My Life (which apparently consists of nothing but food and books)

Brown butter pear upside down cake for breakfast. Two slices. I love my life.

Ma used this recipe to make it. It's delicious but not amazing. We will be playing with it to make it amazing because I know this cake can be incredible.

Sunday Ma and I used six heads of romaine lettuce and and two heads of iceberg lettuce to feed roughly sixty young adults a main dish salad. We came home with probably half a head of lettuce, just enough for Ma and I to have salads. Monday we used three heads of romaine lettuce and half a head of iceberg lettuce to feed five family members (including ourselves) a main dish salad. Nothing was left.

I spent two hours browsing the nonfiction section at the library yesterday. I barely made it down one row of books. They are long rows, but not that long.

I didn't check out any books.

One of the books I flipped through was a guide to getting a good night's rest. This one, I think. It had a variety of suggestions with a two to three page explanation for each. I only read a couple of the suggestions but I put one into practice last night. I did a slow dance with myself before climbing into bed. I felt like a champion when I yawned the first time. Then the yawns came faster and I ended my dance by curling up on the floor because I was just so ready to sleep. I hardly had to lie awake before falling asleep last night. It was pretty much amazing. Also, super weird. Loved it.

I have 13,000 Nanowrimo words left to write. I could have been finished already but I only sat down to write once in the past week and a half.

Ma declared months ago that since there was only the three of us (Ma, Pa, and me) that we would not be cooking Thanksgiving dinner. I'm proud of her for making such a declaration.

In two days we will be having a giant dinner with turkey and mashed potatoes and stuffing and roasted vegetables and sweet potatoes and rolls and three different kinds of pie.

My Thanksgiving weekend reading list:

• Book of Ages
• Tinkers
• Rump
• A Constellation of Vital Phenomena
• Love and Freindship

Winter's Here

The horizon is hidden by thick layers of clouds and the air is dotted with bits of falling snow.

I'm wrapped in a blanket near the fire with my laptop, ready to write another 4000 nano words.

My world is filled with softness, quietness, loveliness.

You will never succeed in making me believe that winter is not the most perfect season.

PS I started my nano novel with some minor plot holes; they are now the size of a cruise liner.

PPS I'm considering doing something like this. Anybody want in? We can have a weekly group study. . . . What do you mean that wouldn't be any fun?

Halfway There

I'm participating in Nanowrimo again. I took a break last year so I could focus on getting my master's degree finished up. I've participated a few times before that but I have yet to win.

Nanowrimo win = writing 50,000 novel words during the month of November

This year, I'm going to be a winner.

I have 26,000 nanowrimo words. That's over three times more words than I've done before. I'm totally rocking it.

Nanowrimo.org is kind enough to keep track of how many words you have written on each day throughout the month.

My word count graph shows what I've always known about myself but haven't had concrete evidence of.

They say the only way to get somewhere is to take the first step and then keep walking.

If I set my mind to doing something I'll get there, never you fear, and the end result will be admirable. The journey, though, will be rife with stops and turns and twists and doubling back. It will be filled with butterfly chasing and cloud watching and circle skipping.

Writing 50,000 words in 30 days I can do. Will I take the full 30 days? Maybe. Will I sit down every one of those 30 days to write just 1667 words? Never. I write and then I don't write. I put down a few words and then a lot of words and then no words.

This is how I live my life, jumping and skipping and laughing my way from point to point choosing for myself where and when and how. I thrive on inconsistency. My resolve perishes under given timelines and self-imposed schedules.

It may take me longer to get where I'm going, but then it may not. And that's half the fun of it.

Pillowcase Capes

As a child I was sure I could fly. I knew I couldn't actually fly but that was only because I hadn't yet found out the secret. I wasn't daunted. I knew someday I would learn the secret to flying. Maybe when I grew up a little bit and turned six.

In anticipation of such a day my brothers (one year and two years older) and I would practice flying. They would tie on their shiny, shimmery, dress up capes that were blue on one side and red on the other.

I would tie on my trusty pillowcase.

We took turns (very courteously; I don't recall ever being pushed or shoved by my brothers insisting that they get more turns than I) clambering onto the couch, standing on the arm, and jumping off. It was delightful to watch each other's capes fly out. It was even more delightful to feel the air rush past as we fell to the floor.

You may think it sad that I only got a pillowcase while they got real capes. I didn't mind. They might have had shiny, shimmery capes, but I was sure my pillowcase would get the job done faster and better.

Pillowcases also had the advantage of doubling as a snack pack for unexpected emergencies. It was also a good place to store books, though I couldn't wear the cape while I was carrying around books.

I never did learn to fly. Not even when I turned six. The part of my heart that belongs to whimsy is still sure that someday it will happen.

I suddenly have the greatest urge to tie on a pillowcase cape and jump off the end of the slide. I will then commence running up and down the length of my backyard to make my cape sail out behind me, just as if I were flying.

The Airport

I picked up Ma and Pa from the airport yesterday. They were gadding about the country visiting uncles and aunts and children and grandchildren.

I was stuck at home but I didn't mind. Mostly.

I believe very firmly in meeting people when they come off of planes. Particularly when they are flying with a three-month old grandchild in tow. The first thing Ma did when she saw me was pass him off. He yawned luxuriously, stretched his tiny arms above his head, and opened his eyes to blink at me. He grinned and gabbed a few baby words before yawning again and tucking his head into my shoulder. You understand why I insist on meeting people in the airport?

Before I met them, but after I parked the car, I had the pleasure of walking into the airport. There's almost nothing I love more than walking into an airport. Even if I'm not going anywhere, like yesterday, my heart starts to beat a little faster, my step turns jaunty, and I can't help but smile. Airports are the place of beginnings and endings, the place of change and the place of returning to sameness. I may have just been picking up my parents, but I was surrounded by people who were off on adventures, even if they didn't know it, and my heart was filled with happy anticipation for them.

I found myself wishing, just the tiniest bit, that I was about to go off on my own adventure.

Until I saw my parents. Then I was very happy that their latest adventure was coming to an end and that I was there to end it with them.

The Best Cookies Ever

On Sunday I was asked to make cookies for a church activity. I readily agreed and a few minutes later, when the activity was announced, informed a large group of my peers that I was making cookies and that I make the best cookies ever and so they should come.

The next day and a half I spent worrying that my best cookies ever would actually turn out to be the worst cookies ever. Or maybe even just mediocre which would have been even sadder.

Never fear. Everybody loved them.

As I was contemplating on this series of events I realized that if I stopped telling people I made the best cookies ever I wouldn't have anxiety every time I needed to live up to the claim even though I've so far never failed.

And then I thought that was really just a terrible idea.

Guys, I make the best cookies ever.

October Books

Unbeknownst to me, I did buckets reading this month. I didn't realize until I tried to list all books I read and had to appeal to goodreads for a complete list.

My absolute favorite read of the month was A Tangle of Knots. I also thoroughly enjoyed The School for Good and Evil, The Planets, and The Pickwick Papers. Nearly half of the books I read this month were debut novels. Weird.

I began the month by finishing The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens. Dickens is an old favorite and I haven't read anything by him I didn't like. I did most of my reading for this book in September, which is very good excuse for why I did so little reading that month.

My book club read for October was Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs. We wanted to read something seasonally appropriate that would still allow us to go to bed at night checking for ghouls or ghosties. We failed. This book was not spooky, creepy, or Halloween strange in the least. Ah well. I was slightly disturbed when I got to the end and realized there was going to be a sequel. Maybe not a complete fail?

I've been hearing about Edenbrooke (by Julianne Donaldson) for months now. I didn't intend to seek it out but took the opportunity to borrow it when it was offered. It was exactly what I supposed it would be: a lighthearted romance entirely devoid of any substance, the perfect candy book for an evening's reading.

I read two non-fiction books: The Planets by Dava Sobel and Whole: Rethinking the Science of Nutrition by Colin T. Campbell. While I found Whole to be interesting, The Planets I loved and I plan to seek out and read other books by Sobel.

I read two YA books: The Moon and More by Sarah Dessen and How to Save a Life by Sara Zarr. Both well-written and in keeping with each author's particular style.

I loaded up on the middle reader books. I read A Tangle of Knots by Lisa Graff, The School for Good and Evil by Soman Chainani, The Strange Case of the Origami Yoda by Tom Angleberger, Chains by Laurie Halse Anderson, and Crispin: The Cross of Lead by Avi. Each of these books is the beginning of a series excepting A Tangle of Knots. Is series a middle reader thing I just never happened to notice before now? I'm vaguely interested in seeing where Anderson takes her series, and not much interested in where Angleberger and Avi take theirs. I'm sure as a child I would have pursued all three of them avidly. I do intend to read the second and third installments of The School for Good and Evil when they become available.

I've already got a stack of books I hope to get to during November, which may or may not include all seven of the Harry Potter books.

And now it's off to my Saturday. I've got laundry and dishes and cleaning and bags of garden produce to do and all I want to do is curl up with a book and my favorite chocolate chips, taking breaks here and there to crunch through the leaves.

NaNoWriMo 2013

Yes, it is happening. I've already put in my first day's writing. I've got a good 2,208 words written of the 50,000 I need to win. According to Nanowrimo.org, if I continue writing at a rate of 2,208 words per day I will finish on November 23. Being ahead of schedule is precisely where I want to be so I can miss several days of writing. I'm not planning to miss days of writing, but somehow I always do.

Not to worry. Even with missed days of writing, I've got this one in the bag. I owe it to Siegfred. He's been banging around in my head for a few years now. It's time I sent him on his adventure.

This year, I will be a winner.