The tomato seeds sprouted. Ten days after planting — two days ahead of Dad's estimate — green shoots pushed through the desert soil and reached for the Mojave sun.
I took a photo and sent it to Dad. He called within five minutes.
'How many?' he asked.
'Six plants. All sprouted.'
'Six? That's good. You'll lose two — transplant shock, probably. Four plants is plenty for a family of three.'
'Dad, they just SPROUTED. Don't predict their death.'
'I'm being realistic. Tomatoes are fighters but the desert is the desert.'
Kevin Abernathy: pragmatic about tomato mortality. Also: deeply invested in his daughter's container garden from three thousand miles away.
Caleb saw the sprouts and said, 'PLANTS! Green!' and tried to pull one out of the soil. I intercepted. Crisis averted. The sprouts survive their first encounter with a two-year-old.
The book revision is DONE. Sent the final manuscript to Clara on Thursday. 108,000 words (cut from 112,000 — four thousand words trimmed, tightened, improved). The revision is better. The book is better. It does the thing I wanted it to do: it takes you into a kitchen and doesn't let you leave until you understand why it matters.
Clara's response: 'This is ready. I'm sending it to the copyeditor next week. We're on schedule for spring 2022.'
On schedule. The book is on schedule. Twelve months from now, it'll be a physical object with a cover and a spine and my name on it.
My name. On a book. About Mom's kitchen.
I wrote about it on the blog: 'The Book Is Done (For Real This Time).' About the revision process, the cutting, the tightening. About the feeling of sending a manuscript into the world and knowing it's as good as you can make it.
'Writing a book is like cooking a meal,' I wrote. 'You gather the ingredients. You follow the recipe (or you improvise — both work). You cook it with care. And then you put it on the table and you hope the people who eat it feel something.'
I hope they feel something.
Made Mom's chicken and dumplings tonight. Perfect dumplings. Every time now. The muscle memory has calcified into skill. I don't think about the dumplings anymore. I just make them.
That's mastery. Not thinking. Just doing. The way Mom does it. The way Grandma Carol did it.
The dumplings are perfect. The tomatoes are sprouting. The book is done.
The table is set.
The night I sent the final manuscript to Clara, I didn’t want anything complicated — I wanted something warm, homey, and deeply familiar. Mom’s chicken and dumplings had already claimed the milestone, but earlier in the week, when the revision was still in its final stretch, this chicken noodle casserole was the thing that kept us fed and grounded. It’s the kind of dish that asks nothing of you, which is exactly what you need when every last bit of mental energy is going into 108,000 words. Make it on the hard days, the triumphant days, and all the ordinary ones in between.
Chicken Noodle Casserole
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 3 cups cooked chicken, shredded or cubed
- 3 cups egg noodles, cooked and drained
- 1 can (10.5 oz) condensed cream of chicken soup
- 1 can (10.5 oz) condensed cream of mushroom soup
- 1 cup sour cream
- 1/2 cup whole milk
- 1 cup frozen peas, thawed
- 1/2 cup diced celery
- 1/2 cup diced onion
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese
- 1/2 cup buttered breadcrumbs (for topping)
Instructions
- Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 350°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
- Saute the vegetables. In a small skillet over medium heat, cook the celery and onion in a little butter or oil for 4–5 minutes until softened. Remove from heat.
- Mix the filling. In a large bowl, combine the cream of chicken soup, cream of mushroom soup, sour cream, and milk. Stir until smooth. Add the cooked chicken, cooked noodles, peas, sauteed celery and onion, garlic powder, salt, and pepper. Mix well to combine.
- Transfer to baking dish. Pour the mixture evenly into the prepared baking dish. Spread to the edges.
- Top with cheese and breadcrumbs. Sprinkle the shredded cheddar evenly over the top, then scatter the buttered breadcrumbs over the cheese for a golden, crispy finish.
- Bake. Bake uncovered for 30–35 minutes, until the casserole is bubbling around the edges and the topping is golden brown.
- Rest and serve. Let the casserole rest for 5 minutes before serving. It holds together better and the flavors settle beautifully.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 420 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 36g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 890mg
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 258 of Rachel’s 30-year story
· San Diego, California
Rachel is a twenty-eight-year-old Marine wife and mom of two who has moved five times in six years and learned to cook a Thanksgiving dinner with half her cookware still in boxes. She married young, survived postpartum depression, and feeds her family of four on a junior Marine's salary with a freezer full of pre-made meals and a crockpot that has never let her down. She writes for the military spouses who are cooking dinner alone in base housing and wondering if they're enough. You are.
