Savoring: my afternoon coffee and the lingering taste of Dutch apple pie and whipped cream. I had the pie for my breakfast, too. The kids reacted to the addition of raisins, but I liked them — they gave the pie a virtuous boost of fruity wholesomeness.


Appreciating: the cheerful nurse at this morning’s doctor appointment (vaccines for two kids) who was sincerely apologetic about our extensive wait, due to an office snafu, and then gave us a grocery store gift card as a consolation prize for our troubles. ‘Twas a ray of sunshine… 

Listing: sideways on the living room sofa because it has got a horrific case of old-sofa sag. Maybe this is why my back always hurts?

Contemplating: purchasing a new sofa … but I’m not sure I can justify spending all that money. Ugh, I hate buying furniture. (Anyone have a comfy — and attractive and not too old and supremely comfy — couch you want taken off your hands?)

Anticipating: this weekend’s family gathering in Pennsylvania and all the good food and conversation to go with!

Packing: extra warm socks and slippers since our hostess warned us that her house — a huge old farmhouse — doesn’t get above 63 degrees … and that’s in the warmest places.

Making: two pies — a grape and an apple — for Saturday night’s pie bar at my cousin’s house. 

Considering: stopping at a Target (or some such store) on the way up to PA and purchasing some winter clothes for the child who has nothing warm and has been (oddly enough) whimpering about the state of his wardrobe for quite some time.

Listening: to the wind thumping the metal roof, the high-pitched whine of my husband’s old and very slow computer, the whir of the noise machine in the upstairs hall, the ticking of the clock, the old dog’s heavy breathing while she sleeps, the tapping of my fingers against the computer keys… 

Twitching my nose: at the weird, cold-weather house smells that float up through the floor from the basement. When it gets super cold, the heat draws the air up from the crawl space under the living room, and for some unknown reason, it smells exactly like dog farts. My husband says it’s just a matter of lining the crawl space with plastic (again), and that it shouldn’t take more than a couple hours, but has he done it yet? Nope.

Gearing up: to do some more smoking once this cold spell lets up a little. We borrowed a smaller smoker from a different friend, and I just picked up a new smoking book from the library. Along with another brisket and a pork butt, I’d like to try burgers and hotdogs….

Craving: soup, the brothier and hotter, the better. I have one more meal’s worth of Italian Wedding soup in the freezer, but I’ve been hoarding it. Gives me great comfort, knowing that soup is in my culinary arsenal.

Watching: Godless, with my husband (not right now now), and oh my word, Jeff Daniels makes an outstanding villain. I can’t watch the show right before bed, though, else I can’t sleep.

Marveling: that my husband works outside, all day long, in this brutally cold weather. He doesn’t even fuss (at least not about that, he doesn’t).

Have a good weekend, friends. Stay warm!

This same time, years previous: marching, high on the hog, what it means, the quotidian (1.6.14), headless chickens, of an evening (and a morning), candied peanuts, winter chickens, what I did.

Have you seen these little rhinestone spirals for hair?

My younger daughter found them in her Christmas stocking. I had actually considered buying them for myself, but I wasn’t sure how they worked, and I thought they might be better suited to her short curls anyway.

The child has the most gorgeous hair: thick and curly. It will do anything. It used to be that she wouldn’t let me touch it except to pull it back in a braid or ponytail, but she’s been slowly (very slowly) getting braver.

Turns out, the spirals (I call them hair studs) are super easy to work with: simply screw them in wherever you want. What fun!

I’m hoping she’ll let me borrow them sometime.

This same time, years previous: Christmas cheese, how to make a fireball, breaking the fruitcake barrier, classic cranberry sauce, baguettes, sweet and spicy popcorn.

Making chit-chat with one of my friends at church Sunday morning, I inquired as to how she was going to spend the rest of her New Year’s Eve day. “We’re going on a hike,” she said. “Want to co—?”

“NO!” I bellowed, and then added apologetically, “I mean, thank you but no. It’s way too cold.”

But then we kept talking about the hike — other friends were going, it was only two miles in and two miles out, the start time wasn’t until mid-afternoon so I could still have my after-lunch rest time and coffee, etc — and the idea began to grow on me. I was on the brink of cabin fever, after all. The combination of no longer running in the morning (thanks to the bitter cold — 20 degrees? fine; 10 degrees? not so much), more rich food than normal, and a whole string of leisurely, stay-at-home days was beginning to grate on me. Perhaps a hike was just the thing I needed?

By the time we got home from church, I’d decided I wanted to go, but trying to convince my husband — the poor guy spends every day, all day outside in the freezing temps and really, really, really just wants to read books by the fire in his spare time — was no small matter. 

“Really, Jennifer?” he sighed. “Do we have to?”

But I kept after him, sticking out my lip and mumbling things about my mental health being on the line until he eventually said, Okay, fine. Whatever.

I’ve never found hikes to be all that thrilling, but, it turns out, sub-(celsius)-zero temps rather elevate the experience. Pausing, even briefly to, say, remove the lens cap from the camera or to pee in the snow or to study the tracks of other hikers, and suddenly — Oh no, there’s no feeling in my fingers and toes!

And then I realized that this nice little cardio workout was practically a life-or-death experience. The stakes had been raised: IF I STOPPED MOVING I WOULD DIE.* What fun!

The hike turned simple things, like not getting frostbitten (yay!) and making it back to the van without losing the keys (again, yay!), into real accomplishments. I am successfully surviving death, go me!

But the best part, by far, came after I was back home when I was standing in front of the blazing fire, my teeth chattering uncontrollably (and this, after a 45-minute van ride), and realized that my cabin fever had disappeared completely. That high-stakes hike had shivered it right out of my body!

*My husband read this and promptly reminded me of the guy in the Everest movie who was left for dead (so he was clearly not moving) and then, hours later, came stumbling into camp.

“It’d take a little more than simply not moving for a few minutes to kill you, Jen,” he said.

“That’s what you’d like to think!”

“Also,” he added, “You sound pathetic.”

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (1.2.17), 5-grain porridge with apples, when cars dance, the quotidian (1.2.12), lentil sausage soup.