Having Another Computer is a Great Thing!

I was so happy that hubby was getting a computer of his own, and that this one in the office was going to be mine alone--at last. But things have been better than I thought they would be. Notice the time of this post as proof. {Smile} It’s after nine-thirty and I’m on the computer. Of course, I would normally be fast asleep by this late. Hey, when you have to get up at four in the morning, nine is late. {Smile}

There’s more good news also. Hubby’s computer came with a kick-butt all in one printer. All of those old, long-ago finished manuscripts that I did on my Brother WP can now finally be scanned into a computer. That old Brother WP did save to a floppy, but too late I learned that it saved the files in a way that nothing but the same old brand and model of Brother WP could read. What a blow. But now with this new scanner, and some time and work, I can scan each printed up manuscript into the computer in Word. I wish doing rewrites and making them worth reading would be as easy as scanning them in is going to be. {Smile}

Okay, so I could stay here longer and write more if I wanted to tonight, but since the words are starting to blur and I have to cook for a small army tomorrow, maybe enough is enough and I should give up. “Night, night,” she said with a yawn.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!

I hope all of your wishes come true in 2005!

He Quit Smoking and I Get to Write More

I'm sure you don't get what one has to do with the other, but it's still true. {Smile} I’ll explain.

My husband has smoked since he was eleven-years-old. Yes, you read that right. So he's been smoking for almost thirty years--more than two packs a day for probably the latter half of that time. I never really believed he would be able to quit. Not that he hasn't tried.

Oh, he has tried! So many times.

He watched my mother die from lung cancer after smoking for most of her life. That was terrible enough that he tried even harder afterwards to stop, but never made it for more than a day or so.

This go around though, he tried the patches. You have to wear them every day for two and half months. People say they are expensive, but I figured it up, and they didn't cost any more than those cartons of cigarettes. (And if they had cost three times as much, but worked, they would have been worth every cent.) I will admit to you that I figured he'd open the first box, start with the best intentions, and then before week one was up he'd be standing in line at Smoky Joe's for a nicotine fix.

I almost wanted to get my hopes up when he had made it through the first week, but didn't dare. And then week three came and I started to hope just a tiny little bit. And then week four, and hope was flowing. By week six, I really wanted to believe this was it. Some how each week went by, and he didn't give in or give up, and then suddenly we were down to the last box and the last patch.

I felt the ground beneath me tremble a little when we pulled that last patch off of his shoulder. He was on his own now. No more training wheels. I just knew he was going to fall, and hard. So I held my breath and waited. (Of course I never let him know that I had any fear or doubts at all.) Day one, day two, day three. Solid as a rock. Day four, day five, day six. A couple of hard ones, but he didn't even tilt to the side. Day seven, day eight, day nine. I exhaled. My muscles relaxed. I’m more proud of him that I can put here in words.

But what, you ask again, does all of this have to do with writing more? A lot. I promise.

See, the deal is that I had told hubby that if he was ever able to quit smoking, he could have the money he spent each month on cigarettes, and do what ever he wanted with it. What he wanted was a new computer. Mind you, I don't think there is anything wrong with the one in my office, but being male and all, he wanted more power!

So last week he got his wish. A kick-butt computer all of his own. I even bought him a new desk and chair for Christmas, which he has already opened since he had to have a place to set the new computer and sit himself. {Smile} His computer is in the living room, so the office and this computer are now all mine! That means in the evenings or on the weekends, if I get the urge and have the time, I can write away. Since I spend so many hours a day keeping up with the e-mail groups I run, and answering mail, or even working on my website, I'm hoping some extra hours at the computer will mean some extra chapters. I guess that would give me a good goal for 2005. {Smile}

Another Thanksgiving Come and Gone

I cooked too much, ate too much, and stayed busy too much. And yet somehow I managed to get a little writing done now and again, so I’m not complaining. (Smile.) The most important thing is though, that I enjoyed Thanksgiving with my family and friends.

So often now it seems we get so caught up in the busy and rush of the holidays that we forget they are holidays--times that should be enjoyed, savored, like a good piece of fried chicken that you gnaw down to the born and then lick your fingers clean after. (Smile.) I know you get it, but the chicken is the holiday and all of the good things that come with it. (Smile.)

I’m going to make sure I think of things that way this month, since today is the first day of December. I’m going to take time biting through that crispy golden brown crust, savoring each bite of that moist tender meat, not leaving even the tiniest piece on the bone, and then spend time making sure each finger is clean. I’m going to get e v e r y t h i n g out of that piece of fried chicken that I can.

There was an empty spot at my Thanksgiving table this year. One very dear smiling face that always loved my cooking so much. We are human you know, and that means there’s no guarantee that we, or any bite of that chicken, will be here next year, or the day after Christmas--or even tomorrow. Now is the time to feast! Not on fried chicken, but on love, family, hugs, friends, laughter, long talks--seemingly unimportant little everyday moments that pass without the spotlight or the blaze of glory they are worthy of.