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.

Novel Writing Month

Do you know all about this? It begins tomorrow. It's National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo. Clever, right? (See? I'm like a novel-writing MACHINE. Or something.) I've never done it before, but I'm totally in for it this year. I have a plan (the hardest part for me) and a will (um, a close second) and a functional computer. That seems like all the tools I need to crank out a fifty-thousand-word draft in November.

I hope.

I am decidedly noncommittal for too many things, but I really want to try this out. Here's the thing: I need to start strong. Like Bust out of the gate sprinting, or something. But I don't generally write on Sundays. It's more like I spend several hours in church and then sleep it off. Plus some cooking.

So I may not actually begin until November 2nd. Which means, if I'm taking days off for Sunday-type activities, I need to throw down an average of 2500 words every writing day. (I did that math in my head. It could well be faulty.) That is roughly five times my daily writing goal. Okay, not roughly. It IS five times my daily goal. FIVE TIMES.

Want to know what will help? Husband will be in Hawaii for work (yeah, I know) for the first week. If I refrain from Netflixing (don't you love making up verbs?*) anything too tempting, I might actually make it. Possibly even more. Especially if I allow myself a really good reward when I hit the goal. Also, if I stop showering... No. Not that.

Stay tuned.

*We call that "verbing."

How About THIS?

A teacher, stressed out with school, his band, and the community theater play he's got a huge role in, invites an EMT to do a presentation in his class. On the very day the EMT is presenting, the teacher has an actual heart attack during class. IN school. In front of his students. The kind where his body thoroughly shuts down. The EMT springs into action, does all his mighty First Responder business, saves the teacher's life, keeps a classroom full of worried high schoolers calm until the ambulance carries their teacher away.

How's that for the Hand of the Lord in that man's life?

He may not be actively invited in, but God is in our schools, and I am grateful.

Help! Help!

Okay, it's not like this is an emergency. I don't need anyone's kidney. Just really great ideas for yearbook themes.

My WIP needs a terrific yearbook theme, and I've got nothing. If you leave me theme ideas, the greatest one will be in my book, and will even be the title (*gasp*) if it rocks my socks. And also the contributor who sends this remarkable theme will win something, um, great. Which will be determined at some point after the sun comes out. Which I am sure it will do eventually, even though it is very dark and howly right now.

Okay, blog-friends -- Yearbook Theme away!

Oh, and thanks. You know, for all your help.

"What Are They DOING?"

Last night, after a few family board games, Husband and I snuck into the office* so he could show me some photos he's been working on. Have I mentioned that he's brilliant, photo-wise? He also started blogging **recently, but it's mostly pretty, pretty photos (the words come, too, though). Anyway, so the Kids were playing Christmas music on the iPod and dancing around the family room. Vigorously.

Very vigorously.

After a few minutes I wandered into the kitchen to pack lunches for today, and the dancing had morphed into an impossible-to-describe game of "leap over the rolling logs" at which point, Husband came through and whispered to me, "What are they DOING?"

I shook my head, shrugged my shoulders, and said, "I think they're exercising. But be quiet, they don't know it." The game continued until I started reading them "Midnight Magic" by Avi, at which point they all lay their sweaty selves on the floor and drew illustrations of the castello.

To my sistas of the small children, who feel discouraged by the daily-daily: This Too Shall Pass. It gets easier. And it's really a whole lot of fun.

*It wasn't quite as romantic as it sounds.

**Scroll down for some cuteness of our own.