I'm trying a new thing tomorrow: I'm roasting a chicken in the crock pot. Pinterest has assured me that this $7.42 chicken will taste just as good if not better than the rotisserie chicken that Hellmart sells for a dollar cheaper. As I prepared my crock pot and my dreams of a yummy smelling house, I was taken aback by the words FRESH and YOUNG. I am sure that some foodie somewhere will be all giggly over the prospect of roasting a a fresh young chicken with parts of his/her giblets missing. But, I would prefer that Tyson take my hand, look me square in the eye and lie to me. I wouldn't think twice about buying a chicken that was labled "Old and Fulfilled Chicken, died in a pasture as he was free-ranging with all of his giblets in tact."
I'm sure that labeling wouldn't sell to anyone except me.
And speaking of me and speaking of truth in advertising, I do still call myself a blogger. If anything this past year has taught me it's this: Things change. If this is life-changing news to you, please do yourself a favor and turn off Netflix.
I do love writing-slash-blogging, but this past year has found me spinning with the changes and the one thing that I allowed to suffer was my blog. In trying to keep my family from becoming too dizzy and trying to do my job to the best of my abilities and trying to keep my head above water ... or at least above the occasional glass of sangria I partake in every once in a while.
I think--I think--I'm doing okay enough to try and get a handle on my blogging again.
So, I feel safe enough in keeping my "blogger" label for now ... even if it is prefaced with "old and fulfilled."
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| Ignore the "best by" date--it's been in the freezer |
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