Fighting Style

I've been writing a fight - not physical, and not even an argument. It's a silent avoidance, and sometimes those can be the most painful. Someone is keeping a secret. Someone else makes (totally incorrect) assumptions. Everyone feels bad, bad.

Are you a confronter? Or an avoider? What about the people in your house? Same as you, or different?

And, if you care: Here's a little NaNo update: I'm at 15, 771 this morning!

Together Again

Husband flew home through the night. He's been on a work trip to Hawaii. Before you get too disgusted, you should know that he didn't even get in the water once. He worked his tail off (even though "work" has a little different connotation when you're a filmmaker - he had to do some location scouting where they shot "Jurassic ParK" and "Lost," along with a little shopping in Chinatown).

And now he's home. Currently trying to sleep over the sounds of Kids 3 and 4 dancing to "The Final Countdown" by Europe, which (by the way) has been much overplayed this week.

But it is so good to have him home. It's just right for him to be here, you know? Good. Safe. Complete.

In the immortal words of Kermit the Frog, "Hey, it's good to be together again."

Seen Around Town

A person who would leave the house like this:





must have either very high self-esteem, or none at all. Is there a third option?

(the turban is covering curlers for the Play tonight. Made from a very pretty scarf Husband bought in Ecuador last fall.)

Who Knew?

Blog O' Random, coming at you.

* Bathrooms don't actually clean themselves. However, the amount of time you spend in your house in inversely proportional to the number of times someone says, "Hey, what's that smell?"

* 2500 words in a day is a lot to write. But dialog makes those words come faster.

* Sick little boys who would rather be coughing in Kindergarten than watching "Newsies" in my bed = Massive Cuteness.

* It would be cool to have Personal Assistants/ Vice-Beccas / Counselors for every aspect of my life.

* The community theater production of "Annie, Get Your Gun" premiers tonight. I have to put some curlers in my hair.

* Husband is emailing occasional photos of handsome Islander men from his work trip to Hawaii. The photos are not directed to me. But I still manage to find them. Because I routinely read the Kids' email.

* I haven't had a professional haircut in more than 19 months. This should probably be remedied.

* Contrary to popular opinion, I am not addicted to edamame. I could quit any time I wanted to.

* My dad's birthday (64) is later this month. I have no good ideas for gifts, and only partly because he's not a "things" kind of guy.

* NaNoWriMo is not conducive to exercise. Or maybe it's just the valid excuse I've been looking for.

*Okay, time to tackle those bathrooms. And those 2500 words. (And go read some blogs - later. Maybe.)

Mom Memories

I made my mom's carrot casserole for dinner last night. I came close to crying. It's seldom that missing my mom feels so direct. And it almost always surprises me. Like when my youngest (step)brother took pictures of his precious family at my mom's gravestone in Indiana. This sweet brother and his wife, neither of whom ever met my mom, paying tribute to her with their babies, telling them that this is where "Grandma Janet" is buried. And like when I opened a box of sheet music, found "Don't Rain on My Parade" from "Funny Girl," started to sing it to my kids, and got all choked, because that is a Mom Song. Like seeing my sweet dad, still handsome in his sixties, and realizing that the last time he saw my mom, twenty years ago this month, she was not much older than I am now.

So I made the carrot casserole.

It was so pretty, and it smelled so... right. You know how smells will take you right back to a time and place? Yes. That. And it reminded me of so many things I loved about my mom -- her ways in the kitchen, how she always tasted right off the mixing spoon, and how hot breakfast was non-negotiable (even if it was apple crisp, because really, how different is that from apple-cinnamon oatmeal?), and how sugar cereal was for camping trips. My mom had a spagetti sauce that would bring kids from town. I'm not kidding. My friends would fill up cups with it and eat it with spoons. And once, she burned pork chops. In the microwave.* But that carrot casserole. I loved that stuff.

Here's the recipe, if you're so inclined.

2 and 1/2 cups grated carrots

3 eggs

2 Tablespoons melted butter

2 cups cooked rice

1 Tablespoon grated onion**

1 and 1/2 teaspoons salt

1 and 1/2 cups grated cheese (Knowing how I grew up, this probably meant cheddar cheese, medium. But now that I've become a cheese snob, I made it half and half with Gruyere. Mmmm. Gruyere.)

Blanch carrots in 3/4 cup water for 5 minutes. Drain, and save the juice. Combine carrots with eggs, butter, rice, salt, onions and cheese(s). Mix it up.*** Press into a greased 8x8 pan, place that pan into a 9x13 pan with a cup or two of hot water in it. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes.

Next, you make a white sauce, using the carrot juice for half the liquid. Like so: Melt 2 tablespoons of butter in a heavy sauce pan. Stir in 4 Tablespoons of flour and stir over medium-high heat for a minute. Salt and pepper to taste. Then add carrot juice and about 3/4 cup of milk, whisking constantly until the sauce has thickened. Don't let it boil. Then you add a cup or 2 of really good-quality frozen peas. If you don't know the difference between good peas and the other kind, give me a call. We'll talk.

Serve casserole with cream sauce over the top. See if it makes you miss my mom, too.

*This may be where I get my aversion to microwave cooking.

**But why stop at 1? I used 2.

***My Kid 3 said at this point, "It looks just like chopped candy corns!"

Good Morning

It is. A good morning, I mean. One thousand words down pre-Kid-wake-up. Plus some research. And do you know what I am finding? In that research? That symptoms of just about any disease or emotional disorder or abuse can be confused with all the others. Which is good for purposes of this novel, but tricky in life.

For instance: Do you know a kid who has shown sudden changes in eating habits? Well, that could be Anorexia, Depression, Drug Abuse, Bulimia, all manner of Cancer, or Puberty. Or nothing. Comforting, right?

But adding all this unclarity (the computer thinks that is a word) makes my characters able to reach all manner of wrong conclusions. Which, of course, makes Good Story. And that is what we are after.

Today I will try to write another two thousand words, and also to make it to the shower. (I think that is a good goal for me every day, and usually it happens. I'm just saying.) Since tomorrow is a be-at-the-elementary-school-most-of-the-day sort of day, I want to get a jump on what I may not be able to finish in my short bursts of computer time tomorrow.

On a totally unrelated note, is anyone else still waking up at 4:30? I can only blame the time change, and I'm not complaining, but it's a little weird that this body would think that 4:30 is a decent time to get out of the bed. But, hey. A thousand words before Kids wake. Not too shabby.

Word Count Update -UPDATED

I hit about 800 words before kids are up this morning. Be back later...

Okay, 'tis later. I'm back. With happiness:

2550 words today!

And it's not yet 10:30 in the morning!

At this point I need to celebrate. And eat something. And probably get out of this chair.