Just before the holidays, I felt impelled to think about making all the presents for people. Here’s how it actually played out.

Handmade Holiday Gifts:

- Home-made Biscotti — I made chocolate almond with orange zest biscotti, and drizzled them with chocolate. Then I put together little plates of these cookies and gave a plate to my mom, one to my in-laws, and one to my grandmother in law.

- Pictures in frames / books — Not exactly homemade, but personal at least. I gave some photos of the kiddos to all of the above.

- Pumpkin Butter – I gave a jar of my homemade pumpkin butter to my mother in law.

- A handmade knit hat – It wasn’t knit by me, but it was really nice. Gave to my mom.

Re-gifted… I gave a crystal water pitcher to my mom. I think it will go better in her china cabinet than mine.

I did not write my children’s book to give to my kids (should really get around to that. Maybe for next year?!)

I did not sew anything this year. (Too bad, I love sewing!)

I did make a really nice big dinner on Christmas — that was fun and tasty too.

It was a good year for handmade stuff, in general. I will try to do more throughout the year, in hopes that next year I can do Handmade Holidays again.

Baby steps, right?

What did I win? NaNoWrimo! I won a very sketchy first draft of a novel, which is 50,241 words all put near one another in one big google document. I am not sure how I feel about this, but I think it’s kind of good.

What am I going to do now? Well seeing as how it’s nearly 3 PM and my family is rather hungry and I am, too, I think I will head downstairs and see what leftovers we will all agree to eat.

I am back home. I just met my word goal for the day, 34k. It is starting to look like I might actually write 50k before the end of the month, as long as I can keep up the pace.

It’s after one in the morning and I think I will go to bed. Tomorrow we are having a large family get together with Drob’s extended family, and I don’t want to be too tired to enjoy it. The more annoying elements of his family are not going to be there, or so I’m told, and so I am really looking forward to the event.

My mom sort of gave me a non-apology apology for having criticized the kids making a ‘mess’. It was not really all that messy, but mom’s used to having everything spotless. She made comments to me about the mess, which annoyed me, but I blew her off saying, “News flash! Children create mess using small toys! Film at eleven!” I chuckled and told her not to worry, that we would clean up before we left.

We brought home the remains of the turkey, and I cut away the meat from the carcass, then placed the bones in the crock pot to make soup. Soup and writing and writing and soup. The house is already starting to smell delicious.

Tomorrow, we feast again! No wonder we are a culture with lots of extra pounds around our waists… our culture is food obsessed. Or, at least I know that I am. Maybe I can work this into my novel somehow.

I know I’m deep into thinking about these characters because for the last couple of nights, they visited me in my dreams. Hmmm… dreams are a fun thing to put in a novel.

There is a lot of thinking going on in my novel, but not much action. Hmmmm…. action is something that is fun to put into a novel.

Anyway, I’m at 34,178 words if you want to know and now I am off to bed. Goodnight!

The novel is coming along. I am still at my mom’s house, but things are somewhat less tense, and I’ve been doing a lot of writing and a lot of cooking.

I had a great time cooking. My favorite thing so far was pumpkin soup cooked and served in its own shell. Thanks, Barbara Kingsolver, for the wonderful recipe. Here’s a picture, and then I’m going back to the novel.

going

to

sleep

It is the middle of the night. I am now the proud owner of:

- a lovely apple pie
- a pumpkin soup cooked in its own shell and which we’ll serve tomorrow in its own shell
- Two pumpkin pies

and, most importantly,
18,713 words put together in mostly sentences, words which run together in a manner of a chicken whose head is parted from its body, but are words none the less. You put the words on the page, you move on. One word, then the next one. This is how they all do it.

Those heroes of mine. That write. They were all here first. I am imagining Neil Gaimann. He’s got his pen, his notebook. Did he have a pumpkin pie in the oven, filling up the room with warmth and spicey goodness.

Baking. Writing. Making Soup. Writing. Washing Dishes. Writing.

Write.

Write.

Write.

I am going to bed as soon as this last pie is out of the dang oven.

Oh and as soon as I get the chance, I’ll upload some pumpkin soup photos that I took along the way and I am sure Barbara Kingsolver won’t mind if I share the recipe, as she has it online as well.

Oh and she’s another writer. I bet she DID have a pie in the oven from time to time while she puts words on the page. One word, then the next.

Oh and then there’s Annie LaMott. She is completely nuts, and I love her. Bird by Bird – that is the book of her I read that was really about putting one word down and then the next one. She also wrote Operating Instructions, which is HILARIOUS.

Words, and then a few more words. I feel like I am cheating on my novel, writing this post. What! Words that aren’t part of the novel? Not right. No! Hehe hehehehehehehe….

Insert exhausted cackling here.

Be afraid, be very afraid.

I just went into wordpress admin to moderate the 93 comments that were pending. 100% of them were spam. It has been 12 days since I blogged at all. My previous post had zero real comments.

The novel that I’m working on for NaNoWriMo.org has 11695 words so far. To “win” I need to write 38305 more words in the next six days.

I have been occupying many hours with cooking pumpkins. I have fallen in love with pumpkin. Pumpkin pie. Pumpkin bread. Pumpkin soup. For Thanksgiving, I am going to attempt Barbara Kingsolver’s Pumpkin Soup served in its own pumpkin shell. I am very excited about this. I have no doubt that we’ll make something yummy, though I worry it may well be a huge mess, especially if I overcook the pumpkin shell and it spills all over my mother’s pristine Thanksgiving table. That is my biggest fear, but eh! Who cares! Pumpkin soup in its own shell! How romantic is that!!! Maybe I should put that in my novel, too.

As for writing 38,305 more words in the next six days, I have some doubts. If I were to receive some encouragement, dear internet friends, that might just do it for me.

Today I sat waiting for a dental cleaning appointment and squeezed out 1000 words or so, just in the 45 minutes while I was waiting to be seen. I think can do this, I just need some motivation.

I’m begging you, oh wide world of internet-addicted souls, please, leave me some comments. Your words will help spur me to write my own.

Pretty please?

And if you do, I’ll put your name on my Thank You page at the front of my book!

So here’s the state of, well, everyone I know — at least I think so.

To one degree or another we’re all full of this slippery spidery anxiety, driving us along our days. The election is tomorrow. The election is tomorrow.

Here in Pennsylvania, there is no early voting. Here in Philadelphia, we anticipate huge turn-out, as our very blue city, with its wonderfully diverse population, will attempt to single-handedly hand Pennsylvania over to Senator Barack Obama. That he’s African American is really only a small part of the story, let me tell you.

For some voters, sure, that makes the deal all the sweeter. It’s a beautiful thing, and many black people I know feel a sense of awe and redemption, that IN THEIR LIFETIME, that it may come to pass that a person of color could possibly approach the White House. Yes, that is incredible. But you know what? The white people I know feel that way, too. We Liberal White Folk are also in awe and feel a sense of redemption, that IN OUR LIFETIME, it could really and truely come to pass that a person of color could step into the chief executive role of the nation.

But much, much more important to me than Obama’s racial heritage is the fact that he is so clearly a man with values that match closely with my own. McCain says he’s the most liberal senator there is. Hooray! GREAT news!!!

The polls are encouraging, but believe me, we are all so anxious for this to be over, for it to go well, to see at last, an overwhelmingly BLUE nation. A victory, and not by a narrow margin.

We are all planning, when will we vote? What’ll we do if it’s a long line — and will our teachers be late to school? (If it’s a long should should we come back later? just wait? Let someone go first if they won’t vote if they have to wait?) What about first time voters who don’t understand what they need to do? Will they need assistance? Will there be dirty tricksters trying to keep them from their designated polling places? Will the rolls be inaccurate? Will names be omitted for new voters?

And on and on and on. The internal soundtrack of worry is a dull roar in my ears. I don’t think I am the only one.

Meanwhile, oh yeah, I am writing a novel. The genre is fantasy. I’ve put down about 6000 words thus far. Despite my earlier starry-eyed glaze over my hero Neil Gaiman, I am no longer discouraged. I’m JUST WRITING. I’m DOING THIS.

If the election goes bad, I’ll immerse myself in the novel. If the election goes well, I’ll celebrate by, um, immersing myself in the novel, too. Actually first I’ll loll about, wondering if somehow the election will get reversed, or challenged, or besmirched. Then I’ll stutter in happy disbelief. A few days will pass and I’ll find myself able to speak again. THEN, I’ll immerse myself into the fantasy world of Calla, Eric, and Madame Bonery.

We interrupt this novel to remind you that Neil Gaiman is amazing.

He writes…. by hand.

In charming little notebooks that he picks up in Venice.

I write, by contrast, on my Macbook, and the drivel that I am writing, well, it’s fantasy of one kind or another.

Oh, Neil Gaiman, I just adore the little gravestones you drew at the end of the chapters. Sigh.

Please, if anyone out there is reading this blog, remember this: 1) it’s possible to write a novel in one month’s time and 2) if by novel, you mean putting 50,000 near one another in some semblance of a prose and 3) the most important thing to do if you haven’t done so already is read the works of astoundingly good writers. May I suggest you immediately stop what you are doing (ie, reading this blog) and go pick up one of Neil’s books?

I swoon, I swoon…. by the light of the crescent moon, a bit of icecream on a spoon….

It’s underway, I’ve started! My novel’s first 2000 words have been strung together, sometimes sliding into one another like a ten year old on a sheet of wet plastic slides into the muddy, barren streak of lawn that was murdered by the likes of a Slip-N-Slide, and other times hopping together, like little wet toads along a wooded trail.

No matter, the words are coming and so far, they are coming without too much pain or nail biting, or other forms of misery. I am creating my first two (three, if you count the dog, and maybe you should) characters, making them up out of, well, nowhere. It’s pure invention, and I’m enjoying the novelty of it (if you’ll please pardon the pun.)

If I am to make it to my goal of writing 50,000 words by the end of the month, I’ll need to plunk down an average of 1666 words per day. So today, a quiet Saturday, I’m hoping that maybe I can ride the excitement of Beginning to Write and really go with it. Momentum, baby, momentum!

And now, a completely unrelated photograph of Annie (the black cat) with her friends on Halloween. (The tall witch next to her is NOT Carla. She’s another cute blonde girl that even I sometimes mistake for my own daughter.)