Today I’m teaching science — all week, actually. And today, we’re making ice cream in a bag. So I thought you might like to get in on this, since it’s a lovely way to freeze your fingers off.

In a quart-sized Ziploc bag (yes, I totally am brand-loyal on this one… you don’t want anything to split, I promise), pour in the following:

1 cup milk
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 to 3/4 cup sugar (1 cup was too much)
1/2 Tablespoon vanilla extract (1 Tablespoon was too much)

Then seal up the baggie. Then, place that bag inside a bigger bag (is anyone else thinking of “The Emperor’s New Groove” right now?), a gallon sized Ziploc bag full of ice and about a Tablespoon of rock salt. Seal it up tight. Mush the bag around for about 20 minutes. We play catch with them, or fold them inside towels to prevent frostbite. Just sort of massage the bag for a while. At the end of the 20 minutes (maybe this takes less time if you’re working in a very cold room, but don’t bet on it) dump out the outer bag’s ice and water. Wipe off the inner bag before you open it. Then open it up, break in some cookies or candy pieces, berries and fruit, whatever, or just dig in with a spoon.

It’s ice cream! In a bag! Life doesn’t get a whole lot more fun than that, does it?

You’re welcome. Happy Wednesday.

I looked at Kid 1. “Tell me you wrote her talk.”

“Nope.”

Kid 2? “Did you help her?”

She shook her head with a little laugh.

Husband sat down beside me. “Please. Tell me you helped her.”

He shrugged. “A little. A very little.”

Deep breath. Smile at Kid 3. Say a fervent prayer.

Here is her talk, unedited by me, and apparently only “green yogurt” added by her dad.

Today I am supposed to talk about my mom. My mom is a great role model to me; I always want to be like her. She lives the gospel, so, naturally, I want to as well. She helped me decide that I want to be a mom when I grow up. I am so glad that she is a good example to me. She has helped me grasp what is really important, like wants vs. needs, or choosing church over sleeping in (today, as you can see, I chose the right). Later, after she helps me make these choices, I realize that these are good choices that will benefit me later on.

My mom is good at being nice, even when she messes up. Like the time she made skor cake and tres leches cake and put the skor bars on the tres leches cake and made a joke out of it (she is a cake ninja).

My mom is good at being funny. One time when we went to the zoo for my kindergarten field trip, and she made a girl laugh so hard that yogurt squirted out of her nose. The sad thing about it is it was key lime pie yogurt, which is green.

My mom is good at quoting movie lines. We have a game called ‘the movie line game’ and she knows the answer every time.

My mom is good at making popcorn. Every Sunday we have ‘popcorn Sunday’. Most people think there is only one flavour of popcorn, but I can list a few. There is ranch, Italian, burnt butter, and many combos. Every Sunday it is like a whole new popcorn experience, all buttery and delicious.

My mom is good at handling lots of things at the same time. Well, most of the time. One time when she was driving Matt to school, she drove him all the way to the front door… of the high school. Matt is eight years old, and has not yet graduated elementary school.

My mom is good at maintaining a low temper level, even being married to my father, I have no clue how she does it. My mom is good at loving us, even when we are not the best. I could tell you stories of us not being our best, but I’ll leave that to your imagination. And my mom is good at loving the gospel. About every week, she goes to the church at 7 am, just to fulfill her callings. She is always (well, not always) reading her scriptures, she makes sure we have some sort of family night each week, and she taught us ALL (including Dad) how to forgive. The best way you can tell she is loving, not just living the gospel, is how she treats others, or how she quietly serves. We all have nice things to say about our mothers, that is why we celebrate mother’s day on the 2^nd Sunday of every May. Mother’s day is the time when we show our moms we love them all day, even though they show us they love us every single day of the year. I want to take this opportunity to tell my mom how much I love her. Thank you, mom, and happy mother’s day!

*****

Um, yes. She’s cute. And if you could have heard her delivery, you would have fallen instantly and irredeemably in love.

See? I’m here for you.

So. Mother’s Day. Coming right up. We’re having homemade wheat bread and honey butter and reading out loud to each other. That’s what passes for Big Wilhite Plans. (But the adults are going to Cheesecake Factory tomorrow, for Pre-Mother’s Day Festivities, and that’s plans if I ever had some.)

Speaking of Cheesecake Factory. There are times that I miss my mom. Things I wish she could have known. I know I tell you that a lot. And the last time I went to CF, I had one of those times. Because I had a tuna salad. My mom knew tuna salad as this:

You know. It’s canned tuna chunks, mixed with mayonnaise and dill pickles. Maybe red onions and celery if you’re in a dicing mood. You put it on bread. You eat it, and for a mayonnaise-based meal, it’s good. Even satisfying. At least it CAN be. But my mom never ate this:

That is the Cheesecake Factory’s Seared Ahi Tuna Tataki Salad with avocado and wasabi vinaigrette. With a pretty rosette of pickled ginger (mmmm). 441 calories, if you keep track of such things (which sometimes I do, and that’s the perfect number, since the slice of mango-lime cheesecake I’m going to eat for dessert has a few whole lot more than that).

I wish I could have shared this with my mom. Not literally, you know. She’d have to order her own. Oh, come on. Just kidding. I’d share. But really? This is tuna salad nirvana, and I wish she could experience it.

*Theological/Existential Question: Is there seared Ahi tuna Tataki salad in heaven? And mango-lime cheesecake? If there’s not, I’ll find a way to be happy anyway, but I think there might be.

On a non-foodly topic, I have a deadline. Remember when I told you I was enjoying what I hoped was my last non-deadline writing project? It was. And now, with the excellent editorial advice of Agent Meredith, I am revising FIFTH GIFT for a soonish submission. And it’s going great. Do you want to know how much she likes my story? A lot. She has lovely and kind things to say about characters, language, world-building and such. It’s a fun story, on it’s way to awesome. And she’s helping me make it better: Want to know what she asked of me? Setting, that’s what. She wants my characters to wear clothing and live in buildings and have SCENERY outside their windows. And she’s absolutely right. But do you want to know what happened? When I started putting my characters in clothing and having them look out the windows in the buildings they live inside… they had to go out into the scenery. And new things are happening there, in the outside. Cool things. Things that will hopefully thicken up this story to the point of its becoming a BOOK. That someone will PUBLISH. And when that happens, I’ll be so sure to let you know. (Yesterday I added scenes that were awesome and met my 2000 word goal. I cheered. And made peanut butter fudge as a reward. See below.)

Peanut Butter Fudge. It’s a new happiness. I saw the recipe in my Hershey’s cookbook. My Grammy gave me this cookbook 18 years ago as a wedding present, which is exactly in line with my Grammy’s gift-giving mojo: Give the gift you’d like to receive. I’m not much of a chocolate dessert person. But know what? Husband is. And so this book has pages (like the one with the “deep dark chocolate cake” recipe) that are stiff with spills and smears of ingredients. Which, you know, is how to measure the success of any recipe. Pick the dirtiest card, the stiffest page, the one with unbookly colors and textures on it. Also pictures.

If you’re a candy purist, this isn’t even fudge. Know what? I don’t care. Because even if it isn’t fudge, it’s good. And BONUS… it’s easy. Also, there’s sweetened condensed milk. So, you know. Happiness.

Here it is.
Fake Peanut Butter Fudge

2 cups (12 ounces) Reeses’ Peanut Butter Chips
1 (14 ounce) can sweetened condensed milk*
3 Tablespoons butter

Line a 9×13 pan with foil. Spray the foil with pan spray. Pour chips and milk into a saucepan. Melt over medium heat until it’s all smooth. Stir in the butter.  Spread the loveliness into the prepared pan. THEN, there’s this:

2 cups (12 ounces) semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 (14 ounce) can sweetened condensed milk*

Rinse the peanut butter sauce pan. Dry it really well. Pour chocolate chips and milk into the saucepan. Melt over medium heat until it’s all smooth. Don’t forget to stir, and don’t turn it up too high, or you’ll get lumps. That would be sad. When it’s smooth, pour it over the peanut butter layer. Cool it in the fridge. Cut it into 1-inch squares (they’ll be cubes, really, and they’re lovely and striped). I know. Too easy to really be fudge. But so tasty. Tell me if you try it.We can make yummy sounds together.

There’s more, but we can save some of the random for another day, right? Happy Mothers’ Day, mamas out there. And those who have mothers, ever knew a mother, or have a Mother Heart. You, especially.

XOXO

But.

Also.

Sometimes it’s just the opposite. Sometimes things and moments can stick out, featherlike. Delivering touches of softness and mercy and comfort. Some days are full of Enough. Enough time. Enough laughter. Enough to eat, and to share. Enough energy to do what’s required. Enough grace to see past the action back to the intention. Enough restraint. Enough patience. Enough forgiveness, for self and others. Enough beauty and loveliness that fills up the heart and spills over from the eyes.

I am grateful for the Enough.

(But so far I’m not catching a wave or catching hell. Let’s hope that all stays that way.)

New York was perfect in almost every way. I adore the upper East Side of Manhattan. I became a total pro at the subway business. I would live there (Manhattan, not in the subway) for a year. (Husband’s not convinced. I’ve got time to work on him.) It was cold and rainy and sunny and windy and cloudy and cold again, and that was great. Everyone in New York wears a scarf. Everyone. Man, woman, child, and dog. Not kidding. I was glad I had a couple of scarves, because otherwise I did NOT blend in, clothingwise. Remember how color is back? Nobody told NYC. It’s all black, all the time. I stood out like a proper tourist in my orange and blue. Ah, well. No worries.

I spent a great many hours wandering. Museums, book shops, Union Square, Times Square, Park Avenue, Madison Avenue, streets in general and specific. You’d think I’d have come home skinny, but for this: The white-flour based foods. Oh. Yes.

And now it’s time to work on my revision. Because Agent Meredith is excited about submitting, but she’s holding the reigns until I get it right. Whatever. (JUST KIDDING. I WANT IT TO BE RIGHT, TOO. THAT WAS JUST A LITTLE IRONY.) So I’m working on it in chunks and pieces. And it will be great. Because she has good, good, good ideas. And she asks important questions (like “So, what happened to that character who was so important for the first 2/3 of your story? Where did he go?” Oh, that.)

But today, and tomorrow, and also Saturday, it’s time to conference. I’m ready to party with the LDS Storymakers’ people. I’m helping with an intensive workshop critique today (in a few minutes now), and I’m teaching a class on overcoming the things that keep us from writing. That will be Saturday. Right before lunch. Also I made a presentation. Like Powerpoint, sort of, but not. Because it’s different. And nothing flushes off the screen. (The Flush transition always makes me disregard any further points of interest in a PP presentation. You’ve been warned.)

And if you’re in the direct vicinity of Provo, Utah, there’s a massive book signing Friday night (I’ve heard that there might be 100 authors there) at the Marriott at 100N and 100W. I’ll be there. Wearing orange, so you can find me. Maybe that trick won’t work so well in Provo as it worked in Times Square, but I’m trying it anyway. If you come, come say hi. I’ll sign a book for you. Or your arm. Or whatever you stick in front of me, You’ve been warned.

Shall I give you a taste? Italian food. French food. Deli food. Pizza by the slice. Gelato. Bread. Favcy-pants omelets. And I’ve stopped eating now and then for other nice things. The met. Lunch with a friend who lives and works here. Spiderman the musical. Walking through Central Park in the rain. Owning the subway transfers. Meeting the lovely Agent Meredith. Times Square. Union Square. The Jewish museum. Meeting another friend (who just happened to be here) for lunch. Seeing “Once.” going to church in Manhattan. FAO Schwartz. A rat in the subway. Or several. Seeing “Newsies,” and being part of the most adoring crowd.

Want details? Come back in a couple of days. I’ll expound. You’ll be enlightened. We will all be glad.

I picked our winners for TELL ME WHO I AM. They are Janna and Brittany. (It was random. Kid 2 did the picking. From a pile of paper cutouts. They just so happen to both be CA girls. Whom I love. Lucky that way.)

Prom. It happened, and it was good (for the Kid, you understand. I don’t want to make it sound like I was actually there… although I did get a look at all the juniors, and a few of the other kids). Kid 1 was lovely. See?

Her cousin D said, “She’s a *real* princess.” Well played, D. Well played.

I can’t explain the headless one. I tried to crop. Nor can I explain why there are 2 copies of the other shot. Except that it’s my favorite. I don’t know photos. Clearly my talents lie elsewhere… I hope. So the way I saw everyone in the junior class: It’s like this. Their high school has this tradition of a Promenade (which sounds kind of like, duh, but I don’t know how many schools do them) and the junior class parades out of this backdrop thingie, one couple at a time, and they’re introduced, and their parents are named (a Requirement in this town), and then the couples do a choreographed dance. When all the participating juniors have done so, there’s a daddy-daughter dance, and after that, the moms come down and dance with their sons. It was fun — kind of a princess-themed fashion show. And the whispers and the oohs and aahs. And the muttering about the one girl whose dress cost $x,xxx, really. (And everyone, EVERYONE, I tell you, seemed to know this. As though it had been advertised or something.) And the poor girl who vomited in the garbage can, not really out of sight of anyone. And the poor friend who stood beside her and received something that was not thanks. All over the skirt of her dress. (Hello, story material!) (But only because it was not MY Kid.) And the couple of boys who looked like their dates had gone all kung-fu on them, but really one kneed himself in the face in a trampoline-house situation and the other got several eyebrow stitches as the result of a ninja move in an epic game of Capture the Flag. And the seniors and the sophomores and even the freshmen who came to watch, all dolled up and lovely. This little valley has some really beautiful kids in it. Many of Kid 1′s friends came to visit  me in the gym (did I mention that this took place in the basketball gym? It did.) (I was conveniently located), and I was again glad that they are good people. And even though we probably could have found other things to do that evening, it was fun to see Husband dance with his baby girl. And also this: The Prom Queen is the cutest junior class girl… with Down’s Syndrome. She wore a knee-length tulle confection in shades of purple with light-up tennis shoes. She was precious. And props to the committee and all the voters for that outcome.

I would like to know: Are you a napper or a non-napper?

We can still be friends if you’re a non. But don’t come over here on a Sunday afternoon expecting to be entertained. Just saying. It was REALLY quiet here yesterday. Ahh.

And. My friend Steph is in the running for a really good prize with her video-story/confession of maternal ickiness. Check it here, and push the orange thumbs-up button to give her a vote. (You don’t even have to watch it. But it’s pretty darn funny, I tell you.)

The writing is going well. I’m filling up pages with words. That, for the moment, is a measure of success.

So, how was YOUR weekend?

Also, New York. I am going. (Coming?) Soon. In a week I will be there. And I am excited more than I am nervous. Remember how I gave up fear for Lent? Still doing well with that, even though Lent is over. And hooray for me. I can ride a subway (or two or three)  alone. I can eat alone. I can buy an app that will tell me where to find one of the very few public restrooms in the Great City. (And possibly I can go a week without drinking any water, but probably not.) I can walk through Central Park alone. I can go see two (2) shows alone. I can write many words alone, when nobody is there to help me count them. [1] And I can be productive for hours and hours at a time. Especially when I’m not being tempted to watch period pieces on Netflix, due to the cost of wifi in the hotel.

(Sidenote: If you run an expensive, classy hotel, why do you charge for wifi? I’m just wondering. Wifi seems like one of those things, like oxygen, that should just come with your room these days. End sidenote.)

Prom is Saturday. Kid 1 has a pair of sparkly silver shoes and a web browser full of Prom Hair Ideas. Also a lovely borrowed dress. Photos to come, if you like.

I’m working on a new book. (It’s the one that follows the current book that is in the hands of Agent Meredith.) Maybe. I’ve never written a sequel before. Actually, that’s not true. I have 2 different series in my drafts folder. Each of them has at least three volumes started. And… None of them is publishable. So maybe what I’m saying is that I don’t know HOW to write a sequel, a series, a follow-up. I think it’s hard work. And we all know how I feel about hard work. But I’m learning how. By doing it (again). And it’s not so bad, in a first-draft/so-far-fewer-than-10,000-words kind of way. Not necessarily good, is what I’m saying, but not entirely bad.

Tomorrow I get to return to Mrs. G’s class to give them a pump-up cheer on their NaNoWriMo project. (Remember I told you they’re writing a book in a month? In 8th grade? Because Mrs. G is awesome?) I’m probably going to get a lot of questions like, “What do I do now? I can’t think of what should happen next.” And I’ll tell them to make something explode. Which is only half a joke. The other half of it is true: in a story, a great number of things can explode in order to move the plot along. Physically, emotionally, socially, psychologically… explosions make for great conflict, and conflict will move your story forward. (My own written explosions tend to be emotional and psychological, with an occasional social one. I should branch out into the physical explosion world. But that’s not really my style. We shall see…)

I am reading GRACELING. Because Agent Meredith suggested it. Someone with whom she was discussing my submission said it reminded her of Graceling. So I got it. And I’m reading it. Have you? Have your kids/neighbors/acquaintences, if you’re not a teenage-book reader? I have heard one amazing review of book 3 in the series (that comes out later this month), but little else about the series. And there is certainly an element that is similar to FIFTH GIFT. I’ll let you know what I think when I’ve finished it. Meanwhile, you tell me (you know, if you read it…)

Don’t forget to enter to win a copy of TELL ME WHO I AM — do it today.

(Sorry. Sometimes I channel Señorita Bossy Pants. I’ll try to reign it in.)

—

[1] This is usual, actually. I don’t really write with other people around. Because I am easily distracted, that’s why. And I listen and talk and prepare snacks instead of pushing keys. But I might have to

The back-yard daffodils bloomed in the snow this week. It was glorious, I’m telling you.

Back to school today, and we’re all trying to be glad. I am. I get to teach Kid 3′s Class of Fifth Grade Brilliance. Seriously, this class is amazing. The most well-behaved, intelligent, eager kids. We’re going to have some fun, I’m telling you. And later this week, I get to go back to Mrs. G’s 8th grade honors literature classes and see how they’re doing on their April version of NaNoWriMo. It was a blast to teach them “how to write a novel in a month,” even if I offended their sensibilities by telling them that at the end of April, they’d have a grand sense of accomplishment and a really terrible draft of a novel. (Most of them forgave me for saying so.)

Keep the comments coming for the giveaway, and I’ll draw a winner or two (two — you knew that already) on Wednesday.

Happy Monday. Hope it really is.

So a few weeks ago, a nice lady from town (one of the nice ladies I’d never met or heard of) called me up on the phone.

Her: Hello, Becca?

Me: Yes.

Her: This is Maxine from the Seniors’.
(I have lived here long enough to know that means Senior Citizens’ Center, the wild and crazy hub of adventure for local over-60s.)

Me: Hi. What can I do for you?

Her: ____ gave me your name and said that your family is incredibly talented.
(At this point I looked for cameras, bugs, and studio audiences.)
We’d like you to come perform for a Seniors’ Family Night.

(Family Night is a Mormon thing — Monday nights we pass on other obligations and spend the evening with our families. Unless the Seniors want us to come to them. We’re down with that. The Wilhites are all about taking Family Night on the road.)

Me: Love to.

So she gave me instructions (when, where, how long and not a minute shorter). We did a dry-run (to time everything and avoid falling short of our 55 minute mark) of piano pieces, violin pieces, dramatic recitations, and vocal solos. And Monday came and I realized that I hadn’t prepared anything. Which was fine and stuff, because this sort of thing should be all about the kids, but we were short by a few minutes.

Enter The Book.

A whole box full arrived Monday afternoon. (Coincidence, if you believe in such things…) And I was able to read a couple of my essays from the book as my “talent” for the Seniors. Mostly they liked it. But a few of them said to me afterward, “Hey, we thought you were going to sing for us.” I told them I’d do that next time. They acted pacified, but one never knows.

Anyway, the book. I’ve told you about it before, but I think I should tell you about it again, right now, because I’M GOING TO GIVE YOU TWO CHANCES TO WIN IT. (Did you hear me?)

It’s a book of essays. (I wrote about it HERE.) Kind of like following a string of blog posts without the sidebar advertisements. Or the needless clicking. There’s comedy and tragedy, and I’m not being flippant. There really is. There’s good stuff in here, and I want to share it with you. So here is a sitewhere you can run out and buy yourself a copy, or order one for your mom (hello, Mothers’ Day, right around the corner!) or your neighbor who wonders what in the world those Mormons are really all about. (Also on my sidebar, you can order through Amazon, if you’re into that sort of thing.)

Or, if you prefer your books to be free, we can arrange that, too. WAYS TO WIN: Leave me a comment. How bout this: Tell me one thing that makes you who you are. AND: Like my FaceBook Author page (I know. I’m giving in to the dark side. Sorry. But it’s easy for you. Right there on my lower left sidebar, there’s a little FB like-y thingie. Click it, and whoever is logged in to FB on your computer will automatically like me. Join the Revolution, or something. All the cool kids are doing it.)

Let’s be clear: You can win a free copy of TELL ME WHO I AM. ($15 value) Two people will win. You can enter twice (tell me you liked my author page = one, comment = two). I will mail a copy to you if you live in the US or in Canada. If you don’t, you’re already the Cool Kids, so no worries.

I’ll go first. Hi, my name is Becca, and I liked my FB Author Page (oh, yes, I did). And something that makes me who I am is that I love to have my family all home, as often as possible, and that’s because having them here is what makes it home in the first place.

See how easy?