Baby Cheeses

Midnight - not a sound from the pavement.
Has the moon lost her memory,
She is smiling alone.
In the lamplight, the withered leaves collect at my feet,
And the wind begins to moan.

Memory - all alone in the moonlight.
I can smile at the old days,
I was beautiful then.
I remember the time I knew what happiness was.
Let the memory live again.

"Memories" - from Cats

We loved chocolate. Sundaes. Hershey bars (her). Toblerone (me). My triple layer chocolate-within-chocolate-on-top-of-chocolate cake. Chocolate pie, courtesy of the pie crust recipe from Grandma Lucille that I shall keep secret for all the days of my life. Suffice it to say that we were chocoholics through and through, my daughter and I. Granted, it was probably more like a genetic disease I passed on to her much like a rare chromosome or some sort of genome. Still, in the grand scheme of things, it was a cross we carried together. Proudly, too. Endorphins, rejoice. Calorie what?? We don't care. Housework makes you ugly. Exercise makes you smell bad. Dieting makes you a tad, well....let's just say irritable. Chocolate, on the other hand, soothes the soul much, much better than chicken soup. Rich. Decadent. Velvety. Chocolate makes the world go round. Just ask Johnny Depp and Juliette Binoche.

2006 - I think it was a Thursday night. Couldn't be a Friday- there would have been a drill team this or a football game that. Wouldn't have been a Saturday night. Nope, this definitely would have been a Thursday night main event. See, Mondays are for fresh starts - eat your veggies and get to bed on time. Tuesdays are still on target- maybe slightly less homework and a few more clothes on the floor of her bedroom, but it's all good. Wednesdays? She was either at or teaching a CCD class. Yessiree, this was definitely a Thursday night. The conversation must have gone something like this.... Me: I've eaten nothing but a piece of lettuce and a single English pea all week. Her: That's your own fault. I don't know why you do this to yourself. Enjoy your life a little, why dontcha? Me: How is it that you're so wise? Her: I'm your daughter. Me: Enough flattery, what do you want? Her: Chocolate!! How bout a DQ run? Me: It's 11 pm. They're not open, punkin' pie. Her: What can we do? Me: Let's make something!!!! Necessity, while it might be the mother of invention, can also be the undoing of us all!

I do lots of things that don't make much, if any, sense. I collect old buttons. I hoard books. I prefer black and white movies over technicolor any day of the week. I still like vinyl records. I clip coupons. And, best of all, I collect recipes. Most are good, but some definitely belong in the "what not to do" file. In 1985, I was 18, married, and pregnant with my firstborn. I was also working and going to school. Apparently, I was also consuming quite a bit of Velveeta cheese. Enough so that I saved the appropriate amount of boxtops to qualify for the official 1985 much-heralded (not) Velveeta cheese cookbook. Odd that I would, over 20 years later, choose that very "cookbook" on that Thursday night. How perplexing that I would be possessed by the cheese muses as I looked at my daughter and stated...."Let's make cheese fudge!"

Don't ask, please. I have no words. An hour later, the two of us gathered over a steaming casserole dish concoction of what I can only describe as a mutant, rancid, chocolate impostor. It was hideous! We both held our noses and took a bite, You don't want to know. Equal parts human feces and oily jello, it was not a pleasant experience. What I remember most, however, was her laughter. Mom was a dork that night. Mom suddenly didn't know nearly as much, and wasn't the the rock-star e'er do well she normally was in such circumstances. Mom was just goofy, gullible, clueless old mom. And, we belly laughed for an hour. So, there you go. One of my colossal goofs became the stuff legends are made of, I guess. Tears were sliding down our cheeks. Tummies were clutched in laughter. I distinctly remember having to sit in the kitchen floor so I wouldn't wet my pants in this hysterical fit. It was blissful.

So, tonight, Chynna, I miss you. I miss your laughter. I miss my best friend. All hail the power of the Velveeta cheese fudge. A bad recipe can do wonders for the soul. I promise to keep being the oddball I've always been. I promise, also, never, ever to make Velveeta fudge for anyone else. It's our pact. We'll always have cheese fudge.