half a bottle of water and pour that over the meat. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, throw in a bay leaf and two quartered onions, cover tightly with foil, and put back in the oven. For a small brisket (or a half), bake it about 2.5–3 hours; for a big one, 4 hours. Cut in thin slices across the grain (that's important) and serve with mashed potatoes and fresh green beans. Amazing. I would show you a picture but I was too busy eating to take one.

Last weekend we went to New Jersey for my mother-in-law's 80th birthday party. In addition to the best pizza ever, we had more than our share of Wawa coffee and I made a startling discovery: New Jersey Wawa coffee is not as good as Virginia Wawa coffee. I was so surprised! We figured it must be the different water, but how sad is that? Those poor New Jerseyans!

Now I'm going to jump off here and go watch a movie with the hubs. Valentine's Day and all that.

Au revoir!

Un-update!

Remember when I said I bought a PC? Remember how I was so excited at the PC version of Word and Excel?

I'm sending it back. It is at this very moment all packed up in its original container waiting to be taken to the FedEx store and shipped back to its maker. Two and a half weeks was all I could handle, and now I can't wait to get another Mac. I will never complain about Word for Mac again, ever. I promise.

Thursday thoughts.

Is that an okay title? I mean, it is an alliteration, but I think I called yesterday's post "Wednesday thoughts" or something. Or maybe not. It's been a long day.

Today I want to make a public admission.

If I were not married, I would run the heat and pay $400 electric bills every month. This wood stove thing is just so hard and I am not a pioneer at heart. I need someone who loves to burn wood and get up at 4:30 a.m. and put more fuel on the fire because I am not that girl and all this flame-coaxing is getting old. Ben was away for one night and it was a reality-check for me. I am spoiled and I like it.

Here's another thought I had today: my kids have pretty awesome friends who are kind enough to "friend" me on facebook or Instagram or Twitter and let me enjoy the fun, adventurous lives they lead. It's so neat to watch young people, and obviously I am my grandmother because I'm talking about watching young people.

Anyway, one young lady in particular who I am "friends" with on Instagram (who, incidentally, I have never met, @ohhhchelsea, also www.chelsealainefrancis.com) (isn't it amazing how everyone is known by their online identity? As if we're not really people, just megabytes in cyberspace.) reminds me every week that it's Thankfulness Thursday, and I always love to read what she's thankful for. It's not a put-on either. She really is a thankful person.

Today I am extra thankful for Wawa coffee and the block heater in the big diesel truck. I'm thankful for kids who listen to the Spirit of God and for the Spirit of God who speaks to them. I'm thankful for the ability to run (and take walk breaks if we're being honest) and I'm super thankful for frozen cookie dough blobs and hot-out-of-the-oven cookies after a longer-than-normal day at work.

I'm SO thankful the next day is Friday.

Wednesday things.

Well this Wednesday turned out to be quite Monday-ish.

After Ben got up at 4:30 I never could go back to sleep, so I got out of bed at 5:30 and got the day going. Started some laundry, let the dog out, made coffee, read my Bible, let the dog back in (by this time he freezeth) and fed him, shifted laundry in the machines, and ate some breakfast. I had already decided to go to work an hour late since we were supposed to have a social media seminar at 3 and I knew I would be there late.

When I got to work at 8, both of my bosses were already there and let me tell you, that is unheard of. Sometimes Clarisse comes around 9, but JP NEVER gets there before 10 or 11. There seemed to be a good bit of tension when I came through the kitchen where they were talking quietly but I didn't stik around to find out the cause. Whatever. I went to my desk and finished formatting a 200-page book for translation, which I have been working on for over a week. When Maria came in at 9, I found out what all the early-to-work and stress was about.

Apparently we are submitting a proposal to a certain UN agency for a big translation project, only everyone forgot about putting the proposal together until late last night. Last time we submitted one, it took three weeks to compile. It is due Friday.

If there was a machine that could measure stress in the air, that sucker would have been pegged.

But we all lived through the day and tomorrow is a new one with no mistakes in it (thank you, L.M. Montgomery).

Oh, and here are two random pictures I took tonight.

I call this one "Applesauce Bokeh."

And this one is "Pete Wants My Dinner."

And also the roast chicken recipe.

Mix together in a small bowl:

1 1/2 tablespoons kosher salt
1 tablespoon paprika
2 teaspoons onion powder
1 1/2 teaspoons thyme
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon garlic powder

Rinse two whole roasting chickens. (Fryers work, but roasters are better. I don't know why.) Rub them inside and out with the dry rub and put them in a roasting pan with sides. This is important because they'll make a lot of juice. Stuff half a peeled onion in each one.

Bake at 250° for 5 hours, uncovered. I know it sounds like a long time, but trust me. These are even better if you have foresight and rub them the night before. When I do this, I put them in the roasting pan, all ready to put in the oven, and cover tightly with plastic wrap, and put them in the fridge overnight. 

If your family is like mine, they will stand around the bar in the kitchen and tear into the birds, thus saving yourself the trouble of setting the table and cleaning up a bunch of dishes. The leftovers (if there are any) make great enchiladas and all sorts of other casseroles. I always cook two at a time so I have some extra. Amen.

Just for you, Connie. :)

If there's one thing that is crucial in the world of blogs, it is faithful readers. At the height of my blog-writing career, I might have had twenty regular readers, those who were here every day, or at least every day I wrote, and left encouraging comments.

Then I walked away from the blog because of a full-time job and wrote fewer than ten times in a year and a half. And you know what? When there's nothing to read, readers leave. It's amazing how that works.

But there are those rare people in the world who stick by you, and—amazingly—still show up to read after an extremely long writing drought. Connie is one of them, and she even remembered about the pumpkin bread! And asked me to re-post the recipe. So here it is, Connie, just for you. Thanks for hanging around.

The famous pumpkin bread recipe:

Combine in a bowl:

2 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tsp. ginger
1/2 tsp. ground cloves

In the bowl of a mixer, beat 2 sticks softened butter with 1 3/4 cups sugar until fluffy. Add 2 eggs and beat. Add 2 more eggs and beat well. Now add the dry ingredients alternately with 1 1/2 cups canned pumpkin (I usually use a whole small can, which is a little more than that, but it works.) At the end, stir in a cup of chocolate chips.

Divide batter between two 9x5 loaf pans that have been sprayed with cooking spray. Bake at 350° for about an hour, or until a cake tester comes out clean. Try not to eat it all in one sitting.

Also, newer computers scroll backwards. I just thought you should know.

Update, update, update!

So I figured out (by accident) that my new computer includes a 30-day free trial of Office 365 which is what I use at work. So I downloaded it and *POOF* there's the Word I know and love! PowerPoint! Excel! Outlook! (What's OneNote? Clearly I still have learning to do.)

I'm so excited to be able to edit stuff at home and actually know where the line spacing and margin customizing and table inserting are! You just have no idea. I feel like I'm swooning over a long-lost friend!

Ahem. Sorry.

It's raining. It's going to rain all night and all day tomorrow and then snow on Monday, and that always makes me want to bake. What shall I make?

Adjustment is not easy.

So I'm sitting here typing on my new computer because that's all I can figure out how to do.

I've had an old-school MacBook—the white ones, remember those?—for the last five years, and it's been gasping and choking for a few months, so I decided I'd better replace it before disaster struck. And then I decided that I like MS Office programs for PC way better than the ones they write for Macs. There's no comparison really. And since I use Word on a PC at work every day, I've gotten used to where things are. Then I come home and try to do things on my Mac and I CAN'T FIND ANYTHING and oh my word it's the MOST frustrating thing.

So here I am with another PC. Also, it's a very big laptop with a 17" screen. I've gotten used to carrying around a twig and now it's like I have a log.

BUT . . . the biggest thing is Windows 8. Mercy, this is a hot mess. But my brother the techno-geek tells me Windows 10 is coming and it will be free and fix everything that is wrong with Windows 8, which is everything. He describes this as Windoze 8, good for people who only know how to swipe and stab at a screen . . . which now that I think about it, pretty accurately describes me. Except I want a start menu.

I've successfully found the Control Panel, but it was an accident and I can't seem to do it again. And what is up with Blogger not being compatible with Internet Explorer? I used to prefer Firefox, but I can't seem to figure out the bookmark thing there.

Sigh.

And I haven't even gotten to the Office programs yet.

I could write a hundred things here right now, but they all sound kind of whiney and complainy. So instead, I'll tell you a what I'm thankful for.

I'm thankful God doesn't always give me the things I ask for. He knows so much better than I do what I need, what I can handle, and what will turn into a curse pretty quickly. I mean, I can't be the only one who mentally spends $280 million every time I drive past the PowerBall billboard.

 And I'm thankful that even though I live sort of in the city, I still get to see pretty things every day.