Credit where credit is due

I almost did it again this year.  I had the facebook post all typed up, humbly asking friends to click through and tell the world* that Cheesy Pennies is The Best.

Then I stopped.

When I started blogging, almost six years ago now, all I wanted was a place to keep track of what I cooked and the little incidents in my life that might otherwise slip by unremarked.  That said, as much as I wish I were immune from the craving for readers** and recognition, I'm not. Part of the deal when you put work out into the world is the hope that someone other than you is there to receive it. To love it, too.  

Mission accomplished, and more. 

Yes, I found a space to save recipes, but I also found a space for my voice.  There are posts here full of farce-worthy silliness, and some with simple ideas and quick notes on a weeknight meal.  I cook and serve food from my own website all the time, and have had an extremely low level of complaints from the beneficiaries. My mother lived and died and lives here still, and I'm so grateful for that. This keyboard has been covered with tears and flour and magazine clippings and cat hair while I type, edit, and shape the stories I want to tell.  The process is liberating and draining and addictive. I get to write and write and write, but only when I have something to say, and then hopefully I say just enough. It's huge when someone lets me know, "I made that," or simply, "I read your blog." 

I am absurdly proud of this work that is not my job. Cheesy Pennies is well loved and oft-used by friends, family and even people I've never met out there on the invisible Internet. It is personal and I love sharing it.  It is mine. It is good.

It is, often, the best of me.

But it is not The Best of Blogs.

That title should belong to one of these amazing sites:

Lady and Pups - Jaw-dropping photos, completely original recipes, and a wise-cracking, genuine and riotous writing style.  A recent post, Pan Grilled Marshmallow Toasts with Sea Salt had this quote: "Some say wonderful things are born out of desperation. Before today I’ve always thought they were talking about spandex."  A New Yorker transplanted to Beijing, her recipes often involve complicated, multi-step preparations, but she somehow makes you feel you can almost pull them off.  A finalist last year in the photography category.


Dash and Bella - The honest, devastatingly beautiful writing on this site makes me lose my breath almost every time.  In a few well chosen words you understand the loss of a grandmother, the swift passage of childhood, the need to scream into a pillow or guzzle wine or curl up a fist and stay quiet.  It's almost unfair that her recipes are ridiculously good, too.  How one couples getting a drug fix from a neighbor kid with a pecan cheese ball recipe, I'll never know, but she does it perfectly.  She has a book in the works and I am going to buy it the instant it comes out.

5 Second Rule - Reader's choice last year for Best Writing, and deservedly so.  There is just one photo per post (usually stunning on a dark background), so the words shine.  On my very very good days, my posts would be like these.  I loved a New Years piece where introduces her desk: "It's a cherry slab with a deep gouge. It weighs a ton. It dates back to my grad school days in Somerville, Massachusetts. Today, and every day, it's littered with papers, with news clippings, with stacks of fluorescent post-its. I neaten it often, but within seconds, it reverts to its natural state. One can only do so much."  The recipes are simple, lovely combinations of good ingredients that anyone can make.

Bev Cooks - One of the few breezy "we're all best girl friends here" type blogs that I truly find funny and entertaining on a regular basis.  This woman has a gift for natural, seemingly effortless comedy, and her food is both approachable and tasty, a winning combination.  Typical recipe intro:

I see your dinner and raise you CUBAN SLIDERS. Let me just start by saying two things. Three things. A few things: 

• There will never be enough articulation in any universe to describe my immortal devotion to these sliders. 
• Obviously I didn’t invent this recipe, but I did tweak a couple o’ thangs to Bevi-botch it. 
• We were supposed to get snow last night and all it did was shoot a rainy snot rocket and call it a day. 
• My coffee’s stronger than usual.

Glazed and Confused - There's been a run of young stars emerging in the food blogging world, including an English high-schooler with a global following and a brand new cookbook. But this one's actually a wunderkind, in my mind.  A 20 year old self-confessed One Direction maniac, this kid made himself a chicken & waffles birthday cake, and I kinda wanted to eat all of it. 'Nuff said.

I don't personally know the creators of these sites, but I feel like I do. They are opinionated and talented and generous with themselves online, which is what makes their work compelling and excellent.  They have legions of anonymous fans like me because they deserve them. There are other sites, too, that I recommend to you for the very same reasons.  Joy the Baker.  Displaced Housewife.  Movita Beaucoup.  Food for the Thoughtless.  All of the links on the sidebar there are well worth your time to click through and read.  Not to mention last year's blog of the year - it is simply sensational.

So no.  I'm not going to humbly ask you to nominate Cheesy Pennies this year.  I'm going to humbly thank you for reading instead***.

* Well, to tell the online editors at a certain food magazine that I don't even subscribe to that Cheesy Pennies is The Best.

**  They should just not include a "web stats" tab in the blogging software. Then my paltry traffic would be out of sight, out of mind.
*** Plus, I already won a bunch of other stuff, so I can be noble and realistic at the same time.

This qualifies as a Cheesy Penny

A truckload of burning cheese has closed a road tunnel in Arctic Norway for the last six days.

"I didn't know that brown cheese burns so well," said Kjell Bjoern Vinje at the Norwegian Public Roads Administration.

He added that in his 15 years in the administration, this was the first time cheese had caught fire on Norwegian roads.

Full story here.

A Listless Best of 2011

At the end of every year, there's always a big flurry of "Best Of" lists.  The Top 10 Movies.  The Notable Books. The Must Read Blogs*.  The Coolest Apps.  The Best Meals.  

I read them all, avidly.
But my year wasn't like that.

There's no list.

My year was little wonderful moments, and big awful ones.  Plus all the ordinary moments in between. Some I'll remember and lots that I've already forgotten.  Very few came from movies, books, blogs, or apps.

But food?  Ah, yes.

Fancy meals with my husband, burgers with my niece, crab cakes with my sister and meatball subs with the FGs.

Teaching friends to bake bread, inventing sorbets from cider, savoring soup on a rainy night in Cusco, finding comfort in a casserole, or making Christmas magic from flour, sugar and a whole lot of butter.

Grilling cheese sandwiches with my daughter and interfering while my son made dinner as a homework assignment.   Folding fortunes for a funeral and celebrating a new job with a pan full of blondies.

Discussing books over salad, arguing with my mom over tuna fish, battling fiercely over bolognese sauce with my carpool.
Fretting over pie crust and my kids being far from home.

Making supper on a chilly weeknight, or brunch on a sunny morning.

Making people smile**.  

The smell of bacon, of a cake in the oven, of the slow cooker bubbling away.  The sound of the grill sizzling or the timer going off in the kitchen.

The taste of warm biscuits with butter and honey.

There's no way to list all of what was best about 2011, without recalling the worst of it, too. It was a turbulent, emotional, roller coaster year. But almost every day had a moment that was made better by the gift of good food.

Here's to a calmer 2012, but one that is quietly, tastily, memorable too.

Quietly Memorable Weeknight Roast Chicken
This recipe comes from Patty, a member of my mah jong crew, who made this for us on a chilly Wednesday night.  Do I remember if I won or lost, or what we talked about or why we were laughing so much?  No.  But boy did I remember her chicken.

1 whole roasting chicken, cut in half
Olive oil
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Dried oregano
Garlic salt (optional)
Paprika (optional)
1/2 c. (1 stick) butter

Crusty bread, for serving and scraping up the pan drippings

Preheat oven to 425.

Rinse the chicken thoroughly in cool water, pat dry, and cut in half along the back bone.  Place chicken in a large bowl, and coat completely with olive oil.  Season liberally with salt and pepper.  If you like, substitute garlic salt for all or a portion of the regular salt.  Place chicken, skin side up, in a large roasting pan.  Sprinkle skin liberally with oregano, and paprika, if using.  Cut butter into large chunks, and place a few on top of each piece of chicken.

Roast for 45 minutes, or until skin is crispy and brown on top, and juices run clear in the thigh when pierced.

Set chicken aside to rest on a platter.   The pan will be full of yummy butter/oil/pan drippings.  Collect a good portion of those into a warm bowl, and serve along with the chicken and a loaf of crusty bread for dipping.

Click to print this recipe!

Equally Memorable Green Salad Dressing
I served the chicken with a simple salad, but even that was out of the ordinary, thanks to the salad dressing recipe that Amy, another of the mah jong ladies, brought for me***.

2 Tbs. each flat leaf parsley, tarragon, and fresh basil
1 shallot, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
zest of 1 lemon
Juice of 1/2 of a lemon
2 Tbs. white wine vinegar
1/2 c. buttermilk
1/2 c. light sour cream
salt and pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients in a blender, and process until smooth.

Delicious!!

Click to print this recipe!

* Somehow Cheesy Pennies wasn't listed.  Must have been an oversight.
** Making myself plump in the process.
*** I admit that I'd been stalking her for it ever since she served it at her house one night.  I may have even said something like, "Don't even think of showing up to the next game without it," but that's one of those moments of 2011 that wasn't so memorable for me.

I resolve to have more days like this

Photo credit to my sister.
Idea of going to the beach today credit to my niece.
Getting sand all over the car on the way home credit to the dog. (Partial credit in this category should also be given to my kids)

Having Faith, Part 2

I post this, and then the Clippers proceed to stomp all over Golden State and win by 28 points. Maybe I should think a little more like my son and a little less like The Onion.

Some people say it with flowers

To kick off an early morning expedition to Disneyland.
To fortify a nervous kid on the first day of school.
To tempt a man who just ran ten miles.
To say good-bye to a little girl who is about to cry all the way to Michigan.

Roses? Bah. We're all about the donuts*.
Nothing says "I love you" like a cinnamon roll from K's.

* Even if you are saying "I love you" to one specific person, always get a dozen. There will probably be a whole houseful of people left behind who are crying, too. On the plus side, a dozen donuts is a heck of a lot cheaper than a dozen roses.

Yet another perspective

I thought my Mom would have the last word on the subject (she usually does), but the front page of today's LA Times food section featured an "inside scoop" from Russ Parsons on what Julia really thought of Julie. Apparently, she (Julie) was a bit of a whiner, something she (Julia) did not put up with in the least. Amen to that!

Uncommon Courtesy

The message of the week this morning in class was part of a "habits of excellence" series. The thought being that by consciously deciding to behave a certain way, and making the effort to ingrain that behavior, after a while it becomes integral to who you are and takes no work at all. It apparently takes 30 days to create a habit if you try. We've covered the habits of integrity, of perseverance, of setting goals and going beyond them. Today was the habit of courtesy: Saying "hi" to someone new, "thanks" to a partner who helps you out, "excuse me" when you need attention, and so on. Oddly enough, these small kindnesses go a long way. Especially when there's an overabundance of negativity and bad behavior all around*. So here goes.

To my husband, the best habit I ever formed in my life:

Hi!
It's so nice to have met you.
Thanks for being my friend, and for keeping me giggling all these years.
Please excuse all my annoying little habits and my more significant character flaws.
I really appreciate all those hugs, and the smile in your eyes when you look at me.
I'm profoundly grateful that you married me seventeen years ago today, and that the words we said to each other that sunny afternoon** have proven not only true, but wise and right and comforting beyond measure.
I hope to see you again soon. Like tomorrow, and each and every day after that.


* It's killing me how many of our friends are splitting up. But we did just go to a 50th wedding anniversary celebration, so there is hope.
** To love, honor, cherish and amuse, for all the days of our lives.

Happy endings all around

The last 48 hours have brought a flurry of good news to Cheesy Pennies HQ, and I herewith am sharing with all of you:

1. My daughter is home!!! I went up on Thursday and collected her at the Amtrak parking lot where three and a half weeks earlier the same bus had pulled away as tears rolled down my face. I cried this time, too, but with the sheer relief and joy at seeing her jumping up and down and waving at me as the bus made the turn. Her eyes were brimming, too, as she clung to her new friends and the counselors, promising to see everyone next year. When I asked if camp was too long, too short, or just right, she replied, "Way too short!", then gave me a big smile and asked where the closest In-N-Out burger was. She sang me every camp song there is as we drove to the airport, showed me that she kept all the e-mails and letters we sent her in a special place in her trunk, and then she fell asleep on the plane ride home.


I say, way too long*.

2. It's no weeks until my niece gets to California. She called me yesterday:

Her: Hi Auntie Shar! Tomorrow I am coming to California. But you know what the problem is?
Me: There can't possibly be a problem with coming to California tomorrow! We're so excited to see you!
Her: The problem is, I have to get on an airplane for about 5 hours, and the airplane has to go to Arizona, and it stops for a long time, and then it goes again, but it's more hours, and then it comes to California.
Me: I see.
Her: And, I have to get up at 8 in the morning and go to the airport first.
Me: Here's the thing. Imagine if you did all of that. You get up at 8 in the morning. You go to the airport. You sit there for hours and hours. You go to Arizona. You sit for some more hours. And at the end? You were right back in MICHIGAN!
Her: [Huge fit of giggles]. That would be BAD!
Me: See you tomorrow!
Her: See you tomorrow, Auntie Shar!

Report from my sister this morning: She gets on the plane, and literally is pushing the side of the plane with both feet and one hand to make it go faster to California. I love that girl.

3. I got a free fro yo today at Menchie's.

4. Jazzy, fan of strawberry shortcakes, is pregnant!

5. Michael Jackson is doing well. My mom gave me the full report on our drive to my house the other day.

Her: Well, Michael Jackson is just fine.
Me: [Afraid I have missed some major news bulletin about autopsy results] He is?
Her: Yes. [Beaming] His fans have paid off all that debt. Isn't that something?
Me: Mm hmm.
Her: And, he's helping all the other celebrities.
[Now I'm just afraid in general]
Her: They can see what not to do now. He showed them the pitfalls of all that craziness, and the drugs and the doctors and doing shows when you are sick and all that nonsense. You know how I'm worried about Beyonce. She came right out and said she has dual personalities. She says she is one person when she goes onstage, and then a totally different person the rest of the time. It's just not right, but that's someone that Michael can help. Poor Brittany, too. Even Miley Cyrus is in danger, but because of Michael, I think she might be OK.
[She sighs with relief]
He can truly rest in peace.

And, with my whole family back at home, so can I.

* In truth, it was probably just right, as every single stitch of clothing that she owned was absolutely filthy, her legs were a scabby, mosquito-bitten mess, and it took an hour in the bathtub for her to become recognizable again as she emerged from under a thick layer of dirt. If all the kids came home this way, they may need to truck in some more soil for the farm. If you look closely at the photo, you can see the stains on her shirt.

I go pro for a night

I have never been one to have a party catered. If people come over, I cook for them. In fact, there have been only three such events we've ever hosted. The first was a graduation party, with food by The Cannoli King, the second was my Dad's birthday party, where a giant In-N-Out truck parked in the driveway, and the third was an auction prize from that bastion of foodies, my daughter's school. All of these worked out nicely, but I have to say this last one really made me rethink my whole do-it-myself party stance.

The scene is my house. It is quite clean. There are flowers and candles in the appropriate places. In honor of my husband's birthday, we have invited a group of friends over. An hour before the guests were due to arrive, I was not in the kitchen presiding over a hot stove and a sink full of dishes in my stained t-shirt and sweatpants, barking orders at my husband about vacuuming and filling up ice buckets. Nope. I was not cooking*. I was opening the door for the caterers, showing the bartender where to set up, and heading for the bathroom to take the first relaxed shower I have ever had in the history of hostessing at my house**. It was sheer bliss. And you should have seen the looks on my friend's faces when, not only did I personally greet them upon arrival***, but these lovely creatures in crisp white aprons began passing little bites of prosciutto-wrapped asparagus among them. Bite after bite of gourmet goodies appeared before us, each tastier than the last.

At the end of the night****, a single male friend of ours took me aside and asked:

Who are your caterers? They're HOT!

"Of course they are," I agreed. "They're moms."

Hands down, it was the best return on a charitable contribution that I've ever had.*****

When auction time came around this year, I was invited to join the catering mom squad******. It was enormously gratifying to see the price escalate as we enjoyed cocktails in the ballroom on the night of the auction. Yay, us!

And it was equally terrifying to get the call: Party for 25 on July 11. Uh oh.

The week before, I planned and practiced. My husband was totally fine with this.
The day before, I prepped and packed. My husband was less fine with this, as I stayed up really late and kicked him by accident when I finally did get to bed.
The day of the party? I reverted to my old ways.** But, after a short delay...

Platter of assorted cheeses*******

Ahi Tuna Tartare on Tortilla Chips

Chocolate Mousse Shots with Salted Carmel and Whipped Creme Fraiche


We rocked!********

* OK. I admit I didn't think they would actually bring food, so I made a cheese platter and a big pot of gumbo just in case, but it was all done WAY ahead of time for a change.
** I usually take the first ring of the bell as my cue to fling the sponge at my startled husband and make a mad dash for our room to start getting ready.
*** My husband has perfected the art of both greeting and then having long conversations with people I have invited that he doesn't know in my absence. He barely looks awkward anymore.
**** As the caterers were cleaning the kitchen!!!
***** Far, far exceeding the KCRW messenger bag and the guest passes from the zoo.
****** Strangely enough, someone had dropped out. Offended by my cheese platter or a portent of how much work would be involved? Who knows...
******* Clearly, when in doubt, I whip up a cheese platter.
******** Don't take my word for it. Direct quote from our client, via e-mail: "THANK YOU GUYS SOOOO MUCH for the amazing food. It was fantastic. Can't thank you all enough. You rock."

This post officially sets the record for footnotes. In order to avoid any more, I will put the recipe for the dessert pictured here in its very own post.

Our first harvest

Tomato, chives, and flat leaf parsley from the garden. I can now reasonably claim to my daughter that she doesn't have to go away next year, since we have a farm right here.

No way she'll buy that, but I had to try. If anyone wants to drop off a chicken coop, a baby goat and some kittens, I may have a better shot.

Misnomer

Hopefully, the previous post finally gives the lie to the label: Stay-at-home mom.

Job perks

Ever go out to run an errand in the middle of the day, hit a huge snarl of traffic and think to yourself, "Who ARE all these people? Don't they have jobs?". To answer your questions, it's me, and it turns out that my job basically is to drive around in circles all day. Sorry about holding you up.

Like any professional, I have developed some tools of the trade that have been integral to my (modest) success at my work:

1. Audio support from Audible.com: When you drive like I do, 5 minute songs just don't cut it. Go for the unabridged epic novel, preferably one that has sequels. I got through the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy in about a week and a half last year.

2. Military-style passenger management tactics: TV, off! Shoes, on! Move it, soldier! I said MARCH! You too, doggie! You can pee when you're dead!

3. Well-stocked vehicle: Bottled water, snacks (adult, kid, dog), reading materials (wait time!), plastic bags, nav system, chargers (phone, ipod, DS, PSP), coloring supplies, balls (basketball, soccer, old tennis balls, rubber balls), karate gear, kickboxing gear, umbrella, paper towels, eyeglass cleaner.

4. A mental map of all the great places to stop for food along the way.

In case this is all too abstract, I thought I would share today's route with you.


8 am: Depart home base en route to basketball camp. Begin conference call.
8:05 am: Pick up another camper. Mute call.
8:30 am: End call.
8:40 am: Camp drop-off. Thank you, carpool lane on the 405!
9:05 am: Reward stop! Santa Monica Seafood and Huckleberry Bakery*. Ordinarily way too far from home, but totally on the way today. Breakfast (maple bacon biscuit, baby!) and dinner (ahi tuna!) in one fell swoop.

9:20 am: Spy slew of open parking spaces at Bay Cities! Rarity draws me in, and I pick up some of their amazing bread** for my lunch.
10 am: Pick up dog at home.
10:05 am: Dog park. Dog meets lovely family with small child. Takes ball from small child. Dog pops the ball between his huge sharp teeth, then proceeds to romp and play with deflated plastic shell until he has ripped it to shreds across the park. Luckily, the mom has great sense of humor and recognizes this was all her fault for bringing the child and the ball to the DOG park. Smiles all around.
10:30 am: Drop dog at home.
10:50 am: Late for yoga, but not as late as usual. Must stretch away that biscuit.
12:30 pm: Gas light bright yellow. Funny, don't remember being low on gas this morning. Detour to Shell station that is always 2 cents cheaper that most places, and a good 20 cents cheaper than anything in my neighborhood. This stop is not on the map above, because it is my secret gas station.
1 pm: Pick up Mom and Elena at home.*** Dog comes along for the ride and to get his head rubbed all the way to Burbank. Get some good financial advice**** from Suze Orman, via Mom, along the way.
1:30 pm: Drop Elena off.
1:40 pm: Drop Mom off.
1:50 pm: Reward stop! Porto's Bakery. Large Diet Coke to go, plus cheese rolls***** for dessert tonight.
2:30 pm: Arrive home again. Dog collapses with exhaustion.******

Break out the salami. Make a sandwich. Turn on the laptop. Get to work.

Total distance covered: 85.5 miles. I kid you not.


* Yes, that place.
** It is crusty on the outside, slightly tangy, and soft and chewy inside. It's pretty much the world's most perfect bread for sandwiches. It costs $1.39 for an entire loaf, hot from the oven, and they bake them fresh all day long. I say, skip the sandwich line there, and just make your own. My treat today was bread, butter, calabrese salami, a few shavings of Parmesan cheese, and some snipped chives.
*** Do not use Military Passenger Management Tactics with these particular passengers. Instead, ask nicely if they are ready and help them with their things.
**** Keep cash on hand to cover about 6-9 months of your basic household expenses as a rainy-day fund.
***** Their cheese rolls are basically croissant pastry, wrapped around a cheese filling that is just slightly sweet, with a dusting of sugar on top. Flaky, buttery, sugary, and then that great cheesy custard middle. Perfection.
****** Why he is tired I will never know. He probably swallowed some plastic from that ball and I'll have to drive to the vet tomorrow.

Before I get going...

I have to share my new favorite word, courtesy of Schott's Vocab:

Iquitarod - A description of Sarah Palin's resignation as Governor of Alaska.

The Iditarod is a grueling c.1,150 mile sled dog race, contested annually in Alaska. Her speech was a grueling 19 minute complete mess. This, on the other hand, is a 12 minute stroke of comic genius.

My faith is a tiny bit tested

I received the following e-mail from my daughter's camp:

"The buses rolled in just after dinner and campers and counselors headed off for their first campfire. Summertime must be here as we hear singing, reading and laughing echoing across the meadows.

We and our staff are excited to greet campers for another great summer at [not your house*].

Thank you for entrusting us with your children...we look forward to offering them a summer of friendship, learning and new experiences.

Warmly,

[The strangers who have your child*]"

I know this is supposed to be reassuring, but I am very worried about this claim that they can hear the children reading. Not physically possible. So is all the rest a big lie, too?

Must now make oatmeal cookies and calm down.

* Names and location have been changed to be more realistic.

Don't blame me - Important Correction!

In case Mr. Steingarten happens to tune in, I have just been told that the bribe was actually a letter of recommendation to graduate school.

What not to pull out of your Netfilx queue when you want to cheer up your husband after a tough day at the office

Before the Devil Knows You're Dead



Not a pick me up. In fact, it just makes everything seem so bleak that you wish the Devil knew all about these people and put them out of their misery when they were toddlers.

Now we'll need to go see Up twice.

Trivia Quiz

Cheesy Pennies Trivia Quiz #1

Q. Which of these memorable lines from a classic 1984 film was also a prominent part of today's message of the week?*

1. "Why is there a watermelon there?" "I'll tell you later"
2. "Laugh-a while you can, Monkey Boy"
3. "Doomed is your soul and damned is your life"
4. "No matter where you go, there you are"
5. "Martians. In New Jersey."
6. "Home is where you wear your hat"
   
7. "Don't tug on that, you never know what it might be attached to "
8. "Take her to the Pitt. Go, Big-booty. Use more honey. Find out what she knows."

A. No matter where you go, there you are.

The lesson for today: Be present in what you do, and make the most of your time! Maximize the impact of your efforts by being 100% invested in what you are doing right now. If you are at work, be at work. When you're with your family, don't get distracted by the computer or your blackberry (guilty! guilty! guilty!). Step into the gym and stay focused on your training. You can pick up your worries about what to get at the grocery store or Obama's health care plan after class. With focus comes results. And perhaps, even recognition from afar:

"May I pass along my congratulations for your great interdimensional breakthrough. I am sure, in the miserable annals of the Earth, you will be duly enshrined. "

*Extra credit if you can name the film without clicking on the link!

In which death is discussed and laughter ensues

Being an good mother, I decided it was an excellent idea to prepare the children ahead of time for the viewing on the day before the funeral. Consequently, I broached the topic as we were in the car headed to Forest Lawn Memorial Park.

Me: You two have never really been to a memorial service. What we're going to now is a viewing, where everyone can come and say their own good-bye to the person who died, and comfort his family. We're there to tell Elena how much we love her and miss her, but you should know that there will also be a dead body there.
My son: I have too been to a funeral.
Me: You were two, so I don't think you remember.
Him: But I have been to one.
My daughter: Was I there?
Him: No.
Me: Yes, but you were a little baby.
Her: See!
Me: So, you understand about the coffin?
Him: How can they do that? Won't the body be gross?
Me: Well, that's what morticians do. It's their job to get the body ready to be buried. Or, they can also get it ready to be cremated.
Her: I would hate to have that job.
Him: If you get cremated, you turn into ashes, right? Wouldn't there be bones left over?
Me: No, they have special ovens that are very hot. Afterwards, your family gets the ashes and they can either keep them, like in the movies when someone spills a jar of dust on the floor and says "Oops, that was my mom!", or...
[Fit of giggles from the back seat]
Me: ...scatter them somewhere that was special to you. Grandma wants to be cremated and have her ashes spread over the ocean.
Her: And have the fishes eat her?
[More hilarity]
Me: I think she just likes the idea of floating all over the world.
Her: I think the fish would eat her before she got too far.
Him: I would want my ashes to be scattered over the 101 freeway. So if you hit a bump in the road, it would be me.
[Gales of laughter. Sustained for several minutes]
Me: You can also donate your body parts to science, to help people who might need an eye, or a kidney, or so they can study the disease that killed you.
Her: A dead eye can't see. That would be a total rip-off for the person who got it.
Him: How do they know which one to do with your body?
Me: You write it down in your will.
Her: Do you have a will?
Me: Yes.
Her: Can I have one?
Him: How much money do I get?
Me: A will is important so your family knows your wishes about all of your things when you die, and especially what to do about your children.
[A discussion ensues about what will happen to them. General satisfaction after many detailed questions, although I make it clear that the outcome will vary widely depending on whether we die tomorrow or when they are in their mid-30s and don't need to have a grown up drive them to school.]
Her: In my will, I am going to make sure that he doesn't get any of my stuff.
Him: You don't have any stuff that I want, anyway.
Me: Guys, please. Do you have any more questions about what's going to happen today?
Her: Do we each get to throw some dirt on the coffin? I think I would be good at that.
[I decide they are ready, and change the subject]

When we get back in the car after the visit, there are audible exhalations after the strain of all the good behavior. Then I hear:
Mom, how do you know what happens after? After you die, I mean. Are you still there, somehow?
Me: The real answer is, noone knows. But I like to think you are, to everyone who loves you. You will always be there for them.

They are both quiet for a long time. Nobody laughs on the way home.

That's funny, I feel like I need to go to bed

The message of the week today was "Resistance makes you stronger." If this is true, then mothers of pre-teen girls should be winning every Olympic medal that they have.