I’ll tell you how it happens.

You just go ahead and live a little of your life and your blogging time diminishes to a little sparkly crystal of preciousness which you hold near your heart and stare at in your quiet moments.

Or something.

But we took a little family trip (to a sunny southern city) and we laughed and we hiked and we sang songs and we told funny stories and Kid 1 may have poured her coffee-machine hot cocoa into the bottom of her mug, forgetting that little detail of Turning the Mug Over. We swam and we fogged-in the hot-tub room and we ate 5 pounds of gummy worms among us. And those were a few really fun days.

But also. There was this other thing.

I’m querying, you see. And for me, querying is a mad mixture of exciting and horrible, much like cheese fondue or deep-fried anything. It feels so awesome right up until it starts feeling barf-inducing.

I’ve sent out several queries. I’ve gotten about 10% positive response. (No, Dad, that doesn’t mean offers of representation. That means people saying “That doesn’t sound too bad. Send the manuscript – or part of it – to me and I’ll have a look at it.” Which is so very, very positive. To me.) And I’ve gotten several very polite rejections.

Rejections, polite or otherwise, make me sad.

Because as much as I’d like to say I can separate myself from my work, it’s PERSONAL. You know? It is. And a tiny part of me wants to knock on the metaphorical doors of these nice people and say, “But LOOK at me. I’m nice. I’m groomed. I’m wearing accessories. And also, I know how to write a book that is Good.”

Which, naturally, I can’t say to them, because that’s not how it works.

Which, naturally, causes ulcers.

Naturally.

So I live with it. I put on a happy face and I do a few deep sighs once in a while. I send out five more queries. I eat a piece of something delicious (which was, up to yesterday, a square of almond toffee, but from now on until later, it will be something sugarless and without white flour, because also the one-pound-a-week thing isn’t working no matter how many positive thoughts I send its way. See note above re. gummy worms) and I move on.

Also, because I have had some successes (remember those positive responses?) I bought myself a book. “The Fault in our Stars” by John Green. I hope it’s glorious. I have reason to hope. Because he’s brilliant, and stuff. (But mine wasn’t signed. And I might have to do something about that. If you’re not a Nerdfighter, you may not know that JG signed like 150,000 copies of “TFIOS” for the first run. Who gets a first run printing of 150,000? John Green does.) **UPDATE: I looked it up. Only the PRE-ORDERED 150,000 books are signed. Pre-ordered. 150,000. Signed. Go, John Green. You go.

So, on we go, ulcers and rejections and smiles and carrot sticks and all.

I have a few disclaimers, first.

1. I am a cooker. So, I can cook things. From ingredients. Which, you know, is cheaper (by a lot) than the alternative.

2. My Kids are big. They don’t need hourly snacks. They’re gone all day at school. They can wait till dinner. Like that.

3. I am a firm believer in the Food Storage. I have shelves of food, and I know how to use it. (Did that sound like a threat? It wasn’t meant to. More like a back-up to my #1, above.)

4. Moderation. That’s a ticket for us. We try to not overdo any one thing. A bit of meat, a bunch of vegetables, some rice or pasta, and maybe a whole lot of smoothies. But have you seen the replacement for the food guide pyramid? It’s a plate. Of food. Sort of.

Sorry, Kid 4. That so doesn’t resemble your dinner of choice (a huge steak, some sauteed mushrooms, and a pile of fried potatoes). But it’s not that far off from what we usually eat. So, you know, it’s spread around.

So, here is my meal plan for the week. Starting today. Ready?

Wednesday Breakfast: Waffles and Blueberry Syrup

Need to buy: Nothing. All on hand.

Waffles: I keep a mix in the freezer, but I had to refill it this morning. Here’s what’s in it.

7 cups wheat flour
2 and 1/4 cups cornmeal
3 cups “quick oats”
1/2 cup baking powder
2 teaspoons salt

Mix all that together and put in a gallon-sized ziplock. Write this on the label part: “Waffle Mix — 2 cups mix, 2 cups milk, 2 eggs, 1/2 cup oil.” That feeds my family of 6 waffles for breakfast, occasionally with a bit leftover for birdies.

The blueberry syrup recipe is HERE, and I had all those ingredients on hand this morning, too. If I didn’t have oranges, I could have used lemon juice or pineapple juice or probably something else. But I have oranges. So that’s what we (they) had for breakfast.

Wednesday Lunch: Kids and Husband packed sandwiches last night, I’ll have some manner of Green Smoothie, hopefully way tastier than the seriously yucky concoction that was my breakfast. *Shudder*.

After School Snack: Crackers (leftovers from New Year’s Eve) and cheese (always on hand, bought when ON SALE, don’t you know).

Wednesday Dinner: Cheese and Onion Enchiladas (Red) and Corn/Black Bean Salad

Enchiladas: All ingredients on hand. Here’s the Great Big Secret Recipe.

2 Large onions, chopped
1 or 2 cup shredded cheddar cheese (2 for us. We LOVE cheese)
1 can (14 ounce-ish) red enchilada sauce
12 corn tortillas

Simmer the onions in a lidded pan with about 3 tablespoons of water until soft. Pour enchilada sauce into a small pie plate or something. Spray a medium casserole dish (I like the round one for this) with pan spray. Dip a tortilla in the enchilada sauce, both sides. Put it in the sprayed dish. Do it again, and again, so you have 3 now-red tortillas in the bottom of the pan. Scoop in 1/3 of the onions and sprinkle with 1/3 of the cheese. Repeat layers. Pour any remaining sauce over the top. Put a lid or some foil on it and heat until it’s hot. The onions are already cooked, so you can do it fast. Even in the microwave, if you’re into that.

Salad:

(I need to buy cilantro, because I used too much in last night’s salad.)

1 can (14 ounce-ish) black beans
1 cup frozen corn (I like the Costco kind)
1 tomato, chopped
2 Tablespoons red onion, diced
2 Tablespoons chopped cilantro
2 Tablespoons Italian or Vinegar-based salad dressing (I like that Brianna’s one with the artichoke on the front. Very peppery and delicious)

Stir it up. Inhale. Can use avocado to make it perfect, but I’m on a budget. Tell you what. I will buy an avocado if it’s less than a dollar.

(So, to get up to speed, today’s meals will cost me about $1.30 including the possible avocado, because I stored everything else.) After dinner, Kids will clean up, thank me, and, smiling, start making tomorrow’s lunches. Which will include a protein, a veg, a fruit, and a treat. For which everything is in the fridge and pantry.)

Want to hear tomorrow? All-righty.

Breakfast: Smoothie and Scrambled Eggs

Smoothies are our favorites. My Kids much prefer them orange, pink, or purple to green. Whatever. I can do that.

One Good Smoothie (feeds 6)

1 can pineapple (the 20-ounce size)
6-8 ounces vanilla yogurt (I’m a huge fan of the Mountain High – it feels like food)
1 cup frozen strawberries
1 can peaches (the 14-ounce size)
2 peeled oranges
(Then I splash in some rice milk, because I like it better than the cow kind.)

Blend it all up. Serve with straws, because everything tastes better when you drink it from a straw.

I don’t really need to tell you how to scramble eggs, right? Right?

Lunches were packed last night, remember?

After school snack shall be popcorn. Usually reserved for Sundays, because I tend to WAY overdo it, but I’m willing to celebrate. I’m a pushover that way.

Dinner is Aunt Abbi’s Tomato-Basil soup, food storage style, which means I have everything on hand (hers is classier than mine, using cream and stuff but either way, it tastes awful darn good):

1 onion, diced
3 cups chicken broth (made from water and bullion)
4 cans crushed tomatoes (the 14-ounce size, or use a big can if you have one)
1 can evaporated milk
1 cup basil pesto (I have some fresh-ish stuff from Costco in my fridge, and I have some bottled stuff in my pantry. Obviously, I’m going to use the fresh. Because… well, I am.)

Boil the onions in the broth till soft. Add tomatoes. Simmer for however long you have. 20 minutes? That’ll do. When you’re ready to eat, add evaporated milk and pesto, heat through and serve. It’s really good. We all like it, even Husband the Non-Soup Man.

Then I’ll probably make some bread to go with it, because who doesn’t like homemade bread with their soup? I have all the ingredients on hand to make all manner of wonderful breads, but that’s another post entirely.

So, Thursday’s meals cost a total of ($0) –nothing. I have it all on the shelves. Yea, me! Here’s what else I can make without going to the store:

Pizza, Chicken Scaloppine, Tacos, Tuna Sandwich Pitas, Sloppy Joes, Potato Salad, Egg Salad Sandwiches [ick], Fried Rice, Granola, Chicken Parmesan, French Toast, or Spagetti. Plus all manner of breads, cookies, pastries, and, always, popcorn.

So, Friday? Breakfast is German Pancakes and Orange Juice. Lunches? Made. Dinner? Pizzas. Two. One cheese, one cheese and pepperoni. That leaves enough leftovers for tomorrow’s lunch. Also a big fat green salad for which I think I have plenty on hand.

Saturday? Usually my day off. Cold cereal and an apple or toast. This week is different, because we’re having a party. I’ll tell you about it soon. Lunch is leftover pizza, remember? And fried rice and perhaps frozen potstickers for dinner. All on hand.

Sunday? I’ll beg Husband to grill his famous Dad-burgers. I’ll need to buy meat for that. I’ll do some baked “fries” and a bunch of veg-ish toppings for the burgers (tomatoes, grilled onion, lettuce, mushrooms) and I’ll need to buy the mushrooms.

So the list for today: Cilantro. Avocado, if it’s a good price. Hamburger meat. Mushrooms. (Plus Party Food, but I’m not taking that from the normal grocery budget.) And that will take us through Sunday. For something like $16. So I’ll add on some fruits for school lunches and snacking purposes, and smile to myself. $30 easy.

(Grocery-shopping/budgeting disclaimer: I know it’s not an easy thing. I do. And the simple secret is this: Shop the perimeter. Go to produce, meat, dairy and then go home. I am lucky to live in a town that believes in Case Lot Sales, which is the time I buy almost everything I may need that lives on inside-the-maze grocery shelves, like canned veg and beans, tuna, flour/sugar and canned fruit [for smoothies]. I make a menu. I make a list of what I need. I go to the store and I buy ONLY WHAT’S ON THE LIST. <– that’s the hard part. And that’s me, taking back the budget.)

I would like to announce that for what may be the first time ever, I didn’t read the Kids’ gift books before wrapping them this year. Can I say? I’m excited for Sunday. And the following week. A steady diet of cold cereal meals and new books. Sounds perfect.

Decided to spend writing time this morning as a little devotional. I wrote my testimony. Committed it to paper. I don’t do that very often. Or maybe ever. But it felt good to do. And right, for the season and such. It’s a gift to have one, and a gift to share it.

Should I stop telling you how much I like kids? Mine, in particular? Because I maybe tell you a whole lot. But they are a whole lot awesome. All of them. Kid 1 is awesome. And Kid 2 is awesome. And Kid 3 is awesome. Also Kid 4 is awesome. See what I’m getting at? A whole lot of awesome.

And last night I read them David Sedaris’s “Six to Eight Black Men” as a little bit of Christmas cheer. I have managed difficult things in the past, like unmedicated childbirth and stuff, but I have to say, reading that out loud without laughing is a feat I am seriously proud of.

Speaking of feats. And feet.

(Look. I want. Don’t they make your feet happy? Or make you want some orange sherbet? Or something? I don’t know. But I want.)

In an effort to make the Christmas cheer last and last (and not to have a psychotic episode) I have limited my Christmas Music Intake to what happens when I’m in a store playing canned Johnny Mathis and Brenda Lee. And this is good. Because as you may recall, I have a limit to the Cheesy Songs of the Season. But we need to listen to SOMETHING in the house when we’re doing many dishes and making bread and apple pie bars and whatever. So we’ve discovered Pandora’s “PG Comedy Radio.” And it has saved me. In particular, I can put a load or three of dry, clean laundry in front of my kids as they sit on the floor laughing at Jim Gaffigan, Jeff Foxworthy, Brian Regan and BILL COSBY (“Noah, how long can you tread water?”) and they will fold it all, almost without noticing. Oh, thank you, Pandora. (Also, no commercials yet. Hours of comedy. Not a single commercial. Yet.) I know there are cool Pandora Christmas stations, but very few of the songs do it for me. (Except Barenaked Ladies and Sarah MacLaughlin’s “God Rest Ye…” and Katie Melua’s “Have Yourself A Merry…” and any of the awesome Christmas hymns that we sing around pianos or on porches.)

In the spirit of full disclosure, I should tell you this: Don’t hate me, please, if I am the only woman in the world who isn’t in love with Michael Buble. I can stand up and say it. I’m a Sinatra girl. Always have been. And I don’t know if I always will be, but I’d bet on it. I know it’s unfashionable to Not Adore MB, but I just don’t. I can do a song at a time. Then I need some hours of something else. But Kid 1, knowing this about me, made me listen to MB’s “Santa Baby” and she laughed  with me until our guts ached. Um, really? Mike, we should talk. Someone should have staged an intervention with that guy before the album was complete. Doesn’t he have an agent? Or an editor?

Attention future agent and/or editor: Please. Let me not take such a step. Thank you.

Hey, friends, I hope you have a Christmas full of cheer. I hope the food is good. I hope the family is near. If you’re still in That Stage, I hope batteries are included. I hope peace and fulfillment fill up all the corners. Merry Christmas.

XO,
B

—

[1] I don’t believe in credit cards. So I transfer all our savings. Somehow that should make some financial sense. Or something.

… Started reading the first Stephen King book (fiction, that is – I read ON WRITING and was thrilled) in more than twenty years this weekend. It’s creepy, I tell you what. (It’s the 11/22/63 one about the Kennedy assassination. And I’m scared. The man can tell a story.)

… Kids 3 (10.5) and 4 (very nearly eight) played Catchphrase yesterday afternoon while I was making Lemon Pound Cake. They were so funny. I wish you could have been a fly on the wall, because not much of it translates to blog. They speak their own language, frequently referencing platypus love, obscure MONK tv episodes, and pineapple. They’re cute. You can trust me on that.

… Amazon, get ready. I’m coming back today, armed with a credit card.

… Shopping is almost done. See above.

… Got the lights and decorations on the tree, and candles in the windows. I should take a picture. It looks precious. And I mean that with all the sincerity I can possibly muster. Truly.

… I love the little kids I work with at church. All 80 of them. They are adorable and hilarious.

… Scotch Tape, where have you gone? I mean it. Where are you?

… We sang Christmas songs in church yesterday, and it flipped a switch in me. Suddenly and without warning, I committed to singing in the Messiah Sing-In choir next weekend. The rehearsal last night brought some “who-do-you-think-you-are” eyebrows at our late join-up, but the music makes me crazy happy. To be alive. To worship Jesus. To sing alto. To repeat “we like sheep” until I have to actually put my hand over my mouth to suppress the “baaaaaa” noise. To want to dig deep into Isaiah and understand the Mysteries. Happy, happy.

… Hope is a thing with feathers, Emily Dickinson said. I love to see some feathers fluttering around here.

It’s forty-one-derful. (Or something like that.)

I’m thankful the most for you. For your kindness. That you provide. For the fun. For the working side-by-side. That you do the dishes sometimes, when dinner was really, really good. That you put aside your own wants and needs for the rest of us. For the movies and the dance parties and the memory books and the photos and the games and the walks and the hikes and the bike rides and the drives and the trips and the just-sit-around days.

I love you. Remember that? Well, it’s still true. I’m yours and you’re mine and so there. Forever.

Today I’m grateful for a whole lot of white food (turkey, potatoes, rolls, etc.) and a healthy, fun, happy family to share it with. I hope your day is joyful and white-starch-filled.

XO
Becca

1. It’s snowing. (Yes, it’s really me. It looks so pretty out there, I just got sucked into the moment for a moment.)

2. I’m no longer having the flu.

3. I’m 3 pounds closer to my goal weight, thanks to the aforementioned flu.

4. Husband asked for baked french fries for his birthday dinner. Yes. That is all he asked for. And a Tres Leches cake. Um, done.

5. The heater works.

6. Green olives stuffed with jalepenos and garlic.

7. I did such a good job on Kid 1′s Preference Hair. It was a masterpiece, and I’m still happy about it.

8. Email.

9. I’m going to try to make my first pecan pie today. Kid 2 played the violin in church yesterday, so she gets to choose a treat. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

10. My fingernails are all the same length.

11. You know heating pads? The kind normal people leave in a linen closet until, I don’t know, someone is sick or something? I sleep with one every night. And it makes me so glad.

12. Kid 4 wakes up at 5 M,W,and F mornings and has a quick shower then goes and watches his dad play basketball for an hour or so. He loves his dad. Also basketball.

15. Two days of school this week.

16. Half my kids have clean rooms to start the week.

17. I got a letter with very positive reviews of my subbing work. And a post-it thank you from my “supervisor” saying that I am an outstanding substitute. Don’t you think the word “outstanding” is going to make anyone feel pretty awesome?

18. Thanksgiving dinner is in the works, and most of the food on the menu is white. I am so all right with this.

19. I get to go to the chiropractor today. It’s a little like a twenty-minute massage, except I don’t have to wear someone else’s robe.

20. I think I could live for a long time on only Wheat Thins, brie cheese, and red grapes. Should I try it? Discuss.

21. Kid 3 might get The Appliance removed from her teeth by February. (She calls in Herbert. Or Frankenstein. I’m looking forward to her return to appliance-freedom.)

In the afternoon, Kids 1 and 2 and I went dress shopping. Kid 1 wanted an orange dress for preference. Her group is going “short formal” (whatever that means — knee length and unwashable, I believe). We found the most perfect tea-length orange formal. No kidding. Also, it was in the first store we shopped into. Also, it was gorgeous. And modest. With sleeves, I mean. Also, it was on clearance — very clearance. Also, it was a size zero. Um. So we made Kid 2 try it on and then we bought it for her. It will live in the closet until she is old enough to date. She promises she will still fit in it. She has sworn to never eat again, just in case. She was lying, by the way.

We went to many stores. For a while, it appeared that we were stalking a cute bride and her mom and sister, because we kept going into the same bridal stores she went into. She was lovely. And I hope she found the One True Dress, without ever needing to look at the price tags. (It’s a fantasy I have. There may be a story there.)

After many, many tries, Kid 1 found a great dress of bright pink and scalloped tulip-edging. It needs a shrug over it. Kid 1 shrugged in agreement. She also bought the cutest white polka-dot number that is 100% cotton and might dye orange perfectly. She was willing to take a $14 bet on it. (Can I get a YAWP for 80% off summer clearance?)

Then we were hankering for some fried foods. So we went to Red Robin and shared an order of chicken strips and fries. Lots and lots of fries. (Side note: My Kids like “fry sauce” which, if you are a non-initiate, is an orangey concoction of ketchup and mayo and makes me gag. But they like it. And at Red Robin, the fry sauce is made with barbecue sauce instead of ketchup, and is marginally less offensive.) There was a busboy working very hard that made my girls blush with giddiness every time he wandered past our table. Also, a boy who was a cross between Justin Bieber and Kid 1′s friend Jaxon, who we saw repeatedly as we waited nearly an hour for a table, and then once we were seated he came around a few times. Jaxon Bieber, we called him. Also very cute.

And so today, I’m grateful for the combination of days off, fried foods, and giggles with my Kids 1 and 2.

My Uncle R. sent me this photo. He is the family historian I’ve mentioned before. And he has a great deal of patience to find and deliver pieces of history. Like this one.

This is my big brother. See how he’s cute? Yeah, still. But more old. And hairy. Just saying.

See how he’s probably got food in his mouth? Yeah, still. The man knows good food. It’s one of his best talents.

See how he’s the funny one? Yeah, still. And yeah, he still laughs at his own comedy. But he should. It’s funny.

See how I’m kind of reveling in the “I’m so proud of my big brother?” Yeah, still. He’s pretty awesome.

See how I’ve always struggled with clothing issues and awkward hair? Yeah — I’m working on it. “The Seventies” are no longer a valid excuse. Darn it.

See how I just might be planning something? Yeah. Still. That happens sometimes. It’s no longer quite so cute. But it does still happen.

See how we’re snuggled together in a large leather chair, with perfect lighting and an aura of happy childhood? That’s not exactly where we are anymore. I don’t have white furniture, because I’m not a white furniture kind of a girl. Neither does he. He has two boys and a dog, all right? And really? We’re full-sized humans. We don’t share chairs. But do you know what? I love to sit down with him. I love to get a good laugh on. I love that we can talk over the life parts and laugh about the laughable parts and breathe through the un-laughable parts and Be There, beside each other for all the parts. Even if we live many states away (which we sometimes do, but not right now). He grew up to be a clever guy, a terrific husband, a great dad, a hard worker, a willing and eager server, and a good all-around support. He Deals. With a great many things which are not my stories to tell, but include exciting parts and funny parts and really, really hard parts. And he does it with his own kind of joy. That kind, see above. The kind that makes you laugh your heart out with your mouth full of something delicious.

I dreaded that sneer.

But do you know what? Something changed. Obviously. I started writing it instead. And with the writing came a tiny bit of confidence. I couldn’t tell a story suitable for bedtime. I was sure of it. But I discovered that I could tell one that would make a kid laugh. And hey, what better way to go to bed than laughing? (I know. It’s a ridiculous claim. Calm is better. Duh. But we go with our strengths. We make it do.)

And I discovered that sometimes, I could get a good laugh by telling a true story. I could tell the Kids stories about… the Kids. (I know. Genius.) I could tell the story about the “nose-picking light.” I could tell the story about “have you ever x-rayed a chicken?” I could tell about haircut disasters, and tossing a kid into a dumpster, and spinning a shopping cart until the inevitable vomiting. (Those weren’t all me. Just the dumpster one.) I could tell about “baby bird face” and “pots and pans / In a rock and roll band” and chin stitches and “somebody stole my wife” and “the piano is the joy of my life.” I could tell about “Every day, my head gets bigger!”

And when I told, it mattered. The Kids knew that their stories mattered. Because they were the stories we told. Over and over.

So, guys, I have something cool to tell you about.

It’s a story conference.

That’s a little different from a writing conference, but I bet it will share all the best parts. [1] It’s called Story @ Home, and it’s in Salt Lake City, Friday and Saturday March 9 and 10th. Here’s the cool part: There’s a place for you there. Even if the words “Tell me a story” make your teeth sweat. Because it’s made to cater to people with different kinds of interests. Like this:

There’s a Family History track, full of all kinds of genealogy and personal history stuff that looks mighty intimidating to a person like me, until I realize that I AM TELLING OUR FAMILY’S HISTORY EVERY DAY.

There’s a Storytelling track, full of people who don’t even flinch at the words, “Tell me a story.” Who live and breathe story. Who delight in the sharing. And who want to learn how to do it even better.

And there’s a Blogging track. Where we can find the awesome, the crucial, the totally possible ways to tell our own stories (even if they’re not Absolutely True). [2]

So go over HERE to Cherish Bound’s website and take a look (Cherish Bound is the company presenting the conference). Guys, the tickets for a two-day conference are only $79. That is a STEAL. (Not that we approve of stealing, which we Do Not. Just to clarify.)

The conference is on the lovely Temple Square, and is hosted by FamilySearch, the online genealogy experts. That might make you think that this is for Mormons. But it’s certainly not in any way limited. We like to think of ourselves as a welcoming bunch. And there is good information here for everyone. Even you. And even me. But did you know that zillions and zillions of people use the internet for genealogy searches? And that means that as soon as the FamilySearch people release their tickets, this baby will sell out. So I’m here to tell you that you can go ahead and register right now. And I’ll see you there.

And maybe, just maybe, I can tell you a story.

—

[1] The best parts of a writing conference include awesome presenters giving awesome ideas, and also lunch.

[2] Not that I’ve EVER told a story that wasn’t 100% absolutely true. Somewhere inside the murk in my head.